You rest your hands lightly on Hinata's waist as she guides the nding craft into the Portnd's flooded well-deck, the massive ramp yawning wide before you. Her piloting is fwless despite the gentle distraction of your touch, precise corrections, smooth deceleration, perfect alignment. Albedo's craft glides in beside you moments ter, her golden eyes tracking the deck crews who scramble into position with mooring lines. The two RIBs fnk the entrance, Robin and Erza cutting engines in perfect synchronization.

  Deck crews secure the lines quickly, professional and efficient despite their obvious surprise at the sheer volume of cargo strapped across both nding crafts. Tarps cover most of it, but the shapes beneath are unmistakable, generators, supply crates, equipment cases, tools. One sailor whistles low under his breath. Another just stares.

  You step off first, offering your hand to Hinata. She takes it without hesitation, her cheeks still faintly flushed from the transit. Emma follows, clutching her duffel bag like a lifeline. Kieran adjusts his Costco polo shirt nervously. Vincent brings up the rear, toolbox in one hand, looking around the well-deck with the calm assessment of someone who's spent his life fixing broken things.

  Captain Webb strides down the ramp from the upper deck, Colonel Reeves half a step behind. Both are in crisp uniforms despite the hour, clearly awake and alert. Webb's expression is professional but welcoming. Reeves looks more guarded, eyes tracking each member of your group with military precision.

  "Brad," Webb begins, extending his hand. "Good to see-"

  You interrupt gently, raising one hand with theatrical fir. "Before we move into business," you say, adopting the exaggerated enthusiasm of a cheesy game-show host, "allow me to introduce our newest contestants!"

  Webb blinks. Reeves's mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but close.

  "First up," you continue, gesturing grandly toward Emma, "we have Emma! Recently widowed, survivor extraordinaire, possessing an uncanny ability to remain calm under pressure!" Emma's eyes widen, but she manages a small, uncertain wave.

  "Next," you pivot toward Kieran, "Kieran! Former manager of Costco, logistics wizard, keeper of keys to corporate storage areas, and possessor of detailed inventory knowledge that would make accountants weep with joy!"

  Kieran flushes red but nods once, gripping his duffel tighter.

  "And finally," you turn toward Vincent with a flourish, "Vincent the mechanic! Master of all things broken, bringer of functional vehicles, and wait for it, he comes with his own set of tools!"

  Vincent lifts his toolbox slightly, deadpan. "Arc welder's in the back."

  Webb stares at you for several long seconds. Then he exhales, shaking his head with something that might be amusement. "You always this theatrical?"

  "Only when introducing people who were holed up in a Costco pnning to drive trailers full of cargo across the continent," you reply casually. "I figured they should attempt finding a pce in the Navy's pn to save the world before committing suicide by stupidity. I'm questionably decent at convincing people to stay alive. You're better at finding them actual jobs."

  Reeves steps forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over the three civilians. "Any medical training? Engineering backgrounds? Combat experience?"

  "Kieran knows logistics inside and out," you say. "Emma's adaptable and keeps her head in crisis. Vincent can fix damn near anything mechanical." You pause. "Oh, and Vincent comes with his own set of tools. Did I mention that already?"

  Webb's lips quirk into a faint smile. "You did." He looks at the three survivors directly. "Welcome aboard the Portnd. We'll get you processed, find quarters, and figure out where you fit best. Colonel?"

  Reeves nods once. "I'll handle it." His tone softens slightly as he addresses Emma, Kieran, and Vincent. "Follow me. We'll get you settled."

  The three exchange gnces, then move to follow Reeves up the ramp. Emma looks back once, mouthing 'thank you' before disappearing into the ship.

  You turn to a trio of crewmen who are watching from the side, "Gentlemen, can I ask you to unload that set of tools, they're Vincent's." pointing at the set that's right up front.

  Webb turns back to you, arms crossed. "Now. Business."

  You nod once. “Business.”

  He gestures down the passageway. You fall in behind him as he leads, your group moving with you through the Portnd’s interior. Emergency lighting casts a steady amber glow along the narrow corridors. Rika Minami walks at your shoulder, tablet in hand, eyes already scanning pcards and signage. Albedo follows half a step behind, posture composed, gaze sharp and assessing. Hinata and Robin drift slightly wider, eyes tracking corners and intersections with practiced ease. Erza and Nova take the rear, spacing tight, alert but calm.

  The corridor opens into the command center. Banks of radar screens and tactical dispys line the walls. Sailors work quietly at their stations. A rge wall-mounted map shows ship icons clustered around Trinidad Harbor, with several contacts highlighted in amber.

  Webb moves straight to a conference table and activates the dispy. You take a seat. Reeves remains standing, arms crossed, eyes on the map.

  “First tanker arrives in forty-eight minutes,” Webb says. “MV Atntic Provider. Commercial fuel hauler, eight thousand tons. Twelve nautical miles out. Escort is DDG Fitzgerald, Captain Morales. Cooperative. Logistics-first. No political maneuvering.” He taps another icon. “Alvarez’s frigate will join reluctantly. Priority access motivation.”

  “Route?” you ask.

  “Cape Horn,” Webb replies. “Panama’s confirmed inoperable. Five weeks minimum to the North Sea.”

  Reeves steps forward, voice ft. “Three more within six hours. Two commercial, one military. After that, tracking is uncertain. And not all approaching ships are friendly.”

  Webb’s jaw tightens. “Rawlins and Doyle, the two pushing ‘protective custody’, are within visual range by sunrise. Positioning under escort coordination pretenses, but clearly predatory.”

  “They want ownership,” Reeves corrects. “Not protection. Big difference.”

  You lean back. “Figured. Before we move further: I have a video for you both to watch and decide if we broadcast it.” You slide your phone across the table. Webb picks it up; Reeves steps closer.

  The Video of Enchanting Basics begins. Brad stands beside a gasoline generator, a dead-battery phone, his active phone, a small gas can, an empty barrel, tubing, and duct tape.

  The demonstration unfolds exactly as recorded:

  Connection: dead phone linked to generator

  Interface: phone shows enchantment status

  Energy Conversion: generator produces electricity → mana

  Refuel: generator begins producing gasoline, fills barrel

  Repair: micro-repairs continuously active

  Silent Field: removes sound from generator

  Sustenance: connected individuals don’t need food or water

  Throughout, Brad’s narration emphasizes: do not hit enchanted generators, do not misuse interfaces, Silent Field is limited to engines.

  The barrel visibly fills with gasoline. Webb observes silently; Reeves’ eyes narrow at the Refuel demonstration.

  When the video ends, Webb sets the phone down carefully. “How many people have seen this?”

  “Just my group and now both of you.”

  Reeves exhales through his nose. "You broadcast this, every warlord and rogue state on the pnet will be hunting you within hours."

  "They're already hunting me," you reply. “This proves magic is real, shows the system works, and demonstrates safe handling and functionality.”

  Webb rubs his jaw. “It confirms Brad’s legitimacy. Prevents misinformation. Strategic.”

  Reeves adds, “Information is powerful. Dangerous if misinterpreted, but yes, it validates his capability.”

  You lean forward. “Eureka Airport and the Costco there are proof-of-concept nodes. Already running. I’ll replicate the setup at Redding in a few hours. After that, Southern California. Gas sources spaced so trade can restart innd.”

  Webb looks back to the map. “That changes timelines.”

  “It does,” you agree.

  Reeves taps the table once. “So let’s ask the real question. How long before logistics actually move?”

  You answer at the same time he does.

  “Truckers start rolling in days,” Reeves says.

  “Radio confirmation spreads in hours, depending on how many are still alive.” you say. “Movement within twenty-four to seventy-two hours if routes exist.”

  Reeves nods once. “Weeks for stability. But days for motion.”

  Webb straightens. “If we broadcast this video, we control the narrative. If we don’t, someone else will.”

  “And if we do,” Reeves adds, “we need deterrence. A discimer. Clear nguage that you’re under allied naval protection. Not an asset up for grabs.”

  Webb looks at you. “We attach that condition to the broadcast. Hostile action against you or your people triggers immediate response.”

  You nod. “Agreed.”

  Webb changes the dispy. A rger silhouette appears on the map, inbound. “USS Anchorage. LPD. ETA eleven hours. Captain Sandra Oakes. Cooperative. Fully briefed. You’ll assume custody once enchantments are confirmed operational.”

  Rika gnces up from her tablet, already transting quietly for recordkeeping. Albedo inclines her head slightly, satisfied. Hinata and Robin continue scanning the room without comment. Erza and Nova remain steady at the rear.

  Webb looks back to you. “That’s the field. Tanker in forty-eight minutes. Predators closing. And a broadcast that changes the world.”

  Reeves folds his arms. “Your move after enchantment?”

  You lean forward, fingers resting on the edge of the table. “We’re moving innd to Redding next. Costco and the municipal airport. Same treatment as Eureka. Fuel, repair, silent generators. Proof that this scales.”

  Reeves nods once. “That puts a second innd node online. Confirms redundancy.”

  “And after that,” you continue, “we grab RVs and trailers. Enough for permanent quarters on the LPD.”

  Webb pulls up another schematic, this one showing the Anchorage’s well deck and vehicle nes. “That’s where time becomes the constraint.”

  “Which is why I’m asking now,” you say. “Mind lending your LARCs?”

  Both men look up.

  “With only two, twenty-plus RVs will take five to twelve hours to shuttle,” you say evenly. “Once the Anchorage arrives with two more, four LARCs rotating should get it done in two to five hours. Faster if we can double up per trip.”

  Webb considers the numbers, eyes flicking across the deck yout. “Doubling is possible with lighter rigs. Not all.”

  “Even partial overp cuts hours,” you reply. “That time matters.”

  Reeves gnces at the well deck schematic. “Once Anchorage is transferred and the crew is offloaded, LARCs are yours to task. Until then, we coordinate usage windows.”

  “That’s fine,” you say. “Once the transfer’s complete, We’ll handle rotation internally.” Then you add, casually, “On a reted note.”

  You gesture toward Rika, who brings up a list on her tablet.

  “I’ve got assets you might be interested in,” you say. “Already enchanted. Six utility Jeeps. Five supply vehicles. Three APCs. Two military transport trucks. And three pickups with ftbed trailers.”

  The room goes quiet.

  “Already enchanted,” Reeves repeats.

  “Fuel, repair, silent operation,” you confirm. “Sustained use. No maintenance. They’re excess to my current needs.”

  Webb looks at Reeves, then back to you. “You’re offering these to the Navy.”

  “I’m offering them to the people trying to rebuild the line,” you say. “They’ll move faster with them. Safer too.”

  Reeves exhales. “That’s not a small offer.”

  “It’s foundation,” you reply. “Same as everything else.”

  Webb straightens, decision made. “We’ll take them. Under escort transfer. Full documentation. And we’ll make sure the right units get them.”

  “Good,” you say. “Then while you’re securing the coast, I’ll be innd making sure there’s something worth securing.”

  Webb gives a short nod. “Redding first. Anchorage in eleven hours. Tanker in thirty-four minutes.”

  Reeves looks at the map again. “And every move you make pulls the world back together a little more.”

  You stand. “Then let’s not waste time.”

  The meeting breaks with quiet urgency, the ship already shifting around the next phase of the pn.

  Webb taps the console once. The video begins broadcasting on all military frequencies—encrypted Navy channels, emergency bands, open maritime frequencies. The demonstration pys out across every ship in visual range, every surviving radio post along the coast, every functional rey station still operating innd.

  You watch the responses materialize on the tactical dispy. Text confirmations appear first, then voice acknowledgments. Captain Morales on the Fitzgerald responds within ninety seconds: "Portnd, Fitzgerald. Video received and confirmed authentic. Proceeding with escort protocol."

  Captain Alvarez takes longer. Four minutes. His voice comes through stiff, cautious. "Portnd, this is Alvarez. Video received. Requesting written confirmation of priority rotation schedule before commitment."

  Webb gnces at Reeves, who nods once. "Alvarez, confirmed. Rotation schedule will be distributed after first successful enchantment. Portnd out."

  Then the civilian bands light up. Static-filled voices, fragmented and desperate. "—is this real? Did anyone else see—" "—fuel supply confirmed operational—" "—convoy forming at Sacramento, need coordinates—"

  You lean back, watching the cascade unfold. Twenty minutes pass. The responses multiply geometrically. Survivor encves confirming receipt. Military units requesting crification. Foreign naval assets demanding authentication.

  Reeves exhales slowly. "World just changed."

  "It did," Webb agrees.

  You stand. Albedo rises smoothly from her position near the wall, golden eyes sharp and assessing. She steps forward, voice calm and directive.

  "Rika, Nova, lightbend active. Rooftop overwatch. Sight lines on approach vectors and well-deck exit." Both women nod once and move immediately toward the corridor without a word, their figures already fading as the enchantment takes hold.

  Albedo continues without pause. "Hinata, Erza close escort on Brad during tanker enchantment. Positioned for immediate response, sight lines maintained on escorts and deck crews." Hinata straightens, hand moving reflexively to check her jacket. Erza's posture shifts slightly, battle-ready but calm.

  "I will remain aboard the second RIB in the well-deck," Albedo concludes. "Mobile reserve. If complications arise, I respond immediately."

  You meet her gaze. She inclines her head fractionally, acknowledgment, not deference. The distinction matters.

  Webb stands. "Tanker's twelve minutes out. Fitzgerald's already positioning for escort formation. Deck crews are standing by to receive lines."

  Reeves adds, "Your people move fast."

  "They do," you reply simply.

  You turn toward the corridor. Hinata falls in at your right shoulder, her vender eyes tracking intersections and doorways with automatic precision. Erza moves to your left, her scarlet hair catching the overhead lights as she scans corners with the practiced efficiency of someone who's fought in tighter quarters than this.

  The well-deck opens before you. Sailors move across the ramp, securing equipment and checking mooring lines. Albedo's nding craft sits low in the water, engines idling quietly. She steps aboard the second RIB without hesitation, settling into position near the wheel with her wings folded close.

  The well deck opens before you, already flooded to unch depth. Sailors move with quiet efficiency along the edges, finalizing unch checks rather than preparing for reception. The RIBs sit low in the dark water, engines idling, navigation lights dimmed to slivers.

  Hinata's hand rests lightly on your arm. "Ready?"

  You nod once. Erza shifts her weight slightly, eyes locked on the approaching tanker.

  The MV Atntic Provider closes the final distance, its bulk unmistakable even in predawn darkness. Launch crews move into position along the well-deck rails, hands raised in silent readiness. Captain Morales's voice crackles over the radio: "Portnd, Fitzgerald. Escort formation established. Tanker on final approach."

  Webb's response is immediate. "Fitzgerald, Portnd. Proceed as briefed."

  You move toward the waiting RIB. Hinata and Erza fnk you perfectly, spacing tight, sight lines clear. The tanker's engines rumble low across the water as it begins its final approach.

  This is it.

  The tanker slows to a crawl, engines rumbling deep as it settles into position. Erza guides the rib to a rope dder lowered for us.

  Hinata's chakra-enhanced grip letting her walk the vertical steel surface like it's ft ground. Erza follows, boots finding purchase on rivets and welds with practiced ease. You step off the RIB onto the hull pting, climbing behind her.

  The angle gives you a perfect view up Erza's skirt, dark red panties with ce trim, practical but elegant, hugging her firmly. She doesn't notice your gaze, focused entirely on the climb. You file the observation away for ter teasing, a private smile tugging at your lips.

  Hinata reaches the deck rail first, vaulting over smoothly and scanning the open deck with her Byakugan active. Erza nds beside her, then you. Three crewmen stand near the superstructure entrance, hands on their hips, expressions wary but not hostile. One steps forward older, weathered face, graying beard, captain's jacket unbuttoned over a stained undershirt.

  "Morning, gentlemen," you say evenly, walking toward them with Hinata and Erza fnking you. "Let's not risk lives wasting time. A quick step into the bridge, and you'll be off to the North Sea."

  The captain's jaw tightens. "James Keller," he says ftly. "You're the one who supposedly does magic."

  "Supposedly," you echo without irritation. "Let's go inside."

  Keller leads you through the narrow corridor into the bridge. It's cramped, functional—radar screens, throttle controls, navigation charts pinned to corkboard. A secondary tablet-sized screen sits mounted beside the helm, dispying fuel readings and engine diagnostics. Not the primary console, but accessible.

  "Perfect," you say, pointing. Keller crosses his arms but doesn't object.

  You pce your palm ft against the screen. Faint golden light spreads from your fingertips, slower than usual—deliberate, theatrical. The glow seeps into the dispy, tracing circuit paths beneath the gss. You pull mana from the Portnd's network node, feeding it carefully into the tanker's systems. the glow expands across the ship, Connection first. Then Interface. Network Node. Energy Conversion. Refuel. Repair. Refill. The crew enchantments yer in next—Cleanliness, Thermostasis, Sustenance, Vigor, Aura Ward, Warding Field, Silent Field locked to engines.

  For a brief moment, the entire tanker gently pulses gold.

  Below deck, crew members freeze mid-step as the vibration of the engines subtly changes. The ever-present mechanical growl fades into a smooth, nearly imperceptible hum. Fuel gauges twitch—then begin climbing. Diagnostic alerts vanish one by one. A deckhand stares at a readout, whispering, “That’s… not possible.”

  The screen flickers once, then stabilizes. A simple menu appears: Enchantment Status, Fuel Management, Crew Systems, Diagnostics.

  You step back. "Captain Keller, touch the screen."

  He hesitates, then reaches out. His calloused fingers press the gss. The interface pulses once, binding to his biometrics. Text appears: Primary User: James Keller.

  "You're the only one who can access this," you say quietly. "Fuel generation active. Repairs automatic. Your crew or passengers won't need food or water while aboard. Silent Field keeps the engines quiet. Don't hit anything with a hammer, and don't try to tamper with the enchantments. If something breaks, it's your fault."

  Keller stares at the screen, then at you. "This is real."

  "It's real," you confirm. "Your escorts are next. Five weeks to the North Sea. Every minute is a life."

  He swallows once, nods stiffly. "Understood."

  You turn toward the door. Hinata and Erza fall in behind you without a word.

  SnafuSam