“T-minus ten seconds to launch. Nine, eight, seven, six...”
The countdown echoed across Hourai Island.
A metal sphere sat at the edge of the Hourai Island Central Plateau, not far from the laboratory. It was one meter in diameter—a Magi Machine with an outer shell fashioned from light silver.
“Magi Machine” was the collective term for complex magic tools developed through the application of science.
“Three, two, one... zero!”
The spherical Magi Machine rose into the air. It continued to ascend, gaining speed steadily. Soon, it was approaching the speed of sound, vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye.
“Laojun, are you tracking it?”
“Yes, My Lord. Current altitude is 5,000 meters... 6,000 meters... 7,000 meters...”
On August 3, 3457, at 9:00 AM, the prototype artificial satellite Satellite 001 was launched.
Its propulsion system was a Magi Gravity Engine—a cutting-edge magic tool developed by analyzing the Gravity Magic used by the demon race.
It maintained an acceleration of 2G—19.6 meters per second squared—until it cleared the atmosphere. Because a wind barrier prevented direct contact with the air, the outer shell remained cool despite the speed.
Simultaneously, a separate application of Gravity Magic—which, in truth, could manipulate inertial mass—was active on the main body, reducing its mass to nearly zero. This specific spell consumed a significant amount of mana, which was supplied by using Ethenol.
“Ethenol is proving to be quite practical,” Jin noted.
“Indeed, My Lord. It is the ideal choice for generating ultra-high output over short to medium durations.”
While an ether converter allowed for semi-permanent operation, it struggled to provide the massive, instantaneous supply required by spells like Gravity Magic. The solution had been found in Ethenol—a high-concentration free ether solution.
Once used, it couldn't be replenished in the vacuum of space, but that wasn't an issue; once the satellite reached orbit, an ether converter would provide more than enough mana to maintain its functions.
“Entering the stratosphere. Altitude 50,000 meters. Increasing acceleration.”
As the air thinned, the risk of overheating from friction decreased even as velocity climbed. With inertia reduced to almost zero, the strain of acceleration pressure vanished, allowing for theoretical infinite acceleration. The only real obstacle was heat, and with that minimized, the satellite could literally increase its speed without limit.
“10G, 11G, 12G...”
The goal was to eventually achieve an acceleration of 100G. This launch was partly an experiment to collect data on those high-stress parameters.
“Target altitude of 35,000 kilometers reached. Cutting acceleration.”
Laojun cut the engines as the satellite entered a near-geostationary orbit. Because its inertia was effectively zero, even a collision with a minute particle would be enough to stop it. Once it came to a halt, its inertia was restored to stabilize it.
As inertia returned, the object’s kinetic energy and state reverted to its initial values relative to the launch site. This meant it would remain stationary in the sky above the island—a perfect trait for a geostationary satellite.
“Commencing orbital correction.”
For fine adjustments, the satellite used ultra-small gravity engines. By specifying the direction in which gravity should act, it could move in three dimensions—forward, backward, left, right, up, or down.
Since this was their first attempt, Jin and Laojun had no prior data to rely on. This was exactly why they had built and launched the prototype Satellite 001. The data harvested today would make all future launches significantly easier.
More importantly, once they had precise positioning data for outer space, they wouldn't even need to launch satellites from the ground; they could simply use a transporter to send them directly into orbit. Regardless of the method, utilizing space was the next logical step for the growth of Hourai Island.
“Stable orbit achieved. Beginning final adjustments.”
“Alright. I’ll leave the rest to you.”
Constant monitoring and micro-adjustments were tasks far better suited to an AI than a human, so Jin left the management to Laojun.
Once Satellite 001 proved its reliability, they planned to launch eight more identical units. These satellites would serve several purposes. First, they would establish positioning data for transporters, functioning much like a GPS system. With enough units, they could monitor each other and the ground to maintain a perfect geostationary network.
Second, they would provide ground surveillance. Equipped with high-output laser cannons, they would serve as a powerful deterrent.
Third, they would observe deep space. They could study the Moon from a much closer vantage point and investigate the presence of free ether in the vacuum.
Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, they would gather operational data on Gravity Magic. Jin hoped to eventually install gravity engines in aircraft alongside their existing Magi Jet Engines.
“It went well. I can finally breathe again.”
“Congratulations, Father,” said Reiko, who had been standing by his side like a silent shadow.
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to seeing what we can do next.”
Jin looked up at the cloudless blue sky.
“Jin-kun, did it go well?”
The voice belonged to Stearena, who called out to Jin as he walked back toward the laboratory.
She hadn't come from the laboratory or the Mansion, but from her own home—the very house that had once stood in Goua, in the Celuroa Kingdom.
“I’ve just put some tea on. Why don't you stop by for a bit?”
“Sure, I’d love some.”
Jin followed Stearena inside.
“Hey there, Jin-kun. Welcome.”
In the dining room sat Toa Eschenbach, Saki’s father.
“Hello.”
Toa and Stearena had hit it off immediately. At Saki’s suggestion, Toa had taken the aptitude test and, predictably, passed. He now held the right to reside on Hourai Island.
Vivian had also taken the test and become part of the Family. She now spent her days happily exchanging knowledge and lore with Anne and Laojun.
“As a storyteller, being able to verify the truth behind ancient legends is the greatest joy I could ask for!” Vivian had declared. She planned to continue her work as a storyteller in the Shouro Empire.
As for the blossoming relationship between Stearena and Toa, Saki had her own thoughts on the matter.
“I think those two are going to get married eventually,” Saki had remarked. “I’ve never seen my father look like that. It’s been a long time since my mother passed, and it’s rare to find a woman eccentric enough to actually like a man like him. If it’s Stearena-san, then I suppose I can approve of it.”
Though she had looked a little lonely saying it, she had given them her blessing. True to her prediction, Toa and Stearena had been practically inseparable on the island for the past few days.
“So, Jin-kun, did the satellite launch successfully?” Toa asked over a cup of Stearena’s tea.
“Yes, more or less. It still needs some fine-tuning, but the launch itself was a success.”
“I see. That’s incredible. I’ve heard quite a bit from my daughter, but everything you do is just... beyond common sense.”
“Ah, hahaha.”
Jin hadn't performed Trans Info on Toa yet—or rather, he couldn't. The spell was only effective on himself and control cores he had personally crafted. Until Toa learned how to use Trans Info himself, he had to acquire knowledge the old-fashioned way. For now, he was content studying the books Laojun provided.
“Honestly, there’s so much to learn here that I can’t bring myself to leave,” Toa said with a chuckle. He had been staying at Stearena’s house the entire time, and Jin saw no reason to complain.
“I’m still in shock that my house is actually here,” Stearena said softly, sitting beside Toa.
After Stearena had defected, Laojun had dispatched Falcon 2 and several smith golems under the cover of darkness. They had carefully cut the house and its foundation out of the earth and brought the entire structure to Hourai Island via transporter.
A house had vanished overnight in the Celuroa Kingdom, but the resulting confusion was of no concern to Jin or Laojun. In fact, Laojun was actively facilitating the defection of talented individuals from the kingdom, mostly steering them toward the Shouro Empire.
“I noticed you looked a little homesick back then,” Jin said. “People usually have a strong attachment to their own home.”
“Yes, they do. It wasn't the house I grew up in, but it was the first place that was truly mine—the first place where I was recognized for my own merits.”
Stearena and Vivian both hailed from Koup. They had been childhood friends, but when Stearena was fifteen and Vivian was seventeen, the kingdom’s Scouts had recruited them. The Scout program identified gifted children and provided them with elite education—a key reason for Celuroa’s technical dominance.
After finishing her training, Stearena had become a magi craftsman, while Vivian had been made a storyteller thanks to her incredible memory. As a non-technical worker, Vivian had been allowed to return to her hometown, but Stearena had been ordered to live near the capital.
“Ten years in one place is enough to grow attached,” Stearena mused.
Their parents, who had been simple fishermen, had reportedly died in an accident while the girls were away. There were dark rumors that the families of those scouted were often eliminated to sever any lingering emotional ties to their pasts, but the truth remained a mystery.
“Maybe I should bring Vivian’s house here too,” Jin suggested.
“Ahaha, Jin-kun, you really are something else.”
Stearena laughed, shaking off her somber thoughts, and finished her tea in one long gulp.