The Aetherian ship glided through the clouds, its shimmering hull glowing faintly as it hummed with an ancient, rhythmic pulse. Onboard, Erik stood in the central navigation chamber, his hands resting on the glowing console. He had only just begun to scratch the surface of the ship’s capabilities, and yet it seemed inexhaustible, a reservoir of untapped potential.

Behind him, Berndhardt leaned casually against the wall, his ever-present grin in place.

“So, what’s the next step, Commander?” he teased, emphasizing the title with a playful smirk.

Erik didn’t look up. “We wait.”

“Good,” Berndhardt replied, pushing off the wall.

“I’ll be in the galley, convincing that stubborn table to make something that doesn’t taste like a nobleman’s leftovers.”

Erik smirked faintly but didn’t respond, his focus returning to the console. As Berndhardt left, the hum of the ship deepened slightly, catching Erik’s attention. He frowned, tilting his head as if listening.

A faint sensation brushed Erik’s mind, a mix of reprimand and petulance. The ship was communicating with him; not through words but through an undeniable sense of emotion.

“I know,” Erik muttered under his breath, his tone uncharacteristically sheepish.

“I didn't know I was an Atherian... I didn't even know you even existed.”

The hum shifted, carrying a note of disapproval.

“I get it,” Erik said, sighing as he placed a hand on the console.

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry you were alone for so long. That wouldn't make me feel great either…”

The glowing runes on the walls pulsed softly, the ship’s response carrying a sense of reluctant forgiveness.

Erik couldn’t help but chuckle. “Great. My own ship is mad at me.”

Looking back to the console his hand was on, he focused on the central mechanism; a crystalline interface that shimmered with an almost sentient energy. Placing his hand on it, he closed his eyes, and a sudden rush of data filled his mind.

A massive map materialized in the air before him, its translucent surface glowing with intricate details. Cities, villages, and landscapes spread out in breathtaking precision, marked with faint flickers of light. Erik’s breath caught as he realized what he was seeing: a live view of the region, its magical laid bare.

“So, this is what you can do,” Erik murmured, awe creeping into his voice.

The Grand Magus Oswin entered the chamber, his steps measured as he approached the map.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he said, his tone equal parts admiration and curiosity.

Erik glanced at him. “You knew about this?”

Oswin shrugged. “I had my suspicions. Aetherian technology has always been… responsive. It seems you’ve finally begun to unlock its potential.”

***

Erik’s father had wandered the halls since he started to feel better, his steps unsteady but determined. He turned and walked away in confusion after watching Erik standing before a glowing console, muttering apologies to what appeared to be the wall.

“What in the divine is he doing?” his father murmured, shaking his head as he moved on.

Moments later, he entered the galley, only to find Berndhardt leaning over the table, his axe propped against his shoulder.

“Now listen here,” Berndhardt was saying, his tone serious.

“If you’re smart enough to make food, then you can figure out how to make Viking Blood worth drinking. I’m not asking for perfection, just something with a kick!”

The elder Marlowe stared at the scene, completely baffled.

“What… is happening on this ship?”

***

Back in the navigation chamber, Erik took a deep breath, focusing on the map.

“Can you scan for eldritch magic signatures across the region?” he asked aloud, his tone careful.

The ship’s hum grew steady, the map shifting to highlight faint traces of spots of green light scattered at the Temple of Vraekha where he first met Vesper, and in small spots across the capital and surrounding areas where he had already been. Erik’s eyes narrowed as it seems that the only locations highlighted were areas that he had already visited or known about that had Eldritch magic.

“Oswin,” Erik said,

glancing at the Grand Magus.

“This doesn’t seem to be the whole picture. How do refine and target the eldritch magic specifically when we havent been to the location yet?”

Oswin studied the map, his expression thoughtful.

“Using the ship’s technology to pinpoint the sources is a good start. But if you truly want precision, you’ll need to combine your abilities with the ship’s system.”

Erik hesitated. “And if I use the demonic system?”

Oswin’s gaze sharpened.

“That would amplify your sight, yes. If the ship will allow it...”

Erik nodded, then hesitated. “I want to test something,” he said carefully.

“I want to see if the demon will be accepted.”

Oswin’s eyebrows rose. “A bold idea. But you already tried this once.. You know what happened the first time.”

Ignoring the warning, Erik drew his sword, its crimson-tinged blade glowing faintly. He placed it in the designated slot for system items. The ship’s hum stuttered, its light dimming momentarily before forcefully ejecting the sword with a forceful burst. The weapon shot through the roof where a whole magically opened and promptly closed, disappearing into the sky.

“What—” Erik began, but the ship’s hum carried an unmistakable note of disdain.

Oswin chuckled, shaking his head.

“It seems the ship doesn’t take kindly to sharing its space with a demon.”

Erik sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. But you didn’t have to throw it into orbit.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The ship’s hum softened, as though smug.

He placed his hand on the console, the runes flickering softly under his touch.

“Alright,”

he began, his tone calm but carrying an edge of sincerity.

“I get it; you don’t trust the demon. Honestly, I don’t blame you. But we’re running out of time, and I need every advantage we have.”

The ship’s hum remained steady, though its tone carried a faint sense of skepticism.

Erik sighed.

“Look, I’m asking nicely. Is there anything I can do to convince you? Something that would make you… work with the demon? Just enough to use its system to help us pinpoint the eldritch spread.”

The hum shifted, growing softer, almost contemplative. The runes on the walls pulsed faintly, as if the ship was deliberating.

Erik waited, the silence stretching out as he kept his hand on the console. Finally, a faint, almost tentative sensation brushed against his mind. The ship wasn’t speaking in words, but the meaning was clear enough: Trust.

“Trust?” Erik repeated, frowning.

“You want me to trust you more?”

The hum deepened, confirming his understanding. Another wave of emotion followed one that felt oddly vulnerable. The ship wanted more than just his trust; it wanted to feel valued, respected as more than just a tool.

Erik exhaled slowly.

“Alright. I’ve been treating you like a tool, like a means to an end. I didn’t think of you as… someone. That changes now.”

The ship’s hum softened further, carrying a faint note of approval.

“So, what happens if I put the sword back in? Do we try again, or do you eject it straight into the next continent?”

The ship’s hum grew sharp, almost chastising.

“Right, bad joke,”

Erik muttered. He straightened, his tone shifting to one of careful diplomacy.

“What if I put limits on it? No full integration, just a surface-level connection to amplify my sight. You’ll still have full control.”

The ship hesitated, its runes flickering faintly before the hum steadied again. Erik felt the faintest hint of reluctant agreement.

“Thank you,”

Erik said sincerely.

“And for the record… I appreciate you. More than I’ve let on.”

The hum softened, carrying a note of acceptance. Erik couldn’t help but smile faintly. He’d apologized to a ship and it had worked.

Erik retrieved the demonic sword, which had been neatly returned to the ship’s storage system after its dramatic ejection. He held it for a moment, feeling the faint vibration of the demon within.

“Oh, we’re doing this again?” the demon said, its voice dripping with sardonic amusement.

“Let me guess; you sweet-talked the ship into letting me back in.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Erik muttered, placing the sword back into the slot.

This time, the ship’s hum remained steady, though it flickered slightly as the sword’s energy connected.

The map flared to life, the green energy signatures sharpening in detail. Erik’s demonic eye activated once more, the eldritch markers glowing brighter than before. His enhanced vision allowed him to trace the connections between the sources, forming a web of corruption that spread through the capital and beyond.

As Erik studied the map, he placed a hand on the console again.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, directing the words toward the ship.

He could feel its faint sense of satisfaction, though it also carried a note of caution.

He nodded.

“I know. We’ll keep this connection limited. No full integration.”

He glanced at the sword.

“And you…behave.”

The demon let out a low chuckle in Erik’s mind.

“Fine, fine. I’ll play nice. For now.”

The door to the navigation chamber slid open with a soft hiss, and Vesper stepped inside, her sharp gaze immediately catching sight of the glowing map projected before Erik. Her brow furrowed as she approached, her boots echoing faintly against the ship’s pristine floor.

“What’s all this?” she asked, her tone curious but edged with concern.

Erik glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the map, but he said nothing. The faint tension in the room didn’t escape her notice.

Her eyes scanned the map, the glowing patterns of green weaving across the projection like veins of poison. She froze, her expression hardening.

“Why is a quarter of the city green?”

Her question hung in the air like a blade. The silence stretched as her gaze shifted to Erik, then to the Grand Magus, who stood at the edge of the room, his expression grim. Erik and Oswin exchanged a glance, the unspoken weight between them evident.

Vesper’s voice dropped.

“That’s... eldritch, isn’t it?”

Erik nodded slowly, his crimson eyes meeting hers.

Her reaction was immediate, her composure faltering for a brief moment. She turned back to the map, the vivid green signatures seeming to pulse under her scrutiny.

“It’s brighter here,” she muttered.

“Concentrated. How many people are we talking about? How far has this spread?”

Before Erik could respond, the ship answered, its hum deepening as the map shifted. A faint, written script in common was revealed, its meaning unmistakable.

“Too numerous to count…”

The words hit like a hammer, the weight of them visible in Vesper’s expression. She stepped back, her eyes scanning the sprawling mass of green that stretched across the city’s districts.

“Too numerous...” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“How did this happen? How could it get this bad without anyone noticing?”

Oswin stepped forward, his tone calm but heavy.

“Because no one was looking. The eldritch thrives in neglect, in ignorance. The Concord’s power struggles, their disregard for the people; they allowed this to take root.”

Vesper shook her head, her sharp demeanor faltering as the enormity of the situation sank in.

“If it’s this widespread… how do we even start to contain it?”

Erik’s voice was steady but grim. “We start by understanding it. This map is just the beginning.”

Vesper turned back to Erik, her eyes searching his face.

“You knew it was bad,” she said softly, “but not like this.”

Erik didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward the map, the glowing veins of green a stark reminder of the challenge ahead.

“I suspected. But this…” He paused, his voice lowering.

“This is worse than I imagined.”

The ship’s hum resonated softly, almost as if in agreement. The tension in the room was palpable, each of them grappling with the sheer scale of what they were seeing.

Vesper let out a shaky breath, her usual confidence shaken.

“Too numerous to count,” she murmured again.

“That’s not just a few infected… it’s an infestation.”

Erik’s jaw tightened, his focus returning to the map.

“And we’re the only ones who can stop it.”

As the weight of the revelation settled in the navigation chamber, the heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of hearty laughter echoing down the corridor. The door slid open, and Berndhardt strode in with his characteristic swagger, a large tankard sloshing with a crimson liquid in one hand and another identical tankard in the other. Beside him walked Erik's father, a tentative but genuine smile on his face.

"Ah, there you all are!" Berndhardt boomed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Thought you could use a break from all this doom and gloom."

Erik looked up from the glowing map, his stern expression softening slightly at the sight of his father.

"Always so serious," Berndhardt chided playfully. He handed one of the tankards to Erik's father.

"Here, take another swig. It'll put some color back in those cheeks."

Erik's father chuckled, raising the tankard appreciatively.

"I must admit, this 'Viking Blood' is quite the concoction. Strong, but invigorating."

Vesper arched an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the ominous green glow on the map.

"You got him to drink that? It tastes like fire and regret."

Berndhardt feigned offense.

"Fire and regret? This is a legendary brew from my homeland! A blend of mead, spices, and a few secret ingredients that'll make you feel alive."

Erik's father took another sip, savoring the robust flavor.

"It's been a long time since I've enjoyed something like this. Reminds me of the old festivals we used to have."

Berndhardt grinned broadly. "See? The man has taste!"

The tension in the room eased slightly as the unlikely pair bantered. Oswin observed with a subtle smile, his eyes flickering between the map and the newcomers. Vesper shook her head, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

"Well, while you two are indulging, we've discovered that a quarter of the city is saturated with eldritch energy," she said, her tone a mix of sarcasm and gravity.

Erik's father sobered at her words, stepping closer to the map.

"This... this is the capital?"

"Yes," Erik confirmed, his gaze returning to the glowing green sections.

"The infestation is more widespread than we thought."

Berndhardt peered over their shoulders, his expression turning serious.

"That's a lot of green."

Erik's father glanced at his son.

"Is there any way to tell how many people are affected?"

Before Erik could respond, the ship's hum deepened, the written script in common was once again revealed to all present.

Berndhardt let out a low whistle, breaking the silence.

“Too numerous to count, huh?” His voice was steady, but the usual humor was absent as he took a swig of his tankard, though the cheer of Viking Blood seemed to do little to ease the gravity of the revelation. He shook his head, setting the tankard down on the nearest surface.

“You’d think someone in that damned capital would’ve noticed by now.”

Erik’s father, who had been staring at the map with a growing frown, finally spoke.

“This… this is what was festering while they kept me locked away.” His voice was low, tinged with guilt and disbelief.

“I was there, breathing that corruption, and they left me to die. How many others have been exposed like I was? How many more are already too far gone?”

He turned to Erik, his expression a mix of concern and pride.

“You knew this was bigger than just rescuing me. Didn’t you?”

Erik met his father’s gaze, his voice steady.

“I had my suspicions. But this map? It’s confirmation of how deep this runs.”

Berndhardt crossed his arms, his tone sharper now.

“It’s not just deep…it’s everywhere. You’d need an army to fix this mess. Or…” He tilted his head, his gaze drifting to Erik.

“Something better.”