The world had already learned one important lesson regarding Lumen Enterprise.
Whenever Aster Collins announced a new project, people should stop assuming they understood the limits of what was possible. Unfortunately, humanity was still very bad at following that advice. The announcement came only a few weeks after Project Luna became public knowledge. Most people expected clarification. Some expected a statement. Others expected another demonstration involving Blueprint, VRain, or perhaps another magical technology that would redefine an existing industry. Nobody expected a spacecraft. Not just a spacecraft. The world's first mana-powered space vessel.
The announcement alone caused immediate confusion.
For centuries, space exploration had been considered one of humanity's greatest achievements, but also one of its most difficult challenges. Rockets required enormous amounts of fuel. Long-distance travel required complex calculations. Reaching other celestial bodies required years of planning, preparation, and extreme resources. The idea of a faster-than-light, with the help of mana, vessel was not considered impossible.
It was considered something far beyond the current era.
Something that belonged to distant generations. Something that would require centuries of development.
Then Aster Collins built one.
The public showcase took place at a newly constructed Lumen Enterprise launch facility, located far away from major population centers to accommodate the scale of the demonstration. The facility itself had already become a topic of discussion. Its size rivaled some military installations, and the amount of security surrounding the area suggested that whatever Lumen Enterprise was preparing was far beyond a simple experiment. Governments from across the Bareblood world attended as usual, wanting to see such technology for themselves. Representatives from the Witching Hour arrived as well, wanting to see another innovation, combining both science and magic. Scientists, researchers, journalists, and magical organizations filled the observation areas, waiting to witness whatever Aster planned to reveal.
Among the invited guests was Theodore D'Arcel, the Viscount. A name that had become famous across the magical beast hunting territories. Theodore had not originally been on the guest list. He had, however, quietly asked Charlotte if she could arrange an invitation so he could use the launch as an excuse to take Seraphine on a date. Charlotte agreed without a second thought. The resulting invitation sparked no shortage of discussion, with many assuming one of her first disciples had been invited because whatever Lumen Enterprise was about to reveal required someone of Theodore's stature. In reality, Theodore was simply trying to be romantic. The significance of the event turned out to be entirely unrelated.
On the other side of the observation area, Soline looked significantly less confident. Ever since meeting Aster, her understanding of what should and should not have been possible had steadily fallen apart. Mana reactors. Blueprint. VRain. Eidolons. Every invention had sounded like complete madness until it worked. She had long since stopped doubting his ability to accomplish the impossible.
That was exactly why she was nervous.
If Aster said he had built a spaceship, then he had probably built a spaceship.
She had watched mana reactors become reality. She had witnessed Blueprint create entire worlds. She had seen VRain place people inside artificial realities. She had seen Eidolons appear as living beings. Every single time, there was always a moment where everyone wondered if something would go horribly wrong. And every single time, Aster somehow made it worse by proving it worked. Soline spent the entire preparation period staring at the vessel.
Waiting.
Watching.
Expecting something to explode.
She was not alone. Many researchers had similar concerns. Not because they doubted Aster's intelligence. No, because they trusted it enough to know he was probably attempting something absurd.
The vessel itself was unlike any spacecraft humanity had previously created.
It did not rely on traditional fuel, It did not require massive external boosters, It did not resemble the machines people had imagined would carry humanity into the future. Instead, it looked almost elegant. A smooth structure reinforced with both magical materials and advanced engineering. Runes covered sections of its exterior, but they were not decorative. They functioned as part of the vessel itself, integrated with systems that combined science and magic in a way that made researchers from both fields uncomfortable. If one were to see it without context, they'd probably see it as an alien spaceship.
The explanation was surprisingly simple. The vessel ran on Aether Fuel, the same refined energy source produced by Lumen Enterprise's mana reactors through atmospheric mana conversion. The only difference was what happened when they tested the technology beyond Earth's atmosphere.
The original assumption had been that space was empty: cold, silent, and devoid of mana.
It was not surprisingly.
Their experiments revealed that the vacuum of space contained aether. Not in the same concentration as Earth's atmosphere, nor in a form conventional instruments could easily detect, but enough to sustain the vessel's reactors. Space itself carried the very resource needed to travel through it.
Scientists were speechless, and witches were equally stunned. For centuries, the Witching Hour had understood mana as a force intrinsically tied to life, nature, and the planet itself. Nobody had imagined that the universe was filled with it. The discovery completely redefined space exploration, as the vessel was no longer simply carrying fuel but traveling through an environment capable of continuously replenishing it. Many researchers described the implications as terrifying, while others called them beautiful. Aster simply described them as convenient.
The launch day finally arrived, and the world watched. Billions followed the event through broadcasts as the Witching Hour, Bareblood governments, scientific organizations, and even those who disliked Lumen Enterprise waited for the same answer: would it work?
The countdown began. The vessel powered up as mana gathered around its structure and the runes activated one by one. Soline immediately became more nervous.
Nothing exploded.
The engines activated. Nothing exploded. The vessel lifted from the platform. Nothing exploded. For perhaps the first time in Lumen Enterprise's history of demonstrations, everyone experienced the same emotion.
Confusion.
The spacecraft did not roar into the sky like traditional rockets. Instead, it simply hovered above the launch platform, quiet and almost casual. The crowd waited for something: a shockwave, a massive burst of energy, anything that would make the impossible machine feel real.
Instead, the vessel remained suspended in the air before Aether Fuel finally activated. Light surrounded the ship, and for a brief moment it looked less like a machine and more like a star appearing above Earth.
Then it vanished.
It was not destroyed. It had not malfunctioned. It was simply gone.
The world fell silent as monitoring systems confirmed what everyone had just witnessed. The vessel had left Earth's atmosphere, entered space, and was moving faster than anything humanity had ever created.
The first mana-powered spacecraft had officially begun its journey.
Several minutes passed before the impossible happened again. The vessel reached the moon. The confirmation arrived almost immediately, proving that the spacecraft had successfully completed the journey.
The world erupted. News channels struggled to describe what had happened, scientists attempted to explain the technology, governments attempted to understand the political consequences, and the Witching Hour debated what this meant for the relationship between magic and space exploration.
Meanwhile, Aster simply stood on stage. Calm. Almost bored. As if he had not just changed humanity's relationship with the universe.
The celebration lasted for hours. Humanity had reached the moon again, but this time it was different. The moon was no longer a distant destination.
It was the beginning.
Then Aster made another announcement. A simple one. Almost too simple. Lumen Enterprise would begin preparations for a permanent lunar settlement.
The reaction was immediate. People laughed, not because they thought he was incapable, but because they assumed he was joking. Surely this was another one of his impossible exaggerations. Aster had a habit of casually saying things that sounded absurd, and a permanent settlement on the moon was obviously another one of those moments.
Except it wasn't.
The laughter slowly faded when people realized Aster was not smiling. He was already discussing construction requirements, resources, transportation, habitability, and infrastructure. He spoke about it the same way he discussed every other project, as if it was already decided.
The difficult part was never whether it could happen.
Only how long it would take.
And once again, the world reached the same conclusion. Aster Collins was not announcing the future.
He was already building it.