That night, Ripley couldn't sleep.

Rather, he felt like having slept for only an hour or two. His body felt uncomfortably hot under the stuffy underground chambers they were staying in. He rose up from his bed and headed outside, through the shack that burned two days past.

When he got out, the sun hadn't risen, the indigo sky dotted with only a handful of stars. The town still retained its sleepy disposition, despite the few Bulwark tents posted at the front gate, which was quite some distance away from where he was currently standing. He saw the two mercenaries engaged in some sort of ritualistic dance.

"Oh, Ripley! You're up early!" Silt greeted him, dressed in baggy clothes. Her head was still partially covered with a bandana, leaving a few locks of hair hanging freely. "We were just gathering some aether to fuel our trip."

"Gathering aether?" he yawned. "What do you mean?"

"Look," said Silt as she waved one arm, and a trail of glowing light was left in open space before disappearing. "For some reason, aether gathers best early in the morning. It's like the Earth itself is in a sleep-like state, restoring its spent energy from yesterday."

Ripley waved his arm around, and beheld the dazzling light show he had just created.

"It's beautiful, and kind of dangerous," he covered his mouth, and Silt giggled.

"Glad you like it. It's concentrated aether that's dangerous, and that stuff is much more potent than this aether, which comes in trace amounts." She took a whiff of the morning air, and Ripley did the same. He should be feeling awkward and tense because of Silt's presence, but instead, he felt calmer and invigorated.

"Is that why you two are doing a weird dance?"

"Partly. This dance was taught to me by my forefathers, and it's the best method for harvesting aether. I tried other methods, like tying sails on the back of my Behemoth and driving around, but it wasted more aether than I thought."

"Can I help?"

"I don't think you can. This dance is of ritualistic origin passed down from teacher to student. Not only do you need to learn the movements, but also you need extensive knowledge of aether flow, the position of the earth relative to the natural aether current, and the exact movements to make in particular times of day."

"In other words, it's a Shorin dance that takes ages to learn," Lou approached the two.

"A Shorin dance?!" the young smith almost shouted. "Then, she must be Shorin!"

"Silt's home is actually not far from the Shorin mainland, but it was destroyed by the Blue Army some time ago," Lou answered. "So, yeah. You could say that."

"Oh," Ripley frowned. "Um, how's your leg?"

"Better," he replied and removed the bandages from his leg. "Thanks to all this aether that sped up the healing process. You can still see a scar, though. Not like anyone can see it. So what brings you up this early in the morning? Practicing magic?"

"He knows some magic?" Silt's eyes widened. "You're just full of surprises, smithson."

"Uhh, n-no. Not much. I only know as much as what my father had taught me."

"What did your father teach you?" asked the cat-eyed thief.

"Only a barrier spell and a strengthen spell. Just enough to defend myself," he said.

"That's no good!" exclaimed the mercenary. "If you're gonna defend yourself with magic, a barrier is not enough. You need to learn how to cast a missile."

"A mana missile? But isn't my gun enough for that?"

"What are you thinking?!" she began to reprimand him. "It's too dangerous of a weapon! Not only to your enemies, but to yourself! A gun has many advantages, but also many disadvantages. Granted, it can kill in a second, but only if you have bullets. And these bullets can explode if not handled properly! Not to mention how loud it is when fired. You're better off learning some magic for self-defense!"

"Calm down, Silt," Lou stopped her. "You're such a worrywart."

"Y-yeah," Ripley nodded. He wanted to add that she reminded him of Marlowe a bit, but decided against it. "So, about my revolver, can you tell me more about it?"

"I suppose so," she said as scratched her cheek. "You already know that it's a weapon from the bygone era of the gods, right? Well, there's more to it than that, because that's not the only kind of gun in those times. There are many of those in the so-called Blue Forges, but those are only replicas meant for display. Yours is a fully-functional gun, with all the bits and pieces intact."

"Do you mean to say there are more powerful types of guns?" asked the mercenary.

"Yes. Ripley's revolver is a special kind that can fire six rounds before reloading, but there's also a gun that can fire a thousand rounds per minute and a gun that can destroy a wall with a single shot, even a gun that can strike from as far as that peak to here. I've heard about those only in tales, though."

Ripley's heart sank as he heard the potential damage a gun can create. It's no wonder Silt called it a dangerous weapon.

"It's a good thing I didn't bring it with me today," he laughed sheepishly.

"Good choice, smithson," Silt said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish the ritual."

She walked at the center of the clearing where she and Lou had danced and put one hand on the ground in a weird pose, and the ground below her started to write itself an intricate pattern, which glowed brightly. An intense wind brewed, gathering around the dancer in the middle of the formation, and with deft movements of her body, she led the aether and let it flow to where her Behemoth was hidden.

Ripley was dazzled by this marvelous display of ritual magic, and was even more dazzled at Silt's countenance. Her hair glowed blue as the ritual dance took place, the free bundles of hair stirring the wispy air in the area, creating a mesmerizing shower of light. Her cat-like eyes shone like gemstones as they reflected the light given off by the aether. Her clothes fluttered as she danced in a graceful air, giving the illusion that she was floating. Or maybe she really was floating?

It's as if a goddess had landed right in front of him, Ripley thought.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ripley didn't realize that Lou had been beside him. "Only Silt can finish the ritual dance, since she knows even more than I do. When you look at her like that, you begin to forget that she's someone as dangerous as me. I should warn you, there's a lot hidden in her than you might suppose. Her being Shorin is one thing, but that's only scratching the surface."

As the dancer finished with her dance, the aether wind began to die out, and the pattern drawn on the ground started to fade. She approached the two boys who had clapped at her performance.

"Alright, you two. Enough clapping. The stage is set for your practice."

"She's right. Better get to it, Ripley." And Lou pushed the young smith to the center of the clearing. "First thing's first. We need to get rid of your habit of uttering incantations. It slows down the casting process. You have to think fast, and think clear. Quick casting is key here."

"How exactly can I do that?" he worriedly asked, but he received a mana missile as a reply. Luckily, it didn't hit him.

"Like so," and the expert magician fired a barrage of mana missiles at the initiate. Ripley tried to dodge the incoming storm, but Lou shouted at him.

"Don't dodge! That's the whole point! Make a hard barrier as quick as you can! No incantations necessary! Don't worry about getting hit! I've tweaked the missiles so that it only does little damage!"

Two hours later, day broke, and Ripley's crash course on quick-casting had ended.

He had returned to the War Room covered in sweat and dust. His trusty companion Marlowe had just woken up from his slumber.

"Good morning, Ripley," he said in a sleepy voice. "Why are you so dirty like that?"

"Lou and I had training," he simply answered.

"Early in the morning? You should've climbed up the Palmetto to see the sun rise. It's beautiful, especially when you're at the top."

"I guess I missed it, then," but Ripley kept to himself that he had seen something more beautiful than a sunrise.

"By the way, where's Mr. Mercenary and Miss Silt?"

"They're outside preparing for our trip. We should pack up as well. Can you get me a wet towel? I need to wash myself."

"I don't keep wet towels in my collection. Go get your own. Here, a rag. There's a water jug over there. Don't waste it all on yourself, you hear?"

And the young smith went and cleaned himself, wiping off the grime from his body.

"Oh yeah," Marlowe said. "If you want to change clothes, there's a fresh set in that room. You can change there while you're at it."

Ripley followed Marlowe's suggestion, and found the same kind of clothes he was currently wearing. Surprised at this sight, Ripley asked in a suspecting tone.

"How do you have matching clothing from the bygone era?"

"Don't ask me. All I know is that there's a whole wardrobe of those. It's where I got these baggy overalls. If you'd like, I can get you this huge army coat that looks like a dress."

"N-No thanks. I think I'll stick to this one."

Ripley had finished changing in what seemed to him his uniform from today onwards, and sat down to wait for the goggled youth to finish. His revolver lay slung by his side.

"Hey, Rip?" Marlowe called from another room.

"Yeah?" he responded.

"About yesterday," the goggled youth paused for a bit. "I'm sorry."

"W-what?"

"I mean, I didn't get to do much. All I did was complain about stuff and be all negative about it. And I was a complete idiot for wasting one chance to get something valuable. Not to mention I was clueless about this Goddess thing. What's the big deal about Her anyway? I mean, She did give us magic, but why can't I use it?"

"I guess it just depends on the person, Marlowe."

"But look at you! You're-" the goggled youth hesitated, but continued after getting the right words. "There's just something about you that I can't put my finger on. Maybe I'm just jealous of you. Your dad's a distinguished member of the Blue Army, you know some magic, and you have a mercenary or two that answer to you. And one of them came with a Behemoth. What do I have? Nothing."

"What are you talking about?! You've been a great help since the day before yesterday. Who was it that helped me with the box? Who was that led us to this place to hide from the Blue Army?"

"The fight with the mercenary doesn't count. All I did was throw stuff at him."

"But it helped, didn't it? Come on, Marlowe. You know I'm not good at this sort of thing."

Ripley had always been on the receiving end of a pep talk, but now he found that he was on the other end. It was rare for Marlowe to be troubled about something, and even if he did find himself in a rut, it was only over petty things that can be forgiven easily. This time, however, seemed to be on a different scale. Ripley had to do something to cheer his friend up.

He stood up and went to look for Marlowe, but he was already up and about.

"What are you standing up for?" he said as he fixed up a smile. "Let's go on an adventure!"

"Wait, what about that talk earlier?" Ripley asked.

"What talk? Now, come on! Breakfast is on me!" and the goggled youth dashed away, overalls clattering with the sound of things jostling around. Ripley followed.

When the two youths were about to exit the tunnel system, they could hear sounds of marching from above them. They rushed outside and the two mercenaries greeted them.

"You two, you better hurry," said Silt, who had donned her chainmail cloak. "The Blue Army's gotten wind of our location, and we better get out of here fast."

"Lemme guess," Marlowe crossed his arms. "It was your fault, wasn't it?"

"We had no choice," she said. "They were gonna find us sooner or later."

"Heads up!" Lou stood at the top of the Behemoth. "Guardian-class Behemoth incoming. Also a bunch of transport types. Probably reinforcements from the Capital."

"Oh no, you really done it now, you two!" Marlowe shouted.

"On the contrary, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Better die with a bang than with a whimper, I'd say."

"Quick, get on!" Silt ordered the two. The group clambered on, and the Behemoth rolled forth. The Blue Army had assembled right in front of them, but the metal wagon pierced through the gathering, and the crowd of men in uniform split itself. Some threw a few bolts of mana at it, but it was all in vain.

"Boss!" Lou shouted from the wagon's top. "It's time to put what you have learned into practice!"

"Are you crazy?!" Marlowe screamed with all his might.

Silt's face flashed from the screen artifact, and told the two remaining passengers.

"This part's gonna sound dangerous, but we have to defend ourselves until we arrive at the outpost!"

"I thought we're leaving Outpost!" he exclaimed.

"Not this outpost! I'm talking about a different one, the one where the knight said Earl Nightjar might be. It's actually one of the outposts he built du-"

Silt was interrupted by a mana missile headed their way, and she swerved to the right to dodge it, shaking the contents of the wagon.

"Look alive, Silt! We've got company!" said Lou.

Ripley looked from the side of the Behemoth, and was shocked at what he saw.

There were Behemoths with the same make as the one they were riding on, but these were also different. They were smaller and had two doors at its sides. What's more, instead of wheel that spun around the ground, these had disks that lay flat, and they allowed the vehicles to float. A Blue Army soldier climbed on top of a hole in the roof of the vehicle and prepared to jump on top of theirs, but was blasted away with a mana missile.

"Look, Ripley!" Marlowe pointed out. "Their Behemoths are floating! And there's a big one over there!"

The young smith rushed to the blonde's side, and when he saw it, flashbacks of his escape became more vivid.

"Oh my Goddess," was all Ripley could utter.

It was the same type of Behemoth that had destroyed his house and appeared in his dream. It was built like an armored knight, with four wing-like protrusions jutting out of its back, and it towered over the rest of its kin, speeding and floating as they were. It held no weapon in its hand, but its presence was enough to strike fear in the hearts of many. Its head turned towards them and said, "Well, well, if it isn't Lou Garramond."

"Ah, Marcus! It's been a long time!" he simply replied.

"Did he say Marcus? As in, General Marcus?!" Silt said from the artifact.

The moment Ripley heard the word 'general', he knew they were in some serious business. Serious and dangerous business.