The Skylark sailed quietly across the boundless White Sea. By now, Riberra Sami and his crew had already left Angel Island and were heading toward the far eastern edge of the White Sea—the end of the clouds.
From there, they would descend back to the Blue Sea below.
Riberra Sami stood alone at the bow, idly turning a peculiar shell over in his hand.
It resembled a standard Impact Dial, but its surface bore deeper grooves, with a faint spiral pattern at its center.
His thoughts drifted back to several days ago—to that moment at the Angel Island dock.
At the time, Gan·Fall had returned to the Skylark, carrying a large, bulging sack on his back.
The easygoing air he had when they first met was gone, replaced by something more subdued… more complicated.
"Mr. Riberra Sami, this is the remaining payment I promised. Please accept it."
He set the sack down and untied it.
Inside were neatly arranged combat dials—Flame Dials, Slash Dials, Flash Dials, Iron Cloud Dials… far more than the initial deposit.
"Much appreciated, Captain Gan·Fall—you're too generous," Riberra Sami said with a smile.
But Gan·Fall didn't leave.
Instead, he stepped closer and carefully took out another item from his robes, wrapped in soft cloth.
He placed it gently into Riberra Sami's palm.
It was the very shell Riberra Sami now held.
"This is… a Reject Dial," Gan·Fall said solemnly.
"It's extremely rare—almost extinct, even in the Sky Islands."
"It works similarly to an Impact Dial… but the force it releases is more than ten times greater."
"Ten times?!" Aldo's ears perked up as he nearly jumped.
"Then wouldn't that thing be worth like… a hundred million in combat power?!"
"A hundred million?" Gan·Fall blinked in confusion.
Riberra Sami chuckled and waved it off.
"Just a rough way we Blue Sea folks estimate strength."
Riberra Sami examined the dial carefully before looking back up.
"Such a valuable gift… What do you want in return?"
Gan·Fall shook his head.
His gaze drifted toward the distant outline of Upper Yard, his expression once again clouded with uncertainty.
"I… want you to answer one final question."
"With a history like ours… with such hatred…"
"Is it still possible for Sky Islanders and Shandians to coexist peacefully?"
"And… is it even worth pursuing that?"
Riberra Sami studied him quietly.
He understood—Gan·Fall wasn't just asking for an analysis.
After learning the truth, he was lost.
What he needed… was conviction.
A reason to keep walking a path that looked like a dead end.
After a moment of silence, Riberra Sami spoke.
"If you're asking whether it's worth it… I can't answer that for you."
"I'm not one of your people. I can't weigh three hundred years of blood and tears against the promise of peace."
"That answer… is something you must find yourself."
He paused.
Then his tone shifted.
"But if you're asking whether coexistence is possible—"
"My answer is: yes."
"Not just possible—inevitable."
Gan·Fall's eyes snapped up.
"Really?"
"Yes," Riberra Sami said firmly, meeting his gaze without hesitation.
"Not because it's easy—but because it's worth it."
"War only creates more graves, more loss, more tears."
"But peace—even if it's hard—creates a future where children aren't raised on hatred."
"The road may be long. You might not even see its end."
"But the direction itself… is what matters."
"You've already taken the first step—by questioning, by thinking, by wanting change."
"That alone puts you ahead of most people."
Gan·Fall listened in silence.
After a long while, a faint smile slowly appeared on his face.
"…I understand now."
He didn't say anything more—but the straightening of his back and the renewed light in his eyes said everything.
As if remembering something, he took out a small whistle and handed it to Riberra Sami.
"Take this."
"When you reach the eastern edge of the White Sea and begin your descent, blow it."
"It will summon balloon octopuses that live in the clouds."
"They'll attach themselves to your ship and provide buoyancy—allowing you to land safely."
Riberra Sami accepted it with a nod.
"Thank you, Captain Gan·Fall."
"Farewell, Mr. Riberra Sami."
"May the clouds and wind guide your path… and may we both find our answers."
Gan·Fall gave a solemn bow, then leapt off the ship.
Soon, his figure vanished into the distance.
Back in the present, Riberra Sami ran his fingers across the surface of the Reject Dial, then glanced at the whistle at his waist.
Over the past few days, the craftsmen arranged by Gan·Fall had installed a detachable Jet Dial propulsion system onto the Skylark.
After some trial runs, Hans and the others had already mastered its burst acceleration and maneuvering.
The ship's mobility had improved drastically.
It was time to leave.
"Captain! Huge cloud waterfall ahead!" a lookout shouted.
"The sea of clouds just… drops off! That must be the edge!"
Riberra Sami looked forward.
At the horizon, the endless white sea collapsed downward into a massive vertical abyss—a cliff of clouds stretching infinitely.
"Good. Adjust course. Full speed ahead!"
The Jet Dials roared to life, blasting powerful streams of air.
The Skylark surged forward, slicing across the cloud surface—
straight toward the edge of the world.
The moment the bow crossed the boundary—
everything dropped.
"WAAAHHH—!"
"We're falling!"
A terrifying sense of weightlessness seized everyone.
The ship began plunging straight down the vertical wall of clouds.
Below—rolling white layers.
Farther below—an impossibly distant blue ocean.
The wind howled violently, forcing eyes shut.
"Hold on! Don't let go!" someone shouted.
Just as panic peaked—
Riberra Sami braced against the wind and blew the whistle.
A clear, piercing tone echoed through the clouds.
In the next instant—
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Thick, pink tentacles shot out from the surrounding cloud layers—
and latched onto the sides and underside of the Skylark.
The ship's descent abruptly slowed.
"Huh?!"
"What the hell is that?!"
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