Chapter 91: So What Exactly Hatched?

And just like that, the crisis was over.

With the last monster howling in agony beneath Sir Philip’s sword, the battlefield fell silent. No living aberrations remained—only scattered, decomposing bones littered the ground, and a group of soldiers, nearly spent, stood weary but victorious.

No new creatures surged from the mountains. The thunderous roars from the Dark Range had ceased entirely.

Half a minute passed before Sir Byron was the first to break the silence with a triumphant cheer.

Then the soldiers joined in, followed by the militia, and finally the civilians and serfs in the camp. Their cheers echoed along the southern bank of the Whitewater River. Everyone knew this was a victory—and for those who had lived through the old Cecil disaster, it meant something far more profound.

The strategists understood how much of this success owed to timing, terrain, luck, and sheer chance. But most ordinary people didn’t care about the details. They only knew that hundreds—nearly ten times the number of fighters in the camp—of monsters had attacked from the south, and yet, in less than half a day, every last one had been wiped out. Not a single beast had breached the camp’s palisade.

The immense psychological pressure exploded into wild celebration. Even Amber, who had just returned to camp with Hetty, couldn’t help but be swept up in the jubilation.

But after a few moments, Amber noticed Gawain was nowhere to be found. She caught hold of a passing handmaiden, Betty, who was carrying a bundle of potion bottles and trailing behind the druid Pittman.

“Where’s your master?” Amber asked.

Betty shook her head, panting. “Don’t know!”

“He’s in the southern tent,” Pittman said, stopping and turning to speak quickly. “Looks like that dragon egg is acting up again. I’ve got to get these potions to him—there are quite a few wounded!”

The old druid and the handmaiden hurried off, leaving Amber glancing around. Seeing nothing for her to do here, she melted into the shadows.

Inside the southern tent, Gawain and Rebecca had already heard the cheers ringing through the camp. The worst was over; the crisis had passed safely. Sir Byron had sent word to arrange the aftermath, and Gawain had instructed the knights to handle the battlefield cleanup while he and Rebecca stayed behind to deal with the mysterious “dragon egg”—a strange stone sphere.

Outside, the monster corpses were rapidly decomposing, their bones gathered by soldiers into piles to break down naturally. The stone sphere, which had just displayed such power, now floated quietly a few dozen centimeters above the ground, locked in an awkward standoff with Gawain.

“To be honest, you really scared me back there,” the sphere wobbled in place, its voice metallic and vibrating from within. “Those… aberrations, right? Why did they all suddenly charge at me?”

“I don’t know what you’ve got that attracts them,” Gawain said, eyeing the odd orb, “but you, a single ‘person,’ took down a dozen monsters. And now you’re telling me you were scared?”

“And after all this, you can move on your own and even talk?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “So you were pretending all along?”

The sphere showed no shame—though it was impossible to tell from its surface. “Is it wrong to have a strong survival instinct? I didn’t know your intentions, so I kept a low profile. I was planning to observe a bit longer, but then I heard the commotion outside and noticed fewer guards. I thought I’d sneak out quietly to check things out… I had no idea moving would attract all those monsters!”

Gawain nodded, piecing it together. The sphere had deliberately suppressed some kind of “activity” to keep its presence faint. Even Pittman had only detected its life signs by chance. But when the monsters attacked, the sphere saw an opportunity and recklessly tried to escape. Its movement leaked a strong aura—barely noticeable to humans, but like a beacon to aberrations that feed on life and magical energy. To those monsters, the sphere’s life and magic signatures were especially tempting, which explained the unexpected attack.

Fortunately, it had ended without disaster.

After understanding this, Gawain couldn’t help but scrutinize the near-suicidal little mad orb. “So, you still planning to run off? Those monsters were just a small scouting party. If you try to escape right under their noses, no one can save you.”

Rebecca, standing nearby, recognized her ancestor was just trying to scare the “egg.” But the sphere didn’t know the full situation and was genuinely frightened.

“Eek—I won’t run anymore. This place is too dangerous. And, well… I’m starting to believe what you said earlier.”

“Oh?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Believe what?”

“That you and those who locked me in the lab back then… aren’t on the same side.”

Gawain found this amusing and was about to ask how it had come to that conclusion when Amber suddenly popped out from the tent’s shadow. The half-elf had clearly overheard the conversation and immediately blurted out, “How did you figure that out this time?”

The sphere bobbed up and down. “You guys are way less intimidating than those lab people. A camp this big without a single magic cannon? Definitely not the same group.”

Gawain’s temple twitched, but Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm, that actually makes sense…”

Amber sidled up to Gawain, lowering her voice. “Honestly, if I were you, I’d have kicked this embarrassing descendant out of the family the day after he woke up.”

An embarrassment calling others embarrassing? Gawain shot Amber a glare, then turned back to the floating sphere. “So, you finally believe what I told you that day?”

“Wait—I only believe you’re not with those people. Doesn’t mean I believe everything you said, especially about a thousand years passing… I need to verify that,” the sphere said proudly, then added reluctantly, “But I do mostly believe you mean no harm. I remember you came running to save me just now.”

Still a bit prickly, but better than before. Gawain knew he couldn’t expect this mysterious orb—rescued from a lab and mistreated by the Empire—to trust others easily. He nodded. “Alright, trust takes time. Hey, turn a bit so I can see—left, left.”

Amber and Rebecca leaned in curiously as the sphere rotated, puzzled. “What? Is there something on me?”

Gawain’s sharp eyes caught it first: a small chunk of the sphere’s normally tough, rock-metal shell had broken off near the lower side, with several long cracks radiating from the missing piece, extending down to its “waist.”

“Your shell’s cracked,” Rebecca said, blinking, carefully pointing with her staff. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Oh!” The sphere seemed to notice for the first time, voice tinged with panic. “That must be from all the times I fell from the sky!”

“Is it okay for your shell to be cracked?” Gawain asked, suddenly concerned. “Want me to find a stonemason or blacksmith to fix it?”

“Tch, forget it. I’m about to hatch anyway, and you’re not enemies,” the sphere considered briefly, then shook itself. “Step back—I’m coming out of my shell.”

Amber’s eyes went wide. “Wait! You’re going to hatch?! Hold on! I need to get help!”

Without waiting for a response, the half-elf dashed back into the shadows, leaving Gawain and the others staring blankly. After a few seconds, the sphere asked, “So… can I come out now?”

“Just wait a bit. She’ll be back soon,” Gawain said, unsure what Amber was thinking. “She always has her own ideas.”

Soon enough, Amber returned in a rush, dragging Hetty and Pittman along.

Both looked utterly confused.

“Ancestor, what’s going on here?” Hetty asked, immediately spotting the floating sphere. Then she looked at Gawain. “Amber said the dragon egg’s about to hatch, but I didn’t quite catch that…”

Pittman’s eyes immediately went to the cracked shell. The old druid gasped, “Good heavens! The dragon egg is hatching!”

“See? See?” Amber was practically bouncing with excitement, as if she herself were about to break free. “That’s why I called you two! By the way, do you know how to care for baby dragons?”

Hetty and Pittman exchanged stunned looks. Gawain considered tossing Amber out on the spot, but the sphere had already lost patience with these strange people meddling. A deep, low hum vibrated from within, as if charging up. The sphere’s surface trembled violently, the dense, rough shell cracking further. Starting from the broken patch on its lower half, chunks of shell began to peel away.

No one spoke. They watched in awe and anticipation, waiting for the life inside to emerge.

Finally, with a series of sharp cracking sounds, the sphere’s surface was covered in fine fractures. Then, with a loud pop, the entire shell shattered!

The shell was gone.

Inside was a smooth, metallic sphere.

The metal ball wobbled slightly. “How’s this? Am I shiny?”

Pittman blinked, realizing the hatching was complete. “Uh… that’s it? You’re sure you’re out of the egg?”

“Positive.”

“But you’re still an egg!” The old druid sounded on the verge of losing his mind. “You’re still an egg! I thought it was supposed to be a dragon egg?”

Rebecca stared blankly at the silver orb floating before her, then finally muttered, “So… it’s actually just an egg-egg…”

(End of chapter)