Chapter Nine There are birds ahead; it is time to take flight.

The sky is not the domain of humankind.

That azure expanse, long regarded as the emblem of liberty, has always belonged to those with wings. Souls tethered by gravity gaze in envy at the birds aloft, reaching time and again for the heavens in a futile attempt to seize both the creatures soaring above and the freedom they embody. Yet those bound to the earth possess only hands, not wings; no matter how fervently they strive, resignation is inevitable, and with sighs they must admit the sky is even more distant than it appears.

Fortunately, one of humanity’s distinguishing features is a refusal to yield, even in the face of failure. Whether this persistence is a virtue or a flaw is a matter of perspective, but in the grand enterprise of conquering the sky, it has proved indispensable.

In ancient times, flight was the province of a select few practitioners of the Unconstant Arts; ordinary folk, lacking both supernatural gifts and knowledge, were left to pursue their dreams through ingenuity. From crude gliders to sketches of flying machines, from unstable hot air balloons to practical airplanes, humankind has harnessed experience and wit to devise ever more astonishing instruments to master the blue vault above.

If one were to overlook the unscientific, unnatural foundation of a city built atop the corpse of a dragon, then perhaps the Celestial City itself could be deemed the culmination of this dream. Continuing along the path of pure human invention, the ultimate destination might be the supersonic fighter jets already in service, or perhaps the grandiose, romantic visions cherished by a handful of researchers—giant robots or personal flight packs.

This, at least, is how it would appear according to reason.

Given the technological prowess of this metropolis, it is entirely plausible that the scholars of the Celestial City could forge wings of steel fit for ordinary use. However, however...

As even outsiders have heard, the scholars of the Celestial City are somewhat—troubled. They cherish romance over practicality, personal tastes over cost efficiency! The words of a certain doctoral candidate in the university’s biology department summarize their collective spirit perfectly: "With such ample funding and a setting so uniquely blessed by fate, why not attempt something grand?"

This fevered imagination, when applied to the field of manned flight, caused the technological tree to twist into a sailor’s knot. Dissatisfied with streamlined forms and conventional alloys, the scholars sought something different, something that would reclaim the original romance of humanity’s first yearning for the sky—a fervent, unquenchable longing for freedom.

"Ah... ah, ah?"

The fruit of their combined efforts, now standing before Alice Eidal and eliciting such bewildered sounds, was a living creature.

It was 5:23 a.m. After leaving the esper’s residence, Gongsun Ce had led the hunter to their point of departure—White Feather Station—atop the roof of a blue tower.

Standing on the rooftop, the esper was deep in conversation with a balding middle-aged attendant in a windbreaker, while Alice stared, dumbfounded, at their intended "vehicle."

If one were to classify it as organic or inorganic, it was assuredly the former; indeed, it was a living, breathing being. At a glance, it resembled a perfectly proportioned, oversized version of some animal from nature, though only close inspection revealed the faint green lines on its beak—subtle marks of artificial modification. It boasted immaculate white plumage, lively eyes, and fan-shaped tail feathers, and when its wings were folded, its size rivaled that of a compact car.

In the plainest terms: it was a bird.

A pigeon.

A white, gigantic pigeon.

The giant pigeon clutched a massive rod in its claws, studying the female hunter with lively curiosity as she observed it with an equally fascinating expression.

"Boots of the Dawn Knight..." Alice murmured in awe.

The middle-aged attendant, just returning from selling tickets, seemed to mistake this for praise in a foreign tongue. As he fussed with the pigeon’s feathers, he addressed his new customer, "Fine bird, isn’t it? The lady thinks so too, eh?"

Alice nodded awkwardly. "Its feathers are quite beautiful."

"This big pigeon is the friendliest bird we’ve got!" he declared, his northern imperial accent thick. "White birds are good—none of those gaudy colors. We even have a huge white cockatoo; if you’re interested, I can take you next door for a look."

Alice had to admit she was momentarily piqued by curiosity; after all, who wouldn’t want to see such a gigantic parrot?

But before she could ask—she would never waste time on idle questions, of course—the young man beside her answered for her: "No, thank you. We’ve got urgent business in the Fixed-Wing District. Did you receive the transfer?"

The balding attendant checked his phone. "Let me see... All set! Do you need helmets and windbreakers?"

"I’ll pass, but please fetch a set for the lady," Gongsun Ce replied.

The attendant fitted a saddle-like apparatus onto the pigeon’s back. Alice donned her flight gear and pointed at the bird’s broad back.

"We’re flying on the pigeon’s back?"

"Flying on the pigeon’s back."

Seconds later, the great pigeon took to the sky, leaving behind several massive feathers—and the echo of a certain hunter’s scream.

"Ah—!"

Her vision soared upward, higher than the tower’s rooftop, into a realm even more breathtaking. The city’s air currents slipped through the helmet’s seams, filling Alice’s senses with a scent unlike any she had known. Rationally, she knew the air was no different from what she’d breathed in the bustling streets below, but the sweep of white wings and the glimpse of the city through parted feathers made it feel fresher than ever.

A sudden gust struck her, nearly toppling her backward. She meant to use a little trick from the Unconstant Arts, but found the wind’s force lessened, as if an invisible barrier had formed at her side.

She glanced at the young man ahead.

Gongsun Ce sat upright on the pigeon’s back, a perfect contrast to her own anxious scanning of the surroundings.

His voice, distorted by the wind, called back: "Passengers with less ability or courage usually opt for the slower, pricier aerial carriages. Only those confident in their own powers ride directly like this. If anything goes wrong, the rental company isn’t liable. I’m guessing you can manage, but it’s no trouble for me to shield one more person."

"You’re so chivalrous, I’m almost smitten," she teased.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," he replied.

Alice removed her helmet, letting her blue hair stream in the wind.

She looked down on the buildings, now toy-like in their diminutiveness, and the people below, reduced to mere specks. This city upon the dragon’s back was so vast that even at the limits of her gaze, she saw only more cityscape, not the end of the Celestial City itself.

Slowly, the hunter spread her arms to either side, letting her skin drink in the endless blue.

Never had she been so close to the sky.

Gongsun Ce considered warning her not to be reckless, lest she fall, but before he could speak, a peal of laughter like silver bells floated back to him.

It was a laughter so bright, so unrestrained, like a child on a holiday—hard to reconcile with the image of one who hunted monsters in the world’s shadows.

"You’re enjoying yourself," he observed.

"Ah, yes... I truly am. I never imagined I’d fly through the sky astride a pigeon!" she exclaimed.

"I’d have thought a veteran hunter such as yourself would own a ghostly steed or something of the sort."

"What do you take practitioners of the Unconstant Arts for? Things like that do exist, but if I could afford one, would I still be working for the Wild Hunt?" Alice replied, gazing raptly at the sky.

"So happy..."

Unconsciously, she repeated herself.

"It’s the happiest moment I’ve had... no, perhaps, the happiest since I was born," she murmured.

The esper had meant to look back, but was taken aback by her words.

Only then did he realize that the daily wonders taken for granted by the city's inhabitants might, for outsiders, be a once-in-a-lifetime gift.

Was this woman truly speaking from her heart?

He lacked Alice’s keen intuition and could not judge the truth without evidence, but he chose to believe her—to believe in the sincerity of the emotion in her words.

"Then savor it," he said gently.

He refrained from banter, offering only a calm, simple reply as silence fell between them for several seconds. The young man guessed Alice was still lost in thought.

A few moments later, her voice came from behind: "It’s not too late for you to change your mind, you know."

Gongsun Ce turned.

"I’m happy, and grateful for your help. But I am already regretting this—I shouldn’t have dragged you into such dangerous waters," the blue-haired hunter said, her expression graver than ever. "It’s been a while since your battle with the dragon cultist, and you haven’t shown any signs of contamination, so it’s safe to say you’re unaffected. In other words, you could forget all this and return to your own life. That would be best for you."

So, you volunteered to help, and now you’re second-guessing yourself. No wonder your colleagues find you difficult, he thought.

With that same solemnity, she pressed on: "I haven’t told you everything yet. There may be foes beyond the dragon cultists ahead. When this pigeon lands, you should go straight home—leave these matters behind; they have nothing to do with you. That’s what’s best for you."

Really now.

If you’d been this serious from the start, I’d hold you in even higher regard, he mused.

Adjusting his glasses, the young man replied, "Why did you become a hunter, Miss Alice? I’m not prying—you needn’t answer. I merely wish to say that, just as you became a practitioner of the Unconstant Arts, I too have my reasons for getting involved."

With not a hint of hesitation, Gongsun Ce said plainly, "You needn’t feel any guilt. I chose to step into the storm myself."

"...Heh."

Alice smiled, her worries lifting.

"Then don’t blame me for making free use of your help!"

"Likewise. Don’t forget I have the right to ask things of you, too."

"Oh, don’t be like that! Where’s your chivalry? Now, before we land, I’ll brief you on our enemies and the basics you need to know—about the Five Realms and Seven Aspects of the Unconstant Arts."

Twenty minutes later, the enormous white pigeon alighted on the roof of a high-rise.

The esper and the practitioner of the Unconstant Arts had arrived in the Fixed-Wing District.

Here, in the floating city’s largest port, the main transportation hub handles untold cargo every day. Ten years ago, before the city itself existed, this spot had been the left wing of the Celestial Dragon.