Chapter 46: Even If Life Is Like Dust

Above the boundless expanse of white clouds, an airship belched thick smoke and flames, its hull severely tilted, on the verge of plunging into the sea of clouds.

Inside the airship, screams erupted.

The terror sparked by a high-altitude disaster gripped the hearts of passengers and crew alike with merciless hands.

Under the crushing pressure of imminent death, some surrendered in despair, others screamed helplessly, and a few seemed madly desperate to grasp at any lifeline.

Yet, before a doomed airship, even the strongest will to survive was as insignificant as ants beneath human feet.

Amid the passengers’ frantic cries, Moro and Kangjae reacted differently.

Moro, facing the incline, silently made his way toward the observation deck.

As the airship began to plummet, the fate of the other passengers was grimly predictable.

In Moro’s mind, only one word mattered: self-preservation.

There was no room for anything else.

Kangjae tilted his head toward the source of the screams, hesitation flickering in his eyes before he sighed.

There was no use dwelling on the helpless.

Resolute, the hesitation vanished from his gaze, and he briskly followed Moro.

The two arrived at the observation deck in tandem.

From this vantage, a mere glance upward revealed thick smoke and flames billowing from the upper cabin, rapidly encroaching upon the massive gas cell atop the hull.

Both Moro and Kangjae tensed at the sight.

That gas cell was practically a colossal bomb, ready to detonate at any moment.

Suppressing the turmoil within, Moro moved along the wall to the deck’s edge, peering down at the clouds just within reach.

In the next instant, the tilted airship plunged into the cloud layer, a fierce gust whipping Moro’s hair and clothes.

Gripping the railing tightly, he leaned forward, eyes piercing through the suddenly thinning clouds to behold the vast land spread below.

The rushing wind carried a suffocating weight.

Visible altitude was measured in thousands of meters.

Even with his psychic abilities, there was no sense of safety.

Moro’s gaze fixed on the distant, unreachable earth. He expected his heart to race, overwhelmed by fear.

Yet standing here, staring down at the abyss just a step away, an unexpected calm settled over him.

Kangjae came up behind him, voice low and steady: “Whether we live or die depends entirely on skill.”

At a moment like this, even hoping for luck was a luxury.

Even as an enhanced ability user, Kangjae could not guarantee a safe landing from such a height.

Moro glanced back at Kangjae, then up to the gas cell, threatening to explode at any second.

With time running out, there was no room for hesitation or thought.

He had already envisioned the airship’s crash, but reality was far graver.

“Let’s exchange contact information.”

He took out his phone and looked at Kangjae.

Kangjae nodded. “Alright. If we make it to the ground alive, I’ll contact you first. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to recover your body.”

“Thanks a lot for that,” Moro said, his eyelid twitching.

Kangjae seemed oblivious to the implication, replying solemnly, “No need to be polite. We’re comrades in arms, after all.”

Moro was silent for a moment, then asked, “Your number?”

Facing the intensifying wind, Kangjae recited his contact number.

Moro dialed swiftly. When the first ring sounded, he hung up.

“Take care.”

Pocketing his phone, Moro nodded lightly to Kangjae, then leapt, his body piercing downward like a javelin into the open sky below.

With the airship on the brink of explosion, he had no time to contemplate whether his “survival techniques” would be enough to bring him safely to the ground.

Kangjae watched Moro’s falling figure, a flicker of admiration crossing his eyes.

He then glanced back at the cabin, emotions swirling—regret and guilt.

After a pause of two or three seconds, Kangjae released his grip on the railing and leapt toward the wispy white clouds below.

He spread his arms and legs, air resistance slowing his descent.

From his current altitude, he could still see Moro’s figure beneath him.

Boom!

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion roared overhead.

Almost simultaneously, Kangjae and Moro flipped their bodies, faces toward the sky, eyes fixed on the source of the blast.

Under their gaze, the airship erupted into a dazzling fireball blooming high above.

Moro stared silently at the rapidly expanding inferno, faintly discerning countless fragments of the hull.

But from this distance, those scattered black specks were all too likely mingled with human remains.

More often than not… human life was as fragile as dust.

Only those who wielded power had the right to seek change.

Flipping back over, Moro faced downward, limbs spread wide to slow his fall.

“Deceptive Flying Star.”

His right palm faced downward, condensing a glowing green psychic orb, which he then thrust forward.

Whoosh—

The orb plummeted rapidly, suddenly halting about a hundred meters below.

One second later.

The orb reversed course as if time itself rewound, flying back toward Moro who had descended nearer.

Facing the returning orb, Moro summoned his psychic energy, raising the back of his right hand—etched with the Yearmark tattoo—to meet it.

Bang!

The orb exploded against the back of his hand.

The impact sent Moro tumbling violently upward.

“Still too little.”

Struggling to stabilize in midair, Moro fired another orb downward, then poured more psychic energy into his palm.

Bang!

Another explosion.

Moro was blasted backward by the returning orb once more, though less violently than before.

“Still not enough…”

Feeling the feedback from the psychic collision, Moro launched another orb, concentrating even more energy into his palm.

Bang!

Another clash of psychic forces, but this time with a faint softness.

The energy unleashed calmed rather than propelled him, as if a gentle hand supported him, briefly suspending him in the air.

This was because the returning orb and the psychic energy surrounding his hand created a peculiar neutralization between offense and defense.

When their combined values nearly matched, Moro’s downward momentum was significantly reduced.

“This will work.”

Having confirmed the effect, Moro’s heart steadied.

Above him, Kangjae watched Moro’s clever maneuver, involuntarily gaping as the fierce wind rushed into his mouth.

Damn…!!!

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In a stone chamber illuminated by a radiant pearl,

The space was square, with a platform built upward by four sets of steps at its center.

On the platform stood a harp, its body like jade and strings as dark as ink.

Suddenly,

The strings vibrated on their own, producing a clear, pure sound like sweet spring water, which then surged into a stormy roar.

As the strings were fiercely plucked, waves of dark psychic energy emanated, sketching a humanoid figure before the harp.

Gradually, its outline solidified, revealing the form of Soph.

Soph slowly opened her eyes, a look of familiar surprise crossing her face as she saw the self-playing harp, soon replaced by deep confusion.