Before the ascent

Arthur wakes up before the others.

His hand rests on the reinforced metal plate that serves as a makeshift pillow, and his back aches from the night’s sleep on the lab floor. Yet his eyes are sharp, mind already operating because of all the ideas he has for the launching machine.

He walks over to the half-complete launch mechanism and runs his fingers over the frame. He has never seen any real mechanical machine like this, so it would be neat to do some exploration.

Crunket comes beside him in silence, though Arthur has heard his footsteps earlier.

Arthur doesn’t flinch, just starts talking. “I know machines that can do exactly what you need. The strongest ones are giant cannons, called railguns, that launch projectiles using magnetic fields. Others use pressure chambers, like mass drivers. Or we can build a small rocket.”

“Rocket?” Crunket echoes.

“Yeah. A metal shell packed with fuel. When we make it the right way, it can shoot down all of that fuel and throw you up.”

Crunket’s feathers ruffle slightly with interest. “That…sounds like suicide.”

Arthur chuckles. “Which means you can fly over the sky or die in a metal coffin in the sky.”

Crunket hums, absorbing every word, but sweets start dropping. “So…you push the energy downward to go upward like vertical guns?”

“Exactly.”

Crunket scratches furiously on the floor with the charcoal stick, building on Arthur’s vague suggestions. He sketches a platform, layered springs, focused propulsion vents, an airfoil chamber, and most importantly - a reinforced seat with a steering rudder and shock-absorption rods.

Arthur watches. “You got all that from a guy who learned science from videos and comic books?”

“What are those?” Crunket asks.

“Entertainment methods from another world,” Arthur replies.

“That should be a great one,” Crunket thinks Arthur is joking so he just laughs.

…

By midday, the team finishes a frugal meal, and Crunket stretches his arms.

“Let’s get some rest,” he says. “I will go to collect materials after dawn.”

“Isn’t that too late?” Arthur asks.

“I can’t risk getting caught by patrols, but I’ll need help carrying the load this time.”

“I’ll go, my magic will be useful when sneaking,” Arthur raises his hand.

Crunket nods. “Now get a few hours of sleep.”

…

Darkness covers the mountaintop as Crunket and Arthur crouch to the outskirts of Kaelmoor

Arthur murmurs, “You sure this is safe?”

“Do we have any choice?”

The city stretches before them like a forest of shadows. The buildings, constructed with an elegance that seems impossible for their size, rise like towers of ambition. They hold the curves of 18th-century Earth-like aristocracy: arched balconies, narrow iron rails, vaulted windows. But they soar higher than any castle ever built. Many seem to lean slightly, as if they are craning upward toward the sky.

Arthur uses his magic carefully, spreading his palm across Crunket’s back. The colors of their skin and feathers dull, then blur, then fade into the stone.

“We look like moss now,” Arthur whispers.

“Good. Let’s keep moving.”

They slip between alleyways, climb fire escapes, and duck behind air exhausts. Occasionally, a light blinks on above them, forcing their body to stop and their hearts to run.

On the way back, Arthur finally asks the question he’s been holding in since they entered the city.

“These buildings…how do they stand so tall?”

Crunket gestures upward. “We can build them like that by using stones and woods with enhanced durability through our magic. But about why… I think we build them tall because the sky calls to us.”

“Instinct?”

“Yes. You see, we are birds, creatures of the sky. We want to fly, want to ascend. The feeling is indescribable, you know?”

Arthur stares up at the skyline and mutters, “Then why the king…”

Crunket’s wings fall slightly. “When the time comes, the king will have to reveal that to the whole society.”

Arthur says nothing more.

…

They return before sunrise.

Asa is already awake, stretching arms widely, her palms glowing faintly. “You got them?”

Crunket nods and sets the materials down: crystals, rods, leather straps, potion vials, compressed springs.

“Let’s begin,” he says.

Asa starts by using her magic to disassemble and refine the minerals energy-infused rods from raw ore, transforming crystals into liquid, then form stabilizing plates, and evaporating impurities from fuel capsules.

Vellithar assists silently, her body shape and texture is perfect to quickly make sure that everything is in their places based on the design board.

Spidaract walks directly to the main frame and begins sealing every joint with threads of translucent web, strengthened with mana. Some other parts are wrapped tight like tendons. While the rest are layered into tension-bearing springs.

The normally boring and tiring task becomes an orchestra of movement, with each individual doing their fair share of work.

Arthur organizes the smaller tools and mixes light explosive potions based on Crunket’s guidance. Asa uses her magic to cool and harden freshly joined components. Spidaract reinforces the lower half of the cannon frame, then lifts the central launch seat into place with surprising delicacy.

Drok is resting for the transportation tomorrow. He also acts as a guard at the entrance, rapidly scanning the fog beyond.

By sunset, the machine is complete.

The launch platform is shaped like a vertical rail gun fused with a potion-reactive propulsion core. Its seat is half-sphere, fitted with locking claws. A back-mounted stabilizer rises above it like a winged fin.

Crunket stands before it, breathless.

Arthur grins. “It looks like something from a comic book.”

“Good,” Crunket says. “Comics are the best.”

They all gather around, exhausted but proud.

“Tomorrow,” Crunket says, “I will go to the place all krows want to be.”