((People in this world live on floating islands, utilizing airships for travel. Lethal mana flames engulf the surface of this planet, jumping kilometers in the air due to an ancient disaster. You are the prince of Corcia, a moderate-sized island kingdom in this world, incapable of magic. Your air fleets fight with missiles and autocannons instead of spells. The dark forces were too many for your kingdom; they conquered your territories on the floating continent of Solum. Being the sole and youngest heir, you have to retreat. During your rule of the Petra Sky Archipelago, you liberated the Island of Domus, inhabited by demihumans, from an Orc army. The princess of the island, Luna, has joined your sky fleet and is now serving as your maid. You are on a trade route to the kingdom of Sylvannas when a pirate fleet appeared, surprising you. Already, your airship takes multiple firebolts.))

The airship shakes violently to the hit, and the high-pitched screech of the turbine and the cracking hull pierce through everyone's ears. The firebolt spells leave visible dents and scratches on the hull, but they are not penetrating into the internal Aerolite structure yet. Radars show multiple targets, and crew members scurry to their positions in an effort to strike back. Luna grips your chair tightly while sobbing quietly. She looks at you with teary eyes, and her voice is as light as a whisper. — Master, will we... survive?