Chapter 24 – Between Flames and Wings

The airship descends slowly, steam hissing as the engines wind down. The land below is jagged and cracked, almost as if the dungeon itself is trying to claw its way to the surface.

Elowen crosses her arms. “So… we landed.”

“Wait.” I raise my hand, activating the ship’s scanning mode. Blue glyphs scatter across the console.

Kline leans forward, ears twitching. “What is it?”

“There’s… a strange energy signature at this point. And more than that—” I narrow my eyes.

“What?” Elowen presses, her voice sharp.

“Looks like there’s… activity at the dungeon’s main gate.”

Seraphina’s eyes gleam with tension. “Then the adventurer group hasn’t managed to breach it yet. This is our chance.”

“We can’t just leave the airship behind unguarded,” Elowen counters, ever the strategist.

“Well…” I grin, fingers flying across the controls. “I’ve got another trick up my sleeve.”

Kline tilts his head suspiciously. “Oh no… What did you do this time?”

“You’ll see.”

The hum of the airship shifts. With a shimmer of light, the entire craft fades into transparency, vanishing before their eyes.

“Eh!?” Seraphina staggers back, her wings flaring.
Elowen’s eyes widen, speechless for once.
Harmonia tilts her head, blinking rapidly.

Kline, however, bursts out laughing and bites his sleeve, muffling a scream. “KEEEEEEE—! You bastard genius!!”

I chuckle. “Stealth mode activated. Now our ride’s safe.”

The golems spread into formation—two hundred guarding the island, while thirty of the flying units rise into the air, escorting us like silent sentinels.

We head toward the dungeon.

That’s when the noise hits us—roars, metallic clangs, and guttural war cries. The sound of battle.

“Trouble ahead,” I mutter, summoning my flight gear. Energy wings flare from my back as I launch myself into the chaos.

Harmonia follows, her armor manifesting in a cascade of luminous threads that weave themselves into elegant, divine plating. Her voice rings out like a song, harmonizing with the clash of battle.

The battlefield sprawls before us—swarms of goblins, both warriors and champions, tearing through the scattered lines of adventurers.

One of the adventurers turns at my arrival. His eyes widen. “Oi! You look familiar… wait—Randy!?”

“Valga?!” I almost lose focus mid-flight.

Another voice shouts, “It really is him!” Helvos stares, jaw dropped. Marcus, however, bursts into booming laughter.

“HAAAAH! Look at that! The madman still survives!!”

“Save the reunion for later!” I shout, diving into the fray.

The goblins snarl and charge. My armor reshapes around me with a hiss of steam. The flight suit retracts, replaced by my battle armor, sleek and menacing. From my hip, I draw it—my blade. A lightsaber of shimmering plasma hums to life, its glow reflecting in my manic grin.

“About time… You monsters are about to become my science experiment.”

A goblin champion roars, swinging its massive arm like a club. I dash forward, my movements a blur. Its strike smashes the ground—but I’m already running up its arm.

“Too slow!”

I leap, flip over its shoulder, and with a single clean swing—SHIIINK—its head flies free.

The battlefield falls silent for a heartbeat.

Then—chaos erupts.

The goblins screech in rage. Valga stares, stunned. Helvos mutters, “Impossible…” while Marcus claps so hard it’s almost insulting.

“HAHAHAHA! That’s Randy for you!!”

I don’t waste time. The dungeon pulses with malevolent energy, a portal swirling at its heart. Its surface distorts, vomiting out more goblins by the dozen.

“Tch. So that’s the problem.”

I reach into my belt, priming a grenade. The hum of the lightsaber in my hand sings like a warning bell.

“Lights out, portal.”

I throw it. A flash of blue light—BOOM!!! The ground shakes as the explosion devours the magic circle.

For a split second, silence returns. Then, the goblins howl louder, enraged.

I grin, spinning my blade. “Good. Let’s see how long you last.”

With a leap, I dive back into the fray—goblins falling left and right, champions roaring in fury, and my laughter mixing with the clash of steel and fire.

And behind me, Harmonia sings—her voice weaving spells that turn the battlefield into a symphony of light and death.

Kline arrive and Elowen already started building her golem

The battlefield, trembling under the clash of steel and magic.

“Hey!! Randy, go on ahead! If there’s nothing behind that portal, pull back—we’re blowing this wall to pieces!!” Elowen shouts, her hammer already sparking as she channels runic energy into the ground.

I nod, my armored body gleaming with shifting plates of steel. Time to push through…

But then Kline stumbles, gripping his grimoire tightly, sweat dripping from his brow.
“This time… I can’t use it…”

Elowen spins toward him, eyes narrowing. “What?! Why?!”

Kline laughs nervously, scratching his cheek. “Well… you see… hahahaha… the spirit of wind doesn’t just give me power whenever I want. I need… permission. And, uh… she’s not exactly happy with me right now.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” Elowen roars, slamming her hammer into the ground in frustration.

Meanwhile, Randy rushes forward, his armored fists glowing faintly as he slams against the barrier protecting the portal. Sparks fly. The impact shakes the earth.

“Elowen!” I bark, my voice metallic under the helm. “Set up a gun turret here, right at the portal’s throat! We’ll make it bleed!”

Her face lights up with excitement. “OHHH, NOW YOU’RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE! Hang on!!” She instantly begins slamming down steel plates, gears, and glowing crystals, piecing together a turret like a mad blacksmith possessed.

Valga charges up beside me, her greatsword already dripping with fiery aura. “Randy…? Is that you inside that armor?!”

“Yeah!!” I grunt, smashing another strike against the portal. The barrier flickers under the force.

Helvos jogs up with his signature nonchalance, watching me curiously. “Huh. That’s… quite the contraption. A walking fortress, huh?”

I laugh, sparks dancing off my fists. “Yeah, well… I don’t have a shred of magical affinity. Can’t cast a single spell. So I built this instead—hahhahahaha!”

Valga bursts out laughing. “Figures!! Trust Randy to punch his way through fate itself!”

Helvos pinches the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.”

And then, from behind us, a loud glug-glug-glug echoes.

We all glance back—there he is. Marcus. Sitting on a half-broken crate, chugging beer straight from a keg, his sword in one hand and his mug in the other. He casually swats down an incoming goblin soldier without even looking, cutting the creature clean in two.

“Hahahahaha! Now this—THIS is more like it!! A proper battle!!” Marcus roars, foam dripping from his beard.

“...Marcus…” Helvos sighs, dragging a hand across his face.

Elowen doesn’t even look up from the turret she’s welding together. “If he spills that beer on my machine, I swear I’ll weld his mouth shut.”

The battlefield rumbles. The barrier trembles. My armored body glows brighter as I dig deep, ready to shatter it.

This is it. If we break through now—the real fight begins.

Marcus smirks at me, his armor glinting faintly in the torchlight of the dungeon entrance.
“Nice armor!!” he shouts, swinging his sword with reckless enthusiasm, sparks flying as it scrapes against a demon’s claw.

The clash of steel and shrieks of monsters echo behind us. The dungeon roars like a beast that refuses to die. But outside, beyond this blood-soaked cavern, a far greater storm is already moving.

Kingdom of Mana.

Every border fortress scrambles. Bells toll. Horns blast. Soldiers throw on armor in frantic haste.

From the watchtower, a lone scout freezes mid-breath, his eyes widening as his spyglass trembles in his grip.
“…No… this can’t be…”

Across the horizon, a monstrous shadow unfurls—an army. Endless ranks marching in black formation. Above them, airships float like iron leviathans. Below, land battleships grind forward, their cannons already glowing with heat.

“Army sighted!!! Inform Lord Fu Xi!!”

“At once!!” a guard leaps to his horse, the thunder of hooves breaking through the alarm bells.

The scout peers again—just in time to see one of the battleships’ cannons swivel toward him. His blood turns cold.
“Brace—!!”

The sky erupts. A blinding boom. The watchtower shatters under flame.

The messenger’s horse screams, surging forward as the man clings desperately to the reins. Behind him, the smoke clears to reveal something even worse—a dragon rider squadron descending. Their eyes glint through the clouds like predators that have found prey.

“Dear Fireblaze… give everything you’ve got!! Hyaaa!!!”

The horse kicks into a desperate sprint, mane whipping like fire in the wind. The messenger barely breathes as a lance of flame crashes behind them. They dive into the treeline, ducking low branches, finally slipping into a hidden passageway only known to locals.

When he bursts out again, lungs burning, the frontier gate rises before him.
“They’re here!!!!!” he bellows, stumbling off the saddle.

The defenders rush to arms. But even as the messenger dashes past the checkpoint, a thunderous roar splits the air—the dragon riders are already upon them. The gates shake under the assault.

His vision blurs. I won’t make it.

And then—

A voice cuts through the chaos.
“Hey!! You’re the messenger, right?!”

Two figures block his path. Adventurer students—Marian, her staff glowing, and Marlisa, blades strapped to her hips.

“Yes!! They’re already a thousand leagues away—we have to warn the kingdom!!”

Marlisa narrows her eyes. “…The others?”

The messenger’s silence is answer enough.

Her lips tremble. “…I’m sorry for the loss.”

He shakes his head, tears streaking through dirt. “No… we thank you for the help…”

“Then let’s move.” Marian slams her staff into the earth, chanting under her breath. “Folbhachd do-fhacaidh!”

The three vanish—shadows erased by magic. Dragon riders scour the skies, confused, their wings slicing through clouds as they circle. Finding nothing, they roar in frustration and retreat back toward the main force.

By the time the invisible trio reaches the City of Magick, exhaustion crushes the messenger’s chest. He falls to his knees, gasping.

At the city gates, two figures await them. Elysia, cloak flowing in the moonlight, and Oswald, arms crossed with grim composure.

“Any news?” Elysia asks, her voice steady but eyes sharp.

“They’re here… and…” The messenger chokes on the words. “…No one survived.”

For a heartbeat, silence.

Elysia closes her eyes. “…I see. Please rest. You’ve done enough.”

Marian and Marlisa stand straighter, awaiting orders.

“Marian. Marlisa. With me. We need to discuss the next step.”

“Got it.”

Oswald exhales slowly. His eyes drift over the nervous young recruits gathered nearby, clutching their weapons with trembling hands. His voice is flat but heavy.
“Us twenty are the only ones with real battle experience. The others… are children.”

The weight of his words settles over them all. The city feels smaller now, swallowed by the storm about to break.

And so… the night before war begins.

The council chamber burns with candlelight. Maps and crystal charts cover the table, showing troop movements, fortresses, and ominous black arrows creeping toward the heart of the Kingdom of Mana. The air is thick with tension.

Clang!

Luna steps forward, her full silver armor gleaming beneath the flickering light. Her boots echo sharply against the stone floor. She lowers her helmet under her arm, her violet eyes unwavering.

“Our leaders have already decided,” Luna declares. “The strategy is simple but harsh—we hold them off.”

Everyone goes silent. The weight of her words presses on the room like a blade at their throats.

She continues, her tone sharp.
“Our consulate in the Kingdom of Saints sent word. They’re facing their own invasion—led by a general in strange, demonic armor.”

A parchment sketch is spread across the table. The ink shows jagged armor, horns like a beast’s crown.

Elysia’s eyes widen instantly. “…That’s—!!” She slams her hand on the table. “A samurai?!”

“What!?” Oswald snaps, leaning over.

Marian squints. “…A samurai? Like… from the old tales?”

Elysia’s voice drops, grim. “Yes. If that’s what we’re facing, then they’re not just an army. They’re a nightmare given flesh.”

The room grows colder. Even the bravest among them flinch at the thought.

Elysia clenches her fist. “Whatever it is, they must hold their ground. But we—we have to repel this army here. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to send aid.”

“Agreed.” Luna’s gauntleted hand tightens over her hilt. “We must survive, no matter the cost.”

At that moment, the great doors creak open.

Archon Zaren enters, his crimson mantle sweeping behind him. His aged face bears the scars of a hundred wars. He bows slightly toward Luna.
“My lady… we must return to preparations. The situation is dire. If this strategy works, it will be a miracle.”

“Yes,” Luna replies firmly. “The capital will be the bait. We concentrate the enemy here.”

Fu Xi steps forward, his calm voice cutting through the murmurs. “We divert their main force onto us… and make sure they believe the capital is their only target.”

Oswald groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Tch… you’re kidding me. That’s suicide.”

“It’s the only way,” Luna answers sharply. Her voice cracks just slightly. “…Our army is reduced to almost nothing. Ever since Nerina… my mother dismissed the knights. Only the young recruits remain. The veterans are being drafted, but they won’t be ready in time…”

The chamber falls silent.

Elysia places her palm on the table. Her voice steadies the room.
“Then we do what we can. My father used to say something in times like this… ‘All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive.’”

Fu Xi’s eyes narrow, intrigued. “deception…”

“Exactly.” Elysia nods. “If we convince them the capital is weak, they’ll pour everything into taking it. That’s when we strike.”

“Even if it means drawing them deeper into our kingdom…” Archon Zaren mutters.

“Yes,” Luna replies without hesitation. “Even if it costs us everything.”

Suddenly—

BANG!

The doors burst open. A messenger stumbles inside, his armor scorched, dirt smeared across his face.
“My lord!! Message from Lord Devonshire!!”

Fu Xi gestures urgently. “Speak!!”

The messenger gasps, holding out a scroll. “Confirmation from the Adventurers of Carnac! An army of goblins attempted to breach the dungeon’s entrance—Elowen’s party has already arrived! They pushed them back. But… it’s only a matter of time before the monsters regroup.”

The entire chamber breathes a sigh of relief. Fu Xi closes his eyes and exhales.
“Thank the gods…”

Anduril, arms crossed, smirks with a hint of pride. “Heh. Told you my daughter would lead them.”

Fu Xi slams the table. “Very well! Then let us begin preparations!”

But the messenger raises his hand again, pale with hesitation.
“There’s… more.”

Everyone freezes.

The messenger clears his throat. “A message… from a man called Orion.”

“Randy!!” Luna, Elysia, and Marlisa cry at once, leaning forward.

The messenger reads:
“The enemy will rely on aerial superiority. Focus defenses on air combat, while ground forces prepare traps and baits. Magicians are to cast illusions of a vast phantom army to divert them. Once the dungeon portal to the Demon Kingdom is secured, it will be used to launch a rear assault—a pincer strike to crush their advance. Kline also warns: abandon light magic. The enemy is immune. Focus on tactical synergy. Expect the enemy general to unleash the full power of the land battleships while airships attempt direct landings on the city.”

The chamber erupts into murmurs.

“So that’s his plan…” Oswald mutters, impressed despite himself.

Fu Xi raises his chin. “Then let us prepare for it!”

The messenger bows low—but his voice trembles with one last revelation.
“There’s… something else. About Orion. In the battle at the dungeon… they say he slew a Goblin Champion instantly. With a strange weapon. A blade… but one that shone with light.”

The war council’s echoes still linger in my head, but out here—at the dungeon entrance—the air is thick with smoke, blood, and the faint stench of burnt goblin flesh.

We’ve pushed them back. What was once a raging horde is now reduced to ragged stragglers, snarling in the shadows like broken dogs.

I stand at the jagged stone archway of the dungeon, staring into the gaping void. My armored gauntlet taps the rock absently.
“…I thought dungeons were supposed to be treasure vaults. You know, monsters, loot, traps. That kind of thing.”

Kline adjusts his glasses, his tone sharp as ever.
“Well, normally. But this one is artificial. Manufactured. A perfect lure to drag adventurers inside.”

“…A rigged game, huh.” I mutter, already pulling something from my pack.

I snap my fingers. “Drone, activate.”

Bzzzt!

Three drones unfold like mechanical hawks, their wings snapping into place. They buzz forward into the dungeon, red eyes glowing. Seconds later—

BANG! BANG! Screeeech!

The sound of gunfire erupts, followed by goblin shrieks echoing through the cavern.

Elowen folds her arms, her brown hair fluttering in the breeze. “Still plenty crawling around in there.”

“By the looks of it…” I say, watching the feed flicker to life on the screen strapped to my forearm.

Valga leans against his axe, smirking. “So, what’s the plan, boss?”

“Patience.” My eyes narrow as the screen crackles with static before stabilizing. An overhead image flickers into view—the dungeon’s crude layout, stitched together from the drones’ paths.

Elowen raises an eyebrow. “So this is why you had me build that ridiculous contraption for you.”

I grin. “Well, yeah. Better than stumbling around in the dark. With this, we don’t explore the dungeon—it explores itself for us.”

The drones return with a sharp metallic click, folding neatly at my side.

“Alright, Kline,” I nod.

“Very well.” He steps forward, eyes glowing faintly as he raises his staff. His voice rings out in a resonant chant:
“Léirigh Mapa!”

Light bursts across the projection, turning into a glowing, holographic map that hovers above us.

Marcus whistles low. “Whoa. That’s… something else.”

Kline pushes up his glasses, smug. “A single floor. Exactly as I predicted. This isn’t a labyrinth—it’s a barracks.”

“…So they’re using cheat codes.” I mutter.

Kline blinks. “Cheat… codes?”

“Yeah. Like giving themselves an unfair advantage.”

“…Strange way of putting it.” Elowen sighs, shaking her head.

Valga snorts. “Whatever you call it, doesn’t matter. What matters is how we smash it.”

I raise a hand. “Simple. We split our forces.”

The group goes quiet, eyes on me.

I tap the glowing map, highlighting a winding corridor.
“Kline, you’ll lead Helvos, Marcus, Valga, and the Adventurers of Carnac down this pathway. It’s the quickest route to the heart.”

Kline smirks. “Easy enough.”

Helvos claps him on the back. “Very well, Master Kline. Lead us to glory.”

“Wait.” I lift my hand again. “Before you go…”

With the help of the golems, I haul a heavy barrel onto the airship deck. The metal groans under its weight.

Marcus tilts his head. “The hell is that?”

Kline peers closer—and pales. “Good gods… gunpowder? This’ll blow half the dungeon sky high!”

I grin. “Exactly. Since this place is artificial, why not use their own setup against them? One big bomb, one big boom. Wipe the slate clean.”

Kline pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely brilliant,” I shoot back.

Elowen rolls her eyes, but I catch the faintest curve of her lips. “Typical Randy.”

Seraphina, who’s been silently watching, lets out a soft laugh, her eyes shining. “It’s reckless… but I like it.”

Harmonia claps her hands together, almost too cheerfully. “Then let’s blow it sky-high!!”

Valga’s grin widens. “Heh. Now this is my kind of party.”

Marcus laughs, swinging his sword onto his shoulder. “So looks like Lord Devonshire’s gonna owe us extra hazard pay for this little stunt.”

“Yep.” I nod. “You lot will be the deathblow.”

“And you?” Helvos raises an eyebrow.

I glance at Elowen, Seraphina, and Harmonia.
“We’ll hold the line in Magick. Draw their attention. Be the bait.”

The girls exchange glances—then smirk.

“Fine by me,” Elowen says, stretching her fingers as sparks of magic dance across her palms.

“Try not to get yourself killed before we finish the job,” Seraphina teases, her voice soft but edged with concern.

Harmonia pumps her fist, her eyes glittering with reckless joy. “Let’s make it flashy!”

I exhale slowly, the torchlight glinting off my armored frame. My chest feels heavy, not from fear—but from the weight of the gamble we’re about to take. Reckless. Insane. Dangerous. And yet…

“…If this works, this war might finally tip in our favor.”

The airship deck is filled with motion as we prepare. Golems stomp forward in perfect rhythm, each one carrying reinforced crates of gunpowder strapped tight with glowing seals. I point to the largest barrel, the one packed with an extra volatile core.

“After this, the golems will assist you in carrying the bomb. Set it for maximum yield. And one more thing…”

Kline adjusts his spectacles, staring at me. “Yeah?”

“They’ll definitely hit you with everything they’ve got. If they realize this dungeon is their weak point, they’ll unleash hell to stop you.”

“Figured as much,” Kline replies with a wry grin.

Behind him, his strike team stands ready: three veteran elites, fifty adventurer-knights in polished armor, and ten iron-clad golems—five of them already burdened with the bomb.

I look over the formation, my tone sharpening.
“Remember. Based on my calculations, our two forces will converge perfectly. By the time we reach Magick’s gates, the battle will already be raging. That’s when we crash the party. While you make your escape with the bomb, we’ll draw every enemy eye on us. Got it?”

Kline raises a thumb, his usual grin betraying just a flicker of tension. “Got it.”

And then—the world shakes.

BOOOOOOOM!!!

The roar of the Skybreaker splits the night as its engines flare, and the massive vessel cuts through the clouds. Sky-golems fly in tight formation, their steel wings shattering the air with each thunderous beat.

“Well then…” Kline smirks, glancing at his party. “Here goes nothing.”

With the map I provided guiding them, his force marches into the dungeon, their footsteps echoing into the abyss.

Aboard the Skybreaker – Bridge

Elowen leans over the railing, her hair swaying as she peers down. “…Are you sure this insane plan will work?”

I meet her gaze. “…Based on what Kline told me, they’ll try the same trick again. Without realizing we’re ready for it.”

“So in other words…” Elowen narrows her eyes. “It’s about luck.”

“Yep.” I chuckle grimly. “Luck and timing. And something tells me they’ll come at us head-on. They think numbers win wars.”

Seraphina folds her arms, her calm expression hiding a dangerous spark. “Then let’s make sure they regret underestimating us.”

“Something they’ll never recover from,” Harmonia adds with a grin, her eyes glittering like a mischievous star. “Ehehehe.”

The tension on the bridge is suffocating—but beneath it all, a dangerous excitement burns in each of us.

Meanwhile – Borders of the Kingdom of Mana

Flames rise into the sky. Frontier towns burn, villages are reduced to ashes. Amidst the carnage, **Verica—Morwenna’s shadow—**leads the charge, her black armor glinting red from the inferno.

She raises her blade, her voice echoing like thunder.
“Let us see if they can endure THIS! Ahahahaha!!”

Her twisted confidence is watched carefully by another figure. From the shadows of a ruined tower, Lord Azrael gazes with eyes like burning coals. His expression is cold, calculated.

“I expected more from you, Verica… But even if you fail… all of this still falls within my plan.”

His gaze shifts beyond the burning horizon—to the palace.

There, a monstrous weapon hums, its barrel glowing with searing light.

“My lord,” a robed mage kneels. “The cannon is charged.”

Azrael raises a hand. “Very well. Aim it… at the Kingdom of Saints. Let the world see despair. Fire.”

The heavens tear apart.

A beam of light erupts across the skies, streaking like divine judgment. Towns vanish. Mountains tremble. At the frontline, Aethoné Radiance, commander of the Saint’s forces, feels her blood run cold.

And before her—an armored figure steps forward. A lone samurai, black as night. His blade hums with an otherworldly aura.

“This is the end,” he says flatly.

The light crashes down. A cataclysmic blast swallows the horizon, blooming into a nuclear sun.

KA-BOOOOOOM!!!!

The earth quakes. The air burns. The capital of the Saints is swallowed whole.

Aethoné screams, tears burning her eyes.
“No!!!”

Her knights rally, some already crushed by the blast wave.
“My Lady! The capital—it’s gone! We must retreat!!”

She clenches her fists, fury breaking her composure.
“Damn you, Azrael!!!”

The samurai advances, his blade thirsting for blood. But Aethoné raises her staff, her wind magic exploding outward in a violent surge.
FWOOSH!

He is hurled back, vanishing into the smoke.

“Fall back!!! Retreat!!!”

And so, the Kingdom of Saints—once radiant, once proud—crumbles into ruin.

Far away, Azrael watches, a cruel smile tugging his lips.
“Excellent. The Saints are no more. Now then… let us test the Kingdom of Mana.”

The cannon hums once more.

To be continued…