Chapter 1151: Aid from Lorren

For a few seconds, the deck of the Winter’s Chill fell into silence. Asralena stood there, locking eyes with Byron, a calm and peaceful smile gracing her face—until Byron suddenly broke into a laugh, spreading his hands wide. “I was just joking—Asralena, what are you doing here?”

“Are you sure you were joking?” The Dragonmark witch gave him a skeptical once-over, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re not just desperately trying to recall something from those few seconds ago, are you?”

“My memory hasn’t declined that badly,” Byron waved her off. “But you haven’t told me—why are you here?”

“I led the Dragonborn squad, setting out from Dragon’s Leap Cliff. We arrived in Talrond a day before you,” Asralena said as she stepped forward casually. “We camped in Seaside County yesterday, while you—self-proclaimed captain of the fastest warship in the world—were still drifting on the icy sea. I overheard the Seaside sentries mention you ran into some chaotic turbulence at sea, so we flew over with the dragons to check on you… didn’t expect you all to be fine.”

Byron crossed his arms, a proud smile spreading across his face. “Not ‘ran into’—we just brushed past it. There’s a big difference. Besides, we have the best navigators and escort teams in the world, plus a modern ship built to withstand sea storms. Even if we had plunged headfirst into that turbulence, we’d have come out safe. So your worry’s unnecessary. Also, I have to emphasize: the Winter’s Chill is absolutely the fastest warship on this planet. But if you want to race it with your wings, that’s a bit unfair. Especially since the Winter’s Chill is towing a whole fleet of cargo ships—I can’t just crank the power to max and ditch the fleet to rush to Talrond, can I?”

He paused, his gaze lingering on Asralena for a few seconds. The image of the red dragon landing earlier flashed through his mind, turning into a soft sigh. “That was the first time I’ve seen your… other side.”

Asralena gave him a puzzled look. “So?”

“Nothing, just… it felt incredible,” Byron scratched his head. “I’ve dealt with other Dragonborn, even other great dragons, and their ‘other sides’ always seemed natural to me. But you… we used to be in the same mercenary company, with many comrades back then… I never imagined I’d see you flying through the sky like a dragon. You know that feeling? The scales, the claws… Of course, I mean it’s all impressive, just unbelievable.”

“Don’t strain your limited vocabulary if you haven’t read many books,” Asralena said, staring at Byron before suddenly laughing. “I know the feeling. We’re both different from the memories the other holds. Believe me, when I heard you became a general in the Human Empire, I was even more surprised than when you saw me spread my wings and fly.”

As the Dragonmark witch finished speaking, Byron instinctively rubbed his chin, pondering whether she was complimenting or mocking him. At that moment, the black dragon Mokorul finally found a chance to speak from nearby. “General Byron, and this is… Asralena, right? You two know each other?”

“A friendship from many years ago,” Byron replied casually, turning his head. “We adventured together, then lost contact until a recent unexpected reunion.”

Asralena looked at the young black dragon with a polite, peaceful smile. “Hello, I’m the leader of the aid contingent from the Holy Dragon Principality sent to support Talrond. We’re the first team to arrive. I hope we’ll get along well in the coming days. As you know, Dragonborn and pureblood dragons both need time to… deepen mutual understanding.”

She then withdrew her gaze and nodded slightly to Byron. “I just came down to say hello. I’m heading back to the skies now. By the way, interested in experiencing flight? I can give you a ride.”

Byron thought for a moment, then shook his head repeatedly. “I’ll pass… flying’s not really my thing. Besides, I’m the fleet commander—I can’t just abandon my post.”

“Fair enough, at least that’s a reliable excuse,” Asralena said, seemingly unsurprised by his response. She turned and walked toward the edge of the deck, waving as her voice drifted on the wind. “See you in Talrond—”

Before the words finished, the tall figure with fiery red hair was already enveloped in a dazzling aura. She leapt from the deck’s edge, plunging toward the gently rolling sea below. In the next moment, she transformed into a mighty dragon, soaring upward beneath the Winter’s Chill’s hull with a commanding presence. The hum of mechanical wings and thrusters filled the air as the red dragon clad in steel armor shot into the sky.

Byron tilted his head back, eyes following Asralena’s form as she joined the circling dragon flock high above. After a long moment, he muttered softly, “…still pretty incredible.”

Mokorul’s gaze flicked between the human admiral and the red dragons overhead several times before he couldn’t help but ask, “I’m curious… is your relationship really just that of old adventuring partners?”

“Why, what else?” Byron gave the black dragon a puzzled look. “You think I owe her money or something?”

Mokorul was momentarily speechless. Then, forcing a chuckle, he gathered his words. “General Byron, as far as I know… your daughter is adopted, and you’ve never been married, right?”

“Of course,” Byron nodded indifferently. “That’s no secret. Though I wouldn’t mind starting a family with the right woman someday, unfortunately I haven’t met anyone suitable in all these years. To me, without a fated ‘match,’ a random partner only slows down your sword arm…”

Mokorul listened, blinking in surprise at Byron’s serious tone. The thought that popped into his mind was, “This bachelor sure knows his theories.” Though he was once a lower-tier dragon who’d never left Talrond, living each day on stimulants and immersive entertainment, he understood basic social etiquette enough to swallow his thoughts. A stiff smile appeared on the black dragon’s face. “What you say… makes a lot of sense.”

“That’s right. I always know a lot of sense. If you ever have romantic troubles, feel free to ask me.” Byron grinned, patting the young black dragon’s arm. Before Mokorul could respond, Byron’s gaze drifted back to the distant landmass now drawing closer. The once far-off coastline was now clearly visible to the naked eye. Against the bright daylight and relatively clear sky, the fractured shoreline’s details finally came into view for the Winter’s Chill’s crew.

Jagged cliffs broken into pieces in the distance, crystal-like tidal flats nearby, visible energy rifts and unstable magical vortices hovering over the nearshore waters, and floating islands with obvious gravity anomalies, along with drifting stones—none of these were natural phenomena. Even the loquacious bards in taverns and the recently famous Mr. Philm in the imperial capital wouldn’t dare set a story here.

“My gods…” Byron stared, dumbfounded, at the approaching strange coast. After a long pause, he said to Mokorul, “I don’t want to judge anyone’s homeland, but where you live now is seriously bizarre… Are you sure those visible magical vortices and spatial rifts aren’t deadly?”

“To be honest… not long ago, they were lethal,” Mokorul hesitated, then sighed. “But we’ve managed to close or calm most of the dangerously unstable vortices and rifts. The ones we can’t close are marked as hazardous zones, patrolled by dragons. Still, manpower is limited, so we can’t guarantee no unconfirmed rifts or energy surges will suddenly appear in the wild. That’s why we established an Adventurer Management Center with strict tiered access rules to regulate adventurers’ activity areas… all to reduce accidents and casualties.”

“Really? I thought that system was just to collect extra fees and management costs,” Byron said casually, then glanced toward the Icebound Mary. “But we don’t need to worry too much. Though many think adventurers and mercenaries are ‘reckless money-grubbers,’ in reality, when conditions allow, these ragtag troops cherish their lives more than anyone. After all, living longer means earning more gold and fenar. As long as they understand the consequences of reckless wandering, most adventurers will strictly follow the management center’s rules.”

He paused, stroking his scruffy chin. “Unless they’re the kind of adventurers who want neither money nor life—they’d throw themselves away… but how could that be?”

Mokorul looked at Byron and laughed. “Yeah, how could that be?”

The man and dragon stood together on the Winter’s Chill’s proud bow deck, sharing a smile. The ship was filled with a lighthearted atmosphere, just like the brilliant sunlight bathing Talrond at that moment.

Meanwhile, on the Icebound Mary’s deck, a sizable crowd had gathered. Adventurers, cooped up in the ship’s cabins for days, were energized by the twin stimuli of a new continent and a dragon flock. They clustered on deck, gazing toward the distant land, discussing the floating islands and airborne energy turbulence. These self-proclaimed “heroes,” who often boasted about saving the world, showed remarkable prudence and calm upon seeing the massive anti-gravity stones and crackling unstable rifts—phenomena far beyond anything found in Lorren.

Their consensus was clear: if there’s even a single peanut at the tavern, don’t get reckless and approach those stones and arcs. The treasures of this unknown land are endless, but your life after a drunken stumble might not be.

Having fully recovered from his earlier illusions, Modir mingled in the crowd. Using his elderly appearance and surprisingly nimble skills—quicker than a thief’s—he squeezed to the front, eyes shining as he stared at the bizarre coastal sights. These supernatural phenomena, impossible to see on the Lorren continent, delighted the old mage.

“Miss Lora, did you see those energy vortices and spatial rifts?” he asked excitedly, turning to the young hunter beside him. “I plan to study how they form when I get the chance…”

The female hunter’s eyes instantly widened, and she whipped her head around to stare at the “old adventurer” who had just blurted out such a shocking statement, her face a mix of horror and disbelief.

…

The ocean fleet from the continent of Loren had finally completed its momentous maiden voyage. As the blazing sun began to tilt its rays toward the shore, these steel-forged mechanical giants slowed for the last time upon entering the harbor. Thanks to the combined efforts of the naga engineers beneath the waves, the sea siren navigators guiding the currents, and the ship mechanics, all nine colossal vessels safely docked at the temporary pier just outside the coastal district.

This harbor was one of the greatest recent achievements of the dragonkin in the coastal region. Despite a severe labor shortage, Karador had nearly sent a third of its entire town’s construction workforce to build this massive port. Lacking experience, technical guidance, and proper equipment, the dragons had relied almost entirely on their sheer physical strength and razor-sharp claws to prepare a dock suitable for these warships and cargo vessels. And in the end, their tireless overtime work had proven worthwhile.

When the first large freighter, the Gray Mountain Knight, smoothly moored, cheers erupted from both the crew and the dragons standing onshore. As the hatch to its number one dry storage hold was opened, mountains of dehydrated grain came into view.

Even for dragons, it was a substantial amount of food.

On a nearby hill overlooking the bustling dock, Melita Pernea stood side by side with Noretta, watching the lively scene below. After a moment, Melita murmured softly, “Cecil’s rice really is something special…”

“I don’t know why you’re so fond of Cecil’s rice,” Noretta replied with a shake of her head, “but I have to say this: while these shipments bring a lot of supplies, it’s still not nearly enough to ease Argondor’s current food shortage. It might help for a little while, but it definitely won’t sustain us until the greenhouse farms on the nearby islands yield their harvest. After all… the dragons’ own consumption isn’t a small number, and right now, aside from a few severely injured dragons, most are engaged in intense physical labor in their true forms.

“Besides, even Chairman Andal isn’t confident that the farms on those islands will produce enough. The life domes powered by draconic runes are technology from many years ago, and most of the younger dragons have little experience tending crops.”

“Of course, these ships are just the first batch. Supplies from dozens of nations will continue to arrive at the northern port, and the quantities will only increase,” Melita said. “The main purpose of this fleet was to test whether this route is viable and if the current magi-mechanical ships can handle transporting large amounts of goods to Talrond. As long as they can safely reach the coastal district’s harbor, the mission is a success.”

“That’s true…” Noretta nodded thoughtfully, then sighed, “With the wholehearted support of dozens of countries… repaying such a debt won’t be easy.”

“Survival is the top priority. Everything else can be dealt with once that’s secured,” Melita said with a faint smile. “Well, we’ve seen the dragonborn and human fleets arrive on Talrond. Next… it’s time for the two of us to set off for the human lands.”

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(End of chapter)