Chapter 1497: The Two Plans of the Great Dragons

The Silver Empire and the Typhon Empire each proposed a refuge plan that, given current technology and production capacity, had a chance of being realized. Whether it was the refuge city clusters or the Gondor Sanctuary, both plans had distinct advantages—and glaring flaws that couldn’t be ignored.

Typhon’s refuge city clusters boasted higher safety margins, greater disaster resilience, and lower implementation costs. Scattered across the continent and isolated from one another, these cities acted as “civilization backups” spread throughout the world. Even if some refuges were lost, as long as the neural network behind the city clusters remained intact and a few refuges survived, civilization as a whole would endure.

But this plan required abandoning over half the world’s population from the start. And honestly… it was still uncertain whether these smaller refuge cities could withstand the magical storms with sufficient defense.

The Silver Empire’s plan, on the other hand, aimed to save the entire global population. The scale of the Gondor Sanctuary ensured the barrier system’s “output power” was strong and reliable. Yet this plan’s fatal flaw was its poor disaster resilience. The Sentinel Towers, operating at their limits, were the sanctuary’s greatest vulnerability. Frankly, putting all your eggs in one basket against a world-ending calamity like the magical storm was a desperate gamble. The biggest problem was that the “basket” itself might not be sturdy enough…

Moreover, even if the Gondor Sanctuary remained intact, how the massive population inside could survive until the sanctuary reopened was a century-long challenge.

Many believed the magical storm would be brief, and people only needed to endure six months to a year inside the refuge before being safely freed. So enduring hardship inside the sanctuary was seen as manageable. But High Lord Gawain knew better: hardship had limits. Especially once national governance broke down inside the refuge, the ability of large populations to maintain order and rationality was bleak at best.

A year and a half was already enough to drain every nation’s production and mobilization capacity just to build the sanctuary’s barrier system and complete the migration. The Alliance would have almost no resources left to build enough standard settlements in the still-polluted wasteland outside, nor to stockpile a year’s worth of food, medicine, clean water, and protective gear for everyone. Survival resources inside the refuge would fall far short of the population’s needs—an almost inevitable reality.

Therefore, in Gawain’s view, although the Silver Empire’s plan ostensibly protected all mortals worldwide, inside the refuge nearly half the population would still be deprived of basic survival conditions. This was no different from Typhon’s plan of sacrificing over half the population to meet the scale limits of the city clusters.

No, it was even worse—because this half was trapped inside the barrier.

In this world, only hunger could not be overcome by compromise or endurance.

Gawain was certain he wasn’t the only one who saw this. Belsethia and her court advisors had surely debated and weighed the pros and cons of the Gondor Sanctuary plan repeatedly. They understood its strengths and weaknesses well. No matter how much they adjusted the plan, its inherent flaws were inescapable—and those flaws were the price civilization had to pay to survive.

After a brief discussion weighing the Silver Empire’s plan, Gawain turned his gaze to the two dragon leaders. “I want to hear the opinions of Talrond and the Holy Dragon Principality.”

Balrogel and Hragor exchanged a glance. The latter stood up. This golden dragon, once Talrond’s chief scientific leader and a priest who had served the gods for 1.87 million years, spoke with a calm, steady voice:

“We have two plans. Both can proceed simultaneously, but each has clear shortcomings.”

“Two plans?” Belsethia’s voice held surprise. She hadn’t expected the dragons to have developed not just one but two plans in such a short time before the meeting. While she instinctively admired their status as the world’s once-greatest civilization, her curiosity was piqued. “What are the details?”

“The first plan is similar to the Silver Empire’s Gondor Sanctuary,” Hragor nodded slowly. “We are planning to reactivate the Talrond Great Shield.”

“The Talrond Great Shield?!” Gawain was stunned. “Wasn’t it destroyed on the day of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony? How could you have the capability to rebuild it so quickly?”

“…It was never completely destroyed,” Hragor paused for two seconds, then shook his head gently. “It was only extinguished. We recently completed a perimeter inspection of the Talrond continent and were surprised to find that 90% of the shield devices around the continent’s boundary remain intact. The only section fully destroyed is along the southeast coast—that part was torn apart by the gravitational field when the gods rushed out to intercept the spacecraft. But with our current capabilities, that small section can be repaired.

“As for the rest of the shield generators around the continent, they’re simply offline due to energy system overloads… they can all be reactivated in a short time.”

Gawain’s eyes widened. For several seconds, he was at a loss for words. This was something no one—not even the dragons themselves—had anticipated. Everyone had assumed the Talrond Great Shield was utterly destroyed by the Dragon God. Yet miraculously, it had been preserved. The dragons had simply lacked the resources to inspect the entire perimeter after the war and hadn’t thought to check the shield’s status until now.

But then again, how had the Great Shield survived such a horrific battlefield on the day of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony?

Gawain was puzzled, but his gaze suddenly froze as he looked at Hragor and Balrogel across the round table. A thought crossed his mind—perhaps the Dragon God had spared it because He was afraid they’d be cold…

He shook his head, dismissing the irrelevant idea, and fixed his burning gaze on Hragor. “What happens after reactivating the Talrond Great Shield? That can’t be the whole plan. As far as I know, the Great Shield alone can’t resist the magical storm.”

“That’s correct,” Hragor nodded gently. “Reactivating the Great Shield is only the first step. Since the hardware base remains and only a small section needs repair, this step can be completed quickly. After that, we will attempt to link the ‘Unified Mind Field’ to the Great Shield—that is theoretically feasible.

“During the Eternal Cradle era, the Talrond Great Shield protected the dragons through several magical storms. Its power came from being linked to the Dragon God. According to technical documents from the Noyans and recent Alliance research, this ‘godly’ position corresponds exactly to the Unified Mind Field. If the theory holds, the connection technology we used for the Great Shield can be directly applied to the Unified Mind Field—with only minor compatibility adjustments.

“Together with Andal and Balrogel, I have studied the Noyan blueprints. Although many technical details remain to be confirmed, I believe my judgment is correct: the Talrond Great Shield can serve as a carrier for the neural network and the Unified Mind Field—just like the Sentinel Towers, but potentially even better.”

Gawain nodded slightly as he listened. From a system reliability perspective, the Talrond Great Shield might be a better solution than the Sentinel Tower barrier. Its technology was more advanced, the hardware was in better condition, and it had many redundant nodes. Most importantly… it had been battle-tested.

After all, the dragons had relied on it to survive multiple magical storms. The Great Shield was originally designed to counter magical storms. Even now, it only lacked a “signal source” to resist the storm—that source had been the Dragon God Enya, but now it could likely be seamlessly replaced by the Unified Mind Field, a more advanced and harmless solution.

But a single layer of barrier was far from enough—the refugees inside still needed to survive.

Gawain raised the question, and Hragor’s answer seemed well prepared: “After the Coming-of-Age battle, most of Talrond became wasteland. But through relentless postwar cleanup and reconstruction, although we haven’t reclaimed the entire continent, we’ve made great progress. Currently, one-fifth of the land is ‘green zones’—free of pollution and dangerous creatures. About two-fifths are ‘yellow zones’—areas with controlled risk where residents can band together for short-term habitation. The remaining dangerous zones have clear borders and robust defenses and early warning systems. More importantly… we have a certain scale of infrastructure and have restored some production centers. While still insufficient, it’s far better than the barren wasteland of Gondor.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing: “Another point—many of Talrond’s infrastructure and material reserves are set to dragon standards. A dragon living in human form for extended periods consumes far fewer resources and requires less space. In extreme cases, as long as we don’t shift back to dragon form, we can endure months of hunger… enough to last through the magical storm. The saved rations could help hundreds of thousands more survive.”

Gawain frowned. “That…”

“We’ve already discussed this within the clan, and there’s no objection,” Hragor said before Gawain could respond. His gaze swept over the Typhon and Silver Empire leaders, nodding slightly. “After the Coming-of-Age, dozens of Alliance nations pooled food and medicine to send to Talrond. These supplies helped most survivors through the initial postwar hardships. The dragons are grateful for this.”

The round table fell silent for a moment until Rosetta furrowed her brow and broke the quiet with a thoughtful voice: “I may be dampening the mood, but this still isn’t enough… Talrond’s habitable space is far smaller than the Gondor Sanctuary. It’s located in the Arctic Ocean, making transport of people and supplies difficult. No matter how many people you cram in or how much you ration, many will likely be left outside the barrier, won’t they?”

“That’s why we have a second plan that can proceed simultaneously, to accommodate the others,” Hragor nodded. “Reactivating the Talrond Great Shield requires little time and cost, and the dragons can handle it independently. This frees the Alliance’s resources and energy to establish a ‘second refuge.’”

“A second refuge?” Gawain frowned.

“We actually have a natural refuge that requires almost no modification to move into. It’s absolutely safe and unaffected by the magical storm. Its scale isn’t huge, but it’s enough to house those outside the Talrond Great Shield,” Hragor smiled faintly. “Have you forgotten… the Alliance still controls a ‘Divine Realm’?”

“You mean the God of War’s Divine Realm?!” Gawain was shocked. This was completely outside his expectations—a blind spot in his vision. But he quickly realized it was an excellent idea. “Right, the Divine Realm is a natural magical storm barrier…”

“The divine realms are born from mortal thought currents; they represent a classic example of the ‘observer effect closed loop.’ Even if the gods themselves fall, as long as the divine realm hasn’t completely dissipated, it remains immune to the influence of the magical tides,” Helagor nodded thoughtfully. “Take the War God’s realm, for instance. Although it’s currently undergoing an accelerated ‘disintegration,’ this process spans decades, even centuries. Compared to the magical tide that will begin in a year and a half and end within two to three years, the realm remains an incredibly stable and secure refuge.”

“We don’t need to worry about any ‘hardware failures’ in the divine realm sanctuary, nor about it being breached. There’s no need for additional neural networks or unified mental fields to keep it running. Mortals themselves defeated the War God, so there’s no risk of spiritual contamination inside that sanctuary. Plus, there’s no wasteland poison or dangerous creatures there—the environment is stable and safe. I’ve even heard that the agricultural experts from Cecile tried growing vegetables inside the War God’s temple—and succeeded?”

Catching Helagor’s gaze, Gawain nodded. “That’s right. We brought in some equipment and supplies from outside and set up a small hydroponic farm inside the War God’s temple. The harvest was good. We also tested a water purification system that operates without relying on magic—and that worked too.”

Besetia, standing nearby, was stunned. She stared at Gawain in disbelief. “How did you even think to… conduct experiments inside the War God’s divine realm?”

“Why not?” Gawain spread his hands. “When you find a place with a mild climate, stable environment, and no history of cultivation, wouldn’t you want to try growing something?”

Besetia thought it over but had no response.

Helagor, meanwhile, fully understood why the Cecilians had succeeded in growing crops inside the War God’s realm. In fact, when he first learned of it, he wasn’t surprised at all. He knew well that this was a crucial part of the many technologies involved in exploring alien worlds—one of the rare breakthroughs that could be achieved without triggering the dreaded ‘final rebellion.’

For this dragon leader, who had personally overseen the Dragon Space Program, it had become clear long ago—from Gawain’s many actions—that the Cecilians’ gaze had, at some point, already turned toward the stars and the vast ocean of space.

(End of chapter)