The air outside the Labyrinth of Fortune still tasted like ash and destruction.
Sunlight hit Spark Nighthawk's eyes with a brutal clarity. Unfiltered by the dungeon's magical wards. Revealing the full extent of Canarine Town's devastation.
He had seen it, but it still felt... disastrous. Rubble choked the streets. Structures stood as skeletal remains. And the once bustling town center was a graveyard of shattered building and burnt remains.
"It still felt terrible." Lilith sighed as she observed. Her hand was holding her arcane handgun. Her eyes were sharp and assessing. She kept her voice low. Although there were nobody else but them near there.
They had spent the better part of the previous day. Camping in a large, relatively untouched chamber within the Labyrinth. The 'debriefing' had been thorough. Satisfying Spark's tactical needs and his more primal desires.
He felt rested, powerful, and ready for whatever came next. But this… this still felt worse than expected.
Ivy knelt to examine a scorched piece of timber. She hadn't seen the devastation previously. "The heat signature… were immense. For two dragons to cause this... The information seems accurate."
Melody and Serenade scanned the horizon with expressions of quiet solemnity. Their magical lutes were secured in their hands.
Scarlett kept a watchful eyes. Her dark-red hair was contrasting sharply with the dark grey desolation. She had seen this before. And she didn't let her emotions guided her instinct.
She unleashed her scouting gu-insects. Her senses were extended. Seemingly sniffing the air for any lingering threats or activity.
"No one near here." Spark sighed. His voice was a low growl of displeasure.
The Labyrinth Gate was typically a hive of activity. It was eerily silent now. Not a single soul stood vigil. Or worked amidst the ruins near their exit point. It was as if the town had been entirely abandoned.
They walked for a considerable distance. Their boots were crunching on debris.
And then, the first signs of life appeared. In the distance, they could see three immense armored sky-ships. Their hulls were metallic and intact. They slowly ascended from the town's main sky-port.
Spark and his companions immediately moved to the sky-port.
As they reached the place, the ships had gained altitude. Becoming smaller points in the vast sky.
Spark noticed figures on the ground. A cluster of people stood near the remains of the port. Gazing upwards. Their postures were stiff with a mixture of hope, despair, and grim determination.
"Come on!" Spark commanded his women. His voice was cutting through the stillness. His women followed without question. Their pace was swift. Purposeful.
Among the group of survivors, Spark recognized a familiar face. The middle-aged man they had saved previously. The man, healthier but more gaunt than Spark remembered, turned as they approached. His sunken but still sharp eyes widened in recognition.
"You… you're back!" The man exclaimed. His voice was raspy. He took a hesitant step forward. "The men from Brilliant Horizon? Did you…?"
Spark cut him off. "They're dead. All three of them. The sorcerer, the warrior, the engineer."
He didn't elaborate on the summoned Demonbull. Deeming it unnecessary. "What happened here? What are those ships?" He gestured towards the rapidly shrinking specks in the sky.
The man's shoulders slumped. "Mayor Hilldove… he just returned from his trade journey this morning. He saw… He saw the town." His voice broke. "His wife… his daughter… they were caught in the dragon attack. Gone."
A cold, hard knot formed in Spark's gut. He didn't know Mayor Hilldove in person. But he knew Mayor Hilldove's reputation. He was a reasonable man, normally. But he was known for caring about his family a lot. For him to lose his family like this…
"He went hunting. For revenge." The man continued. His voice was regaining a fragile strength. Laced with admiration and terror. "He led every remaining soldier, every able-bodied survivor who could fight, onto those ships. To find the dragons. To kill them."
Spark's dark-grey eyes narrowed. "Hunting? Hunting the dragons?"
The words were flat. Devoid of emotion. Yet, the implication was clear. It was a suicide mission. He had heard of Mayor Hilldove. He knew him to be respectable and quite powerful. A tier-6 Technomind Engineer.
Adult dragons, however, were creatures of apocalyptic might. Rarely anything less than Tier-7. Often higher. To engage two of them?
He looked up again at the now-distant sky-ships. Just faint smudges against the horizon. He could recall Sky Grimoire from his Technomind Space in an instant. He could pursue them.
But what then? What good would that be? Even in his werelion form, with his immense strength and a power rifle, he was still a Tier-3 individual. At most, he could deal with a Tier-5 monsters due to his sheer brute force.
Against two fully grown dragons, he would be a nuisance. At best. A suicide pact he wasn't interested in joining.
His gaze swept over the other survivors. Their faces were etched with a blend of grief and blank incomprehension. A deep-seated helplessness. They were the ones left behind. The shattered remnants of a community.
Spark Nighthawk was not a good person. He knew this truth about himself. Embraced it even. He was selfish and ruthless when necessary. And utterly devoid of genuine empathy for most situation.
His jolly, amiable façade was a weapon. A shield. Yet, even he had limits. His bottom line was simple... innocent bystanders. Those caught in the crossfire of other people's depravity.
The Brilliant Horizon had deliberately lured dragons here. These people were suffering from others' machination.
A peculiar ache, something akin to discontent, stirred within his chest. It wasn't compassion. Not truly. It was more a pragmatic consideration.
This town was ruined because of the very people he had just eliminated. Not exactly his guilt. But, leaving these people to starve amidst the rubble, knowing he had the means to alleviate their immediate suffering… It would, strangely, hurt his conscience.
Not in a moral sense probably. But in a way that would leave a sour taste in his heart. An unresolved annoyance. He preferred clean conclusions.
"We'll help you." Spark stated. His voice was carrying an unexpected weight of authority. The middle aged man and the nearby survivors looked at him. Startled.
"Not for long. One week. We'll help rebuild some part of this town, get you provisions." He looked towards the sea. A vast, dark expanse beneath the floating island. "There are huge fish and sea beasts down there. Easy for us to hunt. We'll provide meat."
One week. A calculated, finite commitment. Enough to establish a functioning public kitchen. To provide some structural integrity to a few buildings. To restore a semblance of order.
But, it was not an open-ended charity. He had his own journey to continue. Worlds to explore. Power to accumulate. But this… this felt like a necessary detour.
His women exchanged glances. They understood. Spark's decision wasn't for them to disagree. They would follow it.
Lilith nodded subtly. Already calculating logistics. Ivy's eyes lit up with the prospect of utilizing resource management and alchemy for public health.
Melody and Serenade's expressions softened. Their support magic was already aligning with the concept of aid. Scarlett merely gave a sharp, almost feral grin. Scouting and protecting were her strengths. Even for a temporary endeavor.
...
For the next day and a half, Spark moved with a brutal, efficient haste. He took out his sky-ship, the Sky Grimoire, and dropped down to the sea below.
His power rifle made short work of the visible fish and colossal sea creatures. Their carcasses were then hauled onto their sky-ship. And delivered to the floating island above their head.
He brought these preys himself to the temporary public kitchen. Using his sheer, monstrous power.
He taught a few of the stronger survivors how to butcher the immense catches. Ensuring a steady supply of protein for the emergency public kitchens. Ones that Ivy, with her meticulous organizational skills, quickly established. In the least damaged structures.
Spark didn't shy away from other physical labor either. Without transforming, his sheer muscular bulk had allowed him to clear debris. Lift heavy beams. And right overturned carts with terrifying ease.
He commanded. He directed. He worked alongside them. His presence was an intimidating, yet strangely reassuring, force.
His women, each in their own way, also showed their contribution. Lilith mapped the safest areas. Managed the flow of resources. And maintained an efficient, if temporary, chain of command among the survivors.
Ivy, beyond the kitchen, assessed the survivors' medical needs. And started brewing basic healing poultices and sanitation solutions from scavenged herbs.
Melody and Serenade used their voices. Soft but resonant. They began singing songs that subtly eased anxiety and bolstered morale. Their magic wishart was weaving a calming influence through the devastated town.
Scarlett became a silent, watchful shadow. Patrolled the perimeter. Her gu-insects forming an invisible network of vigilance. Ensuring no opportunists or scavengers preyed on the desperate.
The survivors was initially wary of this giant, powerful stranger. And his equally formidable women.
However, they quickly fell into line. Spurred by the promise of food. And the sheer, undeniable competence of Spark's crew. Hope, a fragile thing, began to flicker in the ruined town.
It was the next afternoon...
As Spark delivered the latest catch of a multi-ton, fish-scaled prey to the main emergency kitchen, that it happened.
Suddenly, without warning... The very fabric of the sky above Canarine Town shimmered. A vast, ethereal blue light pulsed. Expanding rapidly. Until a colossal, perfectly rectangular holographic screen solidified in the sky.
It dwarfed the sunbaked ruins. Reflecting the desolate landscape below like a distorted mirror.
Every single person stopped what they were doing. Whether they were sifting through rubble, tending to makeshift fires, or simply staring blankly at the wreckage of their lives... they stopped.
Their heads tilted up. Their eyes were wide. Gazing up at the impossible display.
Even Spark paused. He dropped the massive fish slung over his shoulder. His dark-grey eyes narrowed, assessing.
His women, scattered throughout the town, froze in their tasks. Their attention was drawn skyward.
On the screen, a face appeared. It was an old man. Grizzled and gaunt. His features etched with profound grief and hardened resolve. His hair was sparse. His eyes were bloodshot. But there was an unyielding fire in their depths.
"Citizens of Canarine!" The man's voice boomed. Amplified and projected across the entire ruined town. The sound was even resonating in some of their bones. "I am Roostalk. Your Town Secretary. We have arrived."
A heavy pause hung in the air. Broken only by the wind whistling through shattered buildings.
"We have reached Greycliff Volcano." Roostalk continued. His voice was dropping to a grim, steely tone. "The lair of the monsters that dared to desecrate our home, that stole our loved ones."
His eyes, on the holographic screen, seemed to bore directly into each survivor.
"Mayor Hilldove, in his grief and his righteous fury, has decreed that their annihilation will be witnessed by all. This broadcast… this is our answer. To those who lost their lives. To those who lost their families. To those who lost their homes."
The screen shifted slightly. Showing a desolate, ash-choked landscape. A towering volcanic peak dominating the background. Then, Roostalk's face reappeared. Closer. More intense.
"This broadcast, oh People of Canarine..." He declared. His voice was trembling with a raw, barely contained emotion. "This is our revenge."