Chapter 298

Chapter 298: Racing Against Time

The bridge explosion was triggered by Reinhardt.

Though only a level 54 sword soul, the fourth prince had managed to ambush the magic crystal vault amidst dozens of level 60 guards on the Magic Griffin warship—a move even Midi hadn’t foreseen.

Perhaps Reinhardt possessed some royal trump card, or his sheer determination to prove himself had paid off.

Whatever the reason, Midi silently cheered in his heart: *Good job!*

With the core command systems damaged, even the Magic Griffin warship’s speed dropped, buying crucial time for Emil’s repairs.

Now, Midi’s only task was to stall the Saint.

If the Saint couldn’t return to the bridge, Reinhardt might hold out longer, deepening the chaos.

Every extra minute—even a single one—tipped the scales further in their favor.

*How much progress has been made on the Wind King Warship?*

The thought flashed through Midi’s mind.

“About thirty minutes left!” Wiseman’s panting voice rang across the Wind King Warship’s bridge.

The magic circuit repairs were nearing completion, finishing four hours earlier than the original ten-hour estimate—nearly twice as fast. But the cost showed: every alchemy-capable crewmember lay drained, unable to even absorb magic crystals for recovery.

Even the typically unflappable Wiseman now felt the bitter taste of nearly empty magic reserves.

“Thirty minutes?!” Emil’s brows knitted tightly.

Reinhardt’s rushed message had warned of enemies arriving in fifteen minutes. Time was up, yet repairs needed twice that?

This meant the Wind King Warship would hang defenseless in the sky for half an hour—a perfect target.

No ancient warship, however sturdy, could endure thirty minutes of bombardment without engines. And with the enemy’s firepower-enhanced replica warship approaching… a crash seemed inevitable.

*This ship is alchemy’s greatest legacy. I won’t let it fall from the Sea of Clouds!*

Forgetting her own safety, Emil’s pride as an alchemist ignited.

“We need to go faster,” she urged Wiseman sternly.

“Arad’s proverb says ‘Haste breeds errors,’” Wiseman shrugged. “Besides, I’m useless here now.”

The Necromancer wasn’t slacking—the bridge’s repairs demanded precision. Its magic circuits resembled layered spiderwebs, each thread connecting vital systems. Only Emil’s expertise could untangle this mess; extra hands would only hinder.

Wiseman craved the challenge, but the Hand of Nightmare knew one mistake here couldn’t be undone with mere apologies.

“Then I’ll do it alone!” Emil leaped into the exposed circuits beneath the bridge, her body radiating intense magic aura. Her slender hands blurred as they manipulated mechanical arms—years of research, grueling cultivation, and forced awakenings had prepared her for this moment.

Teeth clenched, she endured.

One minute.

Two.

Five.

Ten.

Just as the fourteenth minute passed, Emil finally squeezed out the last bit of magic from her body and collapsed with a pale face. When Avril rushed over to support her sister, the entire bridge suddenly lit up.

Control panels hummed to life, screens glowing softly as the Wind King Warship shuddered slightly.

The engines awakened.

Yet instead of cheers, a heavy silence gripped the bridge.

Through the observation windows, everyone saw it—a black speck at the edge of the vast space, rapidly growing larger as it approached.

The Magic Griffin warship had arrived.

The Blue Truth Sect was here!

“Preheat engines! Activate systems! Battle stations!” Avril barked with the sharpness of a seasoned Sea of Clouds adventurer.

Exhausted crew members dragged themselves up, stumbling through passageways to their posts.

On the Magic Griffin warship, eyes widened at the sight before them—the pristine white hull and swan-like curves of the Wind King Warship dominating the airspace. Even The Saint inhaled sharply.

An intact ancient warship!

Not even the Stormy Region’s core had yielded such a prize.

“That Wind King Cruiser is ours,” The Saint sneered. “Too late for tricks now—even if it moves!”

Midi snapped his fingers. A surge of magic rippled across the Magic Griffin warship. Dozens of demon arrays flared to life—shadow and illusion arrays blinding the bridge windows, ice binding arrays clogging engine vents, Nether Flame Arrays disrupting rear thrusters.

Though each array alone seemed insignificant, their combined effect slowed the massive warship like anchors in water. During their earlier duel, Midi had secretly planted these traps while dodging attacks. Now his plan unfolded.

As chaos gripped the Magic Griffin, the Wind King Warship roared. Ancient engines in its wings speared the darkness with fiery plumes, shaking off millennia of slumber.

The Magic Griffin’s wings bristled—missile pods yawning open, rotary cannons spinning up. But ice-sealed ports jammed. Shadow-blinded gunners fired wildly. Most shots missed; those that hit merely sparked against the Wind King’s impervious hull.

“Damn you!” The Saint lunged at Midi, who instantly fled using Sky Sword Dance’s unmatched speed. Magic-enhanced pursuit failed—the gap widened.

Forced to abandon chase, The Saint turned to dismantle arrays. But Midi harried him with Asura’s long-range strikes, slipping back to plant fresh traps whenever The Saint turned away.

Another psychic sniping attempt missed. Midi dodged effortlessly now, conserving strength.

Then—victory. The Wind King Warship trembled forward, engines thrumming steadily.

“Now!” A fierce glint lit Midi’s eyes.