"This is the situation we currently face."
Red Dragon Carladore stood beside a charred long table, speaking to Heragor, who was seated on the other side.
This was one of the few relatively intact "rooms" within the temporary sanctuary; it was originally a pipeline control room of a factory. When the shockwave hit, this facility, half-buried in rock layers, withstood the impact due to its sturdy structure, but it didn't come out unscathed—there were deep cracks from the ceiling to the walls, some of which already led to the outside, allowing the howling cold wind outside to pour into these gaps, bringing not only sharp whistles but also bone-chilling cold.
A dragon's physique can ignore such cold, but the psychological gap brought about by such a bleak situation is unavoidable.
"How many dragons are there in this camp now?" Heragor lifted his head to look at Duke More, who was silently sitting nearby.
