Spyro's Big Day in the Park (Patreon)

For our $5 patrons, Spyro is having the best day ever at Dragon Shores, saving dragons, defeating villains, and swelling up to gigantic proportions! What's not to like? 

Spyro soared through the skies, his sharp eyes scanning the gentle rolling hills of the Artisan Realm. He frowned; everything seemed peaceful enough but, as much as the dragon hated to say it, it was too peaceful. Where were the newly hatched dragons taking their first lessons, where were the masters honing their craft, and where was Nestor? The leader of the Artisans hadn’t been seen for days, and Spyro was getting worried. Flapping his wings, he veered off to the right, landing back in the basket of the hot air balloon he used for traversing the Dragon Realms. Spyro stopped to think. He was fully grown, now; a well-formed purple dragon with golden yellow horns crowning his head, he had become tall and strapping. A fully fledged member of the Artisans, and a hero for dragons several times over, he thought his days of being sidelined by the elders was over, after everything he had done. If something were wrong, he would be one of the first people to know about it, right? 

Holding out his hand, he waited for Sparx, his loyal dragonfly companion, to land. “What do you think? Am I getting worried over nothing?”

The golden dragonfly buzzed his way into a shrug. Somehow, Spyro did not find it reassuring. The purple dragon ran a hand over his yellow frill. “I’ll check Nestor’s rooms… just to be safe.”

Spyro piloted his hot air balloon, directing it towards the castle that dominated the Artisan Realm. A few younger dragons, always eager to hear from the great hero, clamored around, but Spyro waved them off. “Hey, Sparx, make sure to tie the balloon down for me, won’t you?” Spyro called with a wink.

Sparx let out one short buzz. That wasn’t the first he heard that joke.

The dragon plodded through the castle corridors to the Artisan Master’s quarters, scattered with half-finished projects, sculpture, paintings, and inventive machines crowding the walls.

“Nestor?” Nothing.

Spyro cupped his hands around his mouth. “Nestor!”

His voice echoed slightly, but beyond that, not a sound. Spyro was getting antsy, especially when he noticed that a thin film of dust had settled on the Master Artisan’s desk. He hadn’t been away too long, but he was definitely gone. Something colorful, however, caught his eye. Spyro snatched a poster, marked with the familiar logo of the Dragon Shores theme park. “Under New Management,” the poster read, “Dragon Shores cordially invites you to Spyro Appreciation Day!”

Spyro frowned. “What? I’ve never heard of this.”

Running off with the poster, Spyro leapt into the basket of his balloon, already stoking the fire. “Hey, Sparx, have you heard of anything like ‘Spyro Appreciation Day?’” There was a vaguely accusatory buzzing in his ear. “No, it’s not something I came up with!”

Spyro and Sparx flew to each of the Dragon Realms, searching for more clues. The Peace Keepers. The Beast Makers. The Magic Crafters. The Dream Weavers. There was someone missing from each of the Dragon Realms, and in each of their places, another invitation to Dragon Shores. Whatever was going on at the theme park, Spyro was going to find out. Charging through the portal leading to the sandy beaches of the resort, Spyro was ready to attack, flames teasing his mouth. The gates of the theme park were closed, with a half dozen gnorcs standing guard.

Sparx frantically flitted around Spyro’s head, until the dragon waved him off.

“C’mon, Sparx! I’m a hero, remember? This’ll be easy.” He smirked, flaring out his wings as he leapt into the air and belching out a rain of fire at the unsuspecting gnorc guards, sending them into a panic. Spyro landed, cornering one of the big, green brutes as he readied his breath again.

“Alright, big guy! I’ve got to get in the park to save some dragons. What do you know about it?” Spyro demanded.

“Uh- uh-“ the gnorc sputtered. “Valued guest, we regret to inform you that Dragon Shores is closed currently, so if you’d come back at a later-“

“I’m here now.” Spyro shot out a single flame, nearly searing the gnorc’s cheek. “And I want in. Where are the other dragons, you ugly green bruise?”

“Ugly?” The gnorc scowled as he rubbed his cheek, suddenly remembering that he was considerably larger than the dragon. Cracking his knuckles he rolled his broad shoulders and tensed powerful arms before he shoved his thick, round gut against Spyro, pushing him back. ”Like I said, pipsqueak, park’s closed.” The green brute lunged for the purple dragon, and though Spyro was quick, it wasn’t enough this time as beefy, unwashed hands latched on to him, hefting the dragon over the gnorc’s head. “And you’re trespassing!” The gnorc threw Spyro over the gate with all his might, sending him careening into the pavement with a loud thud.

“Hah!” The gnorc shouted triumphantly. It took him a moment to realize he had thrown Spyro over the wrong end of the gate. Already, Spyro was dusting himself off, smirking at the gnorc from inside the park, as Sparx effortlessly zipped through the bars of the gate. 

Spyro gave the gnorc a mocking salute, then welded the gate shut with another gust of fire. “See ya later… ugly.”

“Hey! Hey!” The gnorc grabbed the bars, only to recoil as he burned himself on the still scalding hot metal. “Yow! Get back here!”

Spyro charged down the street of the amusement park’s main thoroughfare, past shops and shuttered game stands, still waiting for the park to reopen. He turned a corner and ducked out of sight, snatching Sparx in midflight as a guard passed by.

“Alright, we’re kinda going in blind here…” Spyro huffed. “We’re looking for Nestor, Magnus, Bubba, Useni, and Cyrus. What’s the plan?”

Spyro could see Sparx’s eyes boggle before he started buzzing in the dragon’s ear, furious that he had come all this way without a plan.

“Alright! Alright, I’m working on it!” He glanced up, then leapt into the air to scale a nearby storefront, scouting out the park. The familiar layout of Dragon Shores was dotted with five attractions he hadn’t seen before. “Well, gee. I wonder what could be in those,” he muttered.

He leapt down from the roof, holding out his hand for Sparx to land. “I think I know where we’re headed next, buddy. We’ll find out who’s behind this.”

The closest building to Spyro was a dark ride, with a haunted house theme adorned with fake spider webs and crumbling gravestones. As Spyro and Sparx approached the entrance to the ride, set in a yawning stone arch, a ride car pulled up along the track, automatically raising its lap bar. 

“Well, that’s ominous.” Spyro muttered. “What do you think, Sparx?”

The dragonfly flitted over the ride car, buzzing anxiously.

“Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Manor, patent pending!” a booming voice announced. “Please, allow me to raise your lap bar for you- what, what do you mean the lap bar is already up? What do you mean I’m still on, I pushed the stupid red button. Oh, shi-!”

Spyro gasped, leaping into the car as the lap bar clamped down, locking the dragon in place. “That was Cyrus’ voice! He’s got to be in there.”

The car trundled down the ride track, plunging Spyro into the dark. Sparx hovered around the ride’s long corridors, shining light on the ride mechanisms and special effects, all cheap jump scares and bedsheet ghosts. Spyro rolled his eyes; Dragon Shores really went all out on this one, hadn’t they? All the while, Cyrus’ voice was narrating ominous and creepy monologues. “This happy haunted retreat holds eight hundred and ninety nine ghoulish guests, but there’s room for nine hundred! Any volunteers? Are- are you sure that it shouldn’t be a thousand? It’s a rounder number. It sounds more ominous that- ouch! Stop that!”

“Cyrus!” Spyro tried squirming free from under the lap bar, but it was securely fastened, and the dragon wasn’t strong enough to bust it open. “Sparx, he’s close by! Do something!”

The dragonfly buzzed irritably as he flew around the car, throwing himself against a small latch. Cyrus’ voice was starting to grow fainter as they passed into a graveyard scene when Sparx finally weighed the latch down, and the lap bar sprung open. 

“Thanks, pal!” Spyro leapt out of his seat, dodging the pop-up ghosts and zombies crawling all over the graveyard. The dragon felt around the dark walls until he found a handle, and pushed his way into the backstage area, cupping his ear for Cyrus’ voice. He ran down one corridor, pursuing the monologue over the loud speakers. “Cyrus! It’s Spyro!”

“Oh yes, beware of hitchhiking- what was that?”

Spyro burst in on a strange scene; three gnorcs, armed with spears, were poking and prodding a particularly rotund, green dragon, his wizard’s hat marking him as one of the Magic Crafters. He was fastened into a strange harness that cut into his scaly belly, hooked up to a generator of sorts that hummed with electric energy.

“Spyro!” Cyrus wore a relieved smile. 

“Hold tight, Cyrus, I’ll save you!” The purple dragon dodged one thrust of a gnorc’s spear, firing his breath at the second. They were clumsy; it was like fighting off fish flopping on a dock. But all it took was one well-aimed punch to the gut, with enough strength to send Spyro flying back, hitting the generator hard. He grunted in pain, gritting his teeth as the gnorc swung his fist, but rolled out of the way. The green brute left a huge dent in the metal contraption, which gave Spyro an idea. With a glint in his eye and a smirk on his face, he started inhaling.

Cyrus, possessing a sharp mind, instantly saw what the younger dragon was planning, and gasped in fear. “Wait, Spyro, don’t!”

But it was too late as fire blew out of the purple dragon’s mouth, and hit the generator. There was the briefest moment as the chemicals reacted, and then, an explosion threw Spyro and the gnorcs back with the force of a charging bull. Scraps of metal flew across the room, and a strong scent of ozone hung in the air. The gnorcs, Sparx, and Cyrus had their senses knocked out of them, leaving them in a daze, but Spyro was jolted back into awareness as a surge of energy shot through his body, his back arcing as he roared out of sheer adrenaline. Leaping to his feet, Spyro felt as if he were on fire, his vision swimming as he steadied himself. Then he looked himself over; bits of electricity leapt across his scales, but he didn’t seem otherwise harmed. In fact, as the shock simmered away, he actually felt stronger. He shook his head, certain he was seeing things. Had something made his body swollen?

His chest expanded with each breath, but it didn’t recede. His arms were heavier, thicker. He rolled shoulders that reached out a little wider, and with an experimental poke, there was very little give beneath his scales. “Well…” he breathed. “This is new.”

Spyro knelt down, helping to steady Cyrus. The dragon groaned as he sat up. “Oh, that was a bad one…” he looked Spyro over, arching his brow. “You got lucky. Something like that could have hurt a lesser dragon.”

“What are you talking about, Cyrus?” 

“That blasted contraption they had me hooked up in. It drained away part of my magic.” He was breathing with some difficulty; this close, Spyro could see that a good amount of color had drained out of the green dragon. “They’re using us as batteries to run the place.”

“What? That’s insane! Who’s doing this?” Spyro demanded.

Cyrus glowered. “Moneybags. I didn’t believe it myself, but he is the new owner of Dragon Shores… and I saw him inspecting the other rides, before I was locked away here. They tricked us, saying there was some sort of celebration, for your sake. Soon as we entered, they slammed the gates shut and swarmed us; we never saw it coming.”

“But… Moneybags?” Spyro sputtered. “That doesn’t make sense! Moneybags is a penny-pinching slimeball, but this! He’s got to be stopped.”

“I’d help you, Spyro, but I’m thoroughly drained.” Cyrus huffed and puffed, only able to produce sparks. He rested a hand on his thick, round middle. “I’ve got to get back home to recuperate.”

“Oh, you can count on me and Sparx,” Spyro grinned, gingerly picking up the dragonfly and prodding him awake. “I feel really good about my chances. What’s Moneybags and a bunch of gnorcs going to do?” He flexed one arm, temporarily distracted by how far the enriched muscles bulged.

“That may be true, but be careful,” Cyrus warned. “The generators are filled with our draconic magic. I don’t know how much of it you can handle. It’s important that- Spyro?” Cyrus sighed. Spyro was poking his flexed bicep, enthralled by how hard it was. “Spyro!”

The purple dragon swerved around, standing at attention. “Sir!”

Cyrus sighed. “Don’t tamper with any of the other generators. You have to be careful around them, alright?”

“Of course. You can count on me!” Spyro proclaimed as Cyrus used what magic he had left to teleport away. He turned to Sparx, patting the dragonfly’s head with one finger. “C’mon, pal, four to go. I feel like I can take on a horde of gnorcs!” 

Spyro charged out of the haunted house and took to the air, gliding to the closest ride. Adorned with pirate flags and cannons, the building made Spyro slap his forehead when he saw the ride name scrawled across a banner made to look like a sail. “‘Pirates Near the Caribbean’? Oh, Moneybags…” Spyro sighed, glancing to Sparx. “There’s definitely some type of piracy going on around here. If the next ride we find is called ‘Outer Space Mountain,’ or ‘It’s a Little World,’ we’re burning the park to the ground.”

The dragonfly buzzed wearily as the two raced inside. Past skeletons with eyepatches and mechanical parrots, they listened closely for any sign of a dragon. “Okay, so no narration here…” Spyro tapped his foot, looking around the ride queue, he stroked his chin. “If you were going to hide a dragon on a pirate ride, where would you hide him?”

Sparx flitted to and fro, until they both heard the roar of a cannon further in the ride. The dragonfly tugged on Spyro’s bandana, pointing into the watery cavern that echoed the cannon fire. Wading through the waist-deep water, past buried treasure and more skeletons, Spyro heard the cannon fire again. Two ships loomed in the water ahead of them, manned by gnorcs. Dressed in pirate garb with eyepatches, hooks, and stuffed parrots that seemed to be glued to their shoulders, the gnorcs went from play-acting a fight to entering into a full on brawl, throwing each other into the water, slamming heads down against the decks of the ships, all while fire spewed out of the cannons.

“Woah. What happened here?”

As if on cue, a familiar voice called out from the hull of the ship to the left, mimicking a gnorc voice. “Yeah, and your mom’s so fat, Gnasty Gnorc still can’t find enough crystal to make a statue out of her!”

“Hey! She’s your mum too, Gnewton!” One of the gnorcs snarled, punching the brute next to him right in the face.

“Is… is that Magnus?” Spyro muttered to Sparx. The dragon dodged out of the way as a gnorc, probably Gnewton, flew through the air and landed face first in the water beside him.

He looked up dumbly at the well-built dragon standing over him. “H-hey, hey, fellas! We’ve got a dragon, a drag-!” Spyro, testing his strength, bopped Gnewton on the head, knocking him out instantly. Rolling his newly broadened shoulders, he hefted the gnorc and dragged Gnewton into the shadow.

“Hey, what’d Gnewton just say? Gnewton!”

“Uh- uh-“ Spyro cleared his throat, mimicking a gnorc as best he could. “Your mom’s ugly as a dragon’s backside!”

“Shut up about mum, Gnewton, or I’m telling!” Came the gnorcish reply, as well as a hail of axes and anything else the other gnorcs could get their hands on.

Putting a finger to his lips, Spyro led Sparx to the other side of the ship, then clambered up the hull. Dodging the chaos as gnorcs tumbled over one another, punching, kicking, and more than a little biting, Spyro was able to slip below deck.

“And- and your mom’s so stupid, she, uh…” 

Spyro and Sparx followed the voice into the hold of a ship, where a massively fat dragon had been tied down, chained to another generator. Magnus of the Peacekeepers hadn’t lost as much of his vigor as Cyrus had, but even his sandstone boulder of a belly seemed diminished, the frills and horns adorning his face cracked or torn. He looked over to Spyro, and immediately, his eyes brightened.

“Ah, Spyro! I thought that was you with the backside comment. Quick, what’s a good joke for your mom’s so stupid?”

“Uh…” Spyro turned to Sparx, who buzzed in his ear. “Your mom’s so stupid, she probably thinks Tree Tops is what trees wear?”

Magnus wobbled his hand. “A little weak, but I’ll take it.” He shouted out the insult through a porthole, which caused a flurry of outraged cries. The dragon cackled. “Hah! That’ll keep ‘em busy. Quick, Spyro, get me out of this thing. I feel like I could eat a house after this.”

Spyro was quick to undo the dragon. As the Peacekeeper pulled himself to his full height, he clutched his head. “Ugh… I better get back to the Dragon Realms. I’ll call in reinforcements if you need ‘em.”

“Have them watch all the exits,” Spyro snarled, palming his fist. “I want to catch Moneybags before he can make a run for it- I’ll fry him for this!” 

“Hah, you would’ve made a heck of a Peacekeeper. Hey, careful with the generators. They’re loaded with draconic magic.” Magnus explained.

Spyro glanced at the generator, humming quietly in the corner. “Right, yeah, of course.”

Before Magnus could say more, one gnorc, shoved down the stairs, landed in a heap. Ogling the two dragons, he gasped. “Hey! Hey, the fat one’s escaping!”

“Get out of here, Magnus, I can handle them!” Spyro shouted. 

Magnus nodded. “Good luck, Spyro.” And with his last bit of magic, Magnus disappeared as three more gnorcs rushed down the stairs- big ones. With his fire breath, Spyro kept them at bay, but the biggest of the lot, a hulking thug with more muscle than sense, braved the flames and charged Spyro, wrapping powerful arms around him, locking the dragon in a hold as he hurled him into the generator. The force of impact punctured the machine, and as the miasma of draconic magic spilled into the air, Spyro belched fire in his attacker’s face, igniting the gas. The resulting explosion shook the entire ride building, and blew the ship apart. Splinters, hunks of metal, strips of cloth, and dozens of gnorcs were scattered across the water, and next to the black smear that used to be the generator, Spyro soaked in the magical essence like a sponge. Inhaling sharply, he jolted upright, the sparks teasing at his body as his arms and legs filled out further, quadriceps, calf muscles, and muscles he didn’t even know he had rippled under his purple scales. Running a clawed hand down his torso, he could feel rows of tightly packed muscle stacking on top of one another like bricks. 

“Oof…” He smirked a bit, puffing up his chest as his pecs billowed out like sails. “Okay. I could get used to that.”

Sparx buzzed in his ear as Spyro admired his enlarged frame further, poking at his thickened thighs. “What? Look, even guys like Bubba are all top heavy, Sparx. When’s the last time you saw a dragon do leg day?” The dragonfly was insistent; no more. “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll be careful with the generators, mom. Do you want to save the other three, or what?” He waved his friend away as they ran for the exit.

The third ride, designed like a safari, quickly fell into an all out brawl; the gnorcs were ready for Spyro, but the purple dragon learned that his new body was just as strong as any of the gnorcs. Punching his way past animatronic lions, blowing fire at the rest, Spyro fought his way to inside a cave, where he found Bubba. The blue Beastmaker dragon was one of the largest dragons Spyro knew; broad shouldered, barrel-chested, and with arms thick and hard as steel, he was a powerhouse. But now, Spyro stood nearly as large as the older dragon. Spyro tensed his powerful arms as he snapped the restraints holding Bubba down. The blue dragon laughed as heartily as he could. “Look at you, Spyro! How’d you handle the gnorcs?”

“Oh, you know, I squished ‘em and squashed ‘em,” the purple dragon responded, puffing up his shield-like pecs.

“Hah!” Bubba smacked Spyro’s wide, burgeoning back. “That’s the spirit. Listen, I don’t know about the others, but I’m still rarin’ for a fight. I’ll clean up the gnorcs here before heading back, but how do you feel about some bear hunting?”

“You saw Moneybags?”

“Yeah, the little runt was running for the ride next door. You got him running scared! Hah, bet he won’t put up much of a fight.” Bubba canted his head, for Spyro to lean in closer. “Listen, I don’t think he’s working alone. The gnorcs are taking orders from someone else. So keep an eye out.” Bubba clapped Spyro’s broad shoulder, then started stalking through the tall grass, hunting for gnorcs.

Sparx urgently called for Spyro to follow. “Wait one sec, Sparx. I’m just going to check out the cave. I’ll meet you outside the ride.”

The purple dragon lumbered into the dark, and spotted the generator, still intact and humming quietly. The inside of the cave was damp, with a puddle of water pooling next to the generator. The purple dragon looked over his shoulder, just to make sure Sparx was gone. “Oh nooo…” Spyro took a step toward the puddle. “I think I’m going to slip…”

Outside, Sparx was flitting around nervously, until the building shook with the sounds of an explosion. The dragonfly’s eyes bulged, and he began buzzing himself into a panic as smoke billowed out of the entrance. A hulking figure filled the gate, making the supports buckle as it forced its way through. A dragon, the biggest Sparx had ever seen, stepped out of the smoke; titanic in frame, his yellow-scaled torso was like forged steel, a powerful chest surging out several inches past the dragon’s snout, shoulders like purple mountains framing his pillar of a neck. His arms surged with mounds of boulder-like muscle, and even his legs were now thick as tree trunks. His back spread out, flanks encased in purple scales bulging as wide as a second pair of wings. Then Sparx saw the dragon’s face, leaning forward to look past his chest. If he could smack his forehead, he would. It was Spyro.

“What?” Spyro said defensively as Sparx glared up at him. “It was an accident! I slipped. Honest.”

Sparx buzzed something that sounded a lot like “bullshit.”

“Look, we can argue, or we can leave Moneybags a stain on the sidewalk. I know what I want to do.” Spyro flapped his wings, and then instantly had to catch his breath as he hovered a few feet off the ground, then had to drop back down. He looked back to Sparx, whose arched brow spoke novels.

“Not a word. I’m not used to carrying this much weight.” Spyro flapped his wings again, harder. Finally, he was airborne, and he made a mental note to exercise them more when this was done. Looking around the park, he spotted a bear cradling a sack of money like a newborn child, running for his life. “Gotcha.”

Aiming for right next to the bear, the dragon hit the ground like a comet, leaving a crater in his wake as he pulled himself up to his new height. Moneybags let out a severely undignified scream as he sprinted inside. “Hey! Moneybags, stop right there, or I’ll…” Spyro looked up at the ride, then glowered. The ride was dominated by a huge facade decorated with stylized buildings from all around the world. A large sign overhead read “It’s a Little World After All”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Spyro massaged his temples. “Alright. I think this calls for a direct approach.” He cracked his knuckles, tensing his arms until his biceps pressed up against his pecs. Coiling his legs, he leapt at the facade, tearing through it like a cannonball. He landed in water that came up to his knees, surrounded on all sides by toothachingly cutesy dolls of dragons, fauns, and other residents of the various realms he had visited, all singing a song that set Spyro’s eye twitching.

“It’s a world where we laugh and play, it’s a world where we cry all day…”

“Nope.” Flexing his arms, triceps billowing out as they tensed, Spyro wrenched a boat off the ride track, hefting the vehicle over his head, biceps framing his cheeks as he slammed the singing robots into bits. 

“W-why did the music just stop?”

Spyro looked over his shoulder, picking up Moneybags’ voice. The bear, still clutching a bag of gems to his chest, was helpless as his boat turned the corner, leading him directly to the titanic dragon. Spyro planted one foot on the prow, the sheer bulk of his leg stopping it instantly, shattering the engine. 

“Spyro! You’re, ah. You’re looking healthy, my boy,” the bear chuckled nervously, adjusting his monocle to look Spyro up and down. “You’ve really, really grown up.” He had aged considerably since Spyro had seen him last, with a well-groomed beard and mustache dominating his face. The dragon arched one brow, and hefted the bear up with ease, plucking him as if he were no heavier than a flower. 

The dragon snorted. “Two questions, Moneybags. One, where’s the dragon in this ride, and two, who’s your partner?”

The bear squirmed, fussing with his suit jacket. “I- I’m sure I don’t know what you-” he was cut short as Spyro wound back his battering ram of an arm and punched straight through the wall next to them. “W-well, why don’t we just take a walk further in, hm? I might remember a few things.”

“I thought you might.”

Spyro carried Moneybags into a section modeled off the Dream Weaver’s world. With direction from Moneybags, Spyro dismantled a temple where he found the muscular Dreamweaver, Useni, tied down. The green dragon’s long, red mustache was wilted, and he needed help sitting up after Spyro pried him free.

“Spyro!” He looked up, ogling the huge dragon that had rescued him. “You, uhm. Wow. You got bigger.” He shook his head. “Thank you so much. I was going to go mad if I had to listen to that song much longer; it’s the stuff of nightmares.”

Spyro grinned. “Yeah, I can imagine.” He then turned his attention back to Moneybags. “I’ve seen a lot of messed up stuff in my travels, but this? And from you? Who put you up to this?”

Moneybags quavered. “I-it was my idea! Using dragons to power rides, i-it’s cost effective! Saved me millions! But, oh, you caught me, haha. Guess you should take me far, far away from here. Now. Right away.”

Useni crossed his arms. “He’s lying. It’s Ripto, I saw him in one of the bear’s dreams the first night we were here.”

“Ripto?” Spyro shook Moneybags hard. “That dragon-hating psychopath? What were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t!” Moneybags shouted. “The little monster came out of nowhere, swayed all my workers by saying he could make them stronger than dragons, and washed me out! It was a total hostile takeover, I swear!”

“The money he paid you was a salve, certainly,” Useni muttered. Moneybags glared abruptly at the dragon. The Dreamweaver shrugged. “He dreams about money a lot. Worryingly so. Don’t… touch any gems he offers before you wash them, Spyro.”

Moneybags muttered darkly under his breath before turning back to the purple dragon. “We’ve always been able to make a deal, haven’t we, Spyro? I’ve always held up my end of the bargain. Ripto threatened to turn me into something horrible if I revealed he was involved in this, but with you to protect me, I can tell you everything, yes? For a modest fee, of course.”

Spyro’s immediate response was to stare daggers at Moneybags as he picked up one of the singing robots and squeezed it until it burst, sending bolts and bits of wire flying, barely flexing his arm as he did.

“For free, then!” Moneybags cried out, choking on the words. “He’s holding the Artisan leader in the castle coaster. He spends most of his time there, as a hideout.”

“There. Was that so hard?” Spyro looked back to Useni. “Will you be alright?”

“I’ve got just enough to teleport back home. Don’t worry about me, Spyro. Go save Nestor, and stop Ripto!” The Dreamweaver snapped his fingers, vanishing.

“Let’s go for a ride, Moneybags.” He then glanced down at the still intact generator Useni had been wired to, slowly smiling to himself. “Well, maybe just one more for the road…”

The pavement cracked under Spyro’s feet as he lumbered towards the fake castle that served as Dragon Shores’ centerpiece. Draconic magic in abundance was coursing through his veins, powering a mammoth body. His earth-shaking legs were thicker than most dragons’ torsos, and his chest billowed out like a cliff, dominating the geography of his body. His arms, hard as steel, kept Moneybags firmly in his grasp, slung over his mountainous shoulder and given a view of the rolling hills of muscle that made up his vast back.

“I-it’s really not necessary to bring me along, I’m sure I’m just slowing you down, Spyro,” the bear chuckled nervously.

“Oh not at all,” Spyro grinned, jostling the bear wedged between his boulder-sized traps. “You’re light as a feather. Lost weight?” He marched up to the castle’s main entrance, a grand stone gate with stairs just inside leading to the roller coaster. Setting Moneybags down, he crossed his arms, biceps jostling his meaty pecs as he peered down at the bear.

“Alright, now’s your chance to tell me about any traps Ripto’s got planned. If I fall through a trapdoor, I’m coming after you, first.”

Moneybags dithered for a moment, shivering as he was eclipsed by the dragon’s shadow. “Ah… you’re sure you can beat him?”

Spyro arched a brow, reaching out for a street lamp. With the slightest ripple in his massive arm, he plucked the lamp out of the ground like a daisy, then bent the metal into a pretzel. “I’ve beaten him twice before, and now I can grind him into dust if I wanted.”

Moneybags gulped. “Fair… use the back entrance, then. He’s known someone has broken into the park, and took time to booby trap the main entrance.” He gestured to a small, indiscreet door to the side. “Er… that is, if you can fit.”

“I’ll make it work.” Spyro stomped off, then turned around. “I’m gonna need Sparx with me, so I’ll trust you not to run off.” He pointed to his own eyes, then pointed those same fingers at Moneybags. “Don’t make me come looking for you.” 

“Oh, you can trust me,” Moneybags said, a little too quickly.

“Mhm.” Spyro patted the bear on the head, and with each pat, buried him a little deeper into the pavement until Moneybags was buried up to his waist. “There. Now I trust you.”

Nodding to Sparx, Spyro approached the door; he was considerably wider and taller than the entrance. “Ah… hm.” Rolling his mountainous shoulders and tensing his arms, the hulking dragon tore the door off and forced his way in, cracking the stone and dislodging large chunks of plaster. Sparx, barely able to squeeze past him, buzzed angrily in his ear.

“Yes, I’m sure he heard that, but like I said, I made it work,” Spyro grunted, shaking his arms loose of dust and plaster as he regarded the Spyro-shaped hole where the door used to be. He wedged his way past the utilities of the ride, hydraulic pumps, chains, motors, and wiring, until he popped out near the coaster’s loading dock. One of the coaster’s trains was waiting, and in the back car, tied down and gagged, was Nestor, the last dragon Spyro came to rescue.

“Hey! Master Nestor, I’m here!” Spyro rushed for the train, but he was shoved back by a wave of magical energy, sending him hurtling into a wall which cratered as he hit it.

“Hah!” Hopping into the front train was a diminutive dinosaur, with a single horn crowning his head. Ripto hadn’t changed much since Spyro had seen him last, save for the waxed mustache and goatee adorning his face which he twirled with glee. “I never took you for the meathead type, Spyro, but hey, if that means you’re too stupid to defeat me, I’m good with that. Take care of the park, and give that no-good Moneybags a good kick in the rear for me. Nestor and I are taking our vacation elsewhere.” He pointed an ornate staff at Nestor. “If just a bit of draconic essence can do all that to you, I can’t wait to see what every last drop of a master dragon could do for me!” 

With a wave of his staff, Ripto swung the lever on, and the roller coaster lurched into motion as Spyro helplessly beat his fists against the energy shield. “So long, Spyro! Enjoy weight lifting your way into failure.”

Nestor shouted out a muffled cry for help, trying to wriggle free, and then whipped out of sight. Spyro grit his teeth, clenching his fist. “Okay. I’m about to make a hole in the ceiling, Sparx. You try to keep Ripto’s staff away from him, and I’ll stop the roller coaster.”

The dragonfly saluted Spyro. The massive dragon coiled his huge legs, then sprang into action, holding up his fist to bash through the ceiling. A hail of crumpled stone and plaster rained down, and the dragon was airborne. He saw Sparx zipping towards the train as it began clacking its way up the first hill, and Spyro scanned the track; Ripto had an escape plan, he knew that much. A spark of magical energy caught his eye, and he saw it; just after the first loop, a portal had appeared. Spyro raced down, hurtling towards the track.

Sparx only just caught up with the train before it roared down the first hill, clinging on to the large ruby topping Ripto’s staff for dear life. The devilish dinosaur snarled, trying to shake off the dragonfly. “Get off, you stupid insect! I’ll fry you to a crisp!” His ruby then glowed red hot as Ripto fired a beam of energy, which Sparx only just dodged. Darting around Ripto, Sparx lighted on the safety bar, and the evil reptile fired, disintegrating his lap bar as Sparx flew off. 

“No, no, no!” Ripto gripped his seat in a panic, as his staff sailed out of his hand. He looked up ahead, towards his portal and freedom- then he saw Spyro. “Oh, for the love of-“

Spyro touched down on the track just before the portal, making the metal bars groan. Glaring at the oncoming coaster, Spyro reached down and snapped the tracks in two, bending the track into a ramp. Holding it up, resting it on his massive, sprawling back, the coaster train flew off the track, hurtling into the air. 

“Curse you, Spyro!” a panicked Ripto screamed. Smirking, Spyro launched himself into the air, beating his powerful wings until he was directly beneath the coaster train as it started to descend from its airborne arc. Bracing himself, tensing every swollen muscle, he caught the train, grunting heavily as he snatched it out of the air. 

It was all over from there; the massive beast of a dragon gently set the train down and snapped Nestor’s restraints before prying a terrified Ripto free from his death grip on his seat. He wedged the reptilian villain between his beefy swollen chest and his hill-sized bicep, then turned to Nestor. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Oh, ah. A little shaken, but I’ve fared worse.” The broad-shouldered artisan stood to his full height; he barely made it to Spyro’s chest now. “What on earth happened to you, Spyro? Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

“Uh… I’ve been working out?” Spyro smiled guiltily. 

“Ah-hah. I really need to return home and get things ready for your return; I trust you have it under control from here?”

Spyro grinned. “Of course.”

“Mhm. Try not to engage in too many heroics before you get back… you’re starting to make the rest of us feel embarrassed,” Nestor quipped with a wry smirk before disappearing.

“Ah…” Spyro jostled Ripto. “Alone at last,” he smirked.

“Gah! You oversized whelp! Just wait until I get a hold of my staff, when I do, vengeance will be- ack!” Ripto wheezed for breath as Spyro squeezed, flexing his arm tightly.

“I’ve got one question for you, Ripto. Ah, Moneybags! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Spyro spotted the bear, definitely not where he had left him. Moneybags let out an undignified squeal as he tried to escape, but the hulking dragon pinned him down, planting a foot on his backside.

“Alright, boys. I’m still the good-natured kid hero I’ve always been. Just, you know, there’s a lot more of me now,” he smirked, flexing his monumental arm, his bicep surging in size. “So, I promise I won’t hurt you guys, but first… you’re gonna tell me where you’ve got that last draconic generator. Just wanna be thorough, y’know?”