Chapter 1047: The Ruins After the Battle

Within the vast temporary refuge, the dragons who had just awakened from their mental slumber gathered together, their bodies weary and scarred. The great sun had climbed high into the sky, and even in the frigid Arctic, its warmth managed to slightly dispel the biting cold that clung to the battlefield’s ruins. Though the cold wind still howled relentlessly across the land, Melita felt a faint sense of comfort and warmth within the shelter.

She wasn’t sure if this feeling came from the shattered yet still standing walls around her, or from the sight of her surviving kin.

Some of the dragons in the refuge maintained their true draconic forms, receiving limited treatment or “repairs” in that state. Others stayed in human form to conserve energy and resources, freeing up precious space for those who needed it more. The ruins were not large, and the shelter they provided was minimal—if every dragon revealed their true form here, there simply wouldn’t be enough room for all.

Beneath a half-melted metal tower at the center of the refuge, Melita spotted the red dragon Karador. He stood in human form atop a raised platform, his fiery red hair and beard making him stand out among the crowd. Nearby, several others busied themselves—some tending to the wounded, others trying to repair machines salvaged from the rubble.

“Melita!” Karador called out with surprise and relief as he spotted her approaching. “You’re still alive!”

“You too,” Melita smiled at the elder red dragon, a trusted veteran of the council she had often partnered with on missions for millennia. “What about Tarkdam?”

“He’s dead. We’ve found his body,” Karador’s voice carried a trace of sorrow, but more than that, numbness. “The others too. Only the two of us from Group Six survived.”

Karador’s sharp senses quickly detected the weakness in Melita’s aura. “You need rest and treatment. What about your implants? Are they damaged?”

“I think the muscle enhancer under my left wing is fried. Also, the entire nerve enhancement from my spine to tail is destroyed,” Melita assessed her body. “The wounds themselves aren’t too bad—I can feel myself healing. But the implants… can they still be repaired?”

“…We can only do emergency fixes—remove the damaged and harmful parts, let your body heal the wounds naturally. Healing magic will speed it up,” Karador frowned. “You know we’ve lost Omega and all automated systems. We only have some makeshift tools dug out from the ruins, and a small supply of enhancers that aren’t broken.”

“Then just take out the broken parts. Luckily, it’s not a critical system,” Melita exhaled. “As for the enhancers… keep them for now. I’m fine; save them for the seriously injured.”

…

A cavern within the refuge had been converted into a medical center for those with severe injuries requiring major surgery on their true forms. Melita, having shifted back into her dragon shape, lay quietly on a cleared platform, waiting for the medic to remove the last damaged nerve enhancer near her spine. She tried to block out the sharp stings from her nerve endings and slowly scanned the cavern.

Supplies and equipment salvaged from the ruins were piled around the cave. Powerless automatons had been dismantled and tossed into corners. The air was thick with a strange mix of blood and machine oil. The original ventilation system was clearly broken, and the only light came from a few magical orbs floating in midair.

Melita couldn’t remember how many years it had been since she last saw such primitive lighting in Tal’Rond—before Omega had cared for the dragons like a devoted nanny.

“The last segment now. It might hurt a bit,” a hoarse voice came from behind her. “I’m doing my best to suppress your nerve activity with magic, but it’s limited. Bear with it.”

“Go ahead and remove it, medic,” Melita moved her neck slightly. “My willpower is still pretty strong… aah, damn it, holy hell, ow ow ow!!”

“It’s out.”

“That’s not ‘a bit’ of pain!” Melita snapped back, still dazed from the intense agony but surprised she had the strength to argue. “Are you sure you used magic to ease the pain?”

“I did my best, but your old model implant interface is problematic. Fortunately, it didn’t cause irreversible nerve damage. Relax now—I’m casting a healing spell. Your wounds will close quickly.”

As the medic spoke, Melita felt the pain in her back rapidly subside, and her flesh slowly knitting back together. She let out a small sigh, then teased, “Model doesn’t matter anymore. We’re all the same now—maybe it’s time to say goodbye to implants altogether?”

“…Looks like it,” the medic said, stepping down from the platform to clean the bloodied tools. The young red dragon’s face was tired, but her hands moved with practiced precision. “Omega’s gone, and many implants linked directly to it are now risky. They might hold up for a while, but it’s safer to remove or disable them. Parts are scarce, factories shut down, and many broken implants can’t be fixed. Eventually, they all have to come out. The only good news is that mechanics like me still know how to take them apart—we haven’t forgotten everything.”

Melita noticed the medic’s skillful handling of the old tools and looked at her with surprise. “You’re really good at working with these outdated tools?”

“My grandfather taught me. Before he died, he kept saying these skills were useful… He was apparently the last generation involved in designing the Gormodo implants. After him, no one worked directly on mechanical design or manufacturing—everything was handed over to Omega and the factory’s automated systems,” the medic looked up at Melita. “There aren’t many mechanics like me—some, but not many. Not everyone has a grandfather who was a mechanic, but everyone finds their own way.”

Melita blinked, whispering to herself, “I never knew…”

“Upper Tal’Rond wouldn’t allow this kind of ‘side work.’ Even most of the lower city districts you can access wouldn’t have someone like me,” the medic smiled lightly. “This is even more illegal than those street corner workshops. Illegal implant modifications are banned, but in the deepest districts, there’s still a market. Omega doesn’t care what happens down there every day.”

“…Sorry,” Melita said instinctively, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

“No need to apologize. We were no different before, and now even less so,” the medic smiled, packing away her tools. “I can manage implant issues, but tissue damage is up to you. My healing magic is limited. If you still feel off, see Karador.”

With that, the medic turned and left the platform—there was much work to be done, and little time for idle talk before every injured dragon with broken implants could rest easy.

After the medic left, Melita lifted her head. The cold, old machines and broken mechanical arms around her remained silent. Without Omega’s support, they would never run again to inject enhancers or care for her scales after surgery.

A shimmering glow enveloped her as she shifted back into human form, then she carefully climbed down the iron ladder at the platform’s edge. She didn’t jump or use flight magic recklessly—without the nerve enhancers, she needed time to adjust to her weakened body.

Outside the cavern, the dim light of the sun slanted over the rubble-strewn square.

Only then did Melita realize she had been lying in the cavern for half a day. The great sun, once high in the sky, was now sinking toward the horizon. A long dusk would follow, with the sun dipping once along the horizon before rising again at dawn.

She took a deep breath of the cold air to steady herself, then noticed some commotion ahead and walked toward it.

A crowd of dragons in human form had gathered around Karador, but by the time Melita arrived, the small disturbance had calmed. The crowd slowly dispersed, and Karador sighed in relief, noticing her approach.

“You’re alright?” the elder red dragon asked. “I thought you’d rest for half a day longer.”

“I’ve dealt with the implant issues. The wounds will heal gradually. No need to take up space in the cavern,” Melita replied, glancing curiously at the retreating figures. “What happened? Was there trouble?”

“Dragons aren’t that unruly,” Karador’s voice was low. “It was just some trouble over distributing supplies and work… Without the automated systems, even small things keep going wrong. It’s a bit ironic.”

Trouble distributing supplies and work?

Melita repeated the words in her mind, her gaze sweeping over the battered camp. What she saw were exhausted kin and wounded needing rest. The problems facing this refuge were painfully obvious: food shortages, lack of medical supplies, insufficient labor, and too few tools.

True, the dragons’ mighty bodies could sustain survival in this harsh, wind-swept land for a long time, but this survival felt hopeless. Most of Tal’Rond had turned to scorched earth, and ordinary dragons, long accustomed to Omega’s meticulous care and the automated factories, seemed utterly lost on how to live in this primitive, reclaimed land…

For some reason, Melita suddenly thought of the distant continent of Loren, and the humans there who had also endured wastelands and risen anew.

“We need to find a way to secure the basic survival of our people first,” she said quietly. “We can survive a long time without food, but eventually, we have to eat… Where is our food coming from now?”

“From what we’ve scavenged in the ruins. It’ll last a while. Though much was burned, some underground factories and storage facilities still have intact stockpiles,” a passing dragon answered. “We haven’t collected much, but… our numbers aren’t large anymore.”

“Those supplies will run out sooner or later. We need to find a way to restart food production,” Calador said in a low voice. “We don’t know if there’s anywhere else on this continent where crops can still grow, but at least the ocean can provide some food…”

“Besides, we have to figure out how to repair some of the factories,” another dragon added. “With Omega gone, we’ll have to bypass the automated systems and manually reboot the machines. We can’t dig up any enhancers or parts for repairing implants from the ground…”

“And we need to build sturdier shelters. Many of the buildings here are on the verge of collapse, and there aren’t enough for everyone to live in…”

Some passing dragons began to discuss these issues, but their talk brought no hope or encouragement. Instead, it only confirmed to each of them just how dire their situation was. Melita could feel the atmosphere sinking deeper into despair. She had never imagined that the once-glorious and mighty Talrond would ever face such hardship. Though compared to the fate of total annihilation they had once feared, their current state was somewhat better, surviving under these conditions hardly felt like a stroke of luck.

Her mind started to wander, then suddenly she noticed something. “Calador, has Noretta returned yet?!”

“Noretta?” The red dragon seemed to only now remember the white dragon who had left the camp at noon. He furrowed his brow and instinctively tried to call Noretta through the Omega system. But when all he received was hollow static in his mind’s resonance core, he realized he had made the same mistake again.

He looked up toward the southern sky beyond the camp. “She should have been back at least an hour ago… The place she went to explore isn’t far from here. Whether or not she found any survivors, the round trip should have been quick…”

“Did she go alone?” Melita asked anxiously.

“Yes, alone… Our manpower is limited, and the southern area is close, so she went by herself…”

Without waiting for him to finish, Melita stepped forward and quickly shifted into her dragon form. “I’m going to find her!”

(End of chapter)