The next morning, as the sun rose over the walls of the Draconic Fort, everyone returned to their routine…

Tris stretched his arms as he stepped out of his quarters, as he cleaned himself and changed his clothes…

Three months had passed since the transport incident, and though he no longer had to worry about the Dragonoids or the Dragon's underlings, the Zombies could still cause some problems. They had to be very careful dealing with them since a single bite could be disastrous.

If the virus spread without their knowledge, their shelter would be doomed.

Nonetheless, this fort was always busy…

Farmers were already tending to the fields… the very same plots that had been dragged along with them when the gate stone exploded.

It was a strange blessing.

Without those crops, their population of six hundred would have starved quickly.

"Leader!" called Nika, his second-in-command, waving from the ramparts.

She was already armored with her dragon-scale breastplate.

Though they do not have any enemies of dragonkind on this island, they were more comfortable wearing these sets.

Well, it had once been forged to resist dragonfire, but it was still very effective against Zombie bites.

"Scouts report calm seas today. No undead spotted… But they don't have anything to do, so they're building rafts."

Tris nodded. "Ahhh… Just let them be. They might gain Survivor Skill like shipbuilding or something."

He couldn't help but chuckle at himself as he felt that it was also absurd.

He then walked through the fort, greeting people as he passed.

The population was large enough to feel like a small town, but small enough that he knew most faces. Children ran between the houses, laughing, while smiths hammered away at weapons originally designed to pierce dragon hides.

So far, aside from destroying the brains of Zombies and their Cores, they didn't know of any other weaknesses they had. Because of that, they continued focusing on weapons that could pierce skulls or sever their heads

"Morning, Leader," said Garron, the weapons master.

He held up a long spear tipped with a jagged edge.

"Is that…"

"Yep… Parts of the Dragonbone shaft… I cut them off to make more spearheads. They're still sharp enough to pierce zombie skulls."

Tris chuckled. "We've adapted well. Who would've thought weapons meant for dragons would be perfect for undead too?"

Garron grinned. "A skull is softer than scales. Easier work for us."

Nearby, Hannah, the quartermaster, was organizing rations.

She was strict, always reminding people that their diet had changed since arriving here.

"One meal in the morning, snacks at night," she repeated to a group of new recruits.

"Dragon blood enhancements mean you don't need more. Don't waste food."

Apparently, the scavengers and a few locals they found here didn't have any enhancements before. With their precious Alchemists and the excess supply of Dragonoid hearts, blood, and other parts, they were able to create elixirs that transformed and improved their bodies.

Tris overheard their conversation and smiled.

Hannah was right…

After they had been enhanced by dragon blood or dragonoid's blood to others, during their time in Dragon Awakening, their bodies had become stronger…

Hunger was dulled, and even a single meal could sustain them for a day.

***

At the training grounds, Captain Pascal drilled the militia.

At this time, they were no longer in the Gondal Continent, where the Dragon Awakening Apocalypse was…

The previous shelters where they could get reinforcements were no longer around.

Because of that, everyone must learn to fight!

"Form lines! Shields up! Remember, zombies don't fear pain, unlike those Dragonoids! Aim for the head!"

The soldiers responded with discipline as they all didn't want to turn into Zombies!

They would rather get wounded by Dragonoids at this point!

Tris paused to watch.

Their armor was old dragon-scale gear, once meant to resist fire and claws.

Now, it was repurposed to withstand bites and corrosive zombie fluids from specific Zombie Types…

The irony wasn't lost on him.

"Leader," Pascal said, noticing him. "We're running exercises twice a day now. I think… They're also getting bored."

"Haha… It's good that we're not having massive Zombie waves so far…" Tris replied. "But we can't afford complacency."

The day continued with its usual rhythm.

Farmers harvested crops, fishermen brought in their catch, smiths repaired weapons, and guards patrolled the walls.

The fort was self-sufficient, but all of this could change at any time…

At midday, Tris gathered with his officers in the council hall. Nika, Hannah, Garron, and Pascal sat around the table.

"Any reports?" Tris asked.

"Supplies are still okay," Hannah said. "But we'll need to expand the fields soon. Six hundred mouths are manageable now, but if we grow…"

"We'll manage," Tris said. "The Land Owner Talent still works here. I can claim more ground if needed… But the land here is just a bit too corrupted. It's taking a lot longer than before."

Nika nodded.

"I think the undead are probing us. Yesterday's Mermec Zombies weren't random. They're testing our defenses. A Lord-Type Zombie must be aware of our base by now…"

Tris frowned. "Then we'll keep testing them back. As long as the Zombie Lord is intelligent, they'll think twice."

The officers nodded. It was routine now… plan, defend, and adapt.

Later in the afternoon, Tris walked the island with Garron.

They inspected the outer farms, where workers tended to crops under the watchful eyes of guards.

"Strange, isn't it? I'm already used to this kind of life…" Garron said. "We were dragon slayers once. Now we're zombie hunters."

Tris laughed softly. "Life changes fast. At least the skills still matter."

They passed a group of children playing with wooden swords.

One shouted, "I'm the Dragon Knight!"

Another countered, "No, I'm the Zombie King!"

The adults nearby chuckled.

"See?" Garron said. "They've already adapted."

By evening, people gathered around fires, sharing stories and laughter.

Meals were simple, and snacks at night were mostly pan-fried perilla leaves dipped in floud and egg wash.

Of course, the adults only have snacks, but the children must have full meals even if they had draconic blood so they could grow.

Soon, Tris returned to his quarters while accompanied by a few women…

Well, after being infused with some high-quality Dragon Blood, his urge at night was unusually strong… It could not be calmed with simple medicines.

***

The next morning, within the barracks of the Draconic Fort, Wendel rose from his bunk.

Unlike most of the residents, he wasn't originally from the Dragon Awakening Apocalypse.

He was a true foreign survivor, one who had selected the Zombie Outbreak Apocalypse back on Earth.

For the first six months, he had wandered the mainland, escaping hordes of undead with his Walker Talent. It allowed him to walk across almost any surface… walls, ceilings, even water for short distances. That ability had saved his life countless times, letting him slip past swarms and climb out of danger when others were trapped.

But eventually, the mainland became too much.

The hordes grew larger, the safe zones fewer. He had walked until his legs gave out, finally reaching this island.

At first, he thought he was alone.

Then, about a year later, the Draconic Fort appeared out of nowhere.

He remembered the system's mention of Neutral Shelters and assumed this was one.

The people here were different… They were stronger, faster, enhanced by dragon blood.

Their weapons were strange too… spears tipped with dragonbone, armor forged to resist dragonfire. Against zombies, these items were overkill, but they worked.

Wendel found his place quickly.

He wasn't a leader, but he was useful. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

He became a hired guard, patrolling the walls and helping with scouting.

In exchange, he enjoyed the fort's protection and food. He even made a little profit on the side.

"What a life… I don't have to worry about Zombies anymore. This Neutral Shelter is the best…" He muttered.

The fort had Draconic Tools and Items, rare supplies that fetched high prices.

His best customer was Raze, a wealthy survivor who always seemed to need more.

Wendel acted as a middleman, trading items for cores and others…

"Raze… Why are you not looking for Draconic Tools anymore?" Wendel muttered after Raze seemed to stop buying from him…

Anyway, daily life was steady.

In the mornings, he walked the perimeter, checking for signs of undead.

The island wasn't entirely safe.

Wendel knew of the unexplored ruins deeper inland, places shrouded in toxic miasma.

The air there was thick and foul, enough to choke a man in minutes. Scouts avoided those ruins, and Tris had forbidden expeditions.

By midday, Wendel joined the militia for drills. His Walker Talent made him an oddity… he could climb walls faster than anyone, and the children often begged him to show off.

He humored them, walking sideways along the ramparts until they laughed. It was a lighthearted moment in a world that rarely offered joy.

As evening fell, Wendel sat by the fire with other guards…

Everyone thought it would be just any other day

However, just as the night settled, Wendel noticed something unusual.

From the watchtower, his eyes caught movement on the horizon.

Two silhouettes appeared…

Ships!

"Raise the alarm! Hurry!"