"Desperation breaks people, but hope ignites survival instinct. I can offer that hope. Compared to your plan, doesn't a working prototype sound more convincing?"
Tangible proof trumps mere ideas.
Oran led them to another cabin, cluttered with eclectic items: mechanical lotus flowers, odd parts, purple-glowing potions, an unknown creature's egg, a mysterious green fruit, and crawling green beetles.
He handed Ivankov and Ginny each a short-barreled net gun, stowing the lotus flowers.
"You're right, but what's this about a gift?" Ivankov asked.
"The Warp Gate shows the islanders we have a real escape plan. But that's not enough. The Celestial Dragons caused this. Ignoring them? That's not me."
Oran's tone was calm, his eyes steady, but his old crew would've known: he was pissed, his line crossed. In Piltover, those who crossed him—Zaun's alchemical barons or councilors—never fared well. Oran always hit back.
"You're planning to…"
"Simple. They want something, I make sure they fail. They want to wipe out this island? I'll save as many as I can. They treat it as a hunting ground? I'll shatter their myth."
Ivankov sensed a hunter's confidence in Oran, not prey. Oran aimed to prove it, beyond appearances.
Celestial Dragons, world nobles, were guarded by the Navy. Attacking them drew admirals—a sea-faring truism. Many, even Navy soldiers, saw protecting them as duty, too cowed to resist despite their cruelty.
Ivankov's rebellion aimed only to escape, thwarting their goal. But Oran, shaped by Valoran's defiance—where humans slew demigods and star spirits—wasn't swayed.
"Shatter their myth?" Ivankov gripped the net gun, stunned by Oran's words.
"Two shoulders, one head. They kill us, why can't we kill them? Descendants of the 20 kings? Their ancestors' glory isn't invincibility. You said 200 Dragon hunters are scattered here. We can't take the elites, but their group breeds weaklings. Those, we can handle."
"Haha! That's a wild plan!"
History was vague, but after Joy Boy's failure in the Void Century, defiance against the Dragons vanished. A robot attacked the Red Line a century ago, fruitlessly. Oran's audacity was rare.
"You gotta survive, Oran," Ivankov urged.
"What?"
"Your idea could shake their rule someday. Even if only you escape, it's a huge win."
At 15, Ivankov's blood boiled at Oran's words, opening new horizons. Oran stayed cool.
"Don't pin grand ideals on me. I'm doing this for myself."
"Wait! Calm down!" Ginny interjected. "Our plan's escape, right? Oran, your words hit hard, but killing Dragons? They have life cards. Kill one, and the Navy guarding them will lose it. Then what?"
She feared her brother and this new ally were getting reckless. Oran's logic was sound, but the consequences were heavy.
"Not kill outright. Sacrifice comes before battle. The 200 Dragons don't check in daily, right? Grab one at the right time, kill them later. Goal achieved."
Once their myth cracks, rebellion sprouts. That was Oran's gift—a spark on this sea, its ignition uncertain.
"These net guns shoot 90-caliber ropes, Piltover police gear. Recoil's strong. We'll test outside, and I'll show you how."
Oran needed craftsmen for assembly, meaning more people gathering. Per Ivankov and Ginny's intel, the Dragons labeled slaves and natives "rabbits," assigning points: 13 SR-rank, 150 R-rank, over 100,000 targets. High-point areas drew hunters first.
Human nature faltered under death's threat. Some held firm, but there was no room for error.
Oran needed a core group to maintain order and execute plans. Ivankov and Ginny, with their shared intel and escape goal, were prime allies.
"Sturdy nets. Normal Dragons can't break free, but the recoil's too much for Ginny," Ivankov noted.
Oran had cut their shackles with the ship's laser and taught them the net guns, plus some trap gadgets. Ivankov mastered the recoil, but Ginny struggled.
Even adult women staggered from the kick, akin to Caitlyn's Piltover gear, modified slightly. Malnourished and young, Ginny couldn't handle it, focusing instead on intel via a modified phone snail.
Phone snails, unique to this sea, were wild creatures turned communicators with added parts. Using Oran's tech, Ginny upgraded a local snail, boosting her eavesdropping.
"The Dragons are starting their hunt. A Bakania clan slave just escaped, heading that way."
Ginny checked a rough map, pinpointing a zone. Her earpiece caught new signals, sparking excitement.
"Big Bro, Oran, I'm picking up tons of signals nearby. The message we spread worked!"
"Haha! Great news! The more chaos, the better our odds," Ivankov cheered.
With Oran's tools, Ginny's skills shone. She'd contacted God Valley's shipyard, mapping their location.
Ivankov nailed the gun's reload and aim. With them ready, Oran moved to the next step.
"We can't bank on unknowns. Either plan needs more than us three. Let's move. Another escapee's out there—plenty don't want to die."
(Chapter End)