The shriek of a badly wounded dragon was a terrible thing indeed. Kratos dulled his hearing a touch to take the edge off, and moved a bit faster now the crowd was thinning. In the distance overhead, he could feel the shift of mana which suggested the dragon might not be alone.

"Do you need help finishing that off?" he asked, voice slightly raised to be heard over the dragon's scrabbling. For all the words could be droll, his tone was entirely deadpan; and he didn't move to help, regardless.

Instead Kratos made for the wounded bystanders around the edges of the street, kneeling beside the nearest. Light spun around his feet once more, but the glow in his hand and sweeping across the kedan was green, and the kedan's wounds closed in almost the blink of an eye. "First Aid."