Dawn of Shadburg
Golden-red sunlight poured through the cracked seams of the broken city walls, casting web-like shadows across the fractured cobblestones. The air shimmered with fine dust, laced with the bitter tang of lingering gunsmoke and the acrid scent of burned brick. Fa stood beside a severed column in the central square, her long hair lifted by the morning breeze. Her gaze swept over the surrounding ruins—last night's fierce battle had left its mark everywhere: the collapsed watchtower still trailed thin ribbons of smoke, the walls were scarred with blackened claw marks and sword-hewn gouges, and the dried-up fountain in the square's heart bore wounds that were carved themselves deep into both the city and every soul within it.
"Fa… what do we do now?" Arya's voice came from behind, her fingertips unconsciously brushing the broken longbow at her waist—an imprint left by months of relentless fighting. Her pale green eyes held exhaustion, yet remained as calm and steadfast as an oasis in the desert.
Fa turned. Her gaze passed over the teammates behind her.
TISK was wiping dust from his warhammer with a calloused palm, the clash of metal bracers against the hammerhead ringing dull and heavy. Rex stood motionless in the shadows, the optical lenses on his head flickering with faint blue points of light as he scanned the damage. In the farthest corner, Salsa—in her mechanical cat form—was curled tightly, her luminous blue eyes betraying deep weariness. Last night she had nearly exhausted all her magic; her spirit had almost shattered.
Fa walked over and knelt, voice soft. "Salsa, you already did amazingly. If you hadn't held back the skeleton army Cthulhu summoned last night, we could never have destroyed the Soul-Devouring Bell so quickly."
Salsa shook her head, voice low. "It wasn't enough. Against Cthulhu, I was still powerless. I need to become stronger—so I can protect everyone."
"But we cannot let Shadburg sink into ruin," Fa said, drawing a deep breath, her tone carrying unshakable resolve. "This city was once the pearl of the desert trade routes. Now it is our duty to make its lamps burn again." She paused, eyes falling on TISK and Rex. "Defensive works come first. The sand bandits have scattered, but the threats of the desert never vanish."
TISK slammed a fist against his breastplate; the lion-head emblem shuddered. "Leave it to us! My metal and crafting skills are perfect for making these broken bricks and rotten tiles stand tall again!" He clapped Rex on the shoulder with a clang of excitement. "Rex, time to put that mechanical tech of yours to work, eh? Together we'll make these walls stronger than ever!"
Rex's lenses flashed rapidly, his synthesized voice calm and efficient. "Scan complete: 37.5% structural damage within the city. Central foundation severely eroded by magical energy. Using magical-energy fusion combined with metallic reinforcement, basic defenses can be restored in five days." He turned to Salsa, servos in his neck whirring softly. "Additionally—Salsa's spirit-body state requires complete rest. Continuous use of necromancy has caused fluctuations in her soul link."
Salsa's ears twitched weakly; her tail tapped the ground without strength. "I'm fine…" Her voice scattered like wind-blown sand. "It's just… everyone is working so hard, and I can't do anything…"
Rex stepped closer, raising a mechanical palm that sparked with tiny arcs of lightning. "Soul-body necromancy is about 'resonance,' not brute force." Data streamed across his vision as he pulled records on soul-body clans. "Your mechanical shell can contain a spirit, but over-relying on external magic causes load imbalance. We can start with 'spirit-body and vessel resonant symbiosis'—"
Salsa's ears perked; excitement lit her eyes. "What's that?"
"More precisely, 'Necromechanic Construct Art'—an improved fusion of ancient soul-body secret techniques and mechanical engineering from my era." Rex's lenses projected blue beams that sketched complex magic arrays in the air. "First we strengthen the magical link between your spirit and shell, allowing shadow energy to convert more efficiently—"
TISK leaned in, planting his warhammer on the ground. "Alright, alright, save the magic talk for later! We fix the walls first—can't have enemies waltzing through the holes, yeah?" He grinned at Fa, beard quivering. "Don't worry, Captain. Me and Rex will turn this place into an iron barrel!"
Fa nodded. Her gaze swept across the square where residents were slowly gathering—old folk picking usable bricks from rubble, women clutching children behind broken walls, whispering, young people staring at them with a mixture of anger and hope. She knew every decision now affected not only the team, but the future of the entire city.
"We split into two groups," Fa declared, voice rising with a leader's steadiness. "Group one: myself, Arya, and twenty volunteers—escort the bandit prisoners and recover the supplies they stole. Those treasures belong to Shadburg's people."
She turned to the other three. "Group two handles reconstruction: TISK and Rex lead craftsmen and citizens to repair walls and infrastructure. Salsa…" She paused, seeing new fire in the cat's eyes. "…if your body allows, assist Rex with magical reinforcement research. But do not push yourself."
Arya gently took Fa's hand. "Be careful out there. Sand bandit remnants may still be prowling."
Fa squeezed back, a faint smile touching her lips. "That's my line." She looked toward the undulating dunes, golden in the morning light like flowing foil. "Remember our first fight together? Against bandits in Mick Forest. Even then I knew—with you beside me, no hardship could stop us."
Arya's pointed ears flushed pink; even after countless battles, the elf could still be caught off guard by sudden tenderness. "Stop talking nonsense and get ready."
**Group One: Escort and Return**
The desert sun blazed overhead, baking the sand until it burned. Fa's caravan moved slowly between dunes. Ten captured sand bandits were bound with coarse rope, hands tied behind their backs, ankles chained with magical shackles Rex had forged just before departure—step more than ten paces away and lightning would strike.
"Ptoo! You self-righteous bastards!" A scar-faced bandit spat blood-mixed sand. "Our boss will never let you live—"
"Your 'boss' died to his own greed," Fa cut in coldly, silver light flashing in her starlit eyes. "His corpse is still rotting in the central square." She watched the man pale. "But rest assured—we won't slaughter you. Lay down your weapons and Shadburg will give you a place to live… provided you never harm again."
The bandits fell silent, faces filled with shock and wavering.
Arya walked in the middle of the column, occasionally sprouting drought-resistant vines to shade the team. She noticed Fa's steps were slightly heavy—last night, protecting civilians, Fa had been slashed across the waist by Cthulhu's undead. Though bandaged, the desert heat had reopened the wound; dark red seeped through her tunic.
"Want to rest?" Arya asked quietly. "You're bleeding again."
Fa shook her head, hand on her short blade. "I'm fine. A little wound won't slow me." She looked ahead—through wavering heat, black specks circled: desert vultures waiting for prey to fall.
Two days later they reached the bandits' hidden stronghold—an ancient structure half-buried in drifting sand. Faded reliefs on the lintel showed warriors on giant lizards slaying horned monsters. Rex's prediction proved exact: the underground warehouse lay behind a collapsed pillar. Lifting the heavy hide curtain released a wave of cool air glittering with metal and gems.
"Good gods…" a volunteer gasped. The vault stretched dozens of paces deep—heirloom tapestries on the walls, chests of gold coins, gems sparkling under magic lamps, carts loaded with rare ores—all spoils of countless raided caravans.
Fa frowned. Enough wealth to rebuild Shadburg several times over… and enough to attract far worse predators. "Move quickly," she ordered Arya. "Two on perimeter watch in case remnants attack."
As volunteers began hauling crates, a muffled thud sounded. One captive had hidden a corrosive poison pellet in his tooth, melted his ropes, and now lunged lunging at Fa with a dagger stolen from a corpse!
"Look out!" Arya's cry and bowstring sang together. Fa sidestepped; the blade scraped sparks across her pauldron. She drew her short blade in a silver arc guided by starlit foresight, stabbing precisely into the bandit's thigh—crippling, not killing.
The bandit screamed and collapsed. Fa pinned his wrist beneath her boot, blade tip at his throat. "I said—next time I won't be merciful." Silver surged in her eyes. "You're lucky this was only a lesson."
Arya arrived, vines bursting from sand to cocoon the man. "They won't repent easily," she murmured. "Years of brainwashing—robbery is 'survival' to them." She saw Fa's frown soften. "Don't worry. We'll be home soon. The citizens need these supplies to believe again."
Fa nodded, then noticed a spilled box of scrolls in the corner—detailed records of every caravan attacked. She picked one up. They would return not just treasure, but trampled justice.
**Group Two: Rebuild and Upgrade**
Back in Shadburg, TISK's warhammer and Rex's mechanical arms flew in perfect rhythm. Golden streams of metal magic seeped into cracked bricks, fusing them anew; Rex's laser cutter whined as it trimmed leaning walls. They worked like twin forces of nature—TISK handling brute structural reinforcement, Rex fine-tuning with ancient technology. The walls rose visibly stronger by the hour.
"Your turn, old iron," Rex said, lifting a man-high granite block with humming engines. "East wall foundation needs tier-three metal reinforcement. Sync your magic pulse with my vibration frequency."
TISK wiped sweat, pressed both palms to the stone. "Quit nagging—my rhythm's never off!" He roared; liquid gold magic flowed in, etching defensive runes across the surface. Rex triggered vibration modules; the block slid perfectly into place, seam invisible.
"Beautiful!" TISK slapped Rex's shoulder. "When this job's done, we're hitting Mechanopolis—let the folks back home see what real magitech looks like!"
Rex's lenses flickered—agreement.
Across the square, Salsa sat within a temporary array, her mechanical cat body surrounded by drifting necromantic energy. After two days of recovery her ears stood tall again, tail swishing energetically.
"Ready for first resonance training?" Rex approached carrying a metal disk etched with ancient soul-body runes.
"I'm ready." Salsa placed a paw on the center. Cold magic surged through her like countless tiny fingers combing the bond between soul and shell.
Rex activated the disk; runes flared. "Now summon a shadow wraith—but draw power from your spirit's core, not the shell's crystal."
Salsa closed her eyes, reaching for the deep blue flame within. For the first time she pulled energy outward instead of in. It hurt like swinging a wounded arm, but as the disk vibrated the barrier between soul and machine thinned.
"Come forth, Umbral!" A ripple in the air coalesced into a small, perfectly stable shadow cat—smaller than before, yet solid.
"It worked!" Rex's voice actually held excitement. "Spirit load reduced by 10%. Wraith duration extended. Next stage—complex summons."
TISK wandered over, curious. "Hey, little Salsa, can ya summon somethin' big that fights? Like those dark wolf riders?"
Salsa shook her head, ears twitching. "Not yet. But Rex says after third-stage resonance I'll be able to summon mid-tier undead with my own spirit power… and maybe even temporarily fuse with the shell for a stronger combat form."
Rex nodded. "The ultimate soul-body form is perfect symbiosis."
He turned to TISK. "Your weapon upgrades?"
TISK pulled gleaming parts from his belt. "Wait'll Fa sees her short blade—dual earth runes, every slash triggers a sandstorm. Arya's broken bow now has a five-element conversion core—switch arrows between water, fire, lightning, wind, earth on thought. But my masterpiece—" He held up shadow-metal claw guards for Salsa. "Three-second shadow shield. Enough to block a killing blow."
Salsa stroked the cool metal; it resonated perfectly with her necromancy. "Thank you, TISK!"
"Save the thanks, kid. Everyone on this team's gotta be badass if we're gonna face whatever's coming."
On the fifth day of rebuilding, TISK found a peculiar magic map while clearing the fort master's office. It marked a mountain range labeled "Mo-Eclipse Mountains," covered in soul-seal runes.
Rex's lenses blazed with scrolling data. "Ancient Loulan-style civilization. Those runes are soul-lock seals—something powerful is sealed or hidden there."
"Fourth star-fragment?" Salsa's tail curled excitedly.
"We wait for Fa," Rex said, rolling the map. "But this could be the key against our true enemy."
**Emotional Collision**
Seventh day, dusk.
The supply caravan rolled through Shadburg's gates under cheers and tears—citizens had not seen their stolen wealth returned in years. Fa rode at the head, watching children wave glowsticks, the weight in her chest finally lifting.
Then a scream shattered the joy.
A boy burst from the crowd clutching a rusty knife, tears carving tracks through dust on his face. "You killed my dad!"
Fa's starlit eyes foresaw the attack but she did not move. She let the trembling blade come close enough to feel its wind.
"Stop!" Vines shot up, wrapping the boy's wrist. The knife clanged to the ground. He thrashed, sobbing. "Because of you fighting, my dad's never coming home!"
Fa knelt, meeting his eyes—eyes that held the same pain she once carried when her own father vanished and her mother died. Her voice was soft but clear. "I'm sorry. We will defeat Cthulhu for your father."
"But… but I don't have a dad anymore…"
Fa pulled the boy into her arms. His small body shook violently, tears soaking her sleeve. "I'm sorry." She closed her eyes, throat tight. "We will rebuild your home first. We will make Shadburg stronger than ever."
The crowd fell silent; some wept quietly.
Arya stroked the boy's hair, warm light magic flowing. "See those supplies? There's the pine carving your dad loved. We'll put it in the new memorial square so everyone remembers the heroes."
"Really?" the boy hiccupped.
Fa unclasped her silver amulet and pressed it into his hand. "Whenever you look at this, know your father is watching from above, wanting you to grow up brave."
The boy clutched the amulet and finally wailed.
Fa patted his back gently. Beyond the crowd she saw TISK, Rex, and Salsa atop the restored walls, silhouetted against the setting sun like guardians of gold.
She knew the wounds of this war ran deeper than any ruined wall.
But they would heal them—one day, one act, one heartbeat at a time.