Chapter 1049: Hope and the Future

A meteor suddenly streaked into Melita’s line of sight, its bright tail blazing like a fiery sword cutting sharply across the dimming twilight sky of Talrond. The brilliant trail was so vivid it seemed to cleave the heavens themselves—then, just as quickly, it vanished from everyone’s view, tilting downward as it plummeted toward the distant earth.

After a moment, Melita spotted a hazy glow of fire and dust rising near the horizon.

“Did you see that!?” Melita finally reacted, eyes wide as she looked toward Karador and the others. “Was that… a meteor just now!?”

“A meteor?” Karador murmured, instinctively looking up. Many dragons around them followed suit, but more than half quickly snapped their gazes back down, as if fearing some impending punishment. Yet no punishment came—looking up at the stars was no longer forbidden on Talrond.

Karador caught only a fading glimmer at the edge of the sky.

“That’s strange… I’m not sure if it was a meteor,” Melita said uncertainly, still staring toward the horizon. “I’ve seen a few meteors before, but that one… seemed slower, with a long trail of fire and smoke…”

Karador lowered his gaze from the horizon and focused instead on the container before Noretta. Before turning back to the fading starlight, he resumed the earlier conversation. “We need to rescue those dragon eggs—any who are lightly injured, still have strength, and can still fly, step forward.”

Melita scanned the crowd, and before her gaze could circle the entire group, one by one, figures began stepping out from the throng of dragons.

“I still think clawing through those polymer slag heaps and alloy barriers isn’t a good idea,” a black dragon nearby shook his head. “But count me in—black dragons at least have some strength.”

Karador nodded. “Alright, then we’ll start with—”

Before he could finish, the sound of powerful wings beating the air came from above. Melita instinctively looked up to see a massive, aged dragon descending slowly from the sky.

It was a black dragon, but so old that nearly all his scales had faded to a gray-white. His body was covered in countless cybernetic implants—from forehead to tail, every inch of scale bore metallic components gleaming faintly. Many of these implants were now dark and lifeless, some partially dismantled, giving the ancient dragon the appearance of a relic machine walking out of a museum—weathered, venerable, majestic, yet scarred and worn.

As this black dragon landed, nearly every dragon present bowed their heads, Melita included. She recognized him immediately: Elder Dukemor of the Council of Elders. Though the Council and the Assembly operated independently, and Melita had rarely interacted with the Council before, at this moment the divisions no longer mattered. A surviving ancient dragon was a priceless treasure on Talrond.

“Elder Dukemor,” Karador stepped forward quickly. “Why have you come? Your implant surgeries aren’t finished yet—these components must be removed soon—”

“I’m fine,” Dukemor’s hoarse voice interrupted slowly. “The original implants still maintain basic life functions even without the Omega system. Did you see something fall from the sky? To the northwest of the camp…”

“I saw it!” Melita said immediately. “It looked like a meteor!”

“A meteor?” Dukemor lowered his head, his huge gray-white eyes and a mechanical ocular implant fixed on Melita. “No, that was not a meteor… I received an ancient navigation signal. Our leader has returned…”

Ignoring the stunned and confused looks around him, he turned to Karador. “I need one or two helpers to come with me to investigate the crash site.”

Melita blinked. Though she didn’t fully understand the situation, she knew that Elder Dukemor dragging his frail body here meant something very important. She glanced at Noretta nearby and the others preparing to dig for dragon eggs, then stepped forward without hesitation. “I’ll go with you. The others are heading to the hatchery ruins to search for surviving eggs.”

“Good. Melita, you’ll accompany Elder Dukemor. The rest who stepped forward will join Noretta in excavating the hatchery ruins,” Karador nodded quickly, then looked at the ancient black dragon. “Elder, is Melita enough help? If not, there are others in the camp—”

“It’s enough. We’re only investigating,” Dukemor said gravely. “I will handle this. Meanwhile… I hope you all do everything you can to save those dragon eggs. They are Talrond’s hope and future.”

…

To the northwest of the Argondor Ruins, beyond a molten lava lake and a steep cliff now solidified into glass, lay the final crash site of the Talrond.

The core module’s impact had left a massive crater still radiating intense heat. Smoke and dust rose, mixed with the acrid stench of burning polymers. Leaking fluids from the ship’s ruptured conduits spilled at the crater’s edge, burning with eerie blue-green flames.

At the crater’s bottom, a twisted mass of metal, barely recognizable, was half-buried in loose, scorching soil and gravel. The wreckage looked pitiful, as if it had endured unimaginable trials. Yet its core frame remained intact, and the reinforced alloy plating still largely held together.

It was a spectacular crash—yet a precisely calculated “controlled descent.”

After what felt like an eternity, the wreckage stirred. From deep within came loud bangs, as if someone inside was pounding against the warped alloy armor. Bright light flickered through cracks in the plating, revealing powerful magic cutting through the jammed frame. This violent dismantling went on for a long time until, with a loud metallic snap, a large panel was torn off and hurled clear of the crater.

Then, a massive silver-white dragon claw emerged from the opening, clawing and tearing to widen the hole. After some effort, the battered dragon pulled its wounded body out into the open.

Behind the silver dragon came Heragor and Andal, both transformed into their mighty draconic forms.

They struggled out of the utterly destroyed, burning wreckage. Though in powerful ancient dragon forms, the impact had still inflicted serious injuries. The three ancient dragons leaned on each other, resting in the crater for some time before slowly regaining strength. Supporting one another, they finally climbed out of the impact pit.

The silver dragon turned back to gaze at the smoking wreckage below, then sighed deeply, a strange sadness in his voice. “This time… it’s completely destroyed.”

“Don’t dwell on the ship, Balogor,” the aged black dragon beside him muttered, shaking his groggy head. The shutdown of many implants left him struggling more than the others, his nervous system constantly disrupted by static. “How many orbits did we make…? I swear I saw a dozen sunrises and sunsets…”

“More than that,” Heragor, the golden dragon, lifted his head to the empty sky. “We were decelerating all the way down, circling in low orbit at incredible speed. We should be grateful for that time—without it, we’d have crashed straight into the ground. Even dragons can’t survive a direct fall from space.”

“This land…” Balogor finally gathered some strength, propping up his massive upper body and staring at the scarred terrain. He remained silent for several minutes until a biting cold wind brushed past his ear. He inhaled softly. “Have we really returned to Talrond?”

“I’m not certain, but there’s no other explanation,” Heragor said quietly. “The last time I saw outside the window, we were falling toward the North Pole. The only place we could have landed is Talrond.”

Andal lifted his head as well, silently staring into the distance. The mechanical eye embedded in the side of his head flickered faint red. Though the Omega system was offline, many of his ancient implants were old technology—inefficient, but capable of operating independently.

After a long moment, Andal finally broke the silence. “Is this really Talrond…?”

“This is what it looks like now,” Heragor stepped forward. Beneath his golden claws, the scorched, cracked earth crumbled into dust. “I’ve seen this image countless times—in dreams and in the divine ‘visions’ shown to me. And yet, what I see now is even better than those visions. After all, the three of us are still alive.”

“Yes, we’re still alive,” Balogor shook his head in disbelief. “So why? Why are we still alive? And what was that thing that appeared at the end… what pushed us back from space?”

“I don’t know,” Heragor said. “But it was clearly a carefully calculated rescue. Without precise calculations, losing power and attitude control would have meant death.”

The three ancient dragons fell into silence again. Their unexpected survival was too strange, and the situation offered no clues. Even the wisest dragons could not piece together the mystery.

Minutes passed before Balogor’s low voice broke the quiet. “So, what do we do now? What can we do in this wasteland?”

Nearby, Andar sighed. “Whatever happens, let’s not do another word chain again.”

Hragor shook his head, deep in thought. “I need to seriously consider what we should do next. This wasteland… we’re probably the last of the original proto-dragons left. Omega must have already—”

“Wait, Hragor,” Andar interrupted suddenly. The ancient black dragon lifted his head, eyes fixed on the distant sky. “Did you just say we’re probably the last surviving proto-dragons?”

“Hm?”

“Something’s flying this way,” Andar said, raising a massive wing to point toward the sky. “Doesn’t that look familiar to you?”

In the far distance, a huge, ancient black dragon was rapidly approaching, with a smaller blue dragon flying just behind and to the side. They had clearly spotted the crash site below and were accelerating, diving toward them.

By the crater, Andar, Hragor, and Balogur all saw the figures in the sky. Except for Balogur, who hadn’t returned to Talrond in many years, the other two immediately recognized who those dragons were just by sight. Hragor stared upward, his yellow crystal-like eyes flickering with a complex emotion. “…Maybe what we’re seeing is just one of Omega’s nodes.”

At those words, both Andar and Balogur fell silent. They all knew Omega’s original directives—and what would happen once this final battle ended. To minimize the influence of “humanity,” to prevent Omega from developing a “heart” or forging a connection with the gods, the proto-dragons had programmed Omega’s operating logic millions of years ago. It would run with ruthless efficiency and precision, leaving the fate of the entire dragon race to Omega’s AI judgment. In countless trial runs and simulations, Omega had never hesitated to execute the plan to erase all dragon consciousness…

Amidst the tangled emotions, the three ancient dragons watched as the two figures drew closer, slowing as they neared the ground. The old black dragon landed steadily among the ruins, while the blue dragon, seemingly misjudging its footing, stumbled and tumbled right in front of Balogur.

The atmosphere grew awkward.

Balogur glanced sideways at the silent Hragor.

“I don’t know… this doesn’t really feel like one of Omega’s nodes.”

(End of chapter)