The Abused is The Abuser in Another World

Chapter 37: A Path to Recovery

As the gates of Drakharoth Enclave closed behind them with a low creak, Razor and Elder Greenheart stood in silence for a moment, taking in the sight before them. The battle had ended, the bloodshed momentarily ceased, but the scars of war lingered across the enclave. The wounded were scattered across the ground, many lying on makeshift beds, while others sat hunched against the walls, nursing injuries both physical and emotional.

Drakharoth's people, despite their grim circumstances, moved with purpose. Groups of healers, dressed in worn but functional garb, worked tirelessly to tend to the injured. Citizens, young and old, passed water and supplies to the healers, their faces marked by exhaustion but also determination. The sense of unity was palpable, a bond of survival that ran through the very air of the Enclave.

Razor narrowed his eyes, observing the scene with a mixture of curiosity and something almost resembling respect. "They've suffered too, haven't they?" he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a trace of begrudging admiration. "But they stand strong, even after all of this."

Elder Greenheart, leaning slightly on his gnarled staff, nodded solemnly. His faded green scales caught the dim light of the enclave's torches, and his yellow eyes, though slightly clouded with age, sparkled with the depth of his understanding.

"Yes," Greenheart replied, his voice soft yet filled with the weight of wisdom. "There is strength in them, a strength born not just of battle but of community. They care for one another. It is... remarkable."

Razor, fierce and impatient by nature, found himself unexpectedly drawn to this observation. He had expected to find chaos, disorder, perhaps even a fractured people after such a brutal fight. But instead, he saw something else—resilience. As he watched a young woman tend to a warrior's wounds, pressing her hand gently to his forehead as she whispered words of comfort, Razor's heart stirred with something unfamiliar.

He turned to Greenheart, his voice low. "They remind me of our people before the attack. Before we lost everything."

Greenheart looked at him, his gaze filled with the calm and understanding that came from centuries of guiding his people. "It is in such moments, Razor, that we must remember who we are. And what we fight for."

Razor's eyes narrowed as the memories of their ravaged settlement flooded back. The cries of the children, the flames engulfing their homes, the brutality of the human forces that had descended upon them. His fists clenched involuntarily, his claws digging into his palms. "I haven't forgotten, Elder. I haven't forgotten a single thing."

Before Greenheart could respond, a messenger approached them, his footsteps light but urgent. The young man's face was lined with stress, though he carried himself with an air of responsibility that suggested he was used to such dire situations.

"The High Commander requests your presence," the messenger said, bowing slightly. "Noir awaits you in the council chamber, along with Orenda, Shargoth, and Elion."

Razor glanced at Greenheart, who nodded. Without another word, they followed the messenger, their steps echoing off the stone walls of the Enclave's halls. The dim lighting cast long shadows, creating an atmosphere that felt as much like a fortress as it did a sanctuary. Razor's eyes darted from side to side, ever watchful, ever cautious, while Greenheart moved with a measured pace, his staff tapping softly against the ground.

As they approached the council chamber, Razor's heart pounded harder in his chest. This meeting would determine the fate of his people. The weight of their survival pressed heavily on his shoulders. When the large, wooden doors to the chamber swung open, Razor and Greenheart stepped inside to find Noir seated at the head of the table. Orenda stood beside him, her expression calm but firm, while Shargoth loomed in the corner, his hulking frame a reminder of the raw power he possessed. Elion, ever vigilant, stood at the side, watching with calculating eyes.