Chapter 1147: Blood Ties

After staring at the shattered coastline for a long while, the crimson dragon Karador finally withdrew his gaze. He lifted his head, unfurled his massive wings, and soared upward from the small floating island beneath him. His destination was a colossal floating island hovering over the southern coastal waters near the town—a floating landmass so vast it could support an entire settlement.

The cataclysmic war against the gods had unleashed a tremendous surge of divine energy from the Dragon God, permanently reshaping this ancient continent. The southeastern coast, hardest hit by the shockwaves, bore the most dramatic scars. Jagged, fragmented shorelines and collapsed cliffs were only part of the story. Even more astonishing were the countless floating islands of varying sizes suspended in the air—an enigma far beyond the changes on the ground, and brimming with potential for exploration and development.

According to the three ancient dragon leaders, the chaotic magical environment above the Shattered Coast, combined with the charged state of these floating islands, meant that these lands torn from the Tal’Rond continent would drift above the sea for thousands, even tens of thousands of years. Between these islands, suffused with the Dragon God’s lingering power, surging energy currents and unstable spatial structures gave rise to many natural phenomena yet to be studied.

When the coastal county was first established, the pioneering teams lacked sufficient forces and supplies, so they could only watch from afar as these islands hovered overhead. But as the settlement gradually stabilized and supply routes between the coastal county and New Agondor were secured, the dragons of the region successfully expelled elemental creatures and hostile spirits from several major floating islands. They set up outposts—observation posts, research stations, energy hubs—on some of these islands. The one Karador was heading toward was among the earliest cleared and had since become a permanent base.

With a heavy beat of his wings, the enormous red dragon landed smoothly on a rocky platform at the edge of the floating island. Despite the island’s charged energy, it floated with remarkable stability; even a dragon of his size felt no tremor, as steady as solid ground.

Before the platform stood a makeshift metal tower, clearly assembled from salvaged ruins. Cylindrical components, exposed pipes, and cables intertwined, while flickering runes and crystals embedded atop the cylinders occasionally sparked faintly. Several dragons maintaining human form busied themselves around the facility. Upon seeing Karador—the “administrator”—they merely nodded briefly before returning to their tasks.

This was now commonplace in Tal’Rond. After the war, the old era’s cumbersome, pointless formalities had crumbled like meaningless, ornate carvings. Survival in the harsh wilderness had taught the dragons that efficiency and hard work were the only keys to their survival. Especially near critical infrastructure like communications and power stations, hastily assembled equipment was prone to failure. So even when the three ancient dragons appeared in person, technicians would only offer a nod of acknowledgment.

Karador shifted into human form and approached the tower, nodding to a technician monitoring data. “How’s the comms tower holding up? Any sudden outages like last time?”

“No, it seems stable now,” the technician replied without looking up. “We can maintain steady contact with Agondor and the outpost on the Riftrock Mountains, but beyond that, the signal drops off. Boosting antenna power further just shortens the lifespan of the components.”

Karador shook his head in resignation. “There’s no helping it. Refurbished equipment from the ruins can only do so much, and the surface energy interference is too strong.” His gaze drifted to several smaller floating islands nearby. On one, a smaller antenna array was visible—connected to this tower, working in tandem to amplify the station’s range. Yet even with this, the improvement was limited.

“Placing antennas on these high-floating islands already minimizes interference from surface energy vortices,” the technician said with a hint of regret. “But the main problem is the equipment’s condition. If we could get enhancement units from the factory in Agondor that just restarted, we might reach the Vortex Isle outpost.”

Karador sighed. “No choice. Only a handful of factories are still operational, and we have to prioritize. First, we must ensure stable communications with the West Coast Watchtower. Until all equipment along that line is replaced with new parts, this tower won’t get upgrades.”

“The West Coast Watchtower…” The technician finally looked up, frowning with concern. “You mean the one monitoring that tall tower?”

“Exactly,” Karador nodded. “It’s the only outpost on the West Coast.”

The technician was silent for two seconds, then shook his head with a sigh. “Yeah, that place is definitely more important than here. Honestly, I admire the dragons who volunteered to go there—flying all the way around the long coastline to the other side of Tal’Rond, monitoring that terrifying tower, and having to figure out half their own supplies… I just hope they’re safe.”

“It’s a responsibility we must bear,” Karador said gravely. “We’ve left enough messes in this world already.”

“Responsibility…” the technician echoed softly, then fell silent, returning his focus to the work. Almost at that moment, the crystal screen linked to the comms tower suddenly brightened, the audiovisual signal indicating an incoming connection. Karador’s attention snapped to it.

“Connect,” he said instinctively. But the crystal screen remained unresponsive. He quickly realized—the Omega system was gone. These crude, primitive devices didn’t respond to his commands.

Shaking his head, Karador stepped forward and manually activated the flickering symbol on the screen. A faint burst of static crackled, and the face of a young dragon appeared—the coastal county’s communications officer.

“Councilor Karador,” the young dragon said, “the southern observation post just sent a messenger. They spotted a large group of unfamiliar… dragons flying at high speed over the offshore waters, heading toward the Shattered Coast. Our equipment couldn’t establish contact. Should we dispatch the town guard to intercept?”

“Unfamiliar… dragons? From the south?” Karador paused, then his expression turned serious. “Don’t intercept. Send dragons to guide them to the coastal county’s landing zone. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes, Councilor Karador.” The communicator nodded and ended the call. The technician beside Karador couldn’t help but ask, “Councilor, those unfamiliar dragons are…”

Karador’s expression grew complex and solemn. He met the technician’s eyes for a long moment before speaking in a low voice, breaking the silence: “They are our… blood kin.”

Moments later, the massive red dragon took off from the floating island, flying straight toward the coastal county’s landing zone. Even before he reached the ground, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the group of dragons approaching from the southern sea, bathed in the endless daylight.

As the dragon flock drew nearer, the residents of the coastal county quickly noticed the unfamiliar dragons arriving from beyond. Whether they were hunting offshore, driving away monsters outside the town, or working within the settlement, the Tal’Rond dragons all turned their astonished gazes skyward.

They saw a dragon flock unlike any they had ever encountered, emerging from the clouds and descending toward the shattered coastline. The sun’s rays glinted off their wings and broad backs, casting a steel-like sheen along their wing edges and spines. On this chilly afternoon, amid a land scarred by war, the scene etched itself deeply into the hearts of nearly every witness—an omen of fate, perhaps, that would be remembered for centuries to come by the pioneers and rebuilders of this new homeland:

A foreign dragon flock had come from the south, arriving as outsiders to this ancient dragon realm—and in doing so, shattered a barrier that had stood for 1,870,000 years.

Led by their guides, the flock—numbering in the hundreds—landed on the coastal county’s outer landing zone. The local dragons, who had gathered from all around the outpost, watched with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

These newcomers were noticeably smaller than the native Tal’Rond dragons, yet bore noble, majestic heads, scales, and wings. Their wing structures seemed strange and somewhat reduced, but steel-crafted giant wings overlaid their wing edges. Not just their wings—their bodies were armored with mechanical plating covering nearly half their surface. From alloy faceplates to rune-etched back and chest armor, from steel wings to spine-like armored plates extending from their tails, these foreign dragons were fully armored—like walking steel fortresses.

To the Tal’Rond dragons, accustomed to sophisticated implants, this mechanical armor was a completely different technological path. The novelty of their armor was almost as striking as the fact that they were “outsiders” themselves.

Karador, who had landed ahead on the landing zone, stepped forward and shifted into human form. Most of the lower-class Tal’Rond dragons had never seen a “Dragonborn” in person. Even if they knew of the Holy Dragon Principality, they understood little of its details. So Karador chose to personally make first contact with these “kin” from the Holy Dragon Principality, to minimize any chance of uncontrolled incidents.

This reunion had been delayed for far too many years. He did not want any surprises.

As Karador advanced, a crimson-scaled dragon among the armored newcomers stepped forward. The mechanical parts on her body clicked and hissed, heat and light mist venting from her cooling grids. A light curtain descended, folding her draconic form into the elemental realm. From the shimmering veil emerged a tall woman with fiery red shoulder-length hair.

Before the gathered flocks of dragons, Karador took the first step to break the silence: “Greetings. I am Karador, the current administrator of the coastal county.”

“Asalina, Dragonmark Witch of the Holy Dragon Principality,” the tall red-haired woman stood straight and proud, lifting her chin against the biting Arctic wind as she gazed at the pureblood red dragon before her. “We’re here to help.”

“Thank you… thank you so much!” Karador took a deep breath. “On behalf of the Talrond Interim Council, I welcome and thank you for coming. Please, follow me—I’ll arrange accommodations for you. The town is already preparing food…”

“Just a place to stay will do. We brought our own supplies and medicine,” Asalina waved her hand dismissively. Behind her, massive dragons clad in mechanical armor worked together, unloading large cargo containers secured to their backs. Runes regulating gravity and energy ports adorned the containers’ edges, while their fronts bore bold lettering in the common human tongue: Grant Heavy Industries.

Clearly, these were devices from the Cecil Empire.

“Like I said, we’re here to help. We’ll handle our own food, and all we need is a place to rest,” Asalina noticed Karador momentarily stunned and raised her voice slightly. “There are quite a few of us, and what you see here is only the first wave—the second just took off from Dragon Leap Cliff. Your town probably won’t be able to hold us all, so just prepare an open area. We’ll set up our own camp.”

Karador opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.

The Dragonborn… after all these years of being “exiled” from Talrond, they had come without complaint, bringing the desperately needed aid to this land. What must have been going through their minds as they took flight from Dragon Leap Cliff? How had they managed to come this far? What were they thinking now? And how did they see Talrond today?

Karador, who had lived through countless years, found no answers at that moment. But he knew this was not the time to seek them.

“We will do everything we can to support you,” the aged pureblood red dragon nodded to the young Dragonborn from the Holy Dragon Principality. “Agondor will soon send representatives as well… We are indeed in dire need of assistance. Your arrival will greatly ease the difficulties we face in establishing this outpost.”

“That’s good. We’re here to solve problems,” Asalina said casually, glancing back toward the temporary harbor along the coastline. “So, the fleet that set out from the North Port hasn’t arrived yet?”

Karador blinked, then quickly responded, “We only received word at noon today. They just crossed the Eternal Storm Sea. The earliest they’ll arrive is tomorrow…”

“Oh? Haha, we left many days later but still got here first,” Asalina laughed, a teasing tone in her voice. “And to think that guy bragged in his last letter about commanding the fastest warship in the world—I almost believed him.”

Karador was utterly confused. He didn’t know the backstory and didn’t dare ask. But he guessed the young Dragonborn woman was teasing someone from the allied fleet, which made him want to laugh and cry at the same time—

Lady, you flew here on dragons, after all…

(End of chapter)