Chapter 1054: A Sudden Glimmer

The lights rising across the wilderness were actually quite faint—pitifully few compared to the vast expanse of the land. Yet, in those brief minutes, Melita felt as if they filled her entire field of vision; she found it almost impossible to look away.

After a while, some of the lights flickered out, but the rest held steady, shining like stars in the cold, dim “polar midnight.”

“Over there—the farthest one, at the foot of that mountain—that might be another camp,” Noretta said, her eyes wide as she pointed toward a cluster of flickering flames on the horizon, a hint of excitement on her face. “Do you see it? A few smaller lights moving nearby—that could be a patrol!”

“I see it, I see it,” Melita replied quickly. “And to the east of our camp, toward the old Rus Valley, several fireballs just went up… maybe a small group of survivors gathering together.”

Noretta fell silent, staring long and hard at those distant spots. After a long pause, she finally broke the quiet: “They should be able to hold out longer now…”

Melita scratched her head, unsure how to respond at first. After a moment, she managed a few words: “Yeah… that’s true…”

…

High atop the watchtower, flames roared fiercely, fed by a pressurizing device. Though the cold coastal wind howled relentlessly, it couldn’t snuff out the brilliant blaze. Balogur stood beside the device, waiting until he was certain it was running smoothly before handing the watchtower’s affairs over to other dragons and turning away.

He climbed onto a nearby platform where Andal and Hragor stood in the night breeze, gazing toward the distant plains. Several other red dragons lined the platform’s edge, intently recording observations.

“Did you see those signals just now?” Andal asked as he heard footsteps behind him, turning first to Balogur. “There were more than we expected.”

“I saw them, but not as clearly as you,” Balogur smiled—a rare expression he felt he hadn’t worn in a thousand years. “The fire pillars at the watchtower were so bright they affected my sight. Like I said, those were some seriously grand ‘bonfires.’”

“We’ve already logged the directions where the signals appeared,” Hragor said. “Honestly, many are in distant or dangerous areas. Given the camp’s current state, we can’t send out search parties yet. But at least this points us in the right direction. Once things improve here, we can dispatch teams to aid our trapped kin in the ruins.”

“More importantly,” Andal continued, “we’ve confirmed the existence of other survivor camps. At least one beacon showed clear signs of a camp: larger scale, longer duration, and other activity signals nearby. That’s not something a few dragons could manage. Judging by the direction, it should be Akatosh—there’s a sturdy factory and underground shelters there, plus a very deep mine that once housed an Omega system node. Survivors relying on those facilities have a good chance of survival.”

Balogur’s eyes brightened with hope. “So, can we—”

“No,” Hragor shook his head. “It’s too far, and between us lies a blockade of raging elemental storms and gravity distortions. But we can slowly carve out routes through the wilderness. The key is confirming other camps exist.”

Balogur nodded thoughtfully, then spoke slowly, “Now that we know there are more survivors, we need to think long-term… How many of our kind can the camp realistically support?”

“To be honest, not many,” Andal sighed. “I’ve discussed this with Dukemore. Our food mainly comes from a few nearby warehouses and a food processing plant—some supplies remain unburned and uncontaminated. They’ll last one or two months at best. We’ve also sent a team toward the coastline, hoping to scavenge from the sea and nearby islands, but the quantity will be limited. Gravity storms have torn apart the continental edges, severely impacting the nearshore areas.”

“Freshwater is somewhat easier to secure,” he added. “Besides filtering seawater, we can capture low-level water elementals wandering nearby—though we must be careful not to provoke an elemental uprising.”

“So, in the short term, self-sufficiency is impossible. Even if we find stable food sources on distant islands, that’s far off,” Balogur said grimly. “Until then, everyone will go hungry. The only way to survive is to dig through buried warehouses and factories… but that can’t provide steady supplies.”

“Another problem is that almost no dragons know how to farm or harvest crops without automated systems,” Andal said. “Without the ecological domes and weather controllers, most of the Arctic region simply can’t support agriculture. Hunting yields are limited, and skills for gathering and processing food must be relearned from scratch. Losing automated farms and synthesis factories means our recovery will be painfully slow. If this continues, surviving dragons will have to turn their eyes toward… the warmer human world.”

Balogur’s expression shifted slightly. “You mean…”

“Instead of waiting for things to worsen, for some of our kin to take desperate measures out of hopelessness, we should take the initiative,” Hragor said, locking eyes with Balogur. “The era of Talrond’s isolation is over. Since we survived, we must face these changes head-on.

“For over a million years, our kin never faced ‘change.’ They never knew survival beyond the cradle. This is a critical moment—we must be the first to reach out, the ‘representatives’ of Talrond to the outside world. We need to establish a new order of civilized, orderly contact.”

“I’ve already discussed with Andal: dragons must return to the world stage, to connect with humans and other intelligent races of Lorren. We do need help, but we’re not here to beg. We must offer something in exchange for scarce resources, even for living space—everything must follow the principle of fair trade.”

Andal listened quietly, then sighed with a complex expression. “Fair trade, huh… We owe a lot of debts now.”

Balogur caught on quickly. “You mean… the Mithril Treasury?”

“To the world, the Mithril Treasury is effectively gone—except for some outposts outside Talrond, which might still hold something. The treasury’s headquarters and main warehouses have been reduced to ashes, at least in Argondor’s case. We owe a huge debt, and it’s not limited to the physical world…”

“Then we’ll pay it back slowly,” Hragor said firmly. “Dragons keep their promises. We owe what we owe, and we’ll give what we can.”

His voice was low and serious, filled with resolve and careful thought. Balogur looked at his old friend—the leader of dragons for nearly 1.87 million years—still holding the dragonkind together, preserving their survival and what little dignity remained.

“What do we still have to offer?” Balogur asked after a pause. “There’s barely enough here to feed ourselves.”

“There’s always something,” Hragor said calmly, eyes unwavering. “Even if Talrond is destroyed, we possess knowledge that other races would find valuable. Aside from some dangerous technological gaps, we have secrets to share, treasures in some warehouses, valuables buried beneath the ruins. If all else fails… we still have our flesh and bones.”

His tone was steady, his expression setting a clear boundary for dragon civilization.

Talrond may have fallen, but the dragons still stand. Once the most powerful civilization on this planet, and the only one in over a million years to break free from divine shackles, they would not allow their kind to fall into ruin. Dragons would not become thieves or bandits, nor live like beasts.

They would return to the world stage with honor.

“If you’ve made your decision, you have my support,” Balogur nodded. “Now, if we want to contact humans and other intelligent races, we need a plan. First, find people who understand the various races of Lorren. Second, identify initial contact targets. And finally… gather intelligence to understand the current state of Lorren.”

“The situation on Lorren,” Andal mused, “definitely needs investigation. The outside world is changing faster than we’re used to, and right now, it’s changing at its fastest.”

He nodded slightly. “As for who knows the races and who to contact first, I already have some ideas.”

“That’s good,” Balogur exhaled. “I’ll act as well—once the camp stabilizes, I’ll return to the Holy Dragon Duchy. They’ve already established contact with human kingdoms on Lorren, so it can be our window into the continent.

“Though the duchy’s crop yields are limited, I should be able to gather some food and medicine. But I’ll need extra time to prepare—after all, the dragonborn aren’t ready to face Talrond’s reality yet.”

He sighed with regret. “It’s just unfortunate that it’s winter on Lorren now. Food stores in the north are probably low, so the duchy alone can’t buy enough grain from neighboring human states anytime soon… I’ll do what I can.”

“Dragonborn…” Hragor’s expression grew complicated. “Those mountains aren’t rich in resources. Supporting the energy-hungry primal dragons will be a heavy burden for them, so don’t overextend yourself. After all, we never intended to rely on the Holy Dragon Duchy’s strength.”

“For this bold plan, the dragonborn have already borne too much without knowing it,” Andal sighed as well. “We should have been their shelter and guide, but instead, we’ve become their burden.”

Balogur shook his head. “For years, I’ve watched the Holy Dragon Duchy grow. I’ve seen the dragonborn rise step by step. Genetic modifications took their wings, forcing them to live mostly in human form, but they’ve never forgotten Talrond—we share blood.

“Maybe not all dragonborn understand what we’re doing, but I believe most will choose to help their mother race once they know the truth. After all, we are all dragons.”

After that, the platform fell into a sudden silence. The three leaders each retreated into their own thoughts, contemplating matters with far-reaching consequences. No one spoke. The only sounds breaking the stillness were the whistling wind, the occasional flutter of wings as the search squads took off and landed, and faint, intermittent music drifting from deep within the camp.

The sky seemed darker than before. Tiny stars began to twinkle in the part of the sky closest to nightfall. Helagor lifted his head, his gaze sweeping across the quiet, chilly night. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

Then, suddenly, his expression changed.

“Helagor?” Andal, who was closest, was the first to notice his old friend’s shift. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you hear it?” Helagor’s face grew grave, his eyes darkening to something almost terrifying. “Did you hear… ‘It’?”

At first, Andal and Balogor were startled by Helagor’s sudden pallor, but his words truly shook them. They both gasped in unison, “‘It’?!”

“You didn’t hear it?” Helagor’s gaze swept over their faces, as if checking their sanity. “Just now, there was a fleeting echo.”

“No,” Andal’s tension grew. He double-checked his own mind before shaking his head firmly. “I’m certain.”

“Me neither,” Balogor confirmed.

Helagor frowned deeply, also scrutinizing his own thoughts. After a full thirty seconds, he let out a slight breath—but his furrowed brow remained tightly knit.

“Could it be a hallucination brought on by stress?” Balogor asked hesitantly. “The shackles are gone—we’ve confirmed that repeatedly. And once the ritual is complete, the process is irreversible.”

“…I hope it’s just a trick of the mind,” Helagor said in a low voice, “but I dare not lightly dismiss any abnormality in my thoughts as mere illusion. We… should double-check.”

(End of chapter)