At this moment, Noah's Ark was like a besieged city. Countless ordinary people unable to board racked their brains and dreamed of obtaining a ticket, while some who had been forcibly crammed aboard wanted to leave.
Jose was one of them.
He was fortunate. As Sigrit's vassal, and with a profession and research focus that fit the bill, Jose had been among the very first people Blade personally put on the list.
Yet now, standing within the severely overloaded cabin, the Arcane researcher gazed at the Astral Plane's resplendent yet gloomy clouds, his face full of melancholy.
After sighing for who knew how many times, he opened the secondhand personal information terminal his wife had given him. As the magic-powered screen sprang up, its desktop background was unmistakably a family portrait:
Though the Jose in the image was broad and fat, with a gleaming bald head, his face still shone with a brilliant smile.
His wife was not particularly beautiful, but she carried herself with dignity. The faces of their two children, too, were full of carefree laughter.
Regrettably, he no longer knew whether he would ever be able to return to the Empire, to his family's side.
Whenever he thought of it, it was as if an invisible hand clutched his heart and kneaded it without cease, the pain piercing to the marrow.
Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, he opened his information terminal again to soothe his agitated heart and began writing in his diary—a habit he had maintained for many years:
June 15th, Netheril Year 3520:
"I must admit that my initial conjectures were somewhat too subjective and unfair.
"Because on this magic ship, there are quite a few people like me who were forced to part from their families. Or rather, the vast majority of people