"This is truly... something unexpected." Gao Yi frowned slightly, studying the scribble on the desk. He could not fathom the deeper meaning in the picture; in his mind there surfaced only associations that seemed ill-matched to the style of this world: the unconscious "creation" behavior of an AI after breaking through its limits, the inexplicable scribbles of a runaway robot, information re-emerging from memory errors in ancient servitors...

"Is this an exact rendering of those scribbles? Or a 'concept sketch' drawn from memory?" Gao Yang looked up and asked curiously.

"Number Twenty-Five says the picture has over ninety percent fidelity," Amber nodded. "At most a slight error in the proportions of some lines."

"Have you shown this to Kamael and Virodai?" Gao Yang asked again. "They come from the Gondor era—they might have some clue."

"I have, but they don't understand it either," Amber shook her head. "Kamael thinks it may be some abstract expression of an ancient rune array; Virodai suspects it relates to Dailan's deepest memories from her service at the Viplandton Observatory. But those are only guesses."

"...Dailan is an Iron Man of Gondor who has lost part of her memories, and those memories relate to her experiences when she left the Viplandton Observatory. These pictures may reveal certain 'impressions' deep in her storage—only, to an onlooker lacking intelligence, they are merely meaningless scribbles," Gao Cen said as he pondered. "...I am very interested in the secrets of that Iron Man of Gondor. Upload this picture to the neural network and, under conditions of secrecy, hand it to the analysis teams under Megor III and Selina格尔 to identify—see whether anything known bears a resemblance to this scribble."

Amber nodded. "Understood. I'll see to it as soon as I return."

As she answered, she put the paper away, and then noticed that Gao Yang seemed to be thinking of something else again, unconsciously turning a small silver-white ring between his fingers. She quickly recognized what the ring was. "Thinking about Tarronde again?"

"Still unable to reach the Mithril Vault," Gao Yan nodded, tossing the mithril ring onto the desk and watching the little ring bounce once with a clear ring. "With that lot of dragons' level of technology, it's impossible they couldn't repair a communications system in all this time; and with the Mithril Vault's 'reputation' over the centuries, it's impossible that they would remain utterly silent for so long after losing contact with their clients. Now that the Eternal Storm has vanished, and judging by all the intelligence we hold, something really has happened in Tarronde... and it is no small thing."

"You're worried about those dragons?" Amber blinked. "Actually, I don't think there's anything to worry about... They're dragons. Invincible in legend and in reality alike—they could dive into an erupting volcano for a warm drink. Creatures that outrageously powerful—do we really need to worry about them?"

"It is precisely because they are such a powerful kindred that I am especially worried now—I worry that some unforeseen disaster is brewing in the Arctic, and that it will spread to the human world," Gao Yang shook his head. "Suppose the worst case: the whole of Tarronde has been destroyed by some irresistible force—then how powerful must that force be?"

Amber was startled by Gao Song's conjecture, her eyes going wide. "That... surely not?"

"A supposition, merely a supposition," Gao Yang exhaled. "It's like a mighty giant standing far off in the distance. You know clearly that the giant is there, you know how strong he is, you know that a second ago he was fine—but suddenly the giant is gone. And because he was too far away, you cannot see how he went, cannot see whether he was attacked... At such a time you might worry for the giant's safety, but you ought more to worry whether the force that made the giant vanish might be spreading toward you."

Amber thought for a moment, then abruptly rubbed her arms. "...Ugh, I've got goosebumps!"

"In the end, it's because the intelligence is unclear that I let my imagination run wild," Gao Yang sighed, conceding that he was indeed letting his imagination run wild. "So let us hope those warm-hearted sea sirens and naga of Northport can find some clues—at the very least, let us first understand what actually happened to the Eternal Storm."

...

The cold wind howled, beating against the twisted, deformed steel frames and the hastily erected windbreaks. A heat-source device dug from the rubble gave off a warm orange-red glow in the dim daylight, radiating a wide field of constant heat. A projector with a loose connection sat in a corner of the camp, several energy packs linked to its base; the holographic image was blurred almost beyond recognition, but the intermittent sound of music still drifted from the base.

Several frail young dragons lay on the open ground beside the projector, their whole bodies' implants malfunctioning and the withdrawal reaction from the enhancers tormenting their minds. The broken strains of music from the device were at this moment sustaining their will—though that scant support was nearly meaningless, and in the end they would have to rely on their own stubborn resolve to endure this cold dusk.

It was not easy—for most dragons who had once lived in the lower reaches of Tarronde, what they had to face after completely giving up the hallucinogens and enhancers was not merely mental anguish; the searing agony transmitted by a nervous system unable to adapt was a real and tangible physiological injury.

Metzen, who had resumed human form after returning to camp, stood by a great boulder beside the windbreak, her pale violet eyes fixed on those of her kin convulsing in the cold wind. Her gaze fell upon one young red dragon and did not move away for a long while.

That was the young mechanic who had performed implant surgery for her only at noon that day—she had been busy the whole day long, and a dozen of her kin had, through her efforts, been spared the fatal damage of implant failure and had their suffering eased. But when dusk fell, she suffered a severe enhancer withdrawal reaction... and no one in the camp could help her.

The shelter's meager stock of enhancers had already gone to saving the wounded.

As though noticing Metzen's gaze, the red dragon lying on the ground turned her head, and through her convulsions showed a self-mocking smile: "I shouldn't have been so hooked on 'Soul' and 'Ash' back then... but the sense of accomplishment and fulfillment they gave me really mattered at the time..."

She had named two enhancers, and these two enhancers, acting directly on the mind, had run rampant in the lower reaches of Tarronde.

Metzen let out a sigh. She did not know how to answer this mechanic, who had once lived in the lower reaches of Tarronde and performed illegal implant modification work; she could only do what she could, releasing once more a wide-range mental soothing—the spell had little effect on the symptoms caused by enhancer addiction, but the young mechanic still gave her a grateful smile.

Afterward, Metzen left that place as though fleeing from it.