About a week later.
The torrential rain, which seemed intent on washing the world clean, finally weakened, turning into a persistent drizzle, with occasional clear spells.
"The river's water level is slowly dropping."
"We're safe!"
Kay, tasked with patrolling the river, announced the good news to everyone at once.
The villagers, emerging from their homes, erupted in cheers... this meant the flood crisis had passed, and they no longer had to live in fear, braving the rain to repair the dams.
But Artoria couldn't share their joy.
She knew that after the disaster called "flood." A greater calamity awaited them, threatening all life on the island:
[Plague].
"Plagues often follow great disasters."
"Rain and floods mix all sorts of filth together… rotting flesh, animal dung, things like that."
"Think about it... can any living thing touch such stuff and not fall ill?"
The Flower Magus, as if all-knowing, explained the origins of disease in terms the golden-haired girl could understand... but then, his expression shifted from gentle to gravely serious.
"Of course, you could see it another way."
"These disasters are manifestations of the island's own will… This island, and its era, are nearing their end. The signs of the apocalypse are already showing."
"And Artoria, as both the Red Dragon symbolizing the island's will and the king tasked with protecting its people, what role will you play on this path to ruin?"
The magus posed a question with no right answer.
... In an era this dire, no matter what she did, it would be wrong.
…
In the forest, atop the cliff.
Unlike the damp world outside, it was sunny and warm here.
Alaric lay in the cave, most of his body tucked into its cool shade. But his head poked out, basking in the sunlight... he savored the warm, cozy feeling, sensing a power within him stirring under the sun's rays.
He'd had a good sleep.
Without the female Red Dragon's visits, his routine was gradually aligning with that of a proper dragon. A month might seem long, but to him, it felt like a mere nap.
He could have slept longer.
But for some reason, since earlier, faint whispers had begun echoing in his mind… indistinct murmurs that disturbed his dreams, rousing him from fantasies of "Tough! Invincible! The Strongest!" And "Crush! Shatter! Grand Applause!"
"What's that sound?"
Curious, the baby dragon spread his wings and flew toward the cliff's base, hovering above the gleaming white "Hall of Light."
To his surprise, he found a few human figures scattered across the normally quiet slope.
"Humans?!"
Alaric blinked, unsure whether to approach them.
Come to think of it, since arriving in this world, he hadn't seen humans... Artoria didn't count; she was a Red Dragon in human guise, his kin.
And Artoria had hidden him atop this remote cliff precisely to keep him away from people, to avoid contact with humans as much as possible.
"Humans and dragons... when they meet, it's never good."
In the myths of this region, tales of dragons harming humans were common, and stories of heroes slaying dragons were legendary favorites in every land… Artoria didn't want those stories playing out on this island.
But now, it seemed she had no say in the matter.
Circling the sky, Alaric eyed the humans... some lying, some sitting on the slope... with wary suspicion, a blue-white glow tinged with destructive intent already forming in his mouth. This was his territory, and he had to drive out any "intruders" who entered without his permission.
But moments later, he reconsidered.
Because he suddenly noticed… these humans didn't seem quite right.
…
They were a group of pale-faced humans.
About ten in number, men and women, young and old.
They shared a common trait... gaunt, emaciated faces.
Some lay, some sat, moving as little as possible, looking as though they had little time left.
The sharp-eyed dragon also spotted fish bones and scraps like bark and roots nearby... damn it, had these wretched humans eaten all the reserve food he'd painstakingly gathered?
"Is anyone still able to move? Come with me to find food."
Hiding in a tree, Alaric waited a long time before a voice finally rose from the group.
It was a young girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen... disheveled, staggering as she walked. But compared to the others, gravely ill, she was relatively healthy.
At least she could still walk.
The other patients lying on the ground… didn't even have the strength to answer her.
"At least, at least get inside the building. If you stay out here, you'll freeze to death tonight!"
The girl shouted anxiously, reaching out to drag the patients' bodies, trying to pull them into the white fortress ahead.
But...
"Give it up, Winna."
Finally, someone spoke.
It was a raspy voice, like sandpaper on wood, rough and low. Each word seemed to carry grit, forced out from deep in the throat.
"We won't make it."
"You know… those driven into the mountains never survive."
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If they block this again, you can read it on SH (S-c-r-i-b-b-l-e- H-u-b) under the same title.