Chapter 1050 — Hope and the Future

A meteor suddenly appeared in Metzen's field of view, trailing a bright tail and scorching firelight, carving a striking arc across the dim dusk as if a blade had abruptly cleaved the sky of Thalundor—and then, in moments, it vanished from everyone's sight, plunging at a slant toward the distant earth.

A while later, Metzen finally saw a hazy bloom of firelight and dust rising near the horizon.

"Did you all see that!?" Only then did Metzen snap out of it, her eyes wide as she looked toward Karador and the other kin. "That thing just now... was that a meteor!?"

"A meteor?" Karador murmured instinctively, lifting his head—and many dragons present raised theirs as well, before more than half of them reflexively jerked their gazes back down from the sky, as though dreading some imminent punishment, yet the punishment did not come—gazing at the stars was no longer taboo on the continent of Thalundor.

Karador only managed to catch a fading smear of light at the edge of the sky.

"That was strange... I don't know if it was a meteor," Metzen said, still gazing into the distance, her tone uncertain. "I've only ever happened to glimpse a few meteors now and then, but that one just now... seemed slower than the ones I've seen, and it had a long trail of fire and smoke..."

Karador withdrew his gaze from the horizon and let his eyes settle once more on the vessel before Noreta. Before concerning himself with that fading gleam of starlight, he first resumed the earlier topic. "We need to get those dragon eggs out—those of you lightly wounded, those still with strength, those still able to fly, step forward."

Metzen looked around, and before her gaze had swept the whole gathering, one figure after another had already stepped out from the ranks of dragons.

"I still don't think digging at those polymer slag heaps and alloy barriers with our claws is a good idea," said a black dragon not far from Metzen, shaking its head. "But count me in anyway—black dragons have at least got a bit more brawn."

Karador nodded. "Good, then we'll first—"

Before the red dragon could finish, the sound of dragon wings beating the air suddenly came from above, and Metzen instinctively looked up to see a massive, aged dragon spreading its wings and descending slowly from the sky.

It was a black dragon, but so ancient that its scales had turned almost gray-white across its entire body, and traces of implant modification covered it from head to tail—nearly every inch of scale bore components gleaming with a metallic sheen. At this moment many of those implants were dark and inert, and many more were visibly half-dismantled, making the aged dragon look like some ancient machine wheeled out of a museum—weathered, ancient, majestic, yet scarred beyond measure.

The instant the black dragon alighted from the sky, nearly every dragon present lowered its head, Metzen included—she recognized the black dragon's identity: this was the Grand Elder of the Senate, Lord Dukemore. Though the Council and the Senate were two independently operating bodies, and Metzen had seldom had contact with Senate members in the past, at this moment there was no longer any distinction between Senate and Council on the soil of Thalundor; a living primordial dragon was a treasure beyond price.

"Elder Dukemore," the red dragon Karador stepped forward at once, "what brings you here? Your implant surgery is not yet complete—these components must be removed as soon as possible—"

"It doesn't matter—the advantage of primitive-type implants is that even cut off from the Omega system, their basic life-support functions operate normally," Elder Dukemore said slowly, his voice somewhat hoarse. "Did you just see something fall from the sky? It landed to the northwest of the camp..."

"I saw it!" Metzen said at once. "It looked like a meteor!"

"A meteor?" Dukemore lowered his head, his huge gray-white eyes—and one mechanical prosthetic eye—fixed on Metzen. "No, that was no meteor... I received an ancient navigation signal. Our leader has returned..."

Then, paying no mind to the astonished and bewildered expressions of Metzen and the surrounding dragons, he turned directly to Karador. "I need one or two helpers to come with me to investigate the crash site."

Metzen blinked. Though she still could not quite make sense of the situation, she knew that Elder Dukemore must have appeared here in this condition for a purpose of great importance. She glanced at Noreta standing not far off, and at her kin preparing to set out and dig for the dragon eggs, then stepped forward without hesitation. "I'll go with you—the others are about to head to the incubation factory to search for any surviving eggs."

"Good, then Metzen, you'll move with Elder Dukemore, and the rest of you who stepped forward just now will go with Noreta to dig for dragon eggs in the ruins of the incubation factory," Karador said with a quick nod, then looked at the aged black dragon before him. "Elder, is Metzen alone enough help? If not, there are still others in the camp—"

"That will be quite enough—we are only going to investigate," Elder Dukemore said in a deep voice. "I will handle this matter. Meanwhile... I want you to spare no effort in saving those dragon eggs—they are the hope and the future of Thalundor."

……

Northwest of the Agundor ruins, past a molten lake of lava and a steep cliff that had solidified into glass, lay the final crash site of the Thalundor.

Astonishing heat still radiated from the crater made by the core module's fall; the rising smoke and dust carried the peculiar stench of certain polymers burning, and liquid matter leaking from the ship's conduits had spilled along the crater's edge, blazing with a blue-green flame.

At the bottom of the crater, a mass of twisted metal, barely recognizable in form, lay half-buried in loose, scorching soil and gravel. The metal looked utterly wretched, as though it had endured trials beyond human imagining—yet even so, part of its core framework remained intact, and the reinforced alloy plating covering that framework was for the most part still whole.

It had been a spectacular fall—and yet also a precisely calculated "safe crash."

Several dozen minutes passed before the wreckage that had fallen from space finally showed any other sign of activity: heavy thuds echoed from deep within the debris, as though someone inside was striking the twisted alloy plates with tremendous force, and bright light flared from the gaps between plating and frame, as if someone were cutting through the deformed, jammed framework with powerful magic. This crude "dismantling" went on for a long while, until at last, with a great clang of metal snapping and flying off, a large plate of the wreckage's surface was finally pried away and shot straight out beyond the crater.

Then a massive silver-white dragon claw reached out through the newly opened breach, tearing at it with force to widen the hole further, and after more struggling, the silver-white dragon finally thrust its battered body out through the opening.

Close behind the silver-white dragon came Heragor and Anqian, both in dragon form.

They struggled out of the thoroughly wrecked and burning ship's remains. Though they had taken the form of powerful dragons, the impact of the fall had still done them no small harm. The three primordial dragons, dragging their wounded bodies and spinning heads, rested in the crater for quite a while before recovering some strength, then, supporting one another, struggled on for a long time more before they finally reached the outside of the crater.

The silver-white dragon turned its head to look at the ship's wreckage still smoking at the bottom of the crater, and only after a long while did it heave a sigh tinged with inexplicable sorrow. "This time it's utterly destroyed..."