Chapter 197: Scales of Judgment

The dense water vapor gradually began to disperse under the freezing valley breeze, revealing a scene of devastation. Of the monstrous creature—that dantesque fusion of a giant lizard crowned with a kraken’s head—not a single trace remained. In its place, where mountain ranges had always stood as part of the geography—which were the beast’s petrified spine—there lay a smoking crater. Nor was there any sign of the crimson dragon; the skies were left empty once more.

"Shaman... what must we do?" asked Grok, his voice subdued and his knuckles white against his axe’s grip.

Kellar whispered from the bottom of his heart:

"Pray..."

"You are right, Shaman," said Grok, nodding with a blend of dread and devotion. "We must pray to the Bear God to protect us from this giant beast. It might be strong, but it is nothing more than a creature before the Bear God."

No one moved for nearly an hour. The entire caravan stood petrified while Kellar mentally processed the magnitude of the Red Dragon. To flash-boil thousands of tons of river water in a fraction of a second, the heat of its breath had to be bordering plasma-level temperatures. Against such a monster, armies were meaningless: a single stream of flame would wipe out everything the tribe had built since its inception. Furthermore, its scales looked thicker and denser than the metal centipedes’ carapaces. Against that, conventional bullets were mere mosquito bites.

The only thing keeping Kellar from total panic was a logical detail: the dragon didn’t seem to care about slaughtering lesser mortals or devouring everything in sight. Its target had been another alpha apex predator, which granted the tribe an invaluable window of time.

Kellar clenched his teeth and stammered under his breath:

"One day... it will be subdued or slain..."

The nearest soldiers, hearing his words, began echoing them in hushed whispers that spread through the ranks.

"The Shaman wants to hunt the great dragon..." the people whispered in awe. "The Shaman trusts in the Bear God... We must be strong, the Bear God is with us."

That spark of encouragement surged from mouth to mouth, converting the inhabitants’ dread into renewed faith. With their spirits restored, the caravan resumed its march, picking up the pace toward the main tribe.

The remainder of the journey passed in silence. Not a single person uttered a sound; not even the children cried during the hours that followed. The only noise accompanying the human mass was the creak of wooden wheels against the dirt and the tread of the draft beasts.

The image of the crimson dragon descending from the clouds and the erasure of the river monster had left an indelible mark on every survivor’s mind. Blind devotion to the Shaman kept them marching, but terror remained lurking in the depths of their eyes, reminding everyone just how small they still were against the true powers that ruled this world.

As evening fell, the palisades of the main village appeared on the horizon. The wall patrols, spotting the long column of refugees and metal-laden wagons, raised the alarm and opened the reinforced wooden gates.

Helga rode ahead with the vanguard to organize the deployment of the families, coordinating food distribution and assigning temporary shelters in the southern district. The local population received the newcomers with a mixture of shock and silence; though the loss of the border outpost was a blow, Kellar’s presence atop Ignis maintained order and discipline throughout the streets.

Lennis did not waste a second. With the help of dozens of porters, he began hauling tons of recovered metallic carapaces directly toward the central forge complex, setting up the workshops for cartridge prototypes and barrel rifling.

Kellar dismounted in front of the tribe’s central compound. Without stopping to rest or address the crowd, he walked toward the northern containment sector, where the giant green eagle was held captive.

The giant eagle retained none of its former arrogance. It lay bound on the dirt floor of the enclosure, its legs and wings tied tightly, its beak sealed with ropes. The iron harpoons used to bring it down still pierced its wings, leaving it helpless and unable to defend itself.

As Kellar approached the cage, he felt a faint distortion in his perception. Deep inside his mind, a weak voice echoed like the whisper of a dying being:

Water... water...

Kellar gestured to the guards to fall back and give him space, though Ignis stayed close at his side, keeping his eyes locked on the beast with muscles tensed.

The Shaman knelt beside the bird and reached out to stroke its feathered head. In that instant, the eagle reacted on pure instinct; it tried to lunge forward to snap at him, but its complete lack of strength caused its head to drop heavily back into the dust.

Seven full days without a drop of water or a bite of food had left it at death’s door. Although its wingspan made it look massive and deadly in the eyes of humans, it was actually just a green eagle chick, not a full-grown adult.

Kellar, who had recoiled slightly at the sudden strike, reached out once more and gently touched the feathers atop its head. This time, the creature did not move.

"Do you want water?" Kellar asked in a soft voice.

The eagle barely opened its left eye and stared directly at him. Deep within its animal mind, total confusion reigned; it couldn’t comprehend how it was able to understand this human’s speech.

"Bring some water," Kellar commanded the guards without standing up. He then turned back to the beast and asked, "Are you thirsty?"

Despite its deplorable condition, the creature’s pride remained unyielding. The eagle was arrogant by nature, but upon seeing the leather flask filled with fresh water being brought close, a fierce internal battle raged inside it to avoid begging before its captor.

Kellar pulled a small dagger from his belt and carefully sliced through the ropes sealing its beak. Then, he tilted the flask and let a steady stream of clear water drop right in front of its eyes.

At first, the eagle refused to open its mouth, keeping its head held high in an attempt to preserve its dignity. However, watching the liquid spill onto the dry dirt, the agony of dehydration completely overwhelmed its pride. It couldn’t endure it any longer and finally surrendered, opening its beak wide to desperately gulp down the trickling water, swallowing every single drop as if it were life itself.