Luxinna gaped at how much had progressed since she left for reconnaissance.

“Ebony, do we have enough data on the dragon to develop countermeasures?”

“Yes,” Ebony replied, drawing a draft on the blackboard along with some calculations. “Given its abilities and size, we have a problem. It wings--“

“Don’t worry about the wings, I have a countermeasure,” Rem answered with a sour frown. “We need that thing immobilized before we kill it. Horisearch, what do we have on your side?”

The Horisearch, namely Cytortia, was copying the quote from a book and onto the blackboard. By her side, an exhausted Melody stuck one post-it notes after another on the badly drawn dragon.

“We have a problem,” Cytortia yelled. “The dragon's shield will block-“

Luxinna had enough.

“Stop!” She put up a pause sign. “Halt! What the heck did I miss?!”

“I want to ask the same question,” Scathach was equally stunned. “I never expect you guys to identify the dragon in less than a day.”

Cytortia stuck her chest out proudly, while Rem glanced at the sky longingly in the background.

“I don’t expect it either, but Rem was incredible.”

Rem said nothing.

“Rem suggested the dragon is likely from Smu’ag. That ruled out every dragon save for twenty-five species,” Cytortia continued. ”Given that Illma and the X-cution come here; the dragon must be enough of a threat that Milian can’t handle, but not rewarding enough for someone stronger than Illma to come.”

”Using these criteria, we rounded down to five dragons,” Melody concluded. ”Then we started looking historical legend around Smu’ag.”

”We caught another break from folklore about a black flying lizard who haunted all who live near the black land,” Cytortia said. ”Adding the color criteria eliminated three of the dragons, leaving us with two.”

”We listed down the strange phenomenon around Milian since its foundation and cross-referenced it to our suspects. Which is this one.”

Rem grabbed a stick, pointed at the picture on Ebony's blackboard, and gave the final stretch of the explanation.

”Sicilian Ghost Dragon,” Rem declared. ”It feast on the energy of the damned spirit. This dragon is infamous for its scarlet fire that destroys soul, scales impenetrable to magic below B-Rank, and Dark-attribute blood that nullifies any poison in its bloodstream.”

”It also has an aura made from the damned spirits which also double as a super magnet for ghost,” Ebony looked annoyed. ”To think I have to annually burn my money on anti-ghost incense because of this thing." Ebony vengefully snapped a piece of chalk. "I will tear it to pieces!”

The rest of the gang silently decided to avoid ghosts' defenses at all cost.

”So it is like Cytortia’s Black Despair, ” Scathach concluded.

”Except it flies and burns people soul,” Rem stated. "Yeah, you could say that."

Luxinna stood and picked up her suggestion book. The longer she listened, the more this felt like an opening to a massive disaster. She needed to get stronger. That was a promise to herself.

Luxinna wouldn't let anyone in front of her die if she could help it.

”Guys, I am off to train,” she left for the camp entrance. ”I am outside if you need me.”

…

Rem grimaced at Scathach’s debrief.

The first thing he needed to do was admitting this was a total disaster. The world sucked seven-front to hell and saying otherwise was an escape to that non-existent utopia. Only idiots like the politician and his schoolmate did that.

Rem sighed. It was a vicious cycle. Those clowns tried to make a utopia in hell of finite resources. Soon they would wake up one day and realized they lived in a traveling circus-planet orbiting the sun.

Rem detested clown. He rathered fight a nihilistic clown armed with a laughing gas than lived in the circus.

Now that he admitted the odds were laughing at them, it was time to feed the odds its own laughing gas.

”Okay, let me get it straight, ” Rem said. ”Illma Zoldia Road planned to deal with a dragon by way of artillery bombardment. Now, how realistic is this?”

Melody finished her calculation.

”It won’t work.”

”It won’t?” Cytortia looked at the demoness incredulously. ”That artillery is cutting-edge magical technology.”

”Signum-S4 have a yield of an A-Rank Attack Magic,” Ebony explained. ”I will leave the number out, but we need more power to kill it. From our estimate, the dragon’s defensive aura will cut the projectile power by a rank. Yes, B-Rank magic will hurt it, but the dragon won't stay still a let you bombard it to death."

”Yes, Ma is right,” Melody explained. ”Illma likely thinks she is dealing with an average dragon, not a Sicilian Ghost. The initial of bombardment will only give it a bruise or a nasty cut at most. Unless she has a solid defense, the dragon will survive long enough to roast everyone."

”What about the X-cution?” Cytortia said. "Scathach reported more than two dozens."

”They are a variable,” Melody admitted. ”But mom’s note on the X-cution makes it pretty clear the robotic doesn’t have a defense for soul attack.”

”So it will be a fight between soul-destroying fire against psychologically mutilated children?” Scathach face-palmed. ”This will fair as well as Satholia's raid on Olympus.”

Rem should be happy. Karma was coming after Ms. Untouchable for once, but he only felt dread. For every good fortune, there was a but.

“Can Millian survives the battle?” Rem asked.

“No,” Scathach said.

“No,” Ebony agreed.

“Illma's bombardment will likely take out 25% of Millian,” Melody added. “The dragon will render another 75% to a wasteland, so I think that will be a no.”

“It’s a no Rem,” Cytortia said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Rem sighed. He was never an overachiever, but now he must climb over his pay grade. It was frustrating to deal with the problem he never had a stake in for the people who he never knew. But it is the right thing, Superman would do this, and so would Rem. His moral compass wouldn’t allow him to abandon them and run. The trick was to find the right solution that saw everyone emerging a winner.

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“We have to take out Illma and the dragon.”

Everyone froze.

“Both of them?” Cytortia twitched.

“I know it sucks,” Rem said, walking over to the backboard and starting to put in several markers. “But for the town's sake, we have to lure the dragon toward Illma and contain them for as long as possible."

No one interrupted him. They recognized his tone. The Remus Breaker who defeated Paracis Corruptor and the Princess of Demonic Continent was back.

“Firstly, we need to lure a dragon,” Rem said. “Anyone have any idea?”

Cytortia raised her hand.

“Sicilian Dragon feast on the spirit of the damned,” Cytortia volunteered. “I believe I can modify the Black Despair to lure in the dragon.”

“““Hell no!””” Scathach, Melody, and Ebony yelled. The ghost hoard trauma resurfaced like an erupting volcano.

“Do you stooges have a better idea?” Asked Satan Rem.

Silence.

“Cy, you are hired,” Rem steely concluded. “Melody go and help her.”

“Why?”

“Do you want Cy to fuck-up and unleash another ghost hoard?”

Melody shut up.

The two adults waited for the two girls to exit before saying what was on their mind.

“Rem,” Scathach said. “You must know I can’t help you deal with the dragon directly.”

“I know,” Rem said, grabbing a piece of chalk. “I don’t expect you to throw away your standing with the gods. We still need a connection with them. You don’t have to worry about the dragon or the X-cution.”

Rem started writing on the board.

“I already have a plan to deal with both.”

…

Hours after Rem’s announcement, in a desert plain nearby, an elf collapsed to the ground.

The sand around her was black with scorch marks. Debris scattered amidst the charred sand and crushed rocks. Luxinna's clothing was shredded and burnt. Her skin was raw and bleeding. Rings and shackles of bruise adorned the elves' wrist and ankles. Luxinna laid there; spent of her entire energy.

That was how Scathach found her.

The badger looked around, taking in the sight of burning trenches of glass, the sour smell of molten rock, and crackling sound of rock fracturing apart. She turned toward a nearby rock formation. The originally whole stone now resembled a hornet-nest. Scathach recognized the smoke wafting from the holes. They were a sign of impact from high-temperature projectiles.

Scathach looked at the half-conscious elf. Many factors existed to measure a warrior's testament. Personally, Scathach believed the most annoying type were those who didn't know how to quit. Luxinna was, without a doubt, that type of warrior.

As for the most fearsome: they were the type who only in it to get the last laugh; the Rem of this world. Any fight they threw in was a living nightmare for everyone else. They laughed when they win and laughed harder when someone was stupid enough to waste precious time and energy to make them lose.

“Hey,” Scathach hurried toward the downed elf. “Are you okay?”

“Scathach,” the elf said in a tiny voice, her face dirtied with soot. “I did it.”

Luxinna lifted her arm, showing the product of her hard work. It was a gracefully glided armor. The original bulky gauntlet got trimmed down to only cover the back the hand, knuckles, and arms while living the rest of the joint free to move. Instead of the original glass plate, diagonally crisscrossed golden loops sophisticatedly crafted the armguard. The designed was bold but feminine; emphasizing on grace and precision overpower.

Scathach’s mouth hung open.

“These patterns...” Scathach looked at the tattered elf. “You need to be very precise to create this. Just how many time did you explode while trying!?"

“I don’t know,” Luxinna replied, her body too exhaust to move an inch. “I lost count after 59, so about 150 times, I think."

That explained the bruise and the scorch mark. Those prototypes must have exploded on her. But how did the elf turn the rock formation to a sponge?

“What about that?” Scathach gestured at the disfigure rock.

Luxinna's face twitched into a smile, and she lifted her bleeding and bruised right arms.

“But I think it is still far from perfect,” the elf flinched at the random pulse of pain running up her spine. “Oww, it hurt.”

Scathach was pissed.

“Of course it hurt,” She yelled, picking Luxinna up by her shoulder and dragged her back to the camp. “You may be immune to lighting, but that doesn’t give you invincibility. Don't try to overexert yourself too much or that idiot will cry again.”

“Okay, but what's up?”

Scathach sighed.

“Rem's plans,” Scathach answered. “We need a weapon that can contain as much energy as possible while being virtually indestructible. Since you also have a weapon issue, we decided to shoot two birds with one stone.”

“Wait... Don’t tell me.”

“Yes, Lux,” Scathach said. “Ebony is making a schematic right now. Tomorrow we will start forging your weapon, among other things.”

…

Meanwhile in Millian...

The entire block was burning; people cried in pain and panic in the flame of hell.

Guildmaster Aion picked himself up from the debris. Everything went wrong in the first minute. How did Illma know that he was coming? Nevertheless, he underestimated her. He would never think that Illma would launch an ambush right in the civilian area.

A familiar figure flew past him and smashed into a house. Aion grimaced, another friend gone. How many had it been today? Allowing Enma to come here was a mistake.

Aion turned to face the lumbering mass of machine that sent his friend flying. The X-cution responded, the barrels of canon on its' shoulder glowed orange and fired a torrent of burning flames.

Aion eyes' widened, and he raised the shield of yellow energy to block the brunt of the attack. With a guttural growled, he shouldered into the fire, shield first, and closed the distance. A shield bash followed the moment he got in range, knocking the lumbering hulk of metal off-balance and a stab through the cyborg's heart ended the fight.

But Aion couldn't get a rest. He turned back and cut the feline looking cyborg in half. Gut, blood, and metal spilled everywhere as a blue blade bisect the enemy. However, the victory was short-lived. Sound waves he didn't saw coming punched into him. Aion fell from the sound pressure, blood leaking his ears. The X-cution hoisting sound-blaster didn't give him a chance. Its chest opened to reveal a fully-charge magic circle.

Aion’s face sank.

A pillar of earth shoot from below, punching him in the stomach and carrying him through a wall of a wrecked inn.

There he met the perpetrator of this mess.

Illma Zoldia Road sat in the room splattered with blood; her black nightgown was spotless. Mayor Port and Taku stood in the corner, sweating with fright. Illma grinned, toying with a man drench in blood. Aion recognized him; it was his secretary. The secretary's right eye had been gouged out, leaving a bloody hole behind. Meanwhile, the left half of his body was a burnt mess.

Illma joyfully snapped the secretary's neck, stood up and did a stretch.

Aion gathered himself up for an attack that would end his hated enemy. A stab through the heart would be all it took.

“Oh don’t look at me that way,” Illma clapped, summoning a crimson magic circle. “This is all self-defense.”

Aion couldn’t hear her through his busted eardrum, not that he wanted to listen to her excuse. Instead, he launched himself up at Illma. The Untouchable gleefully lighted the crimson circle, sending a powerful wave of pain to all who bathed in its light. Taku and Port dropped to their knees as their nerve crawled with pure agony. Aion dropped to the floor screaming, his muscle cramped up and his eyes turned bloodshot.

Illma, immune to her magic, walked up to the struggling Aion and kicked him in the face.

“Oh, Aion, you try so hard, but you lost before the fight even began,” Illma sighed. “You should thank your friend Port. He told me everything about your little insubordination. But I am curious, why do you risk everything to stop me from blowing up half this dump."

Port screamed in pain, clearly regretting his decision.

“Lady Illma,” Taku gasped, struggling beside Port. “Please disabled the [Field of Pain].”

“Why should I?” Illma yawned.

Aion roared

“You won’t get away Illma,” Aion fought back through the red light of agony, leaning heavily on his sword but far from defeat. “You think you can do anything because you are an Untouchable!? I won't allow it!"

“Yes,” Illma replied. “ That is what Untouchable mean. Of course, you can’t hear me. Why not use your eyes instead?"

Illma clapped.

"Boys, bring her in.”

The wall next to Aion exploded.

An X-cution walked in with a little girl in its' grip. The little girl was tearing. Her face was puffy from crying, and her pigtail coated with soot. The bruises on her body dictated too well how she got hauled to this very room.

Aion stared at the girl, horrified. The girl's mother worked as a receptionist in the Adventurer Guild, and the girl herself hang out in the guild as a server. Despite being rough place in general, even the most hardcore of the adventurer felt a bit of kinship with this girl. Aion, personally, was very close to her.

“Guildmaster,” the girl said. “Help!”

Illma walked to the girl and caressed her in the cheek. She glanced at Aion; the message was clear. The guildmaster dropped his sword in surrender, a torrent of lightning hit him squarely in the chest, followed by the viciously haunting laughter of the woman who knew she won.

It was a solid five minutes of traumatizing screams, until Taku, the obnoxious Catman, decided it was too much.

“Milady!” Taku screeched. “He is close to Grandmaster Oz! We can still use him as a bargaining chip.”

The lightning stopped.

“Why don’t you say earlier?” Illma kicked Aion’s body with the pointy end of her heel. “Is he dead? No, he still breathing… good. Lock him in the dungeon, try to make it as uncomfortable as possible.”

Illma walked out with a crying little girl who was clenching her eyes tight.

“My lady, may I ask what do you want with the girl?” Port asked in a mixture of concern and fear.

“Your Guildmaster, excuse me, 'former' Guildmaster cost me some of my toys,” Illma gleefully explained. “I'm entitled to a little replacement, aren’t I?”

Illma walked out of the room. Her laughter sent a bucket of ice down Port’s spine.