If Spyro had hair, it'd be standing on end right now. Countless aircraft blotted out the sun above Artisans Castle, overlooking the terrified, fleeing crowd below. And standing at the helm of the largest ship was a metal-plated monstrosity.

Lord Steampunk, huh? Spyro shivered, and not from fear. He hadn't seen any real action since the Sorceress.

Down in the crowd, a toddler-sized yeti yelled out, "You don't look so tough! My big brother could take you with one hand tied behind his-!"

"Bartholomew, considering your frankly negligible stature, it would be prudent to remove yourself from this particular skirmish post-haste!" Luckily, Bentley quickly ushered him off to safety.

Back in the air, a wave of fire erupted from the jaws of the Peace Keeper soldiers. Both his ship and Lord Steampunk himself glowed red for a moment, but other than that they were unaffected.

"No!" gasped a Peace Keeper. "He's wearing fireproof armor, and he's too big to charge!"

"That makes him invincible!"

Lord Steampunk let out a deep, hearty laugh. "You really think I'd pick a fight with dragons unprepared?" With another flourish of his arms, he aimed his scythe at the airborne dragons. "Now, my army of Punks, exterminate them!"

Countless creatures poured out the ships. They were moving so fast, it was hard to get a good look at them, but... they appeared to be a bunch of metal-plated humanoids, like smaller versions of Steampunk himself, except they also sported garishly-colored neon mohawks, swung giant chains around, and flew on rocket-powered motorcycles. They kinda reminded Spyro of Metalhead.

"Defensive positions, men! Tally-ho!" Sgt. Byrd and his hummingbirds fired their shoulder-mounted BAM (Bird to Air Missile) Launchers at the oncoming army. The Punks were thinned out, but there were still far too many remaining. They swooped down at the civilian dragons, even managing to smack several of them with their chains.

"That does it!" Spyro threw himself in front of one of the older, less mobile dragons, deflecting an oncoming Punk-chain with his horns. "Why don't you Punks try picking on someone who can fight back?"

"Spyro, don't!" But before Spyro could so much as breathe a puff of smoke, the old dragon yanked him away. "Go hide with the other hatchlings!"

"Are you kidding?" snapped Spyro, squirming out of his claws. "You think I can't take these jerks? I beat Gnasty Gnorc, Ripto, and the Sorceress!"

"Only because you had to," the old dragon said firmly. "You're the most capable child in the Dragon Realms, but you're still a child. Let the adults handle this." Reluctantly, Spyro met his stern gaze. "I'm counting on you to keep your fellow hatchlings safe. Understand?"

Spyro exhaled slowly, spewing steam out his nostrils. "Yeah. I get it." With that, he ran over to the edge of the courtyard, where the dragon nurses were herding the hatchlings away.

Spyro got it, alright... Even after everything he'd done, the grown-ups still thought he of him as little kid. They never appreciated Spyro. Even when he'd saved all their butts from being frozen, most of them barely spared him a quick "Thank you for releasing me" before teleporting away!

Besides, the dumb hatchlings would be fine. Babysitting them was always such a drag.

The prospect of battling an evil overlord, on the other hand, was more Spyro's speed. His brow creased as his eyes skimmed the castle. "These oversized baddies always have some weakness…" Up on the balcony, a couple Magic Crafters dragons had tried transmogrifying Lord Steampunk into a harmless bunny rabbit, but their spell had simply bounced off his magic-proof armor. Obviously, the direct approach wouldn't work. Steampunk was too smart for that. If he was gonna beat the jerk, Spyro was gonna have to surprise him.

"Hey, Spyro, what about that over there?" Spyro flinched at the voice by his shoulder. Oh, Sparx was back after getting dragged off by those fairies. Spyro was so used to his pal's constant presence, he hadn't even noticed when Sparx finally returned to his side.

Spyro followed Sparx's gaze to something jutting out from the edge of the castle grounds. Specifically, it was a runway of perfectly smooth stones decorated with arrows, which practically pointed right at Lord Steampunk's ship. "Bingo!"

Back in the air, Sgt. Byrd was busy flapping his stubby little wings to keep airborne. He was fixing to aim one of his bigger missiles at Lord Steampunk when a fairy flew out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around him.

"James, I'm scared!"

"Isabelle! Not in front of the other officers!"

Luckily, the hummingbirds were distracted by a purple blur launching off a nearby Supercharge ramp and zooming through the air.

"Wha-?" Lord Steampunk noticed right in time to watch the blur pierce a hole clean through his ship's hull. A moment later, a massive hunk of metal was spiraling towards the thankfully mostly-evacuated courtyard below. Crash.

"Ugh... Did it work?" Dragons were durable creatures, meaning the moment the impact was over, Spyro pulled himself out of the wreckage and searched it for Steampunk's body.

He found it pretty easily. Now if only it'd been a dead body.

"Impressive." Apparently, Lord Steampunk's metal suit was durable, too. It'd barely taken a scratch from the fall. "I'd expect no less from the champion of the Dragon Realms." He chuckled to himself. Somehow, even through the goggles, Spyro could feel the intensity of Steampunk's glare. "Finally, after years of biding my time, I will make you pay for what you did to me."

Spyro raised a scaly eyebrow. "Sorry, I don't think we've met. I'd remember someone that ugly."

Steampunk chuckled again. "Cute. But let's see how your wit holds up when you're cleaved in half!"

Snikt. The scythe moved like lightning. Spyro barely even had time to register it before it hit him. By all right, Spyro should have experienced the most excruciating pain imaginable in the scant few seconds before his inevitable end… but instead he felt, like, a mild sting. Spyro had been knocked back quite a few feet, but he was definitely in a bigger piece than he should've been.

"Nngh..." Spyro opened his eyes to see a familiar dragonfly hovering before him. "Thanks, pal!"

"N-No problem." Sparx winced as his glow changed from gold to blue. "Taking the hit for you's what I do best. Barely even felt it… honest..."

"Good, cuz we've got lots more fighting to do!" Spyro pulled himself back into a fighting stance. "Now let's kick this overgrown Punk's butt into next week!"

But Steampunk had raised his scythe for yet another swing. "Your confidence is misplaced, dragon. I'm not like the others you've faced. I learn from my mistakes." But instead of bringing it down on Spyro again, he hurled it through the air. The scythe's blade landed right in the middle of the Supercharge ramp, cracking it in two. Then, through some unknown power, the scythe flew back into its owners hands.

"If that was true, I'd think you'd know how to dress yourself by now." This time, Spyro was ready and managed to dodge the scythe in time. "Seriously, you look like a reject from Gear Grinders' Gaudiest Gadgets."

Judging from his tone, Steampunk was losing his patience. "Your childish insults won't save you."

"Uh huh." Spyro hopped onto the courtyard's dessert table. As fate would have it, one of the dragons' main entrees was live sheep. With a quick burst of flame, Spyro converted one of them into a butterfly for Sparx, restoring his glow to its usual golden luster.

Lord Steampunk must not have been happy to see Spyro restored to full health because he suddenly got really ticked off. "That's it."

Snikt.

Spyro once again dodged the scythe, causing it to instead slice the ropes around the captive sheep's necks. The moment they were freed, the sheep bounced away to safety like a man possessed.

"Let me give you a reality check, dragon." Lord Steampunk raised his scythe again, but it didn't look like he was aiming for Spyro this time. "You're not a hero. You're not special. You're nothing but a minuscule little hatchling who's happened to be in the right places at the right times."

Spyro's face contorted into a snarl. Okay, this guy had officially hit a nerve. The deviation of his size from the norm for a dragon his age happened to be a particularly touchy subject for Spyro. Those who valued their non-singed butts tended not to bring it up around him.

"You and your dumb luck are nothing but a symbol of the dragons' power, and I am going to make everyone here realize just how meaningless that symbol is."

Wait, he couldn't be aiming for…?

The scythe swung through the air, directly towards the nearby crowd of non-dragons. The crowd that happened to include a certain cheetah and rabbit trying to escort a drunken faun to safety?

"Elora!"

Thank the ancient dragon gods, Spyro managed to knock the scythe out of harm's way with his horns. The blade landed harmlessly in the grass, then teleported back to its owners hands.

"S-Spyro?" Elora mumbled as she looked up at her rescuer. "Ugh... My head..."

That'd been too close. No more screwing around. Spyro needed to hurry up and do this while he still had the chance...

"Listen!" he said frantically, turning back to the evacuees. "I need you to kiss me! Now!"

"Really?" That seemed to cure Elora's hangover. She started to move forward... only to be shoved out of the way.

Spyro pressed his face against the face of the fire fairy queen, who'd been hovering nearby, and kissed her deeply. She let out a surprised but not displeased gasp before kissing back with even greater intensity. Of course, dragons are pretty awful kissers, seeing as they lack lips and all, but the smooch was still more than enough to infuse Spyro with a heaping helping of fairy magic.

The moment the queen's lips left his snout, a warmth began to grow from Spyro's head down to his claws. His heart burned his blood with every pump. His scales glowed bright red from the sheer heat inside. Spyro turned back towards Lord Steampunk with a distinctly smug expression on his scorching hot face.

"You wanna know something, Punk? You're nothing but a dirty coward. If you were really the noble one trying to save people from the big scary dragons... then why'd you attack a crowd of non-dragons, you jerk?"

The fire erupted from Spyro's throat with enough recoil to send him flying backwards. The Superflame powerup had never been this strong before. That must've been some kiss.

There was a noise like popcorn popping, followed by a cry of agony, and then Lord Steampunk tumbled back as well. Spyro's flame still hadn't melted the armor, but it'd at least been hot enough to make it really uncomfortable to wear.

"Ha! You like that, you wuss?"

Right as Spyro was getting the upper hand, a jetpack suddenly unfolded from Steampunk's back-plate, and he rocketed off towards his fleet of ships. Spyro snorted a puff of smoke after him. Coward.

"Fine, little dragon, you can live another day," Steampunk called down. "My people have what we came for."

"What?" Spyro followed Steampunk's gaze back towards the balcony. Uh oh. The Punks were, apparently, a bit tougher than the Rhynoc – They'd overpowered Agent 9. The Punks had proceeded to rip the Superportal from its foundation and were currently hauling it towards their ships on the back of their flying motorcycles.

And that wasn't the worst of it. Another squadron of Punks had flown out of the Artisans Castle windows with sackfuls of gems in tow. Every dragon still conscious roared in fury. Word to the wise – Do not get between dragons and their treasure.

"We issue you a challenge, dragons!" Lord Steampunk's deep, distorted voice bellowed out over the crowd below. "My people are not unskilled in magic. We'll transmogrify most of these gems into more Punk soldiers for our army, and the rest we'll hide within our realm. And that's not all..."

With one swift movement, he flew over to the suspended Superportal and yanked out the largest crystal. "We'll also be hiding all one hundred of these Power Crystals. You'll have no hope of finding them no matter how hard you search. My minions will put them in the most out-of-the-way places imaginable. And for some of them, you might even have to solve a puzzle or win a minigame. A really hard minigame!" He let out a hearty evil laugh. "If you want your precious treasure and Superportal back, then come to our realm of Chronolia! Come to the site of your race's extinction!"

But then his voice grew solemn. "Remember, people of Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds, we do this for your own good. The dragons must never be allowed into your realms."

And with that, Lord Steampunk and his fleet vanished over the horizon as suddenly as they'd arrived.

"Yeah, you'd better run!" Spyro called after them. He turned to a nearby Peace Keeper dragon. "What are you waiting for? Make out with a fire fairy and fly after them!"

But the dragon shook his head. "Those ships move too fast, Spyro. We'd never catch up. For now, we must tend to the wounded."

"Alright, alright..." Spyro groaned internally. Tending to the wounded was great and all, but it didn't hold the same appeal as kicking bad guy butt.

Whatever partygoers hadn't run away were now standing around in the wreckage of what had once been a lavish party. Dragon and non-dragon alike sifted through the rubble, helping to carry the wounded out on stretchers. Some people were crying. Others were furious.

"What if this Beamtrunk fellow is right?" The king of Summer Forest, one of the older, more cantankerous kings of Avalar, jabbed an accusing finger in Elder Nestor's face. "If Ripto could take over all of Avalar, and he could be beaten by some dragon runt, then think how easily a whole nation of grown dragons could take over!"

"I assure you, my people mean you no harm." Nestor raised his claws in a soothing gesture. "There... have been dragons who've turned to evil before-" The other Dragon Elders exchanged uneasy glances. "-but they're as much an enemy of the Dragon Realms as they are of Avalar."

The king's only reply was to storm off in a huff.

Across the courtyard, Sparx was eavesdropping on the conversation with a look of increasing concern on his golden face. Spyro, on the other hand, was preoccupied with the flood of news cameras and microphones aimed at his scaly mauve one.

"Mr. Spyro, Mr. Spyro, what's your take on the recent attack?"

"I'll tell you my take on it, Bob." Spyro pulled a dramatic pose for the cameras. "Lord Steampunk and his goons are as good as history! They made a big mistake attacking the Dragon Realms when Spyro the Dragon is on duty-"

"What's a goon?" asked Bob.

"Uh, it's like a minion."

"What's a minion?"

"We've been over this, Bob." Spyro shook his head. "The point is, if Lord Steampansy is watching this, he ought to be quaking in his steel-plated boots."

"That's a surprising level of confidence," spoke up another reporter-dragon, "considering that you were completely unable to defeat Steampunk in battle today."

The pomp quickly drained from Spyro's face. "Yeah, well, only because he ran away like a wuss. But, I mean, did you see the way I took out one of his ships?" It returned twice as fast. "No one else was clever enough use a Supercharge ramp like that. That was all my idea."

Behind Spyro's shoulder, Sparx opened his mouth, but then he thought better of it.

"Is it safe to presume, then, that Lord Steampunk's days are numbered?"

"To the decimal point, Bob. To the decimal point." And with that, Spyro made his dramatic exit from the interview, Sparx trailing behind him.

What none of the cameras managed to capture was the faun slinking behind a pillar in the background, watching the debacle with a growing frown.

"Don't worry about us, Spyro." The old mole gave the young dragon a reassuring pat on the head, though it made Spyro squirm. "Even without the Superportal, I should be able to get everyone back to their proper realms using regular Orbs."

Now that the chaos had finally died down, Spyro had gathered alongside a sizable group of his pals – Sparx, Hunter, Bianca, Sheila the Kangaroo, Sgt. Byrd, Bentley, Bartholomew, Agent 9, and the Professor.

"But we can't let this creep pop up out of nowhere and ruin Unity Day like this! We have to get that Superportal back!" Spyro gave the Professor a pleading look. "You can't build another one, can you?"

The Professor shook his head. "Synthesizing more Power Crystals would take significant time and money, and with their treasure stolen, the dragons are a little tight on funds."

"That's what I thought." Next, Spyro turned to the sergeant. "And where is this 'Chronolia' place Steampunk mentioned, anyways? Is it close? Can we take a portal there?"

"Negative, solider," said Sgt. Byrd, saluting. "Without the Superportal, our only viable option is to reach the realm by air, which will take several weeks at the minimum."

"Weeks?" Spyro groaned. "Ugh, I don't wanna wait that long to kick his butt! There's no way I could fly that far on my own."

"That is indeed a factual assessment of the situation, Spyro," nodded Bentley. "Your aeronautical appendages are presently in the adolescent stage of their development cycle. I should note, however, that your people's military regime has enlisted the service of a sizable number of plenarily matured soldiers with flight capabilities entirely outclassing your own."

From Hunter's face, Bentley might as well have been speaking a foreign language. "What?"

"Spyro's a little kid and he should leave this to the grown-up Peace Keepers," Bartholomew said flatly.

"Are you for real?" Spyro snarled at the little yeti. "You want me to let the Peace Keepers have all the fun?"

"Hey, don't shoot the translator!"

"Bentley has a point, Spyro," said Bianca. "There's no reason to put all the burden on your shoulders this time."

"Besides, that Steampunk fella practically invited you dragons to Chronolia, didn't he?" Sheila scratched her chin. "Sounds like a trap if I ever heard one, mate."

"So what am I supposed to do, go to Dragon Shores and ride the roller coaster?" Spyro's voice had grown a bit louder than he'd meant it to. "You want me to pretend nothing's wrong while the bigger dragons handle everything? If I'd done that, they'd all still be stuck in crystal right now!"

"Hey, I totally get you, dude," said Agent 9, giving his ray-gun an affectionate rub. "I mean, I'm not ashamed to admit I am super bloodthirsty myself-"

"I'm not bloodthirsty!" Spyro was met with a flood of skeptical eyebrows. "Okay, I was a little bloodthirsty back when I fought Gnasty Gnorc, but I was still a kid. Cut me some slack. It's just, Steampunk's got to have something planned, and the longer we wait, the more time we're giving him to pull it off."

"Really?" Sparx's skeptical eyebrow had not yet vanished. "And it has nothing to do with the fact that he wounded your pride?"

"I- I-" It was the dragonfly's words that finally seemed to make their way through Spyro's skull. "I guess you're right, pal..." He glanced up at the others. "Sorry for snapping at you, guys."

"It's alright, Spyro." Bianca gave a pained smile. "It's been a stressful day."

"Come on, buddy." Sparx hovered closer to the crook of Spyro's neck, gently stroking it with every flap of his wings. "It's getting dark out. Let's go find you a soft patch of grass." The sun had, indeed, crept almost entirely beneath the Artisans world's horizon.

"Alright, alright..." Spyro sighed and followed after his personal nightlight, stopping only to give his friends one last apologetic look. "Good night, everyone." And with that, he left.

The little dragon followed the golden glow until they reached a pasture. This grass was considered the comfiest the Artisans had to offer, and so it was here that the newly-hatched dragons slept under the supervision of the adults. Spyro tended to sleep a couple feet away from the hatchlings, though. Ever since the Year of the Dragon, things had been a heck of a lot less quiet around here.

"Man, what a day." A yawn escaped Spyro's mouth as he curled up in the fluffiest available patch of grass. "Well, at least we drove off Lord Steampunk before he could do any more damage, right, pal?" He tucked Sparx into the crook of his front arms, as he had every night since the two of them were born.

Slowly, Spyro's eyelids crept shut… only to bolt back open at the sound of wailing.

"Huh? Whuh?" Spyro sprang to his feet, wiping the grogginess from his eyes with a wing.

"Uh, Spyro...?" Sparx seemed preoccupied staring at something. Spyro followed his gaze towards one of the dragon nurses. The nurse had wrapped his huge, full-grown wings around a dozen or so hatchlings, all of whom were bawling their eyes out.

"Tomas?" Spyro ran over to them. "What's wrong?"

The muddy yellow dragon let out a prolonged sigh. "It's... It's Yin, Spyro."

Spyro's heart skipped a beat. Yin had hatched from the very last egg Spyro had rescued during the Year of the Dragon ordeal. He was one of the hatchlings with the most sentimental value to Spyro, and, yeah, he had an unfortunate tendency to burp a bit too much, but he was still cool. Spyro's eyes fell on Yin's twin sister, Yang. The little white dragon was crying the hardest out of all them.

"What happened? Is Yin hurt?"

"He's..." Tomas shut his eyes. "He's gone, Spyro."

"G-Gone?" For the first time that day, Spyro didn't feel the least bit confident.

"They took him." Tomas's voice was shaking. "The Punks took Yin."