With the power of a fourth-tier wind mage, Wardes managed to carry Louise out of the storm unleashed by the Wind Spirit.
But they had veered far off course and could only land on the edge of Albion's floating continent before his magic ran dry.
Louise had been downcast ever since they escaped the gray-black cloud. Wardes said nothing to her.
"Your familiar is dead. No one survives the Wind Spirit. Face reality, Louise," Wardes said cruelly.
The words stung her. Eyes reddening, Louise glared at him. "Shut up! That's nonsense. Sora… Sora won't die. No way."
"A mere swordsman falling from that height? Impossible. Why do you think he begged me to take you? Only a wind mage's flight magic can escape," Wardes said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.
"He's gone."
"No… no way. Sora…" Louise shook her head, refusing to accept it.
"Whether you believe it or not, Princess Anrietta's mission continues. Isn't that right, Louise?" Wardes pressed.
"Mission… the mission. Princess Anrietta…" Louise murmured, pressing her left hand against the water gemstone on her right. Steel resolve hardened her gaze as she looked coldly at Wardes.
"Yes. We must complete Her Highness's task."
"I believe Sora will come back. I'll finish this mission first."
"Stubborn as ever, Louise. But it suits you—and it works for me. Let's head to the nearest village," Wardes said, leading the way. He used Wind Blade magic to slice through trees and underbrush, carving a path through the dense forest.
Louise clenched her fists to her chest, hesitated, then followed. No pop-ups, just clean reading like her favorite sites—worth praising.
Meanwhile, Sora woke from deep sleep.
Day and night blurred inside the clouds; only the Wind Spirit's glow provided light. He had no idea how much time had passed.
The spirit seemed to have been watching him and greeted him happily upon waking.
"You're awake, Gandálfr. Come—let's keep playing chess."
Sora eyed the figure ahead, who had been playing against itself. The board had reached a stalemate draw. The Wind Spirit had clearly improved.
"Yeah, Wind Spirit… but I'm hungry," Sora said.
"Hungry?" As a spirit, it never felt hunger.
"I need to eat before I can focus on chess. Got anything?" Sora asked.
The spirit tilted its head, puzzled, then waved a hand. A portion of the tens of thousands of tons of orbiting wind stones drifted toward Sora. "Eat?"
"I'm not a wind spirit—I can't eat rocks," Sora said, waving them off. "Fruits, vegetables? Meat or fish?"
"Ah." The spirit waved again, sending the stones back.
It placed a hand on its own body.
Outside the gray-black clouds, the scene shifted dramatically.
It had passed Albion's outskirts at dawn; now evening fell, and they floated above the ocean east of the Halkeginia continent. The orange sunset sank into the distant sea.
With a gesture from the Wind Spirit, ferocious winds surged from the cloud's edge, slamming into the waters below. Even after descending over ten kilometers, the blasts retained devastating force, churning the ocean surface.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
After a barrage, the spirit paused. Countless fish floated belly-up on the waves, innocent casualties.
The Wind Spirit then summoned rising air currents from the sea, lifting the fish into the high clouds and delivering them.
"Eat quickly, then play chess," it said, waving again. A "river" of fish hovered nearby—exotic species Sora didn't recognize, all drawn to the spirit.
Sora's jaw dropped at the casual display of power.
But his stomach growled, diluting the awe. He stood, selected a few familiar edible fish, and used Delflinger's card to lay them out on the blade.
"Yiya Faile Albrick."
Holding the sword in his left hand, he cast [Fireball], flames engulfing the blade to roast the fish.
First time using magic to cook—he wasn't skilled. The fish came out charred in spots, raw in others. No seasoning made it truly awful.
But food was food. Sora choked it down. Then he sat before the Wind Spirit.
"Let's play," the spirit urged.
"Sure," Sora replied.
The spirit's skill improved rapidly; without holding back, Sora would lose. He grew serious, trading blows evenly.
Time passed. Sora lost more than he won before sleep tugged at him again. The spirit beamed at each victory, and when Sora mentioned rest, it thoughtfully cast a spell.
Gentle winds lifted him, cradling him like a cloud bed. Sora drifted off.
Louise and Wardes reached a nearby village on Albion, inquired about the situation, and found themselves outside royalist-held territory. They rode for a full day.
They spent coin on new clothes to replace those shredded by the Wind Spirit storm in the forest, then hired a carriage in a nearby town toward royalist lands.
Albion's rebellion teetered on victory; royalists controlled only a sliver at the continent's end.
What kept them from annihilation was the banner of young, promising Crown Prince Wales—many saw him as ideal king and hadn't fully defected. Protecting them was Albion's sole Square-class mage: Gelphlin the Great, former national teacher who unified the kingdom and Wales's magic tutor.
A veteran Square-class mage for twenty years, Gelphlin could unleash fourth-tier spells. In Albion's wind-rich environment, his wind magic could annihilate thousands.
The rebels hadn't overrun the royalists' last stand precisely because of him.
Wardes, also a Square-class wind mage but newly promoted and without fourth-tier mastery, held advantages over Triangle-class foes but likely couldn't match others who wielded such power.
Thus, as a Reconquista cadre, Wardes aimed not to fight Gelphlin but assassinate Wales. Without that figurehead, royalists would collapse.
To approach the well-guarded prince, Anrietta's token was essential—making Louise, its bearer, the key.
Wardes watched her sidelong, pondering how to handle her after killing Wales.
Ignoring me for a familiar? And those noises last night… she's no longer pure. She needs punishment.
Louise huddled in the carriage corner, lost in thoughts of Sora and Anrietta, silent.
Sora, you have to be okay. Anrietta, I'll complete this mission no matter what.