Metaworld Chronicles

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.

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?"