" _MABLIK—SLATHALIN—!_ "

As the spontaneous sea spout erupted from the Shoal's surface, a rippling wave of Dragon Fear tore through the firmament above, invisible yet more tactile than a sudden gale.

Lulan Li, Sword Mage of Huashan—and now the sole Disciple of the White Serpent of Fur Peak, felt the fear envelop her with a silken caress, causing the follicles on her exposed Iron Skin to goosebump until even the roots on her head stood alarmed and erect.

Then that was it.

Compared to what she'd suffered when she had first arrived at Huangshan, the fear wasn't that impressive. Lulan had felt more so intimidated when gazing upon the misty peak of the Yinglong's White-Jade palace. If she had to judge, Lulan would suggest that even Ryxi, her scripture-loving, art-obsessed White Serpent Master, had exuded a purer, if not older, aura.

Beside her, Richard likewise shrugged off the Dragon Fear, a feat Lulan could only attest to Richard's time spent with Gwen.

Nonetheless, she had to resist her instinct as a trained Swordswoman to fire off all seven of her Falling Star fragments. She couldn't—for even with her mana-tempered eyes, there was no seeing past the revolving column of water heralding the rise and arrival of their next foes.

Knowing that a confrontation would follow before the possibility of diplomacy, she commanded her Naga Spirit to infuse the blades with thrumming mana, furthermore adding the property of Huashan's Sonic Strike to Ryxi's modified Panzerschreck.

But before Lulan could kiss hot steel to cold scale, another team member had better plans.

"QUACK—!" came a very delayed reply to the Draconic demand, desiring a fight to the death.

Lulan focused her vision, then grew mute as Gwen's duck approached from the direction of the city, its neck white with a cone of pressure. With the same motion pushing forward, its rainbow body distorted the Elemental Air around it, supernaturally increasing its velocity.

_Fast!_ —was Lulan's first impression—certainly much quicker than she could manage while riding on her sword.

However, even beneath the veil of water, she could sense that their foes were far beyond human ken. Even masked, the central figure's silhouette was more imposing than Lord Golos and twice as thick and heavy.

_Plop!_

Another Hydra broke free of the inky surface of the Void egg. Behind herself and Richard, her saviour continued her dark art of Consumption and would require uninterrupted spellcasting.

Now closer and quickly ascending, the duck shrieked toward the sea spout pillar.

" _HOFIBA!!_ " came a retort from within the toiling cyclone.

Lulan agreed with the Draconic riposte. In the next moment, the duck struck the wall of water, instantly forming a semi-sphere where it penetrated, splicing and parting the veil, creating an opening almost thirty meters from end to end.

Within, Lulan caught sight of their foes for the first time.

_Dragon Turtles!_ Her heart rate shot to its utmost limits, blushing her Iron Skin a shade darker. Not quite Mythics, but close enough if stories from her childhood rang true. These, Lulan could see, were descendants from the legendary Bixi, the ninth scion of the Shenglong, historically sent to pacify the raging rivers of waterlogged Hangzhou. After the fall of the Jade Emperor, the Bixi was said to have fled from its duty and entered the China Sea, becoming one of the Warlords of the Four Seas, transforming its erstwhile guardian-self into a raging menace.

Her knuckles grew bone-white.

Not from the nerves of facing such a foe—but for the glory of battling, perhaps even slaying such a beast. If Ryxi's tipsy musings were correct, then such a duty of subjugation was in the very foundation of her arts! Aeons ago, when Dynastic God-Kings reigned, the Daoshi Swordsmen's foremost duty was to hunt down monsters in the guise of Gods such as these and bring prosperity and peace to a disquieted land!

Of course, nowadays, the Communist Party executed such endeavours through fleets of Golem-mounted artillery travelling on NoM-crewed battle rails with Shielding Barriers. Still, the point remained that thanks to Gwen, she would hunt the scions of Mythics and subjugate legendary monsters, allowing her to live like the Swordswomen of the old world, just as Ryxi foretold!

But before her spirit could soar—Lulan bore witness to a terrible sight.

Dede the duck, that boisterous, arrogant thing waddling all over Gwen, was no match for the leading Dragon Turtle.

A careless swipe had been enough to divert the duck.

The strike wasn't solid—for the duck was too quick, but the move was more than enough to break its momentum and then send it plunging toward the water like a meteor.

With a crash of rolling thunder, the duck broke off at an angle and struck the surface below after a few seconds. When it impacted the sea, the collision left a streak of white water a kilometre long.

_Dede Duck!_ Lulan winced. _Defeated! And hopefully not dead, lest Gwen declares total war._

"To be perfectly honest," Richard remarked some distance drily away. "I am not sure what I expected."

"Is Dede going to be okay?" Lulan asked in case.

"Gwen would know," the Water Mage returned with a snicker. "It'll take a while to heal, and Dede should be fine fairing against the Mermen below. At any rate, I think it best if Dede isn't here to mess with our next battle."

Lulan agreed. The duck was a good lad—but it was a duck after all, and these were Dragon Turtles. Just as with Lord Golos, if things got serious between the duck and the princeling, she was sure the Wyvern could render Dede into drumsticks in a matter of moments.

Nonetheless, even if Dede had done nothing in terms of damage, what it did achieve was the dampening of the Dragon Turtle trio's opening salvo.

"Get ready," Richard warned her as he moved Lea into place. "If they want to talk, let them. The more time we burn, the more Lampreys Gwen controls."

Lulan spun her blades in affirmation.

Some distance away, the Dragon Turtles discarded the water spout column, which Lulan guessed was a form of mobility magic that empowered the oceanic creatures' rapid ascent.

The leading turtle was a brute of a beast, a bipedal mountain of keratin hammered by some undersea God-forge into a vaguely humanoid dreadnaught. Its head, Lulan could see, was indeed that of the legendary Dragon's, consisting of a pair of stunted stag horns just above the eye-ridge, framing a crested neck shrunken into the shelled body. Unlike its compatriots, the leader possessed two pairs of eyes, one set closer to the armoured nostrils, the other more toward the brow-ridge of the head. Its beak was hooked like a Griffin's, its interior lined with barbed, backward teeth for swallowing large prey wholesale.

As it hovered closer, Lulan took note of the Dragon Turtles' stumpy legs. Unlike the ever graceful Lord Golos, this creature possessed flippers for forelimbs and clawed elephant legs for its lower half, reminding her of the tortoise Ryxi kept as a pet brush holder.

Less than a hundred meters away, the Dragon Turtle trio struck Richard's first defence barrier, covered by a sheet of suddenly-materialising brackish water.

" _WUX BEVÍL!_ " The leading Dragonkin exploded with outrage, followed by a sharp gathering of multi-Elemental mana.

As anticipated, these monsters firmly believed in martial diplomacy.

"Richard—!" Lulan shot forward, meeting the incoming Dragon Breath with four of her seven blades, crossing into the blast's path to deflect the incoming blow. From the trajectory, she could see it was directed at her saviour, the source of the Void Hydras.

Dissonant to Lord Golos' instantaneous line of lightning, the leading turtle's breath consisted of a vortex of swirling steam, combining superheated seawater with rapidly vaporising Elemental Air. On contact, Lulan felt something like a force of nature striking her metal blades, flash-smelting the unyielding slabs until her cold steel grew malleable.

"BLADE SHATTER—" she delivered the invocation, splitting the white-hot vortex with bisecting blasts of expanding metal.

Despite her efforts, the conic blast shot forth, deflected but undeterred, punching through a dozen of Richard's membranes until he redirected the final dozen meters with a pressurised jet blast as thick as Lea was tall.

"Wocao!" Lulan swore, manifesting four spares behind her. Was this the power of a Dragon Turtle? She wasn't sure how committed the thing was—but that single blast had Water, Positive Energy, and even Elemental Air. "Richard— we need to stop that thing!"

Perhaps surprised that its attack wasn't enough to reach Gwen's Dark Egg, the Dragon Turtle barked something at its lesser siblings.

They opened their mouths.

"No need to fret," Richard restored his multi-layered defence matrix even as he spoke. "Get ready to go on the offence. Our help is here!"

Lulan's eyes glanced to their right.

" _POL VHIRA!_ " The cry from Lord Golos arrived no sooner than his enormous head—bodily crashing into one of the junior Dragon Turtles while his tail whipped at its sibling.

Both Dragon Turtles moved instantly into defence mode, shrinking their softer body parts into their shells, allowing Golos only glancing blows against the exterior of their barnacle-caked shell.

_CRA—CRACK!_

The snap of the horn and tail on jutting Draconic keratin was enough to ignite the air, sending down a shower of blue-white sparks, resulting from friction as much as Golos' plasma-charged body.

Both turtles reeled from the ambush, splitting from their formations like cue-broken balls breaking for either pocket of a billiard table.

" _Wuxh ornla symba mrith nomenoi mabliki?_ " The leading Dragon Turtle did not attack but coldly regarded the pleased-looking Golos, currently levitating without moving an inch, heedless of the whipping winds conjured by the Sea Dragons. Lulan's Draconic was lacking, but she could make out something vaguely resembling a submission trial.

"Ha! That's no mortal you're challenging," Golos retorted in the language of "mortals" so that Lulan and company could fully utilise their Translation Stones. "Stay around and keep fighting if you dare, cousin. Sooner or later, you'll be begging for the sweet embrace of the Unformed Land."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

The Dragon Turtles barked back.

_Was that a signal to attack?_

Lulan once more charged her blades with sonic vibrations, wondering if direct strikes could penetrate a shell that had stopped Lord Golos' attack cold.

"O scion of the Tempest Torn," the Dragon Turtle halted its enraged siblings from retaliating. Perhaps to show respect to Golos, it was now also speaking a language her Stone could decipher. "Rare is the need for conflict among Dragon-kin. If we three must endure the _dance of death_ , I wish to know the name of yours and her Sire."

Lord Golos grunted. "Golos, fourth Scion of _He who Answered_ , the Yinglong."

Gwen, still in her egg, said nothing.

Though Lulan knew Golos' origins from Ryxi, hearing the Wyvern quote an exert from the Analects of the Mountains and the Seas made her Iron Skin prickle. Even now, her mind struggled to accept that she, a mere Sword Shaman from Huashan, was now standing shoulder-to-snout with mythical beings.

"And I am _Shyvaphyr_ , seventeenth scion of _He who slumbers in the Crown of Corals,_ the great Miommiriorthyr," the Dragon Turtle professed a more impressive-sounding title than Golos' father. “These young ones are Zitusphyr and Sevphr, my kinsmen.”

The two Dragon-kin measured one another. Golos was the scion of a true Mythic—and though Lulan knew nothing of the Sea Dragons, she could only assume the oceanic descends of the Bixi was older still. As for the Yinglong, she knew that the Dragons of yore from Chinese creation legends were already ancient.

_Plop—_ as if to punctuate their present circumstances, a volley of hungry and deadly _things_ dropped from the bottom of Gwen's egg-shell defence. The interruption was subtle, but the birth of yet another lamprey was enough to disrupt the respectful silence between Golos and Shyvaphyr.

As validation for her troubles, Gwen had sown enough anarchy to validate the Dragon Turtles visiting in person.

"Move aside, kindred of the tempest," the Dragon Turtle craned its neck in an attempt at intimidation, uncoiling another four or five meters of muscle and carapace from within the shell. As it spoke, steam rose from both its nostrils and the tooth-gaps of its enormous maw. "Our business is with the Conjurer behind you. Just as well, we are content to oblige if you wish compensation for your spoiled sport with your female."

Golos' response was to move between it and the Dark Egg behind them. At the same time, the Thunder Wyvern changed air currents around Gwen's egg with only his will, sending her Void shelter adrift. "The Scion of the Yinglong bows to no one, not even ancient Miommiriorthyr."

The Dragon Turtle was not surprised by Golos' refusal.

"A welcome insolence from our cousin of lightning—!" In Lulan's eyes, Shyvaphyr's face possessed an amazing ability for expression, considering her foe was a lizard in a half-shell. Yet, the sadistic glee was palpable. "Than I shall take the witch prisoner, and your Lord Father can pay the Coral Crown a lair's ransom to retrieve you and your pet!"

Golos grinned in return—with Lulan recognising the secret thrill running through the Wyvern's spine.

Before the Dragon Turtle even took its next breath, Lulan raised the mana in her conduits to their utmost allowance.

"VATAKA!" Shyvaphyr unleashed an aural assault in Draconic, warping the air as the power word rang out like a tolling bell. The command struck like a spark of electricity, triggering all the primal phantasms within Lulan's complying body. Her knees bent only slightly before her Naga Spirit negated the rest.

Not far, Richard's face grew ripe as cherries as he forcibly resisted the mental compulsion.

As for Gwen—Lulan felt confident that even if her saviour had heard the Draconic command, she couldn't care less.

The split second after Lulan felt her mind restored; everything happened everywhere simultaneously.

_SCHWING—!_

"Falling Star Sword!" Lulan sent three blades shrieking toward Shyvaphyr, while two and two made for the bodies of Turtle Zi and Turtle Se, whose names she could not recall.

Richard followed with the final syllables of a nursed invocation, causing the watery membranes to explode into mist, visually obfuscating his and Gwen's whereabouts behind thick veils of shifting haze.

Golos barged bodily into the leading Dragon Turtle, going for the throat.

Below the wrestling drakes, the junior Dragon Turtles responded with their breaths attacks aimed at Gwen.

Mid-tussle, Golos swept the smaller turtles with his Lightning Breath. Ignoring the Thunder Wyvern, Shyvaphyr turned his body, swinging his enormous shell so that he spun, head, tails, arms and all, propelled by gusts of superheated steam, transforming his body into a living disc of Draconic destruction.

In the chaos, Lulan could only focus on foes she was confident of besting. Her sword connected at the same time as Golos' attack. The blades on Turtle Zi struck only glancing blows, slicing off chunks of keratin before exploding into a thousand shards, embedding into the shell and the scaled-hide surrounding Zi's left flank and limbs.

Turtle Se had less luck, catching a sword in a gap between his armoured plating, allowing Lulan's Sonic Blade to dig an arm's length inward before it erupted, tearing out a gory chunk of scale and flesh about the size of her head.

Much to Lulan's alarm, Lord Golos' breath of plasma did little more than singe and disorientate the turtles, serving as testaments to the futility of Dragons fighting one another with breath attacks—ratifying why Shyvaphyr had chosen a more direct approach.

Lulan allowed herself to free fall, attempting to gain distance without drawing attention.

Unlike herself, Lord Golos did not possess skills akin to Misty Step—but even so, the Thunder Wyvern had greater agility than the spinning turtle could match. With a twist of his enormous wings and serpentine body, Golos avoided the slicing body-barge of the Dragon Turtle, then gave the centre a resounding smack with his clubbed tail, sending another shower of electric sparks to dance across the still-accelerating Draconic-discus.

Lulan's mana pool dipped as she manifested seven more blades, charging each with more weight and rigidity than their expired siblings.

"EE—EE—!" A clarion cry answered from somewhere below, less than a quarter-kilometre from the churning surface of the Shoal.

Ariel, who must have been waiting in ambush, now let loose a double-volley of Lightning Orbs from its horns, violently vivifying the underside of Turtle Zi and Se. The attack wasn't enough to damage the two—but was enough to paralyse both creatures for the second or two needed for Lulan to re-launch her blades.

This time, she sent the lot toward where Shyvaphyr's shell was weakest—the area near its rectum where several plates met.

_SCHWING—!_

_SCHWING—!_

_SCHWING—!_

CLANG—!

To Lulan's chagrin, the smaller turtles shrugged off Ariel's attack, adopted the defensive spin used by Shyvaphyr, and then deflected her blades so that not a single one could lodge themselves.

To get to the big one, Lulan accepted, she would have to hack through the small ones.

With a titillating wail, she switched tactics, forming her blades into an overlapping pattern so that all seven combined into a circular saw-blade edged with gleaming steel for teeth. Using the same magic that propelled the blades, her spellshaped _Falling Stars_ engaged, becoming a whirling disc of death.

Fighting the strain on her mind, she sent the blade-circle wheeling for the wounded Dragon Turtle, the dubbed Se.

"EE—EE!" Twin volleys of Chain Lightning erupted from Ariel's horns, connecting both their foes. Unfortunately, the third jump fell short as the Elemental Lightning died, repelled by Shyvaphyr's absurd natural resistance.

_SCHW—KREEEEEE—_

Lulan's makeshift sword wheel connected with Turtle Se, engendering a blaze of sparks. The instant her sword-wheel kissed the counter-spinning Dragon Turtle, she lost control of three implements, sending the metal to bounce into the uncertain distance.

The momentum of her attack lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough, for Lulan felt the satisfying thunk of a blade crunching into soft flesh and striking bone.

_At last!_ The Sword Mage congratulated herself. She couldn't see among the arcs of plasma, the screeching embers from the screaming metal and the rippling howls from Golos and Shyvaphyr's deadly tango of teeth and claw, but it was enough.

"BLADE SHATTER!"

The Sword Mage pumped nearly one-tenth of her total mana pool into the blast, forcing the iron into complete disintegration, propelling a thousand razors of flesh-rending metal.

From near Turtle Zi's neck, a crimson flower of scale and flesh blossomed, the fragments of which made plinking sounds as they passed Lulan's whistling air space, bouncing off her Iron Skin.

"GUAWRRRK!" The Dragon Turtle roared in protest—though it remained uncowed. Perhaps because the wound was shallow or the Dragon Turtle was too vital, the wounded beast barged toward her, hell-bent on pounding her into mincemeat.

Cursing, Lulan formed a sacred invocation using her off-hand digits, rapidly invoking the silent syllables of her next spell.

The enormous claymore she had held underfoot finally rose to action.

_KRUNG!_

The charging Dragon Turtle struck her steel barrier. Lulan tasted something iron and hot in her mouth as the pressure in her chest mounted. Then, the beast began its death roll.

_Heavy!_ Lulan grunted in silence, swallowing the blood bubbling forth from her overcharged capillaries. These junior turtles may not be anything like the one Lord Golos was fighting. Yet, they still possessed the strength of industrial-sized Golems.

"Parry!" she commanded her remaining blades to converge, shifting the weight of the turtle's charge as its weight bore down on her lithe figure.

Quickly, she glanced to see that Richard and Ariel were keeping Turtle Zi busy.

For a few seconds, all she could hear was the sound of screeching metal-on-metal as her sword-forged net grew concave. Between her tortured grunts, Lulan heard Richard's voice warning her to dodge.

"Misty Step!" She evaded by reflex, then instantly regretted her unthinking action.

Using her sword net as something akin to a springboard, the wounded Dragon Turtle Se ricocheted from her conjured implements to move straight toward Richard's general direction somewhere in the mist.

"Dick!" Lulan cried out, not even using her Message Device. "Watch out!"

To her horror, the Dragon Turtle possessed the means to affect Elemental Water in a manner no less than Richard's Lea. An enormous localised vortex formed as the creature passed, dispersing Richard's visual obfuscation, revealing the levitating form of Gwen's Dark Egg.

"Cao!" Lulan swore, rapidly aligning each of her remaining blades. She had promised to protect her saviour! Even if it costs her life, she had to ensure that Gwen survived!

" _STAR CHASING SWORD!_ " The invocation on her lips finished within three seconds. A derivative of Ryxi's Falling Star variant, the Star Chasing "spell shape" exchanged power for speed and was aimed at interception over that of destruction—even so, she feared it might be too late.

Including her claymore, seven streaks of quicksilver launched their foe-seeking selves toward the escaping Dragon Turtle.

Her spell struck.

But Lulan's heart sank.

The junior Dragon Turtle had missed Richard, tore through his defence barriers, and arrested Gwen's Dark Egg through manipulating the water even as her swords struck sparks against its shell, with only the claymore lodging into a damaged crack.

"BLADE SHATTER!" Her mana fell instantly below half as the super-dense metals erupted, peppering Gwen's Void Shield while sending forth pink specks of butchered turtle, shredded Dragon sinews, and shattered shell-fragments.

" _LOREAT!_ " Before her swords could re-manifest, a swirling vortex of superheated steam erupted from Golos' whereabouts, making for Gwen's barrier.

Rapidly, the line-based Steam Breath expanded into a cone, enveloping both Turtle Se and saviour.

"Gwen!" Lulan desperately conjured swords for a barrier so that Gwen could escape the brunt of the attack.

_CLANG—!_

In her haste, she had failed to foresee that Turtle Se could distend its snake-like neck and waylay her implements. When she did see, the Dragon Turtle's eagle beak had already bit down with a crunch, bending her newly-conjured tools into decommissioned trash. " _Richard!_ "

"Lulu—hold!" Richard's warning was not what Lulan wanted to hear. That, or she couldn't hear Richard's response, for the swirling steam now struck Gwen's Dark Egg in full, instantly peeling back the Void layer to roast the double-glazed barriers behind.

Gwen's "Gunther" shield lasted a single spell exchange before it shattered.

Lulan's Iron Heart grow suddenly hot.

Her skin took on the dull red hue of tempered steel, and her skull felt possessed by inexplicable tinnitus.

_If I Misty Stepped into the Dragon Turtle's innermost reach,_ her mind informed her. _Would it be enough to hack the creature down?_

Around her, fresh slabs of iron, each the size of claymores larger than her shaking body, slid forth from rents in the Elemental Plane of Earth.

"Lulu!" Richard's voice barked somewhere in the recess of her mindscape, like a man calling from a clifftop. " _HOLD!_ "

"CALAMITY!" Lord Golos' Draconic exploded as a thunderclap, shaking her brain like a madman rocking a geranium. "DO IT NOW—OR YOUR FEMALE IS GOING TO LOSE IT!"


Though Gwen could not immediately participate, she was fully aware of the battle's rapid developments, first through her Empathic Link with Golos' spectrum of senses, then through her Sight Link with Ariel.

When Dede charged in, she had to fight to keep her composure, for nothing had prepared her for the sight of a duck charging a Dragon Turtle, then getting bitch slapped to oblivion.

_Poor Dede!_ Her heart had leapt from her throat. _Her devout defender! Her friend and companion in Cambridge!_ But __ despite Dede's drake-like size and courage, it was still a duck.

And its foe was a _Dragon_.

Therefore, even if Gwen's first thoughts had been to summon Caliban to avenge her fallen feathered friend, she reminded herself that it took a tastier lure than a duck to entrap a Dragon.

Sensing her Almudj Essence kicked in, Gwen calmed herself by assuring her disquieted heart that the same power which had regenerated her extremities and her missing innards from Faceless' assault was within her duck. Considering how much juice Dede had swiped from her since she started feeding the thing, the drake could forgo both wings and regrow spares.

Therefore, redoubling her efforts, Gwen focused on sending her Hydras past the Sailfish Merfolk with the pretty scales, then persisted in her plot with Golos to entrap the arrogant Dragon Turtle.

The duo had come up with the plan after Dede had revealed their foe as Golos had advertised, an arrogant princeling unused to tactics and ambushes, cruising only on its superior magics and Dragon Fear, drunk on the slaughter of lesser beings.

"I'll keep the bastard entertained." Golos appeared happy to neuter a fellow Dragon-kin. "Let him get his guard down, then Cali can _hue-hee-hee—_ "

The Thunder Wyvern's sadistic snicker had left her scalp crawling with ambivalent flushes of guilt and disdain. That her Wyvern murmured with delight and sympathy every time the duo double-teamed a foe was a mental knot only Doctor Monroe of Earth could mend. If Golos were to ascend one day, Gwen could only imagine what horrors a _Dragon_ Golos might bring to the world.

For now, as her companions fought, her main preoccupation was soothing the conflagration of Positive and Negative energies jostling for dominance within her Astral Body. Her focus was on digging her Hydras deeper, for below the zig-zagging bodies of her worm-skewering foes, she could sense the enormous blobs of vitality levitating below, each no less the magnitude of Garp, the Afaa al-Halak Gwen had tamed in Shalkar.

However, though Gwen supposed her eventual victory was a given, the number of Hydras she could conjure was limited by her Affinity—and how well her body balanced the parity of ecstasy and entropy incoming from her summoned beings. If left unchecked, Caliban would soon grow bloated—and she would drift into fits of involuntary euphoria.

"Calamity!" Golos burst through her hyperfocus with a grunt. "This bastard's got quite the bloodline! Its breath attack is Fire, Positive and Water!"

The Dragon Turtle, Gwen could see from Gogo's interactions with the monster, exhaled a hybrid form of highly destructive Elemental Steam, knotted into a foe-broiling vortex.

A blast that her Lulu deflected, and Richard quenched.

Her heart warmed to see Lulan doing so well. While she waited for Shyvaphyr's low cunning to manifest, Gwen gained a new appreciation for her re-acquired companion, her _Sword Mage of Huashan_. Having received tutelage from Ryxi, Lulu's fight against the Dragon Turtles was simply spectacular. With every swing from Lulu, Gwen grew glad that she had saved the girl with a Regenerate, even if it were on a whim.

It would have been nice to let Lulu in on Golos' plan, but she deeply suspected Lulan was far too honest a combatant. Likewise, if she had told Lulu that her precious Gwen would risk tanking Dragon Breath face-first, the girl would have volunteered to play the lure, permission or otherwise.

Compared to her companions, only in risking herself was Gwen confident the rewards outweighed the risk.

To conduct a foe as old and cunning as a Dragon Turtle into an aerial Afaa al-Halak trap meant putting herself in dire danger, for no other member of her party could serve as a sweeter patsy. At the same time, her new armour, wrought from the feathers of aeon-old Dragon-killers, was promised by its Dwarven artisans to keep her safe—that or she would _cook_ like a rock lobster from the Tasman Sea.

Lulan's battle against the two junior Dragon Turtles, Zitusphyr and Sevphr, was going well thanks to well-timed interrupts from Ariel. Richard was also proving annoying enough against poorly matched monsters to keep both herself and Lulu safe. As the battle drew onward, her highly intelligent foes grew impatient, undisguisedly waiting for a breakthrough moment, knowing that her Hydras would soon breach the protective dermis of the Shoal's defenders.

_SCHWING—!_

"Blade Shatter!" Unlike Richard, whose subtlety made for poor television, Lulan's gleaming missile blades were made for prime time, making her nerves tingle each time a volley of swords shot forth.

Even better, Lulan's swords were now RPGs!

With every strike, the renamed Falling Star Sword technique paid dividends, allowing Lulu to break armour—then make a complete mess of whatever she managed to crack open.

It was Lulu's bad luck that the Dragon Turtles had stolen the infamous tactic of Gamora, the shelled competitor of Godzilla. With their damned fart-powered Bayblade movements, there was little Lulan could do to make her swords bite, which was causing her and Ariel significant grief.

"Calamity—!" Golos' warning came again as he tore himself from the rampaging Shyvaphyr. Against the Thunder Wyvern, the turtle was spinning so fast that Gwen was feeling the onset of a dizzying migraine. Thus far, the two monsters were evenly matched, though Gwen would argue that Golos lacked the grit and stamina of his seaside cousin and would lose without her support. As a Wyvern, Golos' agility and strength could strike the Dragon Turtle a hundred times before he managed to tear off a chunk of the mythic monster, while Shyvaphyr could snap Golos' tail or wings in half with one crunch from its snapping turtle beaks.

" _LOREAT!_ " A rippling wave of raw power made her ears buzz.

The trap was sprung.

In response, Gwen clenched her teeth, channelling herself so full of vitality that she was on the verge of losing control.

"Caliban!" She conjured forth her Familiar just as the Dragon Turtle's breath came on like an encroaching train wreck, sending bursts of Elemental Steam through every orifice on its face, including between the slits of its eyes, making Gwen wonder if Shyvaphyr boiled its eyeballs every time it attempted a breath attack.

"Barbanginy!" Compared to Golos, the turtle was so slow that she followed up with a second attack, a Lightning Bolt from Ariel. In stark difference to the unhurried assault from the Dragon Turtle's omega blast, her lower-tier spells could rapidly dissuade Shyvaphyr from evading Caliban.

In the chaos, Golos shouted something about Lulan, though all Gwen could hear was the literal roar of death popping her eardrums.

Her pupils blazed a rich emerald, but not before her furthermost Void shell dissolved, taking a sizeable chunk of her vitality, followed by sudden light—and then the vivid shattering of her double-glazed Gunther barrier.

A split second later, Gwen became enveloped in a world of pain.

The agony was, in her mind, acceptable and still a tier or two away from, say, Astral Feedback from Soul Tapping a Balefire Golem. As for the heat, Gwen was a woman who never cooked and so had little to relate to the sensation of superheated water brushing over her armour. From her addled senses, the vortex of Elemental Steam appeared like a scalding stream of water striking a stubborn boulder, splattering in all directions as the energy dispersed, forcing both Richard and Lulan to deploy their defensive spells.

Meanwhile, withholding its customary "SHAA—!" Her Caliban slipped into the Prime Material just behind Shyvaphyr, her fiend's body so bloated with stolen vitality that it appeared in the likeness of a crow wearing a fat chicken suit.

Her Lightning Bolt struck, resolving most of its potential to penetrate Shyvaphyr's enormous spell resistance. Thankfully, the damage that punctured its multi-layered armour remained rich with Almundj's disapproval, causing Shyvaphyr to falter for a second longer than the Dragon Turtle could afford.

Then, in between the chaos of splashing Steam blasts, emerald lightning, shattering sword blades, Bayblade turtles and deflecting water membranes from Lea, a pair of slender, feminine hands, each with six pale fingers sitting opposite to form grasping claws, took hold of Shyvaphyr's arm and neck.

Immediately, Gwen realised she'd screwed up.

It was a miscalculation, for Gwen had imagined that Caliban in its present size would be able to pick up Shyvaphyr like a shoplifting perp. Much to her chagrin, her blunder meant that the Dragon Turtle had the bulk of its girth free to fight back Cali's attempted death grip.

Paying no heed to the storm of destruction abusing her body, she commanded Caliban to squeeze.

"SHAA—!" Caliban obeyed, choking Shyvaphyr so that its squirt of obscene steam was instantly cut short.

Gwen took the opportunity to reform her shield. As incredible as her Da-peng armour was at repelling Draconic sorcery, a good knock from any of the Dragon Turtles would send her straight to Dede.

After its moment of paralysis passed, Shyvaphyr slid its long neck forward, twisting so that Caliban tore off fistfuls of bloody scales as the Dragon Turtle forced its luck, attempting to snap off Caliban's fingers.

Once more belying Gwen's expectations, Shyvaphyr succeeded—and was promptly left enraged when three new fingers sprouted from Caliban's underside, each digit sheathed in digestive goo, to wrangle its neck once more.

"Beast! Unhand me!" Shyvaphyr commanded in Draconic. "I _command—_!"

Gwen gifted the turtle with another jolt of Barbanginy, though the effect appeared diminished.

"Shut it—!" Golos also swooped in, striking Shyvaphyr's open maw with his tail club, hitting the Dragon Turtle so hard between the eyes that it instinctively clenched its jaw, almost snapping its tongue.

By now, Gwen could see Lulan in the flesh. Her Sword Mage was a solid blaze of iron-clad Earthen mana—she was in her berserker meditation, but she had not lost control. Following Lulu's trajectory, Gwen saw the reason for the Swordwoman's use of the dangerous magic.

To save its Master, the wounded turtle was making a suicide charge.

" _YEEEEE—YAAAAH!_ " A shrieking expulsion of _Qi_ erupted from Lulan while Gwen gifted Caliban with more vitality, urging it to tear the Dragon Turtle's head from its body. The likeliness of such a thing happening wasn't very probable—but Caliban didn't know that, and it was bloody well making a good attempt.

Several sword blasts intercepted the incoming junior Dragon Turtles, with Lulan adding mortal wounds to the one whose shell she had earlier breached.

In response, Shyvaphyr made a half-choked howl. A solid ripple of Draconic sorcery rang out as an expanding halo. Then, to Gwen's amazement, superheated steam escaped from every part of its body, not only from its orifices but from gaps between the shell. With a shudder, Gwen realised with awe that the damned thing was rupturing its conduits to cook Cali off its back! If she did that as a human, her body would explode like an overripe persimmon!

Too bad Caliban didn't give a shit.

Smothered with steam, her Void fiend grew only more excited. With another "SHAA—!" It reared its head upward, then opened its tri-petal maw, now the likeness of the Afaa al-Halak it had consumed back in the desert. The skin on Cali's slender fingers melted, then regenerated, then melted again, melding the digits into the wounded Dragon Turtle's flesh.

"ROAR—" Shyvaphyr let loose a Dragon Breath in Caliban's face, forcing the menacing Golos to disengage rapidly.

A portion of Caliban's head turned into fine particles of Void.

Stolen novel; please report.

_SCHWING—!_ Two swords flew into the breath, growing red-hot before the brutal metal jammed into Shyvaphyr's cheeks. With a double _Clang!_ —explosions kicked the Dragon Turtle's armoured head with a violent jerk, diverting some of its breath away from Caliban.

The save—though much appreciated—was unheeded. In its Da-peng form and thanks to its regeneration, Caliban's resistance to Shyvaphyr's elemental attacks was no less than his against Ariel's bolts.

Seeing that their boss was under duress, the twin turtles broke off from their distracted melee with Lulan and Richard, one hobbled and the other hale. Before either could pull into range to martyr her on their cartwheel bodies, Gwen took a second to cut herself from her Hydras, allowing them to roam free. The release meant that her swimming stomaches were free to ravage as they wished—but more likely, they would eventually become victims of brainless hunger.

Now freed from her mental burden, Gwen's fists clenched, sending a frigid jolt of Void mana through her conduits, guaranteeing that Caliban would soon birth a new upper jaw to menace Shyvaphyr.

Below her, Lulan once more diverted the incoming Zitusphyr and Sevphr, breaking blades against their armoured hides to propel their momentous trajectory from their true path. Richard subtly aided her friend's efforts, nudging and moving the Dragon Turtles through streaming currents of Elemental Water woven into the air.

Deciding against wasting vitality and mana, Gwen took command of Caliban as Shyvaphyr attempted to break free by tearing her fiend neck from limb. Once more, the Da-peng form paid its dividends in full, appearing to resist the Dragon Turtle's strength in true Big Bird fashion, supernaturally neutering Shyvaphyr's gift of strength. Even where the Dragon Turtle's claws managed to penetrate the flowing armour of jet-black feathers, Caliban, unlike a real Da-peng, was able to regrow new plumage within seconds, frustrating the enormous turtle drake to no end.

"Cousin—you better yield before you break!" And, of course, it didn't help Shyvaphyr's ego that Golos had no sense of honour and would take every opportunity to hammer the gong-like belly of the Dragon Turtle with strikes from its lightning-charged mace tail, sending paralysing bolts of electricity into his distant cousin's Core.

Before the diverted Zitusphyr and Sevphr could return for another go, Caliban's re-birthed head emerged with a wet, obscene thrust of its open mouth, clamping Shyvaphyr by the top half of his neck. The Dragon Turtle howled and hooted as jets of arterial blood squelched from around Caliban's maw, painting the top half of the Big Bird scarlet.

Gwen once more felt her Divination Sigil crank to overdrive, warning her of the incoming vitality. While she tuned her Astral balance, the anarchic dance of the Da-peng and the Dragon Turtle continued, with Caliban's stark, feminine fingers growing streaked with gore as it wrestled the slippery sinews.

Then, just as she began the slow and steady invocation to a Chain Void Bolt, the inconceivable happened.

Caliban regurgitated a gut full of Void ink into the wound it had made, and like the severed limb of a giant tree, Shyvaphyr's head clean snapped off at the base, allowing the body to be able to slip free while Caliban made off with the still howling head.

"SHAA—!" Caliban made a half-choked gurgle as it carried the eel-like neck and belligerent head of "Prince" Shyvaphyr, parading its prehensile prey like a trophy.

The two junior Dragon Turtles began to panic but were pinned by Ariel's Chain Lightning and Lulan taking off chunks of armour, sending bits of flayed flesh to splash into the ocean below.

Before Gwen could command a pursuit of the falling body, the literal flesh wound atop Shyvaphyr's shoulders mended with the likeness of a puckering something, then promptly shat forth a cream-slathered new head with white scales the likeness of mutton jade. Very quickly, newly grown eyes moved into position along the length of the expanding flesh, with each of the four orbs rolling into place as milky-white tennis balls before birthing slitted pupils within.

From the fact that the junior Dragon Turtles could ignore wounds but not mend them, Gwen had not expected a self-regenerating Shyvaphyr.

"Well, shit," she announced to her companions and Familiars. "Think it'll fall for another trick?"

"No. But Shyvaphyr is badly winded," Golos assured her, pointing to the turtle's rear. "And his pride more so. See there! His meat is ripe for rapine! Send forth Caliban!"

"SHAA—!" Despite still trying to digest the struggle half of the neck-head, Caliban agreed. Below Cali's murmuring maw, Shyvaphyr's head complained by regurgitating blood.

"Don't waste that Dragon Blood!" Richard called out from within the haze.

"Do we continue?" Gwen's Sword Mage reached her side. Lulu's face was flushed with the aftermath of extreme physical exertions, making Gwen's heart grow sour.

"By the way, I am on my first potion," Richard informed her through the Message Spell. "Lulu's good until her berserker meditate wears off."

"Then we continue—"

"HALT!" A burst of Draconic made her mind flatline for half a second.

Before Gwen could conclude, the Dragon Turtle's new head began to speak simultaneously with its old one, with two voices emerging at once.

Most jarringly, the voice that spoke was not the aggressive bark Shyvaphyr had earlier demonstrated but a sultry, feminine voice that made Gwen instantly imagine Ayxin lounging in coral-clad undersea seraglio smothered with soft silks.

"Do not make the mistake of pursuing this foolish one beyond the borders of the Unseen Realm. Thou wilt not wish to make a true foe of us, Human sorceress," the heads announced with a calmness that made her deeply uncomfortable.

Gwen and her companions checked their surroundings to see if another Dragon Turtle hid in the non-existent bushes five hundred meters up in the air.

"Who am I speaking with?" Gwen demanded, all the while constructing the necessary invocations for an instant Void Malestrom to cover their escape.

"We are Nyrlesvinyr, ninth scion of He who Slumbers in the Crown of Corals, a true daughter of our lord, the ageless Miommiriorthyr. We art also the ashamed sister to this foolish brother thou hast bested," the voice declared without shame. "And as he is my responsibility, we ask that thou yield his body to us."

Gwen looked at her companions.

“Gogo?” she made a quick _psst_ at her Wyvern. "What's the go here?"

The Thunder Wyvern performed a graceful barrel roll so that it could hover while facing the Dragon Turtle.

"I am Golos, fourth of He who Answered, son of the Yinglong," Golos spoke in high Draconic, making the Thunder Wyvern appear both wise and regal, though Gwen knew the creature better than to be fooled. "Ask you for parley of our prize?"

"Aye," the Dragon Turtle concurred. "Though distant, I taste on thee the blessings of Old Ones. Name thy price, whelp."

"SHAA—" Caliban asked for the Dragon Turtle's delicious vitality.

"EE—" Ariel reminded Gwen that there was bound to be Cores in that beautiful, bountiful body.

"I think we should ask the female to show itself," Golos affected an expression that made Gwen blush with shame for associating with such a simple creature. "I want to see what powers the ninth scion of an Elder Drake may hold and why it would choose to be female."

Ignoring her creatures, Gwen chose the original script.

"I wish for the Shoal to disperse and retreat from Wellington and never return," Gwen said, doing the right thing by their hosts, thinking at once of Yue and Whetu. "And I wish you to leave Auckland and return home in peace."

Shyvaphyr's heads made a sound between a grunt of acknowledgement and a snort of dismissal. "Thou hast not bested us yet, sorceress. For Shyvaphyr's failure, we concede that his Shoal shall leave thy city to join mine. As for the Human curio Auckland—that is between me and my foes here. Though—thou art welcome to attempt to face MY Shoal in my domain if thou would dare."

"Not good enough," Gwen protested, sensing in her gut that despite the Dragon Turtle's swagger, there was room for wiggle. "If you think I'll simply let you leave like that—"

"We shall leave you with the life of your pet Vessel—" the voice of Nyrlesvinyr announced.

"QUACK!" The faint cry of a familiar bark came from below. From their vantage, the rainbow spot was barely visible through the haze, though from what Gwen could see with her enhanced eyes, Dede was surrounded by a swirling pool of Mermen but very much alive.

"I hardly think a duck is as precious as Shyvaphyr's bodily ingredients." Gwen did her best to keep her gladness in check. "No deal. I'll finish that damned Shoal eventually, one way or another."

"Thou art a greedy whelp." The voice did not sound upset but rather curious and entertained. "Very well— keep Shyvaphyr's appendage as an offering. Within lies one of his Cores, a prize far more precious than thy pitiful mortal cities, a loss that will teach mine brother a long and hard lesson about underestimating one's foes."

"I'll consider it." Gwen's eyes fell upon the two junior Dragon Turtles. The war against the Mermen was eternal—meaning protocol for her Magisterial duty was merely to delay. Quickly, her lips made a smirk. "But, as a Magister of Shard in London, having travelled from Europe to the southern end of the Prime material, I am an expensive hire to dismiss, you know?"

"What would thou wish?" Nyrlesvinyr demanded. "Think carefully, whelp, lest thou incur our immediate wrath."

Despite their bestial-tiers of beastly intelligence, both Zitusphyr and Sevphr regarded Gwen with nervous eyes.

"I want one of those as well." Gwen licked her lips to hide her nervousness, somewhat thrilled with the thought that she was openly negotiating with a Dragon Turtle Princess. "As the princely Core is for rebuilding our city, I shall need one of those as reparation for my forgiveness. Additionally, Shyvaphyr's Shoal shall disperse, and you and your Shoal shall not venture near Wellington."

Nyrlesvinyr snorted steam via her brother's zombified body.

Though her ransom seemed impertinent, Gwen still felt cheated. If the battle had continued without this "sisterly" interference, she had half a mind for Caliban to collect a new form for fighting in the sea and to give Ariel a long overdue Draconic Core to perfect its metamorphosis—both best achieved through Golos' contemporary. As for Wellington, if Gwen could get the Shoal to go away for now—there were plenty more opportunities to deal with matters at Auckland when there's a bleeding Tower hovering behind her. At worst, if Nyrlesvinyr would prove too much, she could call Gunther and tell him ancient Dragon Turtles were bullying his little sister.

" _Zitusphyr_ ," the voice of Nyrlesvinyr called the wounded turtle by name. "For bringing shame to the Shoal and failing to protect Shyvaphyr, thou wilt remain to appease the Old One's Vessel. Is that agreeable?"

Gwen reminded herself to steel her heart against sympathy when the scar-slathered turtle barked that it would abide by the "Elder One's" command.

"Then we art _agreed_ ," the voice of Nyrlesvinyr affirmed her approval in high Draconic.

Gwen's body grew tense at the Dragon-speak, feeling her Astral Soul quake, akin to the Geas her Master had once placed upon her. There was no actual spell or compulsion, but Gwen felt the surety of a karmic power blessing their agreement.

"Not bad, Calamity," Golos remarked, swinging its head so that the light played off his vibrant ridge feathers. "I didn't think our seafaring cousins would be so rich as to spare kin and Core just to save face—but then again, if that Dragon Turtle is seventeenth, there's certainly no shortage of ambitious princelings."

The implication, Gwen realised, was that sibling rivalry was as much to thank for her victory as overwhelming efforts from her Familiars and her companions.

The wounded turtle, Zitusphyr, remained inert as the final syllables of Nyrlesvinyr's speech rang out. Almost instantly, the Shoal below began to disperse, leaving Gwen's Hydras struggling to find new foes who were not fleeing at supernatural speeds in every direction.

Even the giant mantas were swift beyond compare, leaving her fat, ungainly lampreys to wiggle like bloated mosquito larvae left floating in the sea.

The Dragon Turtle princeling and its surviving bodyguard drifted a distance apart from Gwen and her party.

"I do not know why thou wield the same power as the Void Witch," the voice announced once a safe distance away from Caliban. "Nor why thou hast appropriated the bodies of our age-old foes— the _Kūn_. Nonetheless, if thou choose to meet us, know that the _Kūn_ were once our favourite prey."

Gwen did not know how to respond to the strange amicability of the Dragon Princess nor the bombastic revelations from the zombie brother's mouth, so she chose to remain silent and mysterious.

"We leave now. And if thou should next defend Auckland," the voice of Nyrlesvinyr said. "Seek us in our Shoal. As thou are the Vessel of an Old One, we shall refrain from shackling thee to perform in our Gladiatorial pits until our Scions have exchanged ransoms."

"You should try," Golos retorted. "Gwen's Old One has swallowed Sires bigger than yours, I would wager that on my Father's name."

"What he said." Gwen marvelled at her Thunder Wyvern's ability to make even cool threats sound obscene.

"Thine arrogance is pleasing, even as it is typical of our cousins of the Tempest." The tone of the presumed Dragon Turtle princess grew churlish. "Come with thy creatures of the Void if thou dare. We have met thy would-be Mistress in battle before. In the aftermath, we had parted as equals—so do not presume that we would be as easy and foolish a prey as mine pup of a brother here."

Another bombastic revelation. Once more, Gwen looked to Golos, knowing that she was in no position to suddenly state that my enemy's enemy was my friend, for right now, Nyrlesvinyr was her foe.

The Wyvern shrugged, indicating that it rarely considered the ramifications nor implications of its actions and wasn't about to start for her sake. Around her, Gwen's companions intimated that they placed the benefit of their faith firmly on her slight shoulders.

Gwen inhaled deeply, conceding that _heavy_ was the burden that bears the promise to the deepsea aristocracy. She relented her hostility, signalling for her priceless prize to go.

Without a second more of lingering indecisiveness, Sevphr hovered close to its Master. The two then free-fell toward the bean green water, leaving the wounded Zitusphyr and the severed head of Shyvaphyr, which hung limply from Caliban's mouth.

Somewhere below where her team levitated, Gwen could hear Dede's alarm as the Dragon Turtles dive-bombed back into the ocean.

When Gwen turned her eyes upon the junior Dragon Turtle again, a wayward gust made her Da-peng suit come alive, singing as the Elemental Air flowed between its plated feathers.

Beside her, Caliban began to shake the severed head of Shyvaphyr like a dog with an enormous elastic of obscene length, begging the world for a spontaneous mosaic to be implemented. Richard, undeterred, did his best to collect as much as the splattering Dragon blood as possible, knowing well the price such ingredients fetched in the Grey Market.

Lulan remained on high alert, her usually pale dermis a dull sheen of iron, her dancer's silhouette obscured by a platoon of humming blades.

And though her remaining foe was an Elemental reptile, Gwen swore that the Dragon Turtle began to shake and shiver like a warm-blooded mammal.

"Well, I am sorry to say, Zippy," she declared to her consolation prize, thinking of the ravaged city below her and the innocents who had perished. "You got three choices. _Die_ with your Core intact—Become a _pet_ —or become _food_ —"

"SHAA—!" Caliban protested against Gwen's compassion.

"Two choices." Gwen did not find herself adverse to Caliban's animalistic cruelty. But Cali was right in that she shouldn't be wasting so good a resource as a living Dragon Turtle. "So, _FOOD_ or _PET_ , what'll it be?"


The moment the thrilling demand left Gwen's lips, a part of her that wasn't press-moulded by necessity in this world of monster and magic demanded to know if her request could be considered cruel and demented. Together with her chilling realisation, a vision of Evee's disapproval cooled her head and quailed her purring pride.

Not far, "Zippy" stared at the middle distance between itself and her Devourer self, as mute as a munted punter after a few too many coins at the local pokies.

To cleanly butcher the creature was one thing.

But to make it dig a grave, then lie in it, all the while demanding that it should thank her magnanimous display, was as damaging to its mental health as it was to her moral wellbeing.

"Cali, Ariel," she commanded her creatures through her Empathic Link, realising that a part of her motivation had come from the shared emotions between herself and her hooting Familiars. "Shut up for a minute."

"SHAA—!" Caliban protested with the utmost stubbornness it could manage.

"Ee…" Comparatively, Ariel digested her ethical dilemma and quietened itself.

Gwen's beasties then snapped and snipped at one another like disgruntled kittens until she demanded their silence.

Eventually, despite the residual unwillingness from both, the mewling quelled.

Golos mocked her with a snicker. If the Dragon Turtle's senior was their prisoner, he might have shown some compassion for a near-equal. Gwen knew, however, that lesser Dragon-kin such as these were as to Golos fodder for his Essence growth, unworthy of taxing the Wyvern's unenthused brain cells.

"Gogo," she told the Thunder Wyvern, feeling that the brute was a bad influence on her measure of normality. "Go get Dede. Make sure he's alright."

The Wyvern swivelled away with a shrug.

Gwen rested her eyes to recollect her wits, ensuring all excess mana had cleared from her conduits. Be it Lightning or Void, neither offered rapport for sanity.

"Zippy." She hovered closer, but not close enough to negate a quick Dimension Door. Besides her, Lulan shadowed her movements, spreading her blades so that Gwen's figure stood at the centre of a blooming iron lotus. "You will not be spared. I am without the illusion that as a guard to Shyvaphyr, you have eaten my kin and ravaged my home in the past—thereby, my only mercy is that the end you choose shall be dignified—assuming you cooperate. "

Before she could finish, Richard floated into view.

"—Gwen," her cousin interjected by hovering between the pair. "Not to protest your decision, but before you continue, may I have a word to share some thoughts?"

In front of them, the Dragon Turtle possessed no discernable reactions.

"Alright." She respected Richard's uncanny scent for profiteering. "In private, or…?"

"Here and now is fine." Richard gestured toward their battle spoil. "I thought since we've repelled the Shoal, we should carefully consider the rewards from our Quest. With Wellington safe, we are in a strong position to haggle. One is the _Core_ in Shyvaphyr's head, which would certainly be a boon to the city's rebuilding efforts, and the other is Zitusphyr here, whose Core is less valuable. As a leased War Mage, you can mark a part of the spoils as your _fee_ , with the better part going to the Tower, _correct?_ "

"Aye." Gwen glanced between the turtle and herself, wondering if live-auditing Zippy's worth could be construed as cruel and unusual punishment.

"I can see you're in a mood." Richard's lips curled into a smirk. "So why not let your cousin shoulder your burden, eh? How about this...?"

The Water Mage pointed to the length of the still-twitching neck in Caliban's claws.

"We'll organise for that Core to be auctioned at Mayuree's— maybe try to trade for a Lightning Draconic Core from the Chinese."

"EE—!" Ariel immediately snuggled up to Richard but was swatted away by a pouting Lea.

"As for Zitusphyr. My first thought was likewise Soul Tapping the bugger and make him another Garp, but as Golos said, that might be more trouble than it's worth. Essence Tap, in _essence,_ is Necromancy—when dealing with Draconic scions, let's not pretend to be a _Soul Flayer_ when you're not. Still—I think we can maximise benefits from Zippy's body regardless. Would you mind if I asked you to keep him around for a while?"

"Why?" Gwen cocked her head. "I can repay the cost of the Core out of my private funds if nothing else, AND I am sure we'll find more Cores in the future, especially as this new South Sea conflict goes on. What's the benefit of keeping a monster as dangerous as a Dragon Turtle around if I am not going to Tap it?"

"Well." Richard rubbed his thumb and fingers together suggestively. "If we find the right buyer for Zitusphyr, not only does he get to live, which eases your conscience, but you're going to get goodwill from whoever gets him as a _Draconic Steam Spirit._ "

Gwen raised both brows. "Goodwill, eh?"

"A _shitload_ of goodwill." Richard cleared his throat. "I know you're not into the bloke, but for what's to come—this global climate thing you've been telling us—wouldn't it be interesting if the Militant-Nobles owed you a favour they cannot refuse or readily repay?"

Gwen pursed her lips to think. "You don't mean?"

"Well, you didn't think Benny was such a bad bloke, no? The heir apparent is certainly heads and shoulders better than Poins. If you can sell _brother eldest_ a favour as important as this, not only would your dispute with the Exeters be resolved, they wouldn't have the face to oppose your future endeavours, especially if the seas start to warm up or cool down in unexpected but catastrophic ways, as you said."

_Benedict Thomas Holland_ , Gwen finally noted at which tree Richard was barking. As her cousin inferred, the lad was alright: a congenial, skilled, and polite heir apparent to Henry V's Golden Blood. She recalled that the Steam Mage was running with an incorporeal Spirit, one more affiliated to mist than steam. Doubtlessly, Zitusphyr, if tameable, would be a substantial upgrade, reducing Thomas' Affinity but gifting both Draconic resilience and "shell" attributes well-suited to Thomas' unique magic of steam "bombs".

Transporting the Dragon Turtle to London was out of the realm of possibilities—but a simple Long Range Message could probably compel her prior competitor to rush across international borders, even if the man was shipped halfway to Greenland.

At the same time, she knew with certainty that the Militant Faction had significant footholds in Melbourne and Brisbane, not to mention parts of Auckland's Mages were bound to fall under their sway. If she could hold them to terms, then the recovery of Wellington and the defence of Auckland itself should be much smoother.

"That…" The calculations of the pros and cons flashed through her eyes instantly. "Is a _wicked_ idea, Dick."

"Thank you." Richard feigned a bow. "As you were, Duck."

Gwen's attention once more fell on the Dragon Turtle. Her mind was made up. "Well, that's how it is, Zippy. I was going to Soul Tap your Core and make you my __ pet, but no more. Your choices are to remain here and submit to a future Master of my choosing—meaning you'll be free to contest their will and not mine—and if you win, it isn't my problem. Or you can perish here and gift me your unshattered Core."

"Great Kin…" the Dragon Turtle's speech was slow and ponderous. "Zitusphyr obeys."

Whatever Zitusphyr meant, Gwen knew that the turtle would abide by the _superior_ Dragon's whim. Lulu affirmed her suspicions, from whom she was reminded of Ruxin's casual gift of the twin Naga Cores. Both had been perfectly preserved—an impossible feat for human hunters. Only through existential dominion—an evolutionary legacy from the primordial days when thunderous lizards stalked a young Terra ripe with elemental instabilities—was such an outcome possible.

And if _she_ should be defeated by a Dragon-kin, Gwen felt suddenly queasy; would she obey the same fate? If she should refuse, what would it mean? If she should expect obedience from her defeated foes, was it not fair that they too enjoyed the exact terms of the grand gambit?

"Alright, stay with Golos and obey his command." Uncomfortable with her conjecture, she chooses not to dwell on the matter. Thankfully, in the next second, a Message spell visibly bloomed beside Richard.

_Ding!_ Hers activated a second later.

"Gwen," Petra's voice imprinted itself upon their minds. "The Divination Chamber reports that the Shoal has gone into the deep sea. Magister Kawhena wants to know what you've done and what to expect."

"Ah, we're doing alright." Gwen drily chuckled as she surveyed her Familiars and companions, feeling an unexpected tightness in her chest. Lulan was looking worse for wear but was otherwise fierce and fine. Richard was aglow with confidence thanks to her taking his advice, with his eyes forming two smiling slits of self-congratulation. "Let's talk when we meet face to face, but you can begin cleanup Purges in Wellington. There won't be anything else coming up from the Shoal for the foreseeable future, short of a new one branching off and swimming down from Auckland."

There was a pause in the Message spell.

"Kawhena of WETA here." The voice of the Magister bloomed orange and green beside their ears. "Magister Song, do you mean to say you've dispersed the Shoal?"

Gwen made sure by double-checking the waters below.

Her hundred-odd lampreys, each the size of oarfishes with the circumference of great whites, writhed and danced, snipping and nipping at one another in search of vitality. As before, there was no dismissing her summons, and nature would have to take its course by wearing them down through the entropic decay of Void Mana. It was a shame, for there was so much vitality she could not harvest for dire reasons—one for the limitations of her human body and the other for Caliban, whose vital vessel was bursting at the seams.

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"If you do not mind, Magister Song—I would like to see for myself." Magister Kawhena was a very careful Magister. The man's disbelief was entirely acceptable for Gwen, who could imagine her shock if she had sent Richard out on an errand for the day and her cousin returned within the hour with all boxes ticked. That and Petra had succeeded in tapping into Wellington's Divination Array and linked up their Dwarf-tinkered communication devices with the ageing system used by WETA. Without knowing Petra's skill, the probability that she might have confounded the spectrometric system was a likelier outcome than the Devourer eating her way through an entire Shoal.

"Sending you our markers now." Gwen nodded to Richard, who faxed off their Divination signatures. "Petra should be able to Teleport you over in a jiffy."

"… Very well," Magister Kawhena answered. "Magus Kuznetsova? If you could?"

"Gwen. Spread out and standby for transfer. I am inviting the Magister into the Teleportation Circle now. Three—Two—One—"

A flare of silvery Conjuration mana materialised not far from Gwen. The long-range Teleportation Circle could only function as an approximation without a circle on the receiving end. It was a method with rigid limitations, for a Mage being shunted by a poorly aimed spell would imply injury—while an NoM might be reduced to giblets if shunted through solid rock.

The Magister, as expected, was a Maori elder in his late forties, perhaps fifties. Sporting the usual Ta Moko of his people, the clean-shaven man was otherwise dressed in a battle garb of enchanted cloth made to look like a well-fitted suit.

Still orientating his bearings, the Magister drifted toward Gwen and her trio.

A second later, he saw the idling, defeated Dragon Turtle in the midst of questioning its future. Across several breaths, the Magister appeared to doubt himself until he saw Ariel and Caliban in the flesh.

"…Are those both yours?" Kawhena was incredibly calm, Gwen noted, even after seeing a Kirin that could lay waste to half the harbour if left alone. Likewise, against Caliban's gore-soaked Lovecraftian visage holding the severed end of a wheezing Dragon's head, Zippy might as well appear a common Pokémon.

"G'day, Sir." Gwen bowed from the waist. "Thank you for defending Wellington as well as you have."

The man shook his head. "I was holed up in a fort, Magister Song. It's you and the brave militia that's responsible…"

The Magister wanted to continue but grew silent again when, from below the party, an oppressive vision of Golos arrived, clutching a struggling Dede in one of its claws. Her duck, Gwen noted, was undoubtedly in the process of restoring itself. Unfortunately, its humble origins meant its ability to mend broken bones was nowhere near the fast healing demonstrated by the Dragon Turtles.

Kawhena stared at Dede and Golos for several moments, trying to process a sight that made the Shoal seem routine.

"Shall we head back?" Kawhena quickly grew accustomed to her aberrant band and appeared to possess no doubt that the Shoal had gone a merry way away from Wellington. As to whether that was because he could spy no Shoal or that Gwen's collection of creatures had shaken the man's sanity, she couldn't guess.

"Yes," Gwen spoke with sympathy for the flabbergasted Magister, her heart already fleeing from the thrill of the hunt toward the meeting of familiar faces. "Let us return. I am eager to see how Magus Yue has fared."

"Jonas! Taj! Paul! Billy!" Gwen called out each of the crimson-faced figures as they emerged from the ruined harbour, her voice trembling from the electrifying nostalgia. "Miss me?"

"Oh my God! It's _really_ her! It's Gwen!" Billy was halfway out of formation before Jonas dragged him back.

"Idiot! She's _Magister_ Song now!" The Healer snapped at the youthful Diviner; an observation Gwen immediately corrected when she saw Billy's goatee.

When they had first met, Billy was in his mid-twenties, meaning nowadays, her once-companion to Sufina's island was likely in his late twenties or even thirty. Likewise, it was insane to think that Jonas, who she recalled to be in his late thirties, was now a forty-something oldie. From what she'd picked up from Yue, the feller never relented on his one-sided love for Alesia, meaning he was still a bachelor. Comparatively, Paul and Taj found spouses, with Taj already playing father to a boy and a girl.

"Let's not bother with titles." Gwen felt her face grow hot. After all, when they'd first met, she'd been butt-naked and had freshly escaped from Edmund, no more potent as a Mage than a newborn, mewling babe.

"She's right, you nitwits," an unmistakable voice next announced herself. "Why would Gwennie ever throw rank around us? We're not her subordinates! Ha! At least not yet, anyway—and if she does, I'll knock some bloody sense into her!"

"YUNNIE!" Gwen rushed forward to embrace her oldest friend.

Behind her, Lulan and Richard took up positions on either side, one shocked to witness such a juvenile side of her commander, while the other appeared appreciative and relaxed.

As for her menagerie of pets, Golos had wanted to keep feeding, so Gwen had sent away the Wyvern to keep an eye on Zippy. As for Dede, the Dragon Turtle's natural superiority had shaken it so jarringly that it chose not to extort the Mages it met but instead flew around Wellington's outskirts, going on a walkabout to digest its defeat.

As the two friends embraced, Gwen felt her slim figure slotting into Yue's grooves like a glove.

"I know it hasn't been that long," Gwen said with a sign, barely suppressing her riotous emotions. "But it feels like I haven't seen you for a decade."

"Nah-yeah, short partings are the worst," Yue agreed in iconic Aussie fashion. "Well, well, look at you, eh? Magister Song. _Big Wig Song_! And here I am, crawling my way to a mere Captaincy with the swiftness of a crippled Orc."

"It's provisional-Magister," Gwen joked. "We all know I've got a long way to go. There's Auckland to come as well, and so much more to do before returning to London and wearing my new spell mantle. Did Alesia tell you about my suspicions regarding Mount Erebus? It's a long slog from here on out, and the Shoal's just the beginning."

Yue patted her arms, giving Gwen's cheek a pinch before pulling herself away. "How's Evee?"

Though off-topic, the question felt to Gwen as natural as she and Yue sharing a bowl of Mrs Bai's dumplings.

"Evee's doing super well in her Ordo," Gwen confessed to as much knowledge of Elvia as she could. "We haven't had a chance to catch up, but you know how busy she is after Shalkar. Her Ordo is taking the opportunity to set up a forward operating fortress, working closely with the Centaurs and my Rat-kin. As Evee's one of the co-liberators of the region, she'll be worked to the bone, I bet."

"Strewth, _Big Wig Evee_ too." Yue scratched the rank lapels of her military fatigues. "I should get Master to open some backdoors before your footmen accost me at the entrance."

Gwen chuckled. "That won't happen!"

"Because you'll slap them with your Magister's mantle?" Yue mock-laughed.

The girls shared another minute of small talk and then mutually introduced their team members. Reuniting with Richard and Petra, Yue shook their hands, bantered for a bit, then whistled when Richard told her that Gwen was marching ever closer to the goal of gaining her Tower and making Henry's dream come true.

"Jesus Christ. You really made it, eh?" The Fire Mage said to her cousin. "I remember when we first met. You said you'd stick to Gwen like a bad smell. That's paid out well."

"Yunnie!" Gwen pulled her friend back, aghast at Yue's frankness. "Richard has been nothing but helpful."

"Just stating the facts." Yue's skin was hot to the touch, speaking loudly of her present Affinity for Elemental Fire. "No shame in being a practical bloke who knows what he wants. I am just awed that this guy managed to stick with you through thick and thin for five years across three countries. I am a bit jealous, considering Evee and I couldn't do that, even though we promised in the gym, after the Royal National."

Gwen wanted to say that those had been genuinely wishful words from _children's_ mouths but hadn't the heart to stifle Yue's recollection.

"We'll be together again in the future," Gwen hinted at one of her motivations. "This time, it'll be in _my_ Tower, and nothing will keep us apart."

And that—Gwen noted for herself—was the promise from an _adult_ and a Magister.

"Ha!" her friend gave her shoulder a playful punch that jarred her Da-peng armour. Without the magic circuits active, the Peng-suit was merely stylish Big Bird cosplay. "I'll hold you to that."

"Alright—" Gwen extended her finger, and the two made a pinky promise. "So, it's over for now?"

Below, the city's initial recovery would take at least a month before rebuilding could occur. As useful as Magister Kawhena's protective earth-shifting Mandala could be, the magic was not conducive to the continued function of mana-fed conduit lines, sewerage pipes, and the foundations the coastal city sat upon.

"What's your plan from here, Yunnie?"

"Back to Auckland, of course. I am here until the capital's safe or Master calls me back." Yue's eyes measured her up and down as she spoke, making Gwen conscious of the promise she had just made. "You heading back to London or staying?"

"We'll be chumming for a long while this time," Gwen said with a happy smile. "Saving Wellington wasn't even my main mission."

"Is Auckland?"

"Nah." Gwen took a deep breath. "It's a long story."

She tapped into her Message Device. "Pats, can we Teleport back to Auckland?"

"Not safely, no. The Ley-line is not stable enough," Petra informed them. "We can get within three hundred kilometres, though."

"That's enough. I'll drop off what supplies I can spare," Gwen gave the order. "Then we can move up. Are you coming with us, Yunnie? We should fly up together."

"You're flying up at night?" Yue directed her eyes upward toward a gloomy sky the colour of steel. "Auckland Tower is up and mobile, and we'll be blind as a bat trying to find it unless you can see several kilometres in the dark."

"I've got this." Gwen produced the Omni-orb for a moment. Without prompting, the orb drifted toward the direction of what she assumed to be Auckland Tower.

Yue nodded. "Sure, we'll fly and talk. Let's see Magister Kawhena first. We need to leave behind equipment for the survivors as well."

When the girls once more located the Magister of WETA, the man was knee-deep in the logistics of undoing what he had done to alter Wellington's landscape. Unfortunately, a city wasn't like a napkin that could be uncrinkled and flattened. Likewise, Mermen still lurked within the city's underground utilities, parking garages, and the flooded sewers cut off by the Mandala.

"Very well." Kawhena did not comment on their hasty exit but bowed from the waist. "Please give my thanks to the Shard, and for you, Magus Yue, please inform Magus De Botton and Lord Shultz that Wellington will forever remain their ally."

"I shall," Yue replied.

"And I'll return when the rebuilding begins," Gwen promised. "I am happy to say that I've had a hand in several major reconstruction projects in the last few years."

"We would very much like that." The Magister was so polite Gwen wondered if she should clarify that she oversaw both Tonglv and the Isle of Dogs and presumably knew more about the workflow of demolition and reconstruction than any Mage still residing in Wellington.

Feeling her calling, however, she left the appropriate diplomacy to her companions from Cambridge, exiting via WETA's storeroom, where she unloaded a dozen pallets of meal rations, medical supplies and diluted potions suitable for NoMs from her Storage Ring.

In the spacious gloom of the warehouses, Gwen found herself greeted by the familiar face of Rongo Winiata, one of Yue and Whetu's companions during the IIUC. Once more smitten with sentimentality, Gwen invited the man to take a quick coffee break. When she asked him how the others in the team had faired, Rongo gave her a weary sigh.

"Rona, our Captain, has journeyed to _Hawaiki_ , atop the great Pohutukawa Tree. Tua, as well, if you remember the man, is also gone from the Prime Material."

"Christ." Gwen felt her throat grow sore.

"Aye, there was an influx of Fire Elementals at Mount Ruapehu a month back. Rona and Tua's Combat Flight went to extract the miners who couldn't get out."

Gwen recalled the Captain, the mix-blooded Halfling Mage. The bloke was a good leader and a strategist, an Illusionist by trade. As for Tua, she vaguely recalled the man being a Sand Mage of sorts. Unhappily, thanks to her prior trauma from Faceless, she had entirely avoided engaging with Tua.

"I am… sorry to hear that." She felt sympathy for Rongo but had nothing substantial to say other than wanting to satisfy her curiosity about this great tree Rongo had mentioned.

"They died fighting," Rongo replied as a matter of fact.

_So they did,_ Gwen thought as she sipped her coffee, happy only in the selfish knowledge that thus far, no news had arrived that any of her teammates had died.

When she mentioned the fact to Rongo, the man gave her a strange look.

Gwen then felt suddenly cold, for finally, she recalled the spiteful, pleading eyes of _Kitty Liang,_ dying without the dignity of peace, reduced to swiss cheese by her Void, and then rendered into nothing, not even a respectful memory.