Hi everyone, okay so, long story short, I got a new job. I had a bit of writer's block, again, and had close to ten different ideas for how to write this chapter. Thanks to some brainstorming, and a friendly idea from one of my coworkers, I finally pinned down the ending to World Fury. So, without further adieu, we're in the home stretch but it starts off with a slight change in plans. I'm kicking myself for not remembering if I had given Dieter a fighter emblem before now.

Also, if you want a visualization of how Mechanos speaks, think Entei from Pokemon the Movie 3.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYONE OR ANYTHING IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.

Chapter 75: Change In Plans

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The sight of the fog around the island dissipating was the first clue he had that something was going terribly wrong with his plan. Mechanos wouldn't have admitted it to any of his Loyalists that still followed him but he knew that the war was all but over. Still, he would not allow himself to be taken prisoner.

Unbeknownst to all but a few dread griffons of his personal guard, and Dalon, he had already made plans to escape the destruction of his base in a modified seaplane that was to use the fog for cover. The aircraft would swing wide over the ocean, avoiding the battle and then head south where he would be greeted warmly by agents of the Tai-Lang Imperial Intelligence Corps.

Throughout his life, Mechanos' greatest disappointment was the loss of his son, which he had been truthful to James de Launces about when they had spoken. However, what he had not disclosed was that several months after his son's death, the youngest son of Tai-Lang's Emperor, Yu Sun Lang, had petitioned to become his apprentice.

He had proven to be both a capable student and a suitable replacement for the son he had lost.

Now that Mechanos' plans were falling apart he had received an offer from his former student to come to the Empire and continue his experiments.

For the sole benefit of Tai-Lang, of course.

Given that Rotiart was firmly in the court of the new 'Queen' and that he knew what his likely fate would be if captured, he decided to take the offer. As he glanced around his tower office one more time he smirked and grabbed two things, his briefcase which held all his blueprints and designs, and the key to a large lockbox in the corner. It was a MASSIVE steel construct that had a rusted emblem on the front and looked to have survived both a fire and being sunk in salt water for a time.

The safe had been Dalon's once upon a time and, as a last ditch effort, had been the safe haven in which Dalon had placed the Grimoire, the book of designs he had stolen from James de Launces in the previous war while simultaniously creating a fake Grimoire which was 'destroyed' in the final battle of the war.

The safe creaked open revealing a black leather bound book, sadly far from pristine, but still legible. Gingerly, as if afraid the old book may come apart if he so much as breathed on it wrong, Mechanos lifted the Grimoire and placed it in the briefcase beside his other documents and designs before closing the safe again and picking up something else.

A coal oil lamp.

He proceeded to fling the lamp across the room where it shattered against a bookshelf and immediately caught the dry paper of the books on fire. Mechanos grinned as he started for the door muttering to himself. He paused before a picture set on a shelf.

An old black and white photo of him, his wife, and their infant son. The day before their son died she and he had gotten into an arguement over his collection of books from literary masters from bygone eras. He'd held onto them purely for memory's sake but now they were burning as he let go of what remained of his past.

"I guess those 'old, musty classics' ARE good for something other than reading, huh, Edeline?"

Shutting the doors to the office for the last time, Mechanos turned to Dalon who he could see, even though he was wearing a metal mask, was scowling. Mechanos nodded understandingly.

"You don't prefer my decision?" Dalon shook his head, his voice echoing hollowly from behind the mask.

"I would have preferred Land's End or perhaps Rhein. Both nations are neither fond of James de Launces and his brood nor are they likely to turn on us at the first chance. Tai-Lang may have a powerful military but the Emperor uses his power a little too loosely for my liking. You already heard what he used those samples we sent to him for?" Mechanos waved dismissively.

"Yes, yes, I get the point, Rhein and Land's End are not openly hostile but neither are they friendly with the Dragon Mechanist. However, there are already plans in motion that shall reach their conclusion once we arrive in Tai-Lang."

THAT got Dalon's attention.

"You mean to say that-" Mechanos nodded.

"Poor Emperor Ki Tai Lang is not in the best of health, according to my protégé. He is battling day and night trying to keep what's left of his once brilliant mind from rotting away to his disease. The man struggles to remember even the most basic things some days. Yu has already assumed the throne in all but title. Once we arrive, that'll be the que for the Emperor to meet with a rather... unfortunate end. Given how the people of Tai-Lang view ritual suicide however, given that only a death in battle is more glorious, I am certain that he will be remembered for the great man he once was, rather than the doddering old fool who soils himself six times a day." Mechanos paused and nodded to himself.

"If there's one thing that I admire about Tai-Lang, it's that they certainly know how to spin a tale to tell the best of someone, even if it's entirely fictional." Mechanos glanced out a window and then stepped onto the elevator.

"Once we reach the ground floor, we will proceed to the Facility Seven foundry which has a tunnel that will take us to a seaplane hangar on the western side of the island. From there it is a short skip and a jump to freedom."

Dalon entered with Mechanos and pulled the lever going down. Unbeknownst to Mechanos, however, James de Launces had cleared the CCC Central Control Structure and was now heading towards Mechanos' Tower.

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(meanwhile, in the skies over the eastern sea...)

(...)

It was a pitched battle against the inevitable. A pointless struggle in futility. The last throes of a wounded beast before being put out of its misery.

In other words, for Albert Marks, it was absolute hell on earth.

The bombers had gotten through the fighter screen, what few stragglers there had been were practically covered by fighters that shielded them dearly. The older Rotarian propellor fighters had almost all been taken out in the early stages of the operation once they caught up to the jets. Speaking of jets, even the new Type-R jets that Mechanos had sent up were taking casualties.

Of the five-hundred remaining propellor planes, roughly eighty remained in any state to fight. The jets were even fewer numbering roughly one-hundred twenty at take off but now barely forty... no, make that thirty-nine, were left.

The enemy allied forces outnumbered them seven to one, yet never once did Marks consider giving the order to retreat. Defiance to the last, those were his orders, and he intended to follow them.

He banked hard right and got in behind one of the newer Syllian J33 jets and flipped a switch on his console. After a moment's delay, one of the rockets under his wings shot off, a thin wire trailing behind it. Whether or not the pilot was aware he had been fired upon was irrelevant. The speed of the rocket surpassed the aircraft and struck the target in the rear, ripping the tail assembly to shreds and sending the jet screaming down in an uncontrolable flat spin.

Marks watched in grim satisfaction that turned to annoyance when the canopy shot away and the pilot, ejection seat included, launched away from the falling aircraft and a parachute deployed safely.

Flak momentarily burst nearby forcing him to roll away from the parachuting pilot. Annoyance gave way to anger and he began looking for the source of the flak. He inverted the aircraft and looked at the ocean below and he saw the source of it. At least three dozen small patrol vessels had launched from Shadowfell and were firing their AA weapons at the Loyalist aircraft.

"All remaining aircraft, we have PT boats entering the fray. Watch for flak bursts and be mindful that your targets don't draw you to lower altitudes."

"Sir, we're getting reports that bombers have hit Black Sand Island and are moving on to clear the way for the Allied Navy! What are our orders?" Marks smiled.

"Leave them for the Navy. The Emperor still has at least one card left up his sleeve."

Just as he cut communication, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A Syllian jet he recognized as belonging to Bertram de Launces. He put the jet into a roll and placed himself on an intercept trajectory to engage, confident his target hadn't seen him. He began to squeeze the trigger...

"Paladin break off! Marks is aiming at you!"

Cannon rounds flashed past him, forcing Marks to disengage and turn away from his target to face his new attacker. A Syllian jet but this one painted in Royalist Rotarian colors. On the nose was the fighter's emblem, a red diamond with a black horse.

"So... the son thinks to step into his Father's boots, eh Kaleb?"

Kaleb Muntz growled into his radio and adjusted his heading to pursue Marks. Bertram formed up on his left and together the two of them followed as Marks dove to increase his speed and distance from them.

Down below, the patrol boats, seeing one fighter drop with two in pursuit, opened fire with their AA cannons, hopeing to catch a lucky hit. At the last moment though, Marks broke off and started climbing as his two pursuers zoomed past. Two more Rotarian jets flew past, seeking to engage Bertram and Kaleb. The flak however, was calibrated perfectly and the two jets were both downed as Bertram and Kaleb wheeled about to engage Marks again.

By the time they had turned around however, Marks was already back up at high altitude and was angling for another member of Bertram's squadron, Jake, who was unawares that Marks was almost in range.

At the last moment however, Jake turned and Marks shot past, swearing a blue streak over the radio which, ironically, he'd forgotten was on the Syllian frequency. Bertram heard the tirade and laughed.

"You should transfer with to the Navy with that mouth of yours Marks, I don't think I've ever heard a sailor swear as much as that before!"

This brought laughter from the entire Syllian force who was listening in which in turn, infuriated Marks to no end. He began to adjust his turn.

Which was a mistake since Kaleb, in the chaos, had managed to weave around and get in on Marks' blind spot who just turned right into his targeting reticule.

To put it in perspective, Kaleb had climbed, performed a short roll and had come in on Marks' right side. Marks, in his anger, didn't see Kaleb and started to roll left, thereby exposing his aircraft's belly, as well as the remaining rockets on underside of his wings, to Kaleb.

Tracers whizzed past Mark's canopy and a few struck the underside. Red lights started flashing and an alarm started blaring in his ears. His anger changed to panic and he completed his roll and dove for the deck as fast as he could, with Kaleb following close behind.

In the distance, Marks saw an incredible sight, a wounded Syllian bomber with smoke billowing out of four of its six engines, headed straight for him. The paintjob of the aircraft identified it to him immediately.

Hartwig's 'Modern Art Masterpiece'.

"This may be where I clock out, but at least I'll take a few of you Syllians to Hell with me!" Marks pressed the fire trigger for the rockets under his wings and four took off, aiming straight for the bomber amidst Bertram's shouts of alarm.

Marks had, however, pulled the firing trigger a fifth time. One of the rockets under his right wing had failed to detach and was now at full burn as if in flight. This small rocket motor, though not by much, altered Marks' flight path and two of the rockets went low under the bomber. The other two though were right on target.

If not for Bertram, that is.

Coming in from above and putting all his experience on the line he led the rockets and fired his cannons, intercepting and shooting down the rockets moments before they hit the bomber.

Marks, seeing this, slumped in his seat in shock. A warning light flashed by a clock on his console. The rockets were designed to explode after a certain delay in midflight to prevent them from hitting anything they shouldn't.

One of Mechanos' better ideas...

Still, defiant to the end, Marks pitched his aircraft up and fought for control as he aimed for the bomber and Bertram who had come alongside to check on the crew before reengaging. He had five seconds to close the gap and get both bomber and fighter in range of the blast.

Again though, he forgot about Kaleb.

Kaleb brought his sights over Marks' twitching aircraft, seeing the rocket engine burning but not knowing about the timer, and pulled back on the trigger.

Bullets peppered the rear of Marks' jet. A cannon shell detonated near the tail assembly, taking a chunk out of the rudder and blowing a hole through a horizontal stabilizer. Another round carved a gash through the aluminum skin of the jet, exposing the inner workings. A third 'slug' shell bit into the left wing, cutting off roughly five inches of wingtip.

Yet despite this Marks somehow managed to maintain control and got closer to Bertram and Hartwig's bomber.

Another cannon shell raced through the air, striking the top of Marks' canopy but not detonating, instead the entire dome was instantly covered in spiderweb like cracks as the laminated glass broke. A fifth round critically hit the damaged jet, striking the root of the right vertical stabilizer and sheering it completely from the aircraft, leaving only a hole and a few cables flapping in the wind. A sixth round struck the already shattered canopy, which also struck the charge which would blow the canopy away during ejection. The charge went off, launching the shattered canopy into the air where it disintigrated, showering Marks with glass fragments.

A seventh and final round, miraculously, struck the centerline engine through the gap in the aluminum plating made by a previous shot. A blast of fire and pitch black smoke from the rear exhaust signified that the engine had stopped working. Along the silver aluminum skin, a thin trail of reddish-orange liquid could be seen bubbling up from the right wing. Then, at that precise moment, the rocket engine died.

To Kaleb's shock, Marks' jet vanished in a fireball. The explosion sending debris and shrapnel from the aircraft in all directions. Pieces of white-hot metal peppered the belly of the bomber and struck Bertram's aircraft as they were moving to evade Marks' last-ditch effort. Then, from the fireball, something horrific was seen.

The front part of Marks' aircraft, including the cockpit, came out the other side. Well, half the cockpit anyway and there, still sitting in the pilot's seat, his body wreathed in flames, was Marks. Even though common sense said that he hadn't survived the initial explosion or the fireball that had enveloped his aircraft, Kaleb couldn't help but think he'd seen Marks move as if he was still trying to fight even though his aircraft had all but disintigrated around him.

Thus ended Alfred Marks and the last of the Rotarian 666th Aggressor Squadron.

The radio came alive with cheers and congratulations from most of the Syllian aircraft in the air but Kaleb was focused on only two at the moment.

The first was Bertram's plane which had, apparently been hit by some debris from Marks aircraft and was now wobbling slightly in the air. The second however, was Hartwig's bomber which the belly of the aircraft had been peppered by the majority of shrapnel. A loud 'BOOM' echoed and Kaleb saw the left supercharger engine slowly grind to a stop, its twin counter-rotating props ceasing to function. The celebratory radio calls stopped abruptly as a new call came through.

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Modern Art Masterpiece, we have been severely struck by debris from an exploding enemy plane and have lost our port engine. Unable to maintain flight, we are going down. I am ordering the crew to the chutes."

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(at roughly the same time on Black Sand Island)

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The sheet metal factory was still running somehow as Mechanos and Dalon went through it, on their way to the isolated hangar that housed the flying boat that would take them to safety. One of the machines in the facility was a set of large rollers that took hot steel and rolled it into sheets to be stamped and cut out to manufacture parts for weapons. These rollers were on either side of a catwalk that ran between two of these machines and led to the western side of the island.

It was here that Mechanos and Dalon had made it when the sound of fighting alerted them as Mechanos' dread griffon guard had gone ahead to make sure the path was clear. The walkway formed a T shape and at one side stood two of the three dread griffons and the third lay dead on the catwalk, it's throat torn out by none other than James de Launces, in dragon form, and glaring daggers at the dread griffons and now Mechanos and Dalon as they entered. Mechanos, remaining nonchalant, nodded to him.

"How kind of you to see me off, Your Majesty. However, I must say I wish you had not resorted to violence against my personal guard. These dread griffons are a cut above their brethren in both physical acumen and mental prowess." James growled lowly at this and flexed his claws.

"You say that so calmly and expect me to remain peaceful when I fond you have been holding Syllian storm dragons on this island as part of your sick experiments?!" Mechanos nodded.

"I see you found the secret of the Climate Control Centers. I mjust admit the research was rather abhorant but then again it wasn't as if I could just ask a few dragons and say please now can I? In the effort to advance nations sometimes sacrifices must be made in the name of progress. Even you yourself have made sacrifices for the sake of advancing Syllia's standing in the world, have you not?" James growled angrily.

"It is NOT the same! I never used people as test subjects! I never started a war just to further my own ambitions! I never sacrifice the innocent to sustain my power! Do not ever consider us the same, Mechanos. For I may be a dragon, but it is you, the human, who is the monster!"

Mechanos gave a small smile and turned to Dalon beside him.

"What are your thoughts on this, Gregory? Is it monsterous to sacrifice the one for the many or is it simple common sense? Is it a moral deficiency to use war and violence to expose the corruption and wickedness of world governments?" He turned back to James.

"What was the state of world affairs before I started this war? In Tellanos, the common people were starving after failed harvest upon failed harvest while those in power remained fat and happy. In Praetoria, the Empress released Anozira and Espan, two colony nations, in an effort to prevent her nation's economic collapse but in doing so put those aforementioned nations so deep in debt that they would have collapsed themselves in a decade." Mechanos smiled.

"Callinar, so gripped by piracy and thievery that they were no longer considered a civilized nation but now the piractes and thieves are at the bottom of the ocean leaving the common folk to clean up the nation. Damoneni, so rife with corruption that slavery nearly made a comeback in that land in the form of 'Provisional Contracts'."

"Even Syllia, though prosperous, is a nation bordering a great precipice bordering ruin and a golden age. Tell me, Your Majesty, how fare the economics of the land? Can Syllia continue to support not only Northumbria as a vassal state but also the Blue Isles while, simultaniously, you continue sending financial aid to a struggling Nevora and a practically bankrupt Schildhaven? How vast is your own personal fortune? Can you yourself continue this trend of using your own finances to bolster the national treasury or will you have to cease this in favor of supporting your homeland?" James grimaced and lowered his voice.

"I have already resolved, should it come to it, to release Northumbria and the Blue Isles from the vassal status. They have more than enough resources to recover from the Depression I foresee looming on the horizon. I have also made numerous plans to ensure that Syllia weathers the storm." Mechanos smiled.

"What about Nevora and Schildhaven? Espan and Anozira? You cannot save them all, you know it, I know it, I'd even wager that they know it themselves!" James sighed.

"You're right, I cannot save them all." He then whipped around, smashing a dread griffon that had tried to sneak behind him with his tail and then returned his glare to Mechanos.

"What I CAN do, however, is stop you from starting another war."

Mechanos at first stared, then started laughing. He raised a hand in the air and four more dread griffons joined the fight against James as he turned and started away.

James braced himself for the attack but suddenly, the griffons stopped. Every single one of them went stock still. Mechanos paused in his movement to look at them, his expression confused, then switching to anger.

"What are you all doing?! Kill him!" James couldn't place it but he felt a sense of dread, a great malice swirling around the chamber.

It was coming from Dalon who had stepped behind Mechanos. Mechanos saw him and glared at Dalon.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dalon, behind his mask, smiled.

"I do believe that the time has come to change the tone of the dance, Otto Mechanos. There has been a slight change of plans and a more... pressing issue has presented itself." Mechanos' glare intensified.

"What are you getting on about? Have you forgotten that I rebuilt you?" Dalon shook his head.

"You restored my body, my physical shell, but my loyalty has always belonged to the one who made sure my soul stayed tethered to my body, who made sure that I never died, even as I suffered the absolute agony of being sliced in half, blown up, scalded, irradiated, slamming into water, and even drowned."

Before Mechanos or James could move, Dalon grabbed Mechanos by the shoulders and lifted the old man roughly while Mechanos yelled at him to stop. James moved to intervene but at that moment the stupor over the dread griffons vanished and they were on the attack again. Dalon carried Mechanos to the edge of the catwalk looking over the two giant metal rollers that flattened metal into sheet steel. Dalon held Mechanos for a moment, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Remember when I said a more pressing issue had arose? Turns out the Emperor of Tai Lang is another agent for my benefactor, one that he wishes to see preserved for the time being. You on the other hand, have outlived your usefulness." Dalon heaved Mechanos over the rail but the old mechanist grabbed hold of the railing and yelled as he felt ribs crack from striking the metal rails. He looked up to see James quickly finishing off the last dread griffon before moving to stop Dalon who raised a fist.

"All Glory to the True Dark Master! All Glory to the Dark King! All Glory to Vekx, the Kin-slayer!"

He brought his metal-plated fist down on Mechanos' head, stunning him as his grip loosened on the rails that kept him from falling into the rollers below. He tried to shake off the stun but his grip was slipping. Pleadingly, Mechanos looked over to where James stood and through the haze, saw that he himself was frozen, shock and disbelief evident on his face.

At the last moment, Mechanos' grip failed him. He fell twenty feet down, landing squarely between the massive steel rollers. The sounds of his demise echoed in the facility, the rollers, now dyed red with blood, continued to turn unimpeded. Thus, Otto Mechanos, mechanist of Rotiart and the one who started the war, perished.

James had frozen in shock where he stood. Had he heard Dalon right? Vekx, the dragon who had been sealed away by Tomar the Wise was the cause of all this? He had been so stunned he hadn't even registered Mechanos had just been crushed to death until the smell of blood assaulted his nose and he looked to the machinery in horror before turning back to Dalon who just smiled.

"He played his part well, but this is only one act of the final performance. You and I, James, we still have our roles to play after all."

Before James could ask what he meant, a dark portal opened up behind Dalon, swallowing him, leaving behind only thr sounds of machinery and a deep booming laugh that held more malice than James could possibly imagine.

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Hey everyone, sorry about the long delay but between work, family concerns, and personal matters it just took a long time to get this done.

So, the principle enemies are now gone but yet the battle still rages, and what happened with Bertram? I think I have two more chapters planned for World Fury before I start drafting the third story so take care, thanks for reading and stay safe in these trying times!