Chapter 281

Chapter 281: Dusk Graveyard

The Dusk Graveyard was the ancient battlefield Midi had yearned to find.

But this "ancient battlefield" wasn’t a real one. In truth, no wars had ever occurred here.

Ten thousand years ago, when King Bacal of the Tyrant Dragon led the Demon Faction to invade the heavens, catastrophic explosions tore through space and time. Countless space rifts appeared on the heavenly battlefield, dragging both heavenly and demonic cruisers into the Lower Realm—now called the Sea of Clouds.

This graveyard of ships recreated the brutal war of the past, yet no actual battles happened here. Only lifeless metal and fading legends remained.

In simple terms, it was just a pile of drifting wreckage.

Practically speaking, it was a treasure trove—but only if its location stayed hidden.

The Dusk Graveyard fit this perfectly.

Upon arriving, Midi saw why it stayed undiscovered.

Located in a windless, current-free zone, skyships avoided this area. Straying here risked stranding once magic crystal fuel ran out. The glow from space rifts was hidden by thick mist, invisible from afar.

These factors kept the Dusk Graveyard untouched for millennia.

Emil had pieced together its location from fragments in an old book. Yet she dared not visit alone or share her findings, fearing disaster.

Only when Reinhardt and Wiseman—two humans from the Lower Realm who craved wealth but cared little for it—arrived at Windstream did she feel ready to act.

A prince, a reckless Necromancer, and a shut-in alchemist teamed up for several expeditions, salvaging valuable wrecks.

But without Midi, large-scale exploration would’ve been impossible. Their problem wasn’t numbers or funding—they were amateurs.

Take Reinhardt. The arrogant prince, having visited before, barked orders the moment the Narwhal entered the graveyard: “Go here! Salvage that!” Clearly, Midi’s suggestion to “claim the Delos Empire’s throne” had lit a fire under him.

Unfortunately, his directions were disastrous.

Though devoid of magical beasts and winds, the graveyard hid dangers. As Midi knew from his past life, ancient battlefields relied on magic flow to hold together. Without it, the wreckage would’ve scattered long ago.

Experienced adventurers would study the magic flow’s direction to map the graveyard’s size and safe paths—areas with strong flow avoided wreckage piles, while endpoints housed space rifts requiring caution.

But the fourth prince, master of politics and swordsmanship, had zero adventure sense. His routes led to dead ends or magic vortexes near rifts. They floundered like headless flies, progress slow and perilous.

Emil, future “White Snake” of the clouds, fared no better. The alchemist, obsessed with labs and factories, fixated on high-value treasures: engines, control rooms, levitation systems.

When spotting such wrecks, her greed burned through her white tortoiseshell glasses sharper than any blade! Yet she didn’t realize her random salvaging wasted time.

True salvagers analyzed clues: What battle created these wrecks? Where would the best-preserved flagships drift? Only by mapping the battlefield’s logic could one target prime loot—even an intact cruiser.

If one saw a "wreck that might contain a complete engine" and acted on impulse to salvage it, there would only be two outcomes—

The adventurer would start believing every wreck might hold a "complete engine."

They’d keep salvaging until nightfall and end up with nothing!

It was clear Reinhardt’s ignorance of proper exploration methods, combined with Emil’s shameless greed, made them a disaster for real discovery. Even with ample manpower and funding, they’d achieve little—let alone while penniless.

If not for Emil’s genius in alchemy, repurposing salvaged junk into skyship techniques, they’d have gone bankrupt long ago.

As for the last member, "Hand of Nightmare" Wiseman Newton…

Midi seriously questioned if he even tried to explore.

After days of watching, Midi realized Wiseman didn’t bother.

The guy just wandered off to daydream in solitude, unfazed even when caught.

That such a chaotic trio produced auction items worth 200,000 Crystal Coins made Midi suspect their luck was absurdly good.

Yet seeing their disorganized, reckless approach stirred unexpected nostalgia in him.

How long had it been since he’d seen such pure "adventure"?

No experience, no rules, no plans—just raw passion and greed for wealth or tech, charging recklessly forward… along with plenty of slacking.

Maybe this was real adventure.

If only he could share such chaos with Fina and Alice someday.

A rare softness flickered in Midi’s star-dark eyes.

"Who’s on your mind?"

A wistful voice whispered by his ear.

Even as an Awakened One, Midi jumped—not from distraction, but because Avril excelled at stealth.

A level 60 assassin with an awakened Secret Technique, this was her true skill.

Without killing intent, even Midi couldn’t sense her.

Somehow, she’d coiled around his arm like a serpent, her curves pressed tight.

"Miss Avril, enough games," Midi said, struggling futilely as she clung closer. "We’re firm allies. Why keep seducing me?"

"Seducing? What nonsense!" Avril batted her lashes. "I’m just chilly from the wind."

In this magic-flow zone with no air currents, her excuse was laughable.

Midi sighed, trapped.

Avril smirked. Her initial plan to use Midi for intelligence had spiraled, and she’d no intention of stopping now.

Knowing he was a good man only fueled her efforts.

An ally? Bare minimum.

Even if his heart belonged to others, the dark elf assassin refused to quit without trying.

Seduction was gratitude, in her view.

Without Midi, she’d never have reunited with her sister or found safety.

She’d repay him her way—with teasing, temptation, and far more.