Within the town of Ebonheim's northernmost sector, Orin listened as the sounds of battle thundered throughout the forest. Above the noise of the conflict, he could detect Evelyne's Aetherframe engaged in battle with the brigand raiders. His scanning sigils tracked both combatants. One frame—an unregistered variant—had significant structural damage. The other held its integrity—though Orin noted some mana fatigue.

Orin turned to regard the town's wards. A bloom of sorcerous energies raged beyond its hexagonal boundary. Spell after spell bombarded the protective magical wards—chipping away at the mystical construct. Cracks formed and spread, though the wards continued their shielding.

Yet, time was of the essence. The shields would not last indefinitely. Orin adjusted the runic arrays imbued within his gauntlet, reinforcing the cracked and fractured runes. He nodded in satisfaction—confirming the strength of the town's barrier.

This should give us adequate time.

Orin headed to the command post where Engin and the other leaders reviewed the plans and battle preparations. Above him, the night sky streaked a stunning dark blue, the light of day breaking through the veil of the morning's dim stars. Dawn. This battle had drawn out longer than anticipated.

No matter. Once Evelyne dealt with the enemy Aetherframes, the raid should end swiftly. Until then, he would fortify the town's wards and aid the Artificers defending the barrier.

"Ah. Orin, good timing!" Engin called from the map table. "Any updates on the enemy?"

"I do. Evelyne is holding them off, as expected," Orin explained. "Currently, the two Aetherframes she's confronting have suffered moderate structural damage, although they aren't incapacitated. Soon after they're dealt with, the rest of the brigands should break and retreat."

"Excellent," Engin approved. "In which case, we must make the most of our time."

He gestured at the table, and the arrayed tokens representing their allies' locations and their enemies' positions. "They've attempted three separate penetration points." He indicated each area on the map—moving the wooden markers. "And they've set up a spot for their Arcanists to bombard from over there," he continued—pointing at an elevated location marked upon the map.

Orin nodded, absorbing the information.

Engin continued, "Once our Aslankoyash warriors push the enemy off, the brigands should begin their retreat. There's an artery running through the forest. The northern bank is closest to here. We must pursue and rout them as they pull back." Engin jabbed the map with a finger.

"You've devised the most sensible course of action," Orin commented. "Which sections should I reinforce?"

"Good question," Engin replied. "Ideally, as long as they only attempt breaching the wards by that location or these other two points here, we should be fine. Should any sections deteriorate faster, please lend aid immediately." Engin indicated the areas for emphasis. "Although given Evelyne's skills and the strength of our barriers, we shouldn't be too concerned."

"Understood. I shall maintain the integrity of the town's wards."

"We appreciate it," Engin thanked.

Orin moved to his position by the northern end of the wards. Around him, his fellow Artificers summoned and fortified the protective barriers—the hexagonal shields pulsing and shimmering with every rebuke and discharge. As they did, Orin funneled his mana into the constructs, powering the shields further.

Despite the disparate spells barraging their wards—fire, lightning, ice—Orin was relieved that the brigands had not brought with them enchanted weapons capable of dispelling their protection. Their strategy so far seemed to be to bring their barriers down through attrition. That would not happen anytime soon.

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Evelyne paced Léandre alongside Tempest. Blazing tracks flared beneath the Aetherframes—gouges left in the mud. She remained cautious. Although Tempest's previous barrage had landed true—piercing her wards and armor, Evelyne still maintained her mana reserves. She would not gamble and risk the cost.

Beside her, Tempest's remaining cannon arm spun to life, firing another salvo of electrical bolts. Léandre pivoted aside—weaving through the barrage. Arcane missiles pummeled the earth behind her—blasting chunks of turf and mud. Tempest charged after her—eager for the kill. The other enemy Aetherframe joined in its pursuit—reducing the distance between them.

Evelyne smiled.

Blazeclaw's pilot thought he would be sneaky, launching a surprise assault while she was engaged with Tempest. Oh well. His mistake. Evelyne began shaping her magic. It was her turn to deal a counterstroke.

Arcane energies ignited—kindling her will. With a deft twist, Léandre leapt over an incoming salvo—its speed surpassing Tempest. She had allowed Tempest's pilot the idea she would engage in a long-distance duel. That would not occur. Evelyne preferred close combat. Léandre preferred hand-to-hand engagements.

At Evelyne's mental urging, Léandre spun and descended. Its arcane halberd positioned to strike. Evelyne leaned into the control alcove, waiting until the last moment. Blazeclaw's pilot roared and accelerated towards her. Too late.

Her sigils flared. A strike fell true, impaling the fire-type Aetherframe.

Sparks flew from the damaged joint, arcane energies dancing amidst the broken runic circuits. Metal squealed and shrieked as the arcane halberd sundered its enemy—raking along the armored chassis—smashing its reinforced frame. Blazeclaw reeled, stumbling to the ground—her strikes rippling through its internal workings.

The pilot grunted—his muffled gasps emanating through the external speakers. "How dare... how dare you?!" the brigand spat—fueled by a desperate fury. Fire exploded forth, and a storm of flames roared, surrounding the stricken Aetherframe.

"Abyss take you!" Blazeclaw's pilot swore—channeling more energy.

Evelyne darted her Aetherframe back.

Behind her, Tempest charged. Her sensors detected his movement and his weaponry charging. Evelyne threw up Léandre's ward defenses. Fire and lightning greeted her barrier, yet her wards absorbed the impact. Tempest's blast scattered like raindrops.

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At her direction, Evelyne swapped places with her illusory mirage—avoiding a lunge from the pursuing Tempest. The Aetherframe's momentum carried him a short distance before skidding to a halt. It twisted back and lunged—realizing his blunder.

Evelyne seized the opportunity. Léandre charged in turn. With a furious shout, Evelyne plunged her halberd in a single decisive movement. Sparks and shattered metal erupted upon the enemy Aetherframe's contact. The force of the collision shook her harness within the control alcove. Despite the recoil, Evelyne kept her vision sharp.

Meanwhile, Blazeclaw unleashed its stored energies. An expanding vortex of swirling inferno gushed forth in an encompassing funnel. Heat seared through her wards, shattering the translucent barrier's integrity.

Searing temperatures pricked her skin—tempered by the enchantments woven into her protective suit and the wards embedded within the alcove. Yet Evelyne steeled her will. Gritting her teeth, she weathered through the assault. Fire washed over the surface of Léandre, her Aetherframe's runes wreathed in glowing azure flames.

Ignore it. Push past the heat. Don't stop. Evelyne compelled herself. The arcane halberd's tip hit home—slamming into the joint she had initially punctured. Using Léandre's considerable strength, she shoved—pinning the Aetherframe into place. Her Aetherframe's free hand clenched—tearing loose metal plating. Wires sparked and tore. Her halberd followed—wedging the cavity wider—ripping out Blazeclaw's interiors.

Eventually, Blazeclaw's control alcove was exposed. Inside, Evelyne spied the brigand Aetherframe's pilot—strapped and struggling. Upon seeing her, his eyes widened—a horrified look that instantly shifted to grim resolve. With a grunt, he removed a strange apparatus—shaped like a tube—from his Aetherframe's interiors. With a victorious laugh, the brigand unleashed the object's arcane payload.

The crystal bomb detonated.

White-hot explosions surged forth—a terrifying sphere that swelled within a breath—before enveloping its surroundings. Evelyne swore and instinctively shielded. Mana blazed through her—flowing to Léandre's sigils—strengthening the Aetherframe's arcane barrier. Yet her Aetherframe could only absorb so much. Her shields disintegrated as the bomb's destructive energies battered their defenses. Evelyne shut her eyes—preparing herself.

BOOM!

The impact thundered.

Shockwaves reverberated and stunned her. Her protective harness strained against the ensuing recoil. Metal shrieked—or was it her bones? Her hearing dampened—the clamor muting and subsiding—a droning buzz accompanying the background ringing. Disorienting sparks shot across her vision—even while her eyes remained closed.

Evelyne choked for breath and hacked. A smoldering haze coated her throat. Instinctively she inhaled and immediately regretted her mistake. Spasms convulsed her chest, forcing her to gag and retch. Smoke, the taste of burned flesh and ashes. She spat—expelling the smoke and phlegm—her forehead trickling with beads of sweat.

Even her eyes hurt. Yet her lids felt heavy, weary. Sticky. She had trouble opening them. But through her slit-eyed vision, she took stock of her situation.

Damage reports filtered into her dazed senses. Warning runes and blinking lights illuminated Léandre's control alcove—almost blinding in intensity.

A mild vertigo hit—as if her equilibrium had been disrupted—shaking her grip within the Aetherframe's harness. Her ribs throbbed. Perhaps some might be fractured—maybe a minor rib puncturing her lungs. It hurt to breathe. Or move. No matter. She was alive. Better than being dead. And that explosion wasn't enough to down Léandre.

Despite the internal injuries. Evelyne drew her arcana, directing her will and mana. Léandre obeyed. Through her half-lidded gaze, she assessed her situation. The detonation's radius had obliterated the area—the debris of Blazeclaw lay strewn all over.

Where’s the other one?

Suddenly, a blaring roar pierced the air. A volley of lightning arcs careened through the dust—sizzling as the deadly energy smashed upon Evelyne's Aetherframe. Léandre shuddered and veered aside—drifting past Blazeclaw's smoking remains.

Warning runes flashed. A shower of sparks hissed and flared.

Evelyne choked out a curse. Another blast hit Léandre—severing a flimsy shard of metal upon her Aetherframe's arm. She could not suffer another—not like this. Léandre would break and Evelyne would die.

As Tempest advanced—its cannon arm humming—Evelyne clenched her fists and moved to draw her mana. But—no response. Nothing. Not even a single ember flickered—nothing. Her reserves... had hit zero. She was out.

Crap! Damn, crap... Shit! She was defenseless. Even if she wasn't... what could she do?! What could she...

Tempest configured its cannon arm back into its combat claws. Metal ground against metal and with a mechanical snap, the weapon folded—resetting its position. Tempest stalked forward. Its pilot's mad laughter—via external speakers—rushed forth in a ferocious tide.

"Your fight's over," the brigand roared. "All out o' juice, eh?! Haha! Can't channel anymore?! Then let me end your misery."

Tempest's remaining claw was poised to strike. Evelyne's blood went cold.

Something moved between her and the enemy Aetherframe—a blur that materialized before her hazy eyes.

Kelzryn.

In a casual yet practiced gesture, Kelzryn flicked his hand outward. The simple movement swept Tempest's incoming claw aside with a burst of strength and force.

"What the fuck?!" The brigand pilot's Aetherframe reacted with a quick backward hop—covering its distance—returning to the safety of its former position. Evelyne could almost sense its hesitation—momentarily daunted. Tempest paused and lowered its offensive pose—reverting its claw back into a cannon. "Who the abyss're ya?! I'll turn you all to ash!" the brigand shrieked—his voice shrill and hysterical.

Evelyne did not doubt her savior. If anything, the dragon's power, presence, and poise were clear to her.

Tempest charged its cannon—a steady thrum reverberating as the charged crystals within heated—forming a palpable magical aura. Lightning surged across its framework.

With a deafening boom and the rumbling crack of thunder—lightning flared from Tempest's cannon. Blue-white light blinded her, accompanied by an accompanying deafening boom—blast waves and gusts lashing across the air.

Kelzryn's silhouette remained unfazed. With a casual swat of his hand, he cast aside Tempest's gathered attack like an inconsequential breeze.

The lightning blast arced through the air, piercing through the town's wards. A brief blinding flare manifested near the center of the town, towards the spot Evelyne knew all too well—Ebonheim's quaint little cottage.

Oh no...

Through her momentary dismay, Evelyne squinted—sharpening her focus on the point of impact. As the dazzling radiance dimmed, she glimpsed the smoke and ruin.

Her heart sank.

The cottage was obliterated. In its place, only charred wood and blasted earth remained. Even the little garden Evelyne had helped maintain with her beloved goddess had been upended into an ugly mess.

She was thankful for having been saved by the dragon. She truly was. But...but...

A vein on her forehead started throbbing.

"K-Kelzryn! Damnit! Watch what you're doing!" Evelyne sputtered, indignant. "You just deflected his attack onto a very...precious target!" Evelyne flailed Léandre's arms, emphasizing the now-gone structure in the distance. "See?! It blew up Ebonheim's home! Now you'll never get the chance to sleep there—I'll never get the chance to sleep there! Look what you've done!" Evelyne finished her rant, breathing hard. "Just...look."

The dragon spared a brief glance, a gesture that caused Tempest to retreat back to a safe distance. Kelzryn blinked his brilliant azure eyes, tilting his head.

His usual serene countenance darkened, his lips twisting in a grim frown.

Kelzryn slowly turned towards the Tempest, fixing a molten-yellow stare at the enemy Aetherframe. In a rare expression—an expression Evelyne had never seen upon his face—she did not miss the coiling rage in the dragon's eyes.