Northfort sat at the cutting edge of arcanotech in the Holy Dragon Empire, like frost glittering on a steel frontier. Besides the city lord’s imported arcane mining machines, the chimneys of change already smoked.

Everyday goods came in caravans from the Azuremist Empire, a string of wagons like ants carrying light. Trinkets, tools, comforts—each one humming with a thin vein of mana.

Among them were arcanotech carriages, their frames threaded with runes, their hearts fed by magic stones. With mana biting the bit, their speed jumped like a hawk catching wind.

Cerqin felt a spark of joy first, then a plan took shape. With more refinements, they could ditch the unicorn horses and let a mana-conversion drive pull the world under their wheels.

Inside, the comfort surprised her like warm tea in winter rain. Even with complex mana circuits like silver vines, it nearly matched a luxury coach.

The flaw was simple and sharp as flint. Too much speed demanded better roads. Uneven ground would rattle the bones and grind parts down faster.

The deeper Cerqin waded into the basics of Arcanotechnology, the more the future gleamed like dawn over snow. These devices would move mountains and redraw rivers.

After she made that little convenience toy, the belief settled like a seal on her heart. When the Holy Maiden’s procession ended, she wanted Spring Tide to go with her to the Azuremist Empire.

She craved the birthplace of Arcanotechnology, and the sight of the fabled Azuremist Emperor who had steered it like a helmsman through storm.

Her thoughts looped back, and annoyance pricked her like a nettle. Cerqin nudged Spring Tide, who lay sprawled over her. Three bodies pressed together like a pile of quilts, and breathing turned thin.

They’d left Northfort two days ago. At the speed of this modified carriage, Holy Dragon City would be four days away—distance peeling back like bark under a blade.

Twice as fast, almost to the hour.

If not for the cost, which towered like a gold mountain—more than ten times a Sanctuary luxury coach—these would already rule the roads.

Even so, wealth chased wind. Nobles would scramble for them soon, tossing coin like petals.

Cerqin couldn’t help a sigh that tasted of awe. The Sanctuary’s coffers—or Spring Tide’s—ran deep as a lake. To reach the capital sooner, she’d bought seven modified carriages, including those for the escorting knights.

The price in gold was a number Cerqin had never seen, a constellation she couldn’t count.

Spring Tide, jolted by the nudge, caught Cerqin’s ankle like a sleepy cat. Her head, pillowed on Cerqin’s thigh, tilted. She peered past Aileaf’s silhouette, confusion soft as fog. “What?”

“Can you not lie on me? I can’t breathe.”

“Hmph. It’s your punishment. You made that thing vibrate at both ends.”

“If only one end vibrates, that’s cheating!”

“Hmph.”

Even with three-on-one “lessons” turning in shifts like moon phases, the toy she’d made boosted both sides’ sensations—an arms race of pleasure and endurance.

She still lost in the end, but at least this time neither Spring Tide nor Silver Luan nor Aileaf escaped unscathed. Balance fell over the four of them like evening shade.

Stamina, mana, and spirit came back fast as spring grass, yet a deep-tissue weariness clung to bone and soul like dew at dawn.

Aileaf had it the roughest. For a Littlefolk body to handle equal-sized… tools was a burden like carrying a boulder up a dune. She’d been the first to surrender.

Now she slept, breath small as a mouse’s.

“Next time we could upsize the rear attachment,” Cerqin murmured, curiosity first and then the suggestion. “It resets after removal, so why not make it bigger, and crank the vibration?”

“Huh?”

Silver Luan—no one knew when she’d woken—cut in, and Cerqin’s heart lurched like a drum. Those tails had already been refitted to a special model, a circle larger than the original instrument. That was her limit.

More power would be pure knife.

“It’ll hurt,” she whispered, the wince coming before the words.

“Getting spanked hurts too,” Silver Luan said, voice smooth as lacquer, “and it excites you. Doesn’t it?”

“True, but don’t lie on my belly. It’s uncomfortable. Your tail’s cutting me. Your scales are hard as tiles.”

“You said harder scales felt good yesterday. I made them harder on purpose.”

“That’s too hard. With your Sixth Rank body, you’ll slice my skin.”

Cerqin pushed at Silver Luan, whose pose was odd as a tangled ribbon. She didn’t budge a finger-width.

“Hey…”

Silver Luan ignored her and tilted her head toward Spring Tide. “I’m almost touching the threshold of the Seventh Rank. How’s your progress?”

“Same as before,” Spring Tide said, calm like a still pond. “Deepening mastery isn’t simple. You grind, and then you do it.”

From Sixth to Seventh was slow as a glacier. Even prodigies carved like demons needed years.

Ordinary geniuses needed more—ten, twenty years, a lifetime of patient rain.

“I’m only Fifth Rank, and you two are brushing Seventh.” Envy flooded Cerqin first, then the sigh. “I’m jealous enough to die.”

“What are you even saying…”

Spring Tide rolled her eyes, a white ripple. Silver Luan echoed her, a teasing bite. “Yeah. You shot from Third to Fifth so fast the word ‘unprecedented’ feels small.”

“This wasn’t because I worked for it…”

Power had been poured into her like a flood into a jar. Her body held the water, but her understanding stayed shallow as a puddle.

In bloodline arts, Cerqin wasn’t far from when she’d first awakened at Third Rank. Truth was, not much time had passed.

In a real fight, aside from bottomless stamina, she lagged behind a normal Fifth Rank. Her spellwork was just grip, not edge. At Fifth, her battle sense was paper-thin.

Spring Tide had planned in Northfort to find sparring partners and harden her with blows and dust.

They’d been too busy. Then a major Demon Race assault tore through like a storm, and other reasons forced them to leave early.

“Right—I almost forgot.” After a little idle talk, the memory lit up like a lantern. Cerqin spoke, testing the water. “When the Holy Maiden’s procession ends, want to go to the Azuremist Empire together?”

“Azuremist? What for?” Silver Luan asked first. It sat in the continent’s middle like a heart. Far roads led there. Trade ran both ways with the Holy Dragon Empire and its neighbors.

But a round trip ate time like fire eats straw.

“I want to study Arcanotechnology there.”

“Arcanotechnology…” Spring Tide’s gaze cooled and brightened like moonlight. “I heard from Northfort’s bishop the central Sanctuaries are deepening its use. Our eastern district is lagging.”

She knew its promise, and interest stirred like a breeze. After a pause, she nodded. “We can go. In a few months I’ll visit the Sanctuary’s headquarters. We’ll pass the Azuremist Empire.”

“In that case, let’s go together.”

“Mm… all right.”

Silver Luan hesitated, then agreed with a nod like a falling petal. Her training journey was counted in years. After getting her clothes back, she’d meant to keep following Spring Tide, widening her world.

Besides, she no longer believed she could leave Cerqin.

As for the days ahead…

She drifted into thought, the mood dimming like a cloud over sun.

Cerqin felt the ripple first, then she asked. “Silver Luan, what’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing. Anyway, it’s early, but I’d rather say it now.” Silver Luan’s voice steadied like a drawn line. “In a few years, Cerqin, you need to come back to my clan with me.”

“Huh? Why?” Cerqin blinked, surprise popping like a fish in a pond.

“You’re not planning to run from this, are you?”

“Uh… I didn’t say that.”

The realization hit, and embarrassment pricked her like needles. Still, it was a gate they’d have to pass. Thankfully, the Half Dragonkin were tolerant of a web of feelings among several people.

They wouldn’t need to fear too much. Mm…