"The Industrial City," Kurt began, his voice carrying over the low hum of distant engines and churning gears. "It’s not just one island — it’s an alliance. A group of islands that were fused together more than two centuries ago. Two hundred and seventy years, to be exact. Back then, the islands filled with factories were drifting apart, competing for resources and land. But after the Great Collapse, they were all brought together and merged around what remained of the fallen World Tree."

Tyla tilted her head slightly. The cold wind brushed past her face, carrying the faint scent of smoke and oil from the industrial heart of the city. In the distance, massive chimneys spewed faint blue steam into the sky, while flying carriages zipped between iron towers and cranes that reached into the clouds.

"Fallen World Tree?" she asked curiously.

Kurt, the gray-scaled Dragonion, nodded. His metallic scales shimmered slightly beneath his cloak. "Though the tree itself no longer stands, a huge root system still remains — embedded deep beneath the islands. You see, in ancient times, the Gods brought three World Trees into this realm. One of them, according to legends, ascended into space. The elves say they can still sense its aura at the southern edge of the world. The second was hidden within the Elf Realm — sealed away, protected by their ancient elves."

He paused for a moment, his reptilian eyes gleaming as he gazed into the cloudy horizon. "And the third one... is the one that fell here. It was destroyed over a million years ago, during the Great Dream War — when the ancient races tried to invade the Dream Realm. They used this very World Tree as a bridge between realms. But that bridge collapsed, burning from divine fire and dream essence. The explosion almost shattered the remaining continents... and all that’s left now is its root."

"Whoa..." Tyla murmured, her eyes widening slightly. "That’s... huge. Wait — then why are you here, Kurt?"

Kurt grinned, showing his sharp teeth. "Ah, you caught me. I took the money you gave earlier but, uh, kept the Neutralizer," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "So, I came to help you instead. Consider it... an honorable exchange."

Before Tyla could reply, another voice joined in, light and teasing.

"But before those small talks, continue the story."

The one who spoke was Yumina — her short orange hair glimmering faintly in the city’s artificial lights. Her tone was soft, but her expression held curiosity and sharpness both.

Kurt blinked in surprise. "Ah? And who might you be?"

"This is my friend Yumina," Tyla said, gesturing toward her companion. "Also my temporary bodyguard."

"Ohh..." Kurt’s grin returned, wide and toothy. "Nice to meet you."

Yumina gave a polite bow. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Dragonion."

"Heh, just call me Kurt. No need for formalities. I’m not a noble or anything. Just a dragonion who protects justice."

After the brief exchange, the three of them continued walking along the iron bridge that connected two factory islands. Below, molten rivers of refined energy shimmered through glass tubes that pulsed with prana, flowing toward large refinery structures. The constant rhythmic clank of machinery echoed like the city’s heartbeat.

Kurt continued, "You see, back when these factories were first built, they were poisoning everything around them — the air, the rivers, the soil, even the flying islands above. The pollution was so bad that entire habitats crumbled. Remember how we captured you earlier?" he said, glancing at Tyla with a faint grin. "We actually used chemical waste to make you dizzy. That stuff is nasty. It can paralyze even a Divine Seeker if used right."

Yumina’s eyes widened. "You captured her?"

Tyla sighed softly, waving her hand dismissively. "Long story. I’ll explain later."

Kurt chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry about that, really. Anyway... after that disaster, the pollution started killing even the immortal practitioners. Even Master-level were dying from lung corrosion and energy instability. The toxins were too potent — even purifying arrays couldn’t handle them. To put it in perspective, a single drop of untreated chemical waste from here could wipe out an entire mortal kingdom in the South."

He paused, his tone darkening as he looked down at the distant mist below. "That’s when the leaders of each industrial island realized something strange. Only one island — the smallest one — was completely fine. Its air was clear, its rivers untainted, even though its factories produced Immortal Dream Drugs, which were among the most toxic."

"What made the difference?" Yumina asked, intrigued.

Kurt tapped his clawed finger against the railing. "The roots. They discovered that every bit of toxin produced there was being absorbed by the roots of the fallen World Tree beneath it. The roots acted like a natural filter, devouring and neutralizing the poison. After that, the other islands formed a pact — they dismantled their old lands and merged themselves around that one island. Together, they formed the Industrial City Alliance. Since then, all waste and toxins are channeled into the roots. According to the researchers, those roots can continue absorbing and neutralizing toxins for another four thousand years."

"That’s... actually brilliant," Yumina said, genuinely impressed. "So, this city will thrive for the next four thousand years?"

Kurt nodded, puffing out his chest proudly. "Exactly. It’s one of the few alliances that actually works. But because of that, the area around the fallen World Tree’s roots has become sacred and heavily restricted. No one — not even high-ranking Immortal Engineers — is allowed to go near it. You can’t even take a fragment of the roots. The place is under the highest protection level, guarded day and night."

"Sounds fair," Yumina said, shrugging. "If that thing’s keeping the world clean, better not mess with it."

Kurt gave her a sharp look. "That’s why I asked earlier... why are you so interested in the roots, Tyla?"

Tyla didn’t answer immediately. The hum of the city filled the silence — a low metallic symphony of hammers, pistons, and steam vents. Her hand slowly drifted to her waist, where a small copper pot hung by a belt strap. The pot vibrated faintly — pulsing in rhythm with something deep underground, far in the direction of the restricted zone.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she sighed. "It’s complicated. Is there is anyway to get close to that place?"

"Hmmm..." Kurt rubbed his chin, his tail flicking thoughtfully. "I know a guy... but—"

"But?" Yumina tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.

Kurt sighed, shrugging his scaled shoulders. "That guy’s a little weird. It’s hard to make him agree to anything."

Tyla smirked. "Difficult, but not impossible, right?"

Kurt stared at her for a second before chuckling. "You sound just like my boss, always making the impossible sound casual."

---

The next morning, long before sunrise, the Industrial City was already alive.

Thick smog drifted across the skyline as rows of chimneys exhaled steam into the dim air. The clatter of gears, the hiss of pressure valves, and the rhythmic pounding of hammers filled the early dawn like the beating heart of a giant metal beast.

Dragonions, and other minority races filled the streets. Some trudged on foot; others soared through the smoky air on prana-powered swords, brooms, gliders, Hoverboards and mechanical wings.

Factories required immense manpower — or rather, powerful beings. To work with the corrosive toxins, you needed at least the strength of a Elite-level practitioner. There are many Master Level too and even a few Grandmasters toiled away — though they were the non-combat kind, experts in machinery rather than battle.

In this chaotic harmony of smoke and sparks, one human hurried through the air, balancing precariously on a levitating broom.

"Oh, crap, crap, crap! I’m late again!" Marco muttered, his voice echoing over the rooftops. His hair was spiked like a flame, his eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted goggles. A leather jacket clung to his lean frame, and small studs gleamed on his ears as the wind whipped past him.

He darted between two towering factory spires, the city’s endless metal pipes hissing below him. His destination — a weapon factory located just ten kilometers from the restricted zone around the fallen World Tree’s roots.

Then, suddenly — he and his broom, both froze midair.

"Huh? What the—?" Marco yelped, trying to move. But invisible energy wrapped around him.

Before he could react, he was yanked sideways — straight into a dark alley between two giant metal silos. Sparks burst from broken machinery as he hit the ground with a grunt.

"Ahh! What the hell is happening!?" He tried to stand but found the restraints around him loosening on their own. He rubbed his neck and looked around, half expecting a mugger. "Listen! I’m already broke! Thanks to Firecarp inflation, my bank balance is negative! If you’re trying to rob me, you’re wasting your time!"

From the shadows came a calm voice.

"I know... Marco."

Marco froze. "Wait, you know my name?— are you a debt collector!?" Panic flashed in his eyes.

A low chuckle answered him. From the shadows stepped Kurt, the gray Dragonion, resting his massive Neutralizer weapon across his shoulder. Behind him walked two women — one tall and radiant, her eyes sharp yet calm, and another with short silver hair and a curious gaze.

"Hey Marco," Kurt greeted casually. "Been a while, huh? Still getting into trouble?"

Marco’s jaw dropped. His gaze wasn’t on Kurt anymore — it was fixed on Tyla. His pupils dilated as he breathed out, almost reverently, "What... a beauty... Is that a fairy from the heavens?"

Tyla tilted her head with confusion.