Chapter 06. Relief Mission (2) — Aerocelestial

“Cough!” I hacked, the air thick with the overpowering stench of herbs, gunpowder, and flesh.

The space was stifling, with little ventilation, lit only by a single candle where the apothecary mixed remedies. The rest was shrouded in darkness, the outside world cloaked in a dense haze of dust and smoke.

“Who’s in charge here?” Panther asked, scanning the room.

Before he could finish, a middle-aged woman raised her hand.

I shivered at the sight of her face. A cloth covered half of it, revealing only sunken, lifeless eyes. She looked like a hollow shell, probably from witnessing too many deaths. My heart sank as I thought this, heavy with empathy.

“I need your cooperation,” Panther started, but she cut him off.

“Is it important?” Her unblinking eyes bored into him. “Yes, it’s about the disease’s cause.”

“I don’t have time. While I’m talking to you, how many lives will slip away? Handle it yourselves.” She spoke in a rush, then turned back to her patients, her mind consumed by her work.

Sensing the tension, Snake and Panther signaled for me to step outside.

The gloomy sky outside only deepened the heaviness in my chest… I stopped unconsciously, staring up at the sky.

Snake and Panther pulled Fox aside to talk.

“Ami? What’re you doing standing there? Let’s go,” Fox said, looking recovered.

“Why’re you zoning out?” Snake turned to her.

Ami stood motionless, head tilted back, staring at the sky, eyes wide as if she’d spotted something.

“Ami!” I jumped, nearly toppling over. I was gazing at the sky when Fox’s face popped into view, shouting my name.

“Can’t you call me normally?” I grumbled.

“You wouldn’t hear me if I did,” he replied, unfazed. I glared, then started walking.

“What were you looking at up there?” Snake asked.

“The air felt… off, so I stopped to check,” I said, still moving.

“Off how?” Snake looked up, squinting at the murky sky.

“Too thick?” Panther joined in, glancing skyward.

“One point for you!” I said, hands on hips, smug. I was sure they wouldn’t notice anything odd. At first glance, it seemed normal, but a closer look revealed something wrong.

“Hehe, you don’t see it, do you? Let me tell—” I was gloating when Fox cut me off.

“They’re floating?” He looked down, smirking slyly.

What? He noticed?

“Acting all proud over that,” he said, brushing past and deliberately bumping my shoulder.

This jerk—worse than Bear! I fumed inwardly.

“But so what? If it’s too thick, floating’s normal, right?” Snake asked, puzzled.

“You don’t think it’s weird? The war ended three or four months ago—dust shouldn’t be this dense,” I shrugged. “Try waving your hand.”

Snake did, then froze, eyes widening. “The dust… it’s not moving with my hand.”

The other two stopped to observe. “So this is…” Panther looked at Fox, uneasy. “The work of the divinely gifted,” Fox said, his brow furrowing, voice tinged with anger.

We entered a nearby eatery.

The three sat at a separate table to discuss, leaving me alone at another.

“Now what?” Panther asked.

“Damn those celestials,” Snake spat, bitter.

“We’re stuck,” Fox said, stretching his arms, voice drawn out. The two fell into thoughtful silence. “We have no weapons against them. To us, divine gifts are intangible, untouchable,” Fox said.

“But why would they do this?” Snake slammed the table, furious. “Humans are just one step below them—no grudges, we even revere them!”

“Calm down,” Fox said, fingers interlaced, gaze distant.

“The peace treaty’s weakening. Using divine gifts so blatantly in another’s territory…”

“So the frozen stream wasn’t random,” Panther said.

Hearing “frozen stream,” I jolted, nearly spitting out my tea.

“You okay?” they turned to ask.

“Fine, haha, tea’s just hot,” I said, forcing a smile and looking away.

“Ami, come sit here. I’ve got questions,” Fox called, his sly fox tone grating.

“No way, you’re discussing important stuff,” I said, smiling awkwardly.

“What? I thought you loved butting in. You were sulking earlier for not hearing,” he teased.

This guy! I cursed inwardly but dragged myself to their table.

All three stared, giving me goosebumps.

“Stop looking at me like that, it’s creepy,” I frowned.

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“My apologies,” Fox said, setting down his tea.

“You left Caelora recently, right?”

Ugh, just say it! I screamed internally. “Y-Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile.

“And you managed healthcare in Caelora, didn’t you?” A bad feeling crept up.

“So what?” I said, a bit sharp.

“You must know some key figures? Like… someone who manipulates the air?”

Knew it! I paused, then said, “Yeah… but I can’t help much.”

Fox looked surprised at my dodge. “I thought you wanted to help them?” Snake said, shocked.

“Of course, but that person—” I froze, trembling as her face flashed in my mind.

Noticing her reaction, they didn’t push.

Steadying myself, I said, “She’s… a member of the High Council.” The three went still, then fell silent, processing.

“Sorry… I can’t help,” I said, head bowed, fiddling with my sleeve.

“What’re you saying? Thanks to you, we’re not being led astray anymore,” Fox said. “

“Damn those celestials,” Snake muttered, not minding his language.

I stayed quiet, head down. “I’m stepping out,” I said, standing and leaving without waiting for a reply.

Thinking of her drained all my energy.

I sighed, looking around. The skeletal figures on the road, barely breathing, twisted my heart.

What could I do for them? “Only a stronger celestial can counter a divine gift. No exceptions,” they taught us in Caelora. But if divine gifts were so powerful, why did the celestials let the beastfolk secure a treaty limiting them? The feud between beastfolk and celestials had raged for centuries, never fading.

As kids, they drilled carefully curated history into us. Caelora was supreme, unmatched by any creature. We had to live fully, serve Caelora, and be grateful to those who let us exist in this world. With that belief, kids like me pushed ourselves to study, prove our worth, and show devotion to our parents as if it were natural. Any deviation risked exile to the “base, impoverished” world.

They showed us images of struggling humans—envious, starving, wretched—to educate us. Worse, they ingrained prejudice against beastfolk: lowly creatures, neither human nor animal, just criminals cast out from Caelora.

Looking at these people, I wondered if that prejudice was true. They were victims of this cruel world, like me, like the beastfolk, like anyone Caelora discarded.

I stood, lost in thought, watching the starving people.

Suddenly, a flap flap sounded above. A pristine white pigeon landed on my outstretched hand. I noticed a small scroll tied to its leg.

“For me?” I asked, as if it could understand, and it nodded vigorously.

I unrolled it, squinting at the tiny text, holding it up and down to read. Then the paper glowed, as if pulling me in.

And… everything went black.

——

I woke up, groping in the darkness, feeling something warm and rough, like a giant corncob.

“What’s this?” I frowned, trying to guess.

“Had enough touching?” a familiar voice rang out.

I jolted but kept feeling around. My wrist was suddenly grabbed.

“Ami, wake up!”

“Huh?” Something felt off. I slowly opened my eyes, the blinding light forcing them shut again.

“You awake?” the voice came again, close. I wondered if I was daydreaming.

A few seconds later, as my eyes adjusted, I saw clearer.

“What’s this black stuff? Cloth?” I mumbled, touching it.

“Yeah, my clothes.” I froze, looking up.

“ORSON?” I shrieked, stunned to find myself sitting on his lap.

“W-Why am I here?” I stammered, flustered, my mind replaying what happened, then cringing with embarrassment. I covered my face, unable to look at him.

“Sorry, I startled you,” Bear said.

I stayed silent, face burning.

“Look at me,” he said gently, pulling my hands down.

I lowered them but kept my gaze down. “I-I’m sorry…” I mumbled, barely audible.

He chuckled, lifting my chin. Our eyes met. How did I not notice how handsome he is before?

“A week apart, and you’ve gotten thinner,” he said.

“Huh? Really?” I looked down, touching my face.

“No way, I’m the same!” My embarrassment vanished.

He laughed again. I puffed my cheeks, turning away in a huff. Teasing me again!

“Was it fun going with them?” Bear asked, his voice low and gentle as always.

“Not fun at all!” I said firmly. “You don’t know—they always treat me like a kid. They stop me from doing anything, like I’m just short, not grown!” I clenched my fists, indignant.

“And Snake teases me nonstop—almost made me cry once. The other two joined in bullying me!”

“Oh? They bullied you?” Bear asked.

I nodded vigorously, giving him pitiful eyes. “And Fox scolded me all the time. His attitude’s the worst—you’ve got to get justice for me! Plus…” I spilled all my grievances, maybe exaggerating a bit—sorry, guys, but you teased me first!

I rambled on, not noticing Bear’s warm, attentive gaze. When I realized I’d talked too much, I cleared my throat, acting casual.

“Anyway, nothing special besides that.” I grinned innocently.

Bear smiled, gently ruffling my hair. For some reason, I let him, not swatting his hand or feeling annoyed. Seeing him made me… happy, strangely light.

“I’m sorry for leaving you with them. It must’ve been tough,” Bear said.

I pursed my lips, looking away, muttering, “It wasn’t…” Good thing I didn’t cry this time—my teary habit’s improving.

“You looked sad earlier. What’s wrong? Tell me,” he asked.

“Earlier? When did you…” I turned, surprised. “I knew you were spying on me! I wasn’t sad, I was just…” Facing those eyes, I couldn’t hold back.

His gaze sharpened, then softened, a tender smile forming. He wiped the tears rolling down my cheeks, saying softly, “Don’t cry. I’m always here for you.”

“Hic… I don’t want to cry… sob,” I whimpered.

“Why are you always so kind to me?” I leaned into Bear, his warm breath brushing my hair, his arms tightening gently as if shielding me from everything.

The room was still, swallowing all sound, leaving only my broken, fragile sobs mingling with the strong, steady rhythm of Bear’s heartbeat. Each beat echoed in my chest, slow but certain, like a silent promise that needed no words.

I closed my eyes, letting myself drift in that feeling, as if the world beyond had been locked behind that door.

——

“Ami? Where were you? We were looking everywhere!” Fox, Snake, and Panther rushed over when they saw me.

“Are you hurt? We thought you got nabbed for spilling about the mastermind,” Fox said, eyes full of worry.

Seeing them like this, I felt a pang of guilt. I’d just ratted them out to Bear. If they knew I snitched, what faces would they make?

Better keep quiet.

“Gods, your eyes are puffy. Were you off crying somewhere?” Snake leaned in, half-concerned, half-teasing.

I didn’t have the energy to argue, saying simply, “I’m tired. Heading to my room.”

They watched me go, their looks a bit odd, but I didn’t want to explain. I just wanted to sleep.

I flopped onto the bed, kicked off my shoes, and curled up under the blanket. Meeting Bear made my heart feel light, like I’d been recharged.

Weird— I hadn’t known him long, but being with him felt familiar… comforting. I buried my face in the pillow, exhaling. Not cool, thinking about this when the relief mission’s unfinished.

“Air condensation… If only someone with strong wind affinity…” I mumbled, drifting off.

Then I jolted awake.

“Wind affinity… wind— How could I forget?”I sprang up, slipped on my shoes, and ran downstairs.

The three were still talking.

“I’ve got a plan!” I shouted, buzzing with excitement.

“A plan? For the air condensation?” Fox asked.

“Yup!” I nodded eagerly, face bright.

“You were all gloomy earlier, now you’re bursting with energy…” Fox muttered.

“But I need you to agree to something,” I said, giving them pleading eyes.

“What?” Fox asked, suspicious.

“Agree first,” I begged. Knowing I’d persist, Fox gritted his teeth. “Don’t push it.”

“Haha, relax,” I winked, holding up a finger confidently.

……

“What? No way!” Fox yelled, crossing his arms and turning away.

“You already agreed,” I whined, dragging out my voice.

“Do you know how valuable these are? I only got five!” Snake and Panther snickered nearby.

“Tch! Stingy! Cheapskate!” I pouted.

Fox shuddered, fuming helplessly. “Fine. How many?” he growled.

I grinned slyly. “There and back for two people… four.” I held up four fingers.

Fox froze like a statue, ready to explode. I hid behind Snake, peeking out with a grin. “Chill, Mr. Fox. It’s for the border folks, hehe.”

Fox glared, grinding his teeth. “This kid!”

“How’d you know Fox had transit scrolls?” Snake asked, curious.

Transit scrolls—thin, soft, indestructible by normal means, only by divine gifts. Covered in tiny script written in special ink by water-affinity users with kinetic skills, they were secretly crafted by Caelora’s divinely gifted and sold to other realms like beastfolk or human territories, where they were incredibly useful. In other realms, their price was astronomical, a luxury item.

“Uh… guess?” I smirked, not mentioning Bear tipped me off for revenge.

“If you use them and fail, don’t blame me,” Fox grumbled, reluctantly handing over four scrolls.

“Of course, I’ll be careful, haha,” I said, thinking I only need two, hehe. “I’m off,” I waved the scrolls and dashed to my room.

I rolled the scrolls, tying them to the leg of the white pigeon Bear gave me.

“Done!” It’d been ages since I saw transit scrolls.

They were still being smuggled to other realms. Using divine gifts for other realms was taboo, punishable by exile for treason. But low-status divinely gifted in Caelora’s hierarchy smuggled them for profit. All realms used a shared currency called sol—ironic, since Caelora called it a “blessing,” but it was just covert control. Back in Caelora, I faced crazy pressure over stuff like this…

Slap slap! I smacked my cheeks to focus, then turned to the pigeon still waiting.

“Sorry for making you wait,” I said, stroking its head. Transit scrolls were poor for regular travel but perfect for tracking people. Just name the person and describe their traits to avoid mistakes, and it’d lead the user right to them.

“Fly,” I said, lifting it. The bird flapped its wings and soared off. “Safe travels!” I waved.

Now, I just had to wait. If nothing’s changed, he would definitely agree to help.