Chapter 1052: A Glimmer of Light

“This is the situation we’re facing right now.”

Red dragon Calador stood beside a scorched long table, addressing Heragor, who sat across from him.

They were in one of the few relatively intact “rooms” within the temporary shelter—a former factory’s pipeline control chamber. When the shockwave hit, this half-buried facility, embedded deep in the rock, had withstood the impact thanks to its sturdy construction. But it wasn’t unscathed—the ceiling and walls bore deep cracks, some wide enough to open directly to the outside. The howling, icy wind swept through these gaps, bringing with it not only a sharp whistle but also bone-chilling cold.

Dragons’ physiology could shrug off the cold, but the psychological blow of such a bleak environment was unavoidable.

“How many dragons are in the camp now?” Heragor looked up and glanced at Dukemore, who had been silent until then.

“Two thousand,” Dukemore replied. “Most are injured or suffering severe side effects from the enhancers and hallucinogens. Less than half are truly healthy. The good news is many of the wounded still have some capacity to work—after emergency treatment, they can help scavenge for supplies. Also, we’re dispatching search teams daily to nearby ruins, looking for awakened kin. We’ve gradually added quite a few to our numbers.”

“How far does the search range extend?” Heragor asked again.

“For now, it’s limited to the area around Agondor, reaching as far west as the great rift. Supplies are scarce, communication is difficult, and elemental creatures roam the deeper ruins, so the teams dare not venture too far from camp.”

“Elemental creatures?” Balogor frowned. “Why are there elemental creatures?”

“Near the end of the battle, the gods’ power shattered the barrier of the prime material world, tearing several rifts to the elemental planes in the heart of Talrond. At one point, the rifts expanded to cover a third of the continent, and countless elementals surged out,” Dukemore patiently explained, knowing Balogor hadn’t been on the battlefield. “Though the elemental energies have since receded and the main rifts sealed, many wandering elementals still linger near the radiation zones of the fissures. Plus, countless smaller residual rifts remain… These won’t dissipate for decades.”

The room fell silent. After several seconds, Andal finally spoke: “The search must continue. It seems more awakened kin are trapped in the ruins, waiting for rescue. With Talrond’s communications cut off and the wilderness growing ever more dangerous, their chances of survival dwindle by the day. We also need to expand the search area, especially toward the City of the Gods. Over there…”

Before Andal could finish, the warped metal gate nearby creaked open. Melita Pernia entered, her face etched with exhaustion. She paused briefly at the sight inside, then bowed her head in greeting to Andal, Heragor, and the others. White dragon Noretta, seated at the table’s corner, stood up. “You’re back. How’s it outside?”

“The dragons in the western district are battling withdrawal from the enhancers, but other areas are holding up,” Melita exhaled, trying to sound optimistic. “It’s clear that since Chairman Andal and the others returned, morale has lifted. And those dragon eggs you brought back today… I think they’ve sparked hope in many.”

“Noretta found a storage vault of dragon eggs at the old hatchery site. She led a team digging there for a long time and recovered hundreds of well-preserved eggs,” Calador turned to the three dragons—Heragor, Balogor, and himself—and said, “We stored the eggs in the catacombs beneath the camp center and set up shifts to guard them. Bringing the eggs back noticeably boosted everyone’s spirits.”

“Store them separately, not all in one vault,” Balogor immediately warned. “Both the buildings above and the caves below are unstable. Splitting them up will be safer.”

Calador nodded quickly. “Understood. I’ll arrange that right away.”

“I never expected… you actually found intact dragon eggs,” Andal said, his voice trembling slightly. “I thought they’d all been destroyed when the hatchery collapsed. Finding these eggs means we can have a healthy new generation—one born free from enhancers and implants. In the days ahead, only these ‘pureborn’ dragons will be able to adapt to a society without the Omega system.”

Melita felt a deep stirring in her heart. In the short time since awakening, she had come to a stark realization: the previous era of Talrond’s civilization was over. The gods and the Omega system were gone, and the older generation of dragons, raised in the cradle of that world, had been left behind by time. Implants, enhancers, automated systems—these had shaped the entire dragon society she knew, but now they had vanished along with it. In this new age, dragons starting from zero needed a generation that could start from zero.

The dragon eggs Noretta found were more than just a symbol of hope—they were the very future of their kind.

“There should be more eggs in the collapsed hatchery,” Calador said solemnly, moved by Andal’s words. “Besides rescue and gathering supplies, our priority must be to excavate those eggs and move them to safer, more stable locations.”

“Good. That’s the right course,” Andal nodded slowly, then shook his head and scanned the room. “But there’s another problem. Have you thought about this?”

Calador looked curious. “Another problem?”

“…Do you know how to hatch dragon eggs?” Andal’s gaze swept over Melita, Noretta, and even Calador, his tone grave and serious. “Among the young dragons in the camp, does anyone still know how to hatch eggs without the factory’s facilities?”

The room fell silent again. Calador’s expression stiffened. Noretta fell into deep thought. Melita hesitated before answering, “If you just throw them into lava or a mana pool… they probably won’t hatch, right?”

“You’d just be cooking them,” Calador gave her a strange look, then turned to Andal. “I… have a rough idea. You need to maintain the right temperature and a stable magical environment…”

“Even a red dragon like you only knows that much. You can imagine how little the younger, less experienced dragons know. I have no hope,” Andal sighed, shaking his head. “But it’s not your fault, or anyone’s fault. Before today, no one ever imagined we’d be in this situation.”

“The dragons have been cared for by the ‘cradle’ for too long. This is what happens,” Dukemore sighed bitterly, a self-deprecating smile on his aged face. “And hatching the eggs is only the first step. Without automated nurturing systems and temperature-controlled nests, raising the hatchlings will be an even bigger challenge.”

“What do we do then?” Melita looked around helplessly. “We don’t even know how to hatch the eggs… so…”

“We learn. From scratch. We relearn these instincts that should have been natural,” Heragor broke the silence, his voice low and steady. “We old-timers from the ancient era still remember how. We’ll teach the younger dragons step by step how to hatch eggs and care for hatchlings. But before that, one thing is crucial.”

He paused, and Andal, sensing what he meant, took up the thought: “We can only hatch a portion, maybe a small portion. Until our food supply stabilizes, the camp can’t support too many hatchlings.”

“Start preparing now. Select dragons willing and able to care for eggs and hatchlings, and we’ll teach them,” Heragor continued. “We’ll take it slow, from zero, from the next generation. We will rebuild the dragonkind on this wasteland.”

“Also, I suggest at least two dragons share responsibility for each egg, or form small groups to raise them together,” Andal added. “We must avoid losing labor to childcare. Especially now, with the polar day already halfway through and the harsher polar night approaching, we need to establish a stable living environment quickly. That requires a lot of manpower.”

From zero. From a wasteland. To rebuild a home.

Melita lifted her head. She saw Andal and Heragor discussing the future of their people. Calador and Balogor were planning how to expand the camp and find stable food sources from nearby seas and islands. Noretta sat nearby, tired but with a bright light in her eyes. Suddenly, another image flashed through her mind—

She thought of a small camp years ago at the foot of the Dark Mountains, of fragile humans building homes and clearing land by hand in the wilderness, of tents and shacks by the Whitewater River, and of that tireless, endlessly creative “pioneer” who once stood on a barren field, sketching the future of their people.

Just a few years ago, she had been a mere spectator to all of that.

The memories overlapped with the present scene, but her feelings then and now were worlds apart.

That human had coined many interesting words—what word could fit here? “Things change, people don’t”? Or “time and tide wait for no man”? Neither seemed quite right…

Melita’s thoughts wandered, overwhelmed by the grand plans Andal and the others discussed—plans beyond her understanding. She had no useful advice on such large-scale matters. After a moment, her attention returned to the room, where Andal and Dukemore were discussing rebuilding society—

“The areas we’ve explored are still too limited,” Dukemore said regretfully. “Even though the search teams have flown to the edges of Agondor and nearby factory zones, Agondor is just one of many cities in Talrond… Over ninety percent of the continent remains unknown. Maybe other places have camps like ours, maybe they desperately need help, maybe they have resources we need—but we can’t contact them.”

“Elemental creatures roam the surface, unstable spatial rifts and elemental portals open unpredictably in the sky. Long-distance travel is fraught with danger. Sending expedition teams without secure routes is suicide,” Andal shook his head. “With communications cut and harsh natural conditions, Talrond’s regions are isolated from one another.”

“We found some ancient communication devices, but almost none of them can be powered on. The few that do work can’t pick up any signals,” Karador added from the side. “Either there really aren’t any other camps within our search area, or the interference across the wasteland is just too strong…”

As they discussed, Melita listened quietly. Suddenly, she couldn’t help but speak up. “What if… we light a beacon fire? Just like those humans did.”

Andal and Duke Morton immediately stopped their conversation, several pairs of eyes turning to Melita. She instinctively shrank back a little. “It was just a sudden thought… I remembered when I saw those humans setting up their pioneer camps. They’d light fires or send up columns of light in the wilderness, so nearby refugees would know where the shelters were… Of course, I might not have thought it through fully…”

“No, we’re not doubting you. We’re just… a bit surprised,” Andal said, then laughed as he tapped his forehead. “Something so simple and primitive—we should have thought of it from the start.”

“We were only focused on fixing the communication systems or restarting the transport lines,” Helagor spread his hands. “After all, it’s been over a million years since we last used firelight to communicate over distances.”

“But in our current situation, lighting a beacon might not even help, right?” Noretta, who had been quiet all along, glanced at Melita and then at Helagor before speaking up. “Not to mention how far the light and smoke from a beacon can actually travel, even if someone sees it from afar, the wilderness is full of impassable obstacles. From what we’ve explored so far, Argondor is almost completely sealed off on all sides…”

“No, it would still be useful. Even if just one survivor trapped in the ruins sees the beacon and finds the camp, then it’s worth it,” Helagor shook his head and said solemnly, “And even in the worst case, like you said, if the obstacles block everyone in the wilderness, the beacon still has meaning. It can tell other camps and survivors who are still holding on—let them know we’re here.”

“I’ll get started on it,” Balogur said. “I’ll prepare the grandest firelight, one that can be clearly seen from across the rift. If the dragons are going to light a beacon, it has to be on a grand scale.”

(End of chapter)