The bonfires of the orc tribe blazed fiercely against the twilight, their embers swirling upwards on the evening wind, staining half the sky a fiery red.
In the central clearing of the settlement lay the massive corpse of the Rust-Beast King, Ragnarok. His dark, metallic scales gleamed with a cold, hard light under the fire's glow. His thick, powerful bones supported a frame that remained awe-inspiring, even in death. Liam leaned against a rock, having removed his damaged Boiling One armor. The creeping Rust-Corrosion markings on his chest had receded to just over his heart, stabilized for now by the combined influence of the Volcanic Ore and Elara's blood. But pushing himself too hard had left his body aching and weak; even lifting his arm required effort.
"Chieftain, these are our finest artisans," Gareth, the bear-orc leader, said respectfully, gesturing to the dozen or so craftsmen behind him. Mostly wolf and tiger orcs, they were bundles of dense muscle, with rough, calloused hands still stained with rust flakes and engine grease. Their eyes held a mix of reverence and admiration for Liam and Elara.
Liam nodded, his gaze fixed on Ragnarok's remains. "We need to build an airship's frame," he stated firmly. "Using the crystal ore, the Beast King's bones, and refined rust-iron. An airship is our only chance to break the Empire's naval blockade and truly take control of Rust Island's fate."
"An airship?" Gareth and the artisans exchanged puzzled looks. Isolated on Rust Island, the orcs were skilled metalworkers and mechanics, but something as complex as an airship was beyond their experience.
Elara stepped forward. "It's a large vessel that can sail through the air," she explained. "With it, we can monitor the Imperial fleet, respond quickly to threats across the island, and even leave Rust Island if necessary." As a former Silver Wolf Knight Commander, she'd seen Imperial military airships and had a rough idea of their structure. "I can provide basic schematics and principles. Your artisans handle the forging and assembly. Together, we can build the frame."
Gareth dropped to one knee immediately, his voice resolute. "We serve the Chieftain! The tribe has large stores of refined rust-iron and Volcanic Ore, and ancestral forging furnaces. It will be enough!"
"Good." Liam stood and walked over to Ragnarok's body, running a hand over the beast's bones. "Ragnarok's skeleton holds potent Beast Spirit energy and is hard as alloy. It will be the core material. First, we strip the scales and extract the bones intact. Then we soak them in molten Volcanic Ore to enhance their flexibility and energy conductivity."
The artisans sprang into action. Wielding heavy forging hammers and cutting axes, they set to work on the colossal corpse. Their orcish strength far surpassed a human's; the heavy axes felt like toys in their hands, each swing cleaving through the thick metallic scales to reveal the faintly glowing red bones beneath. Removing the scales was arduous. Each one was fused to the bone and resonated with lingering Beast Spirit energy, occasionally forcing the workers back a step with a surge of power. Yet they gritted their teeth and persevered without complaint.
Liam and Elara joined the effort. Liam used his Boiling Beastblood to anoint the bone joints, stimulating the residual energy within, making the bones more pliable. Elara sketched the airship designs from memory, her fingers tracing lines in the dark earth—keel, ribs, frame structure, even marking placements for a steam-power system.
"The frame needs to be strong yet light," Elara explained, pointing at her drawings. "Otherwise, it won't carry the engine and weapons. The keel is the backbone; it must be made from Ragnarok's thickest vertebrae. The ribs from the limb bones, joined together. The outer layer will be an alloy of refined rust-iron and Volcanic Ore for defense and energy conduction."
Liam studied the plans. "We'll embed Volcanic Ore crystals at the joints between the keel and ribs. It will suppress the Rust-Corrosion, protect the frame from the curse, and use the crystal's energy to resonate with the steam engine, increasing speed."
Night deepened, the bonfires burned brighter, and the artisans worked in shifts, the furnace light illuminating the entire settlement.
Liam sat by the roaring furnace, feeding chunks of Volcanic Ore into the flames. The intense heat liquefied the stone into a silvery stream that flowed through channels into special containers. Elara directed the artisans as they processed the bones, using specialized tools to smooth the surfaces, removing remnants of flesh and scale, preparing them for assembly.
"Chieftain! The spine is free! It needs the molten bath now, before the Beast Spirit energy fades!" a wolf-orc artisan shouted.
Liam hurried over. Together with several artisans, he heaved Ragnarok's spine. It was over ten meters long, thick as a tree trunk, its surface etched with ancient gear-like patterns that pulsed with a faint red light. The energy within made the very air hum. Struggling, they carried it to a prepared trench lined with Volcanic Ore powder. When they poured the silvery molten ore into the trench, it erupted in billowing steam and the sharp smell of sulfur.
"Lower it carefully!" Liam commanded. As the spine sank into the molten pool, it hissed and sizzled violently. Red and silver light intertwined in a dazzling display. The gear-like patterns on the bone seemed to spin, absorbing the ore's energy. The dim red glow intensified, growing brighter.
The process lasted all night. As the first dawn light broke, the spine was lifted out. It was now coated in a thin, silvery crystalline film. The gear patterns shimmered with intertwined red and silver light. Its texture was harder than before, ringing with a clear, metallic sound when tapped, showing no sign of decay.
Next came the assembly. Following Elara's schematics, the artisans cut the limb bones to length, fashioning them into ribs and supports. They fastened them to the spine using bolts made from a Volcanic Ore and rust-iron alloy—incredibly strong and capable of conducting energy, locking the bones into a stable skeletal structure.
Liam's task was embedding the Volcanic Ore crystals at the joints. He mixed crushed crystal powder with his Boiling Beastblood into a thick paste, applied it to the connections, and secured it with specially crafted metal bands. Once dried, the paste fused bone and metal, reinforcing the joints and allowing Beast Spirit energy to flow smoothly throughout the entire frame, creating a complete energy circuit.
Thanks to the tribe's healing spring, Elara's wounds had healed remarkably, and her damaged Beast Spirit had recovered somewhat, restoring about half her fighting strength. She moved among the artisans, correcting angles, explaining principles. "The angle between the ribs and the keel must be thirty degrees to distribute aerial pressure and prevent breakage. The tail fin, made from the tail bones, is crucial for balance, or we'll lose control mid-flight."
Sparks from the forges filled the air above the settlement. The clang of metal, the hiss of steam pipes, and the shouts of the workers blended into a symphony of intense labor. Liam paused occasionally to rest, drinking a swig of the tribe's potent liquor. It burned down his throat, warming him from within and soothing his aching muscles. Watching the busy artisans and Elara's focused guidance, he felt a profound sense of solidity—for the first time since his rebirth, he had true allies and a place to call his own, no longer fighting for survival alone.
Midway through, scouts reported that the Imperial fleet still prowled beyond the island, sending small reconnaissance boats closer to shore, searching for Liam and Elara. The dense fog and treacherous reefs around Rust Island were the only things keeping them from landing.
"The Empire's patience is finite. We must move faster," Liam said grimly after hearing the report. "If they find a landing point, the tribe is doomed. The frame must be finished in three days. And you, Gareth, I need your help to make it happen."
"For the Chieftain! For the tribe!" Gareth roared passionately. "Brothers and sisters! To arms! Let us build this great weapon!" He immediately mobilized the entire tribe's labor force. Younger orcs hauled materials and stoked the furnaces; elders polished parts and assisted with assembly. Even the elderly, the very young, and the mothers joined in, washing ore and sifting iron filings. The whole settlement buzzed with activity, their unity stronger than ever.
Time flew amidst the frantic work. By late on the second day, the airship's skeleton began to take definitive shape. The spine formed the main keel, a thirty-meter-long backbone. Dozens of thick ribs curved outwards, forming a vast arc. The tail bones were shaped into a streamlined fin. The skull was repurposed for the bow, a massive Volcanic Ore crystal set into it like a gleaming, silver eye. The entire structure was a mix of silvery-brown, the bone's natural patterns contrasting with the metallic sheen of the rust-iron. Beast Spirit energy circulated slowly within, giving it an aura that was both ancient and strangely technological.
"Chieftain, the main structure is complete," Gareth announced, wiping sweat from his brow, his voice brimming with pride. "All that remains is reinforcement and detailing." The skeleton was more magnificent than they'd imagined. Standing beneath it, one could almost picture it soaring through the clouds.
Liam walked under the frame, placing a hand on the cool bone. He felt the Rust-Corrosion markings on his chest tremble slightly, resonating with the Beast Spirit energy within the skeleton. The Volcanic Ore crystal on his chest gleamed in response, forming an invisible energy barrier. "Good," he nodded, satisfied. "Now, pour the remaining molten ore over all the joints, then add a layer of thickened rust-iron armor for extra defense. Also, leave space inside the keel for the steam engine and weapon mounts. We'll install the engine and steam cannons later."
The artisans obeyed, dousing every joint with the silvery molten ore. It flowed along the bone patterns, fusing the metal bands and bones into solid alloy nodes. Then, plates of thickened rust-iron armor were hoisted and bolted onto the frame, covering key sections of the ribs and keel, making the entire structure appear more formidable and impregnable.
Elara stood atop the skeleton, checking the tail fin's angle, her silver eyes bright in the darkness. "The fin is perfectly balanced. The keel's load capacity has been tested; it can handle the engine and weapons. Once we install the power system, she'll be ready." She looked down at Liam, a flicker of relief in her eyes. "We should name her. Like your 'Boiling One' armor."
Liam looked up at the night sky, stars peeking through the skeletal frame. From dying in a car crash to waking on Rust Island, facing the Rust-Corrosion, battling gear-rats, slaying a Beast King, becoming the island's chieftain—his path had been paved with blood and fire, a true rebirth from the ashes. "'The Emberstrider'," he said, his voice low but firm. "Symbolizing our rise from the rusted ashes, breaking through the darkness, flying towards the dawn."
"The Emberstrider..." Elara repeated softly, a small smile touching her lips, her silver eyes shining. "A good name. May it carry us through the Empire's blockade and beyond the reach of the curse."
By dawn on the third day, the Emberstrider's skeleton was complete. The thirty-meter frame stood silent and imposing in the settlement's heart. Its silvery-brown alloy bones shimmered in the morning light. The great crystal in the bow refracted light into a rainbow. The tail fin tilted upwards slightly, like a giant bird poised for flight. The tribespeople gathered around, looking up at the magnificent structure with cheers, their eyes full of pride and hope.
Liam stood beneath the keel, feeling the flow of Beast Spirit energy within the bones, resonating with his own Boiling Beastblood. The Rust-Corrosion markings on his chest had faded to mere traces. He knew the skeleton was just the first step. They still needed the steam engine, cannons, and a sealed gondola before it could truly fly. But it was a crucial breakthrough—they finally had the means to challenge the Imperial fleet and a foundation to stand upon.
Gareth approached, handing Liam a heavy metal key forged from one of the Beast King's fangs, its surface intricately carved with gear-like patterns. "Chieftain, the master key to the main furnace. All the tribe's resources and artisans are at your command. Do we begin installing the steam engine now?"
Liam took the key without hesitation. Its cool, hard surface felt familiar, the patterns echoing those on the Emberstrider's bones. He looked towards the sea, where the shadows of the Imperial fleet still lurked in the mist like patient predators. "First, we fortify the village defenses. Post scouts to watch the sea closely," he ordered. "The steam engine needs precise parts and a stable power source. We must mine more Volcanic Ore and refine purer energy crystals to ensure the airship has reliable power."
Elara nodded in agreement. "It's been three days. The Empire could attack any time. We can't rush this. Secure our position, gather resources. When the Emberstrider is truly ready, we'll give the Imperial fleet a surprise they won't forget."
Liam turned to the gathered orcs, raising the fang-key high. His voice carried across the settlement. "My kin! The Emberstrider's skeleton is complete—our shared triumph! Now, we mine the ore, forge the parts, and strengthen our defenses! We will make the Emberstrider fly! From this day forward, Rust Island is no longer a helpless speck in the ocean! Together, we will stand against any foe, protect our home, and show the world that the masters of Rust Island are us!"
"Protect our home! Stand against any foe!" the orcs roared in unison, their voices thunderous, echoing through the valleys, filled with long-suppressed fury and a desperate thirst for freedom. The bonfire light danced on their determined, fervent faces, framed against the Emberstrider's mighty skeleton—a picture woven from iron and blood, hope and defiance.
The morning light grew stronger, the mist began to thin. The Emberstrider's skeleton shone brilliantly in the sun, like a sharp blade cutting through the gloom. Liam knew building the frame was just the beginning. The full might of the Imperial fleet, the persistent threat of the Rust-Corrosion, and other unknown dangers still lay ahead. But gripping the airship key, looking at Elara and his loyal orcs, his resolve hardened. With the Emberstrider and these comrades by his side, he would break the chains of fate. In this world of iron and blood, he would carve a path to freedom.
The tribe fell back into a rhythm of purposeful work. The furnace fires blazed once more. Mining parties headed for the Volcanic Ore veins. Scouts rode their trained beasts across the island. And the artisans, under Elara's direction, began drafting plans for the steam engine.
For the completion of the Emberstrider, for the defense of their home, everyone poured their entire being into the effort. And out on the sea, the searchlights of the Imperial fleet still flickered in the mist. The game for aerial supremacy and the fate of an island was about to begin.