Chapter 404: A Home Reborn

The coast of the Isle of Dragons lay strewn with giant dragons, most half-dead and deeply unconscious. They had survived Milos's shackles and life absorption, but the ordeal had grievously damaged their bodies. They were hollowed out to their very cores.

"This one isn't too bad. A little of my blood should mend his ruptured organs, and then a restorative tonic and some rest will set him right."

Wang Yu shoved his hand into a blue dragon's maw. Crimson lifeblood surged forth from his bloodpool, flooding into the beast's body. It spread through the dragon's failing organs, knitting torn flesh together while nourishing his vast yet frail frame.

The wounds shrank. The measured flow of sustenance slowly steadied the blue dragon's strength. With a sudden jolt, his eyes snapped open. He lunged forward with a roar, jaws clamping over Wang Yu's arm.

Wang Yu sprang back just in time, narrowly evading the crushing fangs. Raising his right arm, now sheathed in a faint golden glow, he braced for impact against the oncoming dragon.

The two forces collided. Though the dragon was weakened and its charge sluggish, the sheer bulk of his body still represented a fearsome weight. Yet in the instant his head met Wang Yu's palm, all his momentum vanished as if swallowed whole.

Stepping forward, Wang Yu gripped the dragon's neck, caught his foreclaw, and heaved as a burst of fighting spirit coursed through his muscles. The massive dragon was hurled over his shoulder and smashed into the ground behind him with a thunderous crash.

"Clear your head. I'm here to help, not fight."

His voice rang firm. The dragon's assault had been a reflexive action, his mind still trapped in Milos's nightmare haze of torment.

After being shackled by the Dragon God, then immediately ravaged by Milos, it was little wonder their awakening felt like rousing from a centuries-long dream.

"It's... over?"

The blue dragon's voice was weak and dazed. He stared at the man who had tossed his towering bulk aside as though it were nothing.

Wang Yu's frame might seem unchanged, but after channeling the Dragon King's vessel, his body had finally crossed the threshold of legend. The life force stolen from the mutated dragons, the lessons wrested from Wendel Myx's shell—none of it went wasted.

Against him, even a healthy dragon wouldn't have an advantage. These half-crippled survivors stood no chance at all. Luckily, their hides were tough enough that a few tosses did little lasting harm.

"Right. It's all over. That abyssal spawn Milos is dead. The dragons are free at last."

He turned toward the next dragon.

"That abyssal creature... has been slain? Then, what about our king?"

The blue dragon still seemed to be in a daze. He lay sprawled where Wang Yu had flung him.

"He's dead," Wang Yu replied bluntly.

His hand probed deep into the next dragon's throat, channeling blood within. He frowned at the Chariot's feedback. The dragon had broken bones and countless fractures. The damage was worse than he'd thought.

"He... How could..."

The dragon could scarcely process that shocking fact. His muddled mind balked at the stark truth, his words faltering.

A flash of white light shot by. A silver dragon appeared before the stricken beast. Aurelian's gaze flicked toward Wang Yu, who was busy rummaging in his storage tool for a potion before tossing it into his patient's maw.

"He'll live. His mind's just clouded. Let him rest, then put him to work. Skyborne City is preparing to welcome more displaced citizens, but it can only provide limited aid. The merfolk and I can't handle everything alone. We'll need the Isle of Dragons' survivors to rise up and fend for themselves."

Wang Yu's words came from deep within the gullet of the giant dragon he was treating. For convenience, he had crawled bodily into it as he worked.

Aurelian nodded, her silver light enveloping the blue dragon as she carried him away.

Another dragon roared, snapping his jaws shut on Wang Yu. He braced both hands against the dragon's maw, forcing it back open by sheer strength. For a heartbeat they struggled. Then he withdrew, seized the dragon's body, and slammed it over his shoulder into the earth.

"Stimulation of the heart works, but the bones are too far gone. Let this one rest. Any labor might lead to permanent damage, at this point."

Clapping his blood-stained hands, he strode toward his next patient without looking back. The blood that slicked his skin was not his own, but his patients'.

He had pierced a dragon's chest to jolt its heart directly, shocking the beast back to life so that the dragon's natural regeneration could take over.

Aurelian's silver eyes lingered on him. She had known Sieg's friend only briefly during their clash in the undead plane. Only now, in the wake of Milos's fall, did she begin to fathom what sort of man he was.

Driving Wendel Myx's colossal vessel was outrageous enough, yet this man, not even a healer by trade, had personally taken on nearly a third of the wounded dragons' care. His methods were bizarre, even grotesque, but undeniably effective.

On the Isle of Dragons, there were three major factions laboring to save the wounded dragon survivors: volunteers from Skyborne City who had chosen to remain through the battle; the merfolk allied with the Church of Nightfall; and Wang Yu, a force unto himself. Avia and Noelle worked among the other groups, coordinating their efforts.

"Though I have said it many times already," Aurelian began, inclining her head, voice low but steady, "allow me to thank you once more, Archbishop Wang Yu."

Aurelian offered heartfelt thanks to Wang Yu, who was still occupied with his patients. From Noelle, she had learned of the series of events beneath the Tidewall. It was clear that, if not for Wang Yu, the battle against Milos would have unraveled in an entirely different, and far darker, direction.

"It's the right thing to do. My own will and my ties with Sieg mean that I'll give my all to aid the dragons."

Wang Yu was belatedly noticing that the title of Archbishop of the Church of Nightfall seemed to be gaining no small measure of renown these days.

With a shimmer of silver light, Aurelian departed with the two great dragons Wang Yu had stabilized. He remained behind to tend to the others, fingertips pressing lightly against the brow of his right eye, where the Perfect Fractal lens carried Avia's words to him.

"Most of the dragons have been saved," Avia said. "Yet there are still some whose wounds remain grievous. We're running out of time. The good news is that the first batch of awakened dragons have already joined the effort. They're on their way to you right now."

Her tone was brighter than it had been, for the truth was kinder than any of them had dared hope. Though there weren't many survivors—little more than a thousand—the greater part could yet be saved.

"Do you remember that knight we met on the Selwyn tundra, the one who bore a grudge against the Church of Dragonkind?" Avia continued. "His potential would be invaluable right now. For those dragons who cannot be healed, his gift may grant them another form in which to endure."

Wang Yu nodded, his eyes already catching the forms of several dragons winging their way toward him. That knight, Leit Servison, already bound to the dragons by fate, possessed a peculiar potential that might now be of use in ways none could have foreseen.

"He is coming with members of the Church of Nightfall," Avia replied. "They're carrying supplies with them as well. Considering what Skyborne City has also sent, we should have enough."

Matters were slowly and steadily advancing for the better.

The wingbeats of the arriving dragons shook the air as they alighted beside Wang Yu. They bowed their great heads in solemn respect. Wang Yu recognized the white dragon at their fore. It was the very first he had awakened, though he did not know its name.

"Make haste," he urged, pointing toward the unconscious, wounded dragons that still lay strewn across the ground. The newcomers were just as anxious to save their kin. There was no need for ceremony. The work lay before them, and they had no time to spare.

"Understood."

The dragons dipped their heads once more. Their respect for Wang Yu only deepened. At once, they set to work.

Yet soon they discovered that their combined healing was scarcely as effective as Wang Yu alone. Most of the injured dragons he could rouse simply by delving deep within their gullets for a moment. Then, they would awaken and fling him away with a thunderous crash, only to be dragged away by Aurelian.

Wang Yu was swiftly developing beyond transcendence. His blood itself had been reshaped by what he had "learned" within the Dragon King's vessel.

Where dragons were concerned, his blood's potency bordered on the miraculous. Many among the dragons felt an instinctive kinship and awe toward him.

With the newly awakened dragons lending Wang Yu their strength, he could work far more efficiently. Half a day slipped by. By then, all the unconscious dragons had been revived and carried off to where their kin now gathered upon the Isle of Dragons.

Wang Yu mounted the back of the white dragon, who carried him toward the dragons' new homeland. Across the sky, countless shapes passed overhead, talons laden with salvaged goods. Though the dragons' numbers were far fewer than in the days of old, this was a sight that Wang Yu had never seen upon the mainland—a sky alive with dragons.

The island itself, though, was changed beyond recognition. After the final, earth-shaking clash against Milos, a colossal pit had torn open at its center, swallowing nearly a quarter of its ground. The sea had poured in, leaving a new lake at its heart.

Scars of ruin were everywhere to be seen: dead forests, fallen ridges, hills half-collapsed, the earth pocked with craters where explosions had ripped it open. It was a land laid to waste.

Yet from Wang Yu's vantage point, he could see weary but unbroken dragons laboring to restore its former glory, casting spells and wielding claw and muscle to mend what could be mended. Around the newborn lake, crude structures were already rising.

There was no need to doubt their resilience. Dragons had ever been the mightiest among the sentient races. With time to heal, with meddling troublemakers at bay, they would rise again from disaster.

This shattered island, scarred yet stirring with life, was a land whose potential none could question.