You leave Keiran prepping the start sequence and move past the hangars.

  There are four total. Two rge commercial hangars first.

  The doors left slightly open.

  Inside the first: a grounded regional turboprop, engines intact, fuel lines dry but unruptured. Too rge for a small crew to fly.

  The second hangar holds a mid-size cargo jet, nding gear locked, avionics dark, clearly abandoned mid-evacuation.

  You pause at the threshold of the second commercial hangar, eyes blinking bnkly for a moment as you take in the aircraft’s bulk. Too rge to move casually. Too intact to ignore.

  Your understanding stalls there. Not certainty. Not yet.

  You reach into the telepathy web. “Rika. Kurumi. C.C.”

  A brief pause. giving a moment for them to realize they were addressed. “Question,” you send. “Those rge aircraft. If left grounded and running. What kind of power are we actually talking about? Are they even worth enchanting for mana generation?”

  Rika answers first, practical and grounded. “They’re basically flying power stations,” she replies. “Multiple generators tied to the engines, auxiliary power units, redundant electrical systems. When they’re on, they don’t sip power. They pour it.”A moment ter. “I know what they produce. I don’t know how to start them.”

  Kurumi follows, her awareness slipping in sideways, oddly precise. “Numbers-wise?” she says lightly. “Older cargo frames can output tens of megawatts while running systems idle. Regional turboprops less, but still absurd compared to ground generators.”A pause, amused. “I’ve never flown one. But I’ve watched enough timelines where people abused them as mobile grids.”

  Then C.C. Her response is accurate. “They’re efficient once spinning,” she says. “Older generations were less automated, but simpler to brute-start. APU ignition, fuel flow, electrical handshake.”A faint hum of memory. “I’ve flown simir frames. Not these exact models, but close enough.”

  Silence follows.

  For several seconds, you just stand there, staring at the aircraft, recalibrating everything you thought this stop might be.

  Finally, you exhale while chuckling. Then, “C.C.”

  “Mm?”

  “After you nd the Apache... please teach Kurumi, Asia, and Nami how to turn them on.”

  A pause. Then warmth. Satisfaction.

  “Sure,” she replies. “Let’s wake some sleeping giants.”

  Outside, the generators finally roar to life at full volume, echoing across the tarmac. Loud. Unmistakable.

  You wince slightly. That won’t st.

  You scan the control tower and terminal offices, searching for a secured interior space. A pce likely to have a wall-mounted dispy. A screen you can touch.

  “There,” you murmur. “Top floor. Office wing.”

  Asia steps beside you, looking out at the dark runways as the generators thunder.“It’s... big,” she says quietly.

  “It is,” you agree. “And once the interface is up, it won’t need to be loud.”

  You turn toward the building, already pnning the enchantment structure.

  The generators are still roaring when you step into the terminal’s upper floor.

  The sound bleeds through concrete and gss, vibrating in your chest. Too loud. Too visible. Too temporary.

  You move past abandoned offices and overturned chairs until you find what you were looking for.

  A secured operations room.

  Reinforced door. No windows. Inside, a narrow desk, filing cabinets, and a ruggedized operations tablet locked into a charging cradle. Airport maintenance issue. Portable. Meant to survive drops and bad weather. Perfect.

  You lift it free and step back, bracing it against the desk before pcing your hand over the dark screen.

  Then a faint golden glow spreads beneath your hand, you take your time unlike the Costco.

  The interface blooms across the screen, lines of data resolving as the airport becomes something more than concrete and asphalt. Connections unfold silently. Terminal. Maintenance buildings. Generators. Lighting grids. Control tower. Hangars.

  The generators’ noise drops mid-roar, colpsing into a muted, controlled hum as the Silent Field finally takes effect across the system. The sudden quiet is almost unsettling.

  Outside, runway lights flicker once. Then stabilize.

  Not full illumination. Not yet. Just enough to confirm control.

  You scroll through the interface with practiced restraint, setting priorities.

  [EUREKA REGIONAL AIRPORT Interface]{[Mana Storage Capacity: 3 / 6000][Connection: Terminal infrastructure, maintenance buildings, runway lighting, control tower reys, fuel farm, generators, Brad phone (local anchor)]

  [Energy Conversion: 150 mana/hour from 3× diesel generators]

  [Repair: Active on structural damage (infrastructure only, low-priority)]

  [Refill(Water): Active via airport plumbing & fire-suppression reservoirs]

  [Refuel: Active on fuel storage systems]??? Jet-A / Jet-A1 (primary aviation fuel)??? Avgas 100LL (general aviation)??? Diesel (generators & ground vehicles)??? Gasoline (ground service equipment)

  [Sustenance: INACTIVE][Vigor: INACTIVE][Zero-Sleep: INACTIVE][Aging Reversal: INACTIVE]

  [Expanded Cleanliness: Active (terminal, maintenance, control tower, fuel handling areas)][Aura Ward: Active (environmental hazards only)][Silent Field: Active, Locked (generators, pumps, and fuel-handling machinery only)]

  [Hourly Generation: 150 mana/hour][Hourly Upkeep: 74 mana/hour][Net Surplus: +76 mana/hour]}

  Only after everything else is stable do you allow yourself to You pull back from the screen and exhale slowly. Behind you, soft footsteps.

  Asia peeks into the room, careful not to interrupt. “It’s… quiet now.”

  “Yeah,” you say. “That’s how you know it worked.” You motion for her to come close.

  Asia steps close realizing what you are about to do.

  A moment ter, the telepathy web shifts as the Apache settles onto the tarmac outside. C.C.’s presence is rexed. Confident. “Interface is up?” she asks.

  “Anchored,” you reply. “And stable.”

  A pause. Then approval. “Good,” C.C. says. “Then let’s teach them how to wake the pnes.”

  Outside, beneath muted lights and silent engines, an airport that should have died days ago hums with restrained potential.

  And for the first time, you’re not just passing through. You’re ying groundwork.

  Asia steps forward without hesitation, trusting, always trusting. When she is close enough you wrap your hands gently under her thighs and lift her with easy care, setting her on the edge of the nearby console. The metal is cool against her legs, but she doesn't flinch. Instead she wraps her arms over your shoulders, pulling you in as you lean forward.

  The kiss starts slow, soft, lips brushing in a gentle rhythm. She tastes faintly of mint and the night air. Her fingers thread into your hair, holding you close as she sighs against your mouth. You deepen the kiss gradually, tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she parts them for you. She kisses back with growing confidence, small sounds of need escaping when you nip lightly at her lower lip.

  Your hands slide down her sides, over the fabric of her habit, until they reach the hem. You gather the material slowly, inch by inch, until it bunches at her waist. She lifts her hips without being asked, letting you draw her white cotton panties down her thighs. They catch briefly on her shoes; you kneel just long enough to slip them free and set them aside.

  When you rise again her legs part, rising to wrap around your waist. She pulls you in with surprising strength, guiding you until your hips settle between her thighs. The head of your cock brushes her slick entrance; she shivers, a soft gasp escaping as she rocks forward slightly, taking just the tip.

  You begin to move, gentle, shallow thrusts at first, letting her set the pace. Each stroke is slow, deliberate, giving her time to feel every inch. Her nails dig into your shoulders, her breaths coming faster. She kisses you again, messy and needy, whispering your name between gasps.

  The console creaks faintly beneath her. You wrap one arm around her waist, the other hand sliding between your bodies to find her clit. You circle it with gentle pressure, matching the rhythm of your hips. Her head falls back, throat exposed, a soft cry escaping as pleasure builds.

  She comes first, quiet, shuddering, her walls fluttering around you as she clings tight. The sensation pulls you over the edge; you bury yourself deep and spill inside her with a low groan, holding her close through the aftershocks.

  You stay joined for long moments, breathing together. She presses soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

  "Thank you," she whispers. "For being gentle. For being mine."

  You kiss her forehead. "Always."

  You return her panties to their pce, earning a shy smile. before helping her down carefully, steadying her when her legs tremble. She straightens her habit with quick, practiced movements, cheeks flushed but eyes bright.

  You pull a drawer out of a cabinet, and pce the tablet inside the cabinet at the bottom, then repce the drawer, pushing it shut with a satisfying click. Leaving no obvious sign of tampering. The interface is secure, hidden where no casual looter would think to check.

  Asia follows you out of the operations room, her hand briefly holding yours as you descend the stairwell. The gesture is small, affectionate, grounding. You squeeze back once before releasing her hand at the bottom nding.

  Outside, the tarmac stretches wide beneath muted runway lights. The massive commercial hangars loom ahead, their doors still ajar from your earlier sweep. Inside the first hangar, the regional turboprop sits like a dormant beast, engines cold, avionics dark.

  C.C. is already there, standing near the nose gear with arms crossed, her green hair catching the faint glow from overhead work lights. Kurumi stands beside her, golden-red eyes glinting with curiosity. Nami lingers near the wing, hands on hips, studying the aircraft with obvious skepticism.

  "This thing looks ancient," Nami says ftly.

  "It's a workhorse," C.C. replies without turning. "Older frames are simpler to start. Less automated, more mechanical. You just need to know which systems to wake up first."

  You approach from behind, Asia still close at your side. "So teach us," you say.

  C.C. gnces back, her golden eyes meeting yours briefly before she nods. "Fine. Follow me."

  She moves toward the access dder mounted near the fusege, climbing up with practiced ease. Kurumi follows immediately, her gothic lolita dress swishing as she ascends. Nami hesitates, then climbs after them. You gesture for Asia to go next, then follow behind.

  Inside the cockpit, the space is cramped but functional. Rows of switches, dials, and gauges line the instrument panel. C.C. settles into the pilot's seat, hands moving over the controls with casual familiarity.

  "First, you locate the auxiliary power unit," she says, tapping a switch on the overhead panel. "The APU provides electrical power to start the main engines. Without it, you're stuck."

  Kurumi leans forward, studying the yout intently. "And if the APU is dead?"

  "Then you use external power if avaible, or you don't fly," C.C. replies. "But assuming it works, you engage here." she flips the APU switch.

  A low whine builds beneath your feet as the auxiliary power unit spins up, gauges twitching to life across the instrument panel. Indicator lights blink from dead to amber, then settle into steady green.

  C.C. nods once. “There we go. Batteries are fine. a few weeks isn’t long enough for them to drain, and you’ve got airport power feeding the bus.” She gestures at the fuel dispy. “And before anyone asks, yes, there’s fuel. About thirty percent. Plenty for startup, plenty for what you’re pnning.”

  Kurumi leans closer, eyes tracking the numbers. “Enough to keep the engines running.”

  “Exactly,” C.C. says. “Which is why this thing matters.” She reaches overhead again. “APU gives you electrical power. Electrical power gives you control. Control lets you decide whether this aircraft flies… or just hums.”

  She pauses deliberately, letting that sink in.

  Asia follows the instruction precisely, fingers steady as she opens the valves. The gauges respond immediately.

  Nami exhales through her nose. “So it’s not dead. It’s just asleep.”

  C.C. smirks. “Most machines are.” She taps the panel lightly. “And as long as you respect the order, they’ll do what you tell them.”

  "Fuel flow comes next," C.C. continues, pointing to another set of controls. "You open the fuel valves, prime the lines, then engage the ignition sequence. The engines spool up slowly. You monitor temperature, pressure, and RPM. If any of those spike wrong, you abort immediately."

  Nami crosses her arms, frowning. "That's a lot of steps just to turn it on."

  "That's why we're learning," you say evenly. "Once we enchant it, the startup sequence won't matter as much. But we need to know the baseline."

  C.C. nods. "Exactly. Enchantments can handle fuel flow and power generation. But if something breaks, you need to know what's actually broken." She turns in her seat, looking at each of you in turn. "Asia, you're up first. Sit here."

  Asia's eyes widen slightly, but she steps forward without hesitation, settling into the pilot's seat. C.C. leans over her shoulder, guiding her hands to the correct switches.

  "Start with the APU," C.C. instructs. "Don't rush. Take your time."

  Asia's fingers hover over the controls, then press down carefully. Her movements are deliberate, focused, guided by C.C.'s steady voice.

  You watch from the co-pilot's seat, absorbing the lesson. Outside, the airport remains quiet, the generators humming softly in the distance.

  The gauges settle into a steady rhythm.

  Fuel pressure stable. Electrical load nominal. The aircraft hums.

  Not much... Unless it never really runs out.

  You feel it click. Not all at once. Not cleanly.

  Your breath stalls halfway through an inhale.

  “C.C.,” you say slowly, “how much power does a pne like this actually produce when it’s running?”

  She doesn’t look at you. That alone is telling. “More than most towns,” she replies.

  Kurumi’s eyes widen slightly. “Depending on the engines... tens of megawatts.”

  Your head turns sharply. “Tens?” you repeat.

  Kurumi nods. “Easily. Even idling systems draw enormous power. Generators, avionics, environmental control, hydraulics, aircraft aren’t efficient. They’re overbuilt.”

  You don’t respond.

  Your mind is already racing.

  Generators give you mana linearly.Ships scale better.But aircraft, Aircraft compress massive fuel throughput, high-efficiency turbines, and continuous electrical conversion into a single frame.

  You stare at the panel again. “If I enchant this,” you say finally, voice low, “and set it to generate mana...”

  C.C. finally turns. “You don’t get a trickle,” she says ftly. “You get a flood.”

  The realization nds fully now.

  Grounded aircraft don’t burn fuel to move. They burn it to exist.

  And enchantments don’t care whether the thrust goes anywhere. They only care that energy is flowing.

  For several seconds, you don’t speak.

  No one rushes you.

  Outside the hangar, the runway lights glow faintly in the distance. Three generators hum steadily. The airport is awake.

  But this... This is something else.

  You swallow.

  The cockpit is alive now, quietly humming, systems awake, dispys lit in soft amber and green.

  SnafuSam