D-Animal
Elara held the prosthetic with both hands, feeling the precise weight of the metal freshly forged by Lúpus. The surface was still slightly warm, as if it carried remnants of the white wolf's effort. She knelt in front of Miguel, her mismatched eyes attentive, clinical — there was no hesitation there, only precision.
— "This is going to hurt…" — she warned, without softening her tone too much.
Miguel nodded with difficulty, fingers clawed against the cold floor. He was still under the effects of the anesthetic, but not naive enough to believe it would spare him completely.
Elara fitted the prosthetic against the stump.
In the next instant, Lúpus reacted.
Four mechanical arms extended from his sides with a synchronized hiss, positioning themselves around Miguel's leg. The fittings adjusted with progressive pressure, sensors calibrating nerves, muscles, and exposed endings. When Elara forced the prosthetic into its final position, a sharp click echoed.
Miguel let out a hoarse grunt, his body arching in pain despite the anesthesia. Sharp sensations tore through the phantom limb, racing up his spine, as if his brain were relearning how to exist at that point.
— "Breathe." — Elara said firmly, without harshness — "You're past the worst part."
Lúpus's arms slowly retracted, leaving the prosthetic fixed, sealed, functional.
Elara stood up, wiping her hands on her shorts, and cast a quick look at Rafael. She didn't need to say anything.
The two of them slipped Miguel's arms over their shoulders and lifted him carefully off the ground. The weight was uneven — the man's body still didn't trust the new leg — and every step was a silent test.
They guided Miguel into the bunker, through corridors lit by soft artificial light, until they reached one of the suite bathrooms.
— "Hot water helps." — Elara said, already opening the door. — "And you need to get rid of… all of this."
The smell was still strong. Urine, feces, dried sweat, earth. The kind of odor that didn't fade with time alone.
Miguel nodded, humiliated, and limped inside.
Elara turned back before fully closing the door.
— "Don't do anything stupid." — she warned, without explicit threat. — "Rafael will be right there."
She stepped away, leaving Rafael leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed, posture rigid. His gaze followed every sound coming from the bathroom.
It wasn't hatred.
It was caution.
Miguel, meanwhile, undressed with slow movements, still testing his balance. He stepped under the shower and let the hot water fall over his body. The filth began to wash down the drain, along with part of the psychological weight he carried. Even so, he knew: this was not a place of full trust. Not yet.
Rafael opened one of the bedroom cabinets, took out a set of simple, clean clothes, neatly folded, and placed them on the bed. Then he stepped back outside, positioning himself against the door, his back resting on it.
He wasn't leaving.
Not for a second.
Meanwhile, Elara walked through the bunker corridors toward the infirmary wing.
She found Lucas exactly where she expected.
Seated at the table, focused, an open book in front of him. The soft lighting reflected off pages filled with diagrams, anatomical schemes, and technical annotations.
— "What are you doing?" — Elara asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Lucas looked up, slightly surprised, then relaxed.
— "Studying." — he replied simply.
Elara stepped closer and saw the title of the book: Advanced Medicine Applied to Hostile Environments. She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
— "Hm…" — she murmured.
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.
— "Well… you and Rafael know how to fight, defend yourselves, survive absurd situations." — he said. — "So I figured it would be useful for me to know how to… keep you alive."
Elara blinked.
Then she smiled.
A genuine, proud smile.
— "They grow up so fast…" — she declared dramatically, lifting a finger to the corner of her eye and wiping away a nonexistent tear.
Lucas let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
— "Stop that."
— "Never." — she replied, laughing as well.
For a brief moment, amid silent wars, hidden threats, and fragile alliances, there was something simple there.
Family.
And growth.
Even at the end of the world, some things could still bloom.
Elara pulled Lucas into a hug without warning, wrapping him in a firm, protective embrace — the kind that doesn't ask permission. His body stiffened for a second, surprised, before relaxing and returning it, burying his face against his sister's shoulder.
She closed her eyes.
— "You're my pride, you know that?" — she whispered near his ear, her voice low, carrying something rare in her. — "And… I'm sure Mom and Dad would be too."
Lucas swallowed hard. The hug tightened slightly before he found the courage to ask what had been circling his mind since the chaos began.
— "When… when are we going to see them again?" — the question came out hesitant, fragile.
Elara didn't answer immediately.
She loosened the embrace just enough to look at her brother's face, mismatched eyes attentive, honest. There was no way to soften it without lying — and she didn't lie to Lucas.
— "It might take a while." — she said at last. — "We still don't know exactly where they are… or if they're safe."
Lucas felt his chest tighten, but he didn't look away.
— "But that doesn't mean we're giving up." — Elara continued, firmer now. — "Quite the opposite."
She ran her hand through his red hair, mussing it lightly, just as she used to when they were younger.
— "With a mobile base… everything changes."
Lucas frowned, confused.
— "Mobile base?"
He had left the area before everything with Miguel happened. He hadn't seen the prosthetic, hadn't heard the negotiation, hadn't understood what had truly changed.
Elara nodded.
— "The guy who broke into the bunker." — she explained. — "His name is Miguel. He's not just any spy."
She stepped back slightly, leaning against the infirmary table, organizing her thoughts.
— "He has a D-Animal."
— "An Austroposeidon."
Lucas's eyes widened.
— "The giant dinosaur?"
— "That's the one." — Elara confirmed. — "Vectura Class."
Lucas absorbed the information, his mind working fast.
— "So he can transport people…"
— "And structures." — Elara completed. — "And best of all: his D-Animal is a hybrid with Concealment."
Silence fell for a few seconds.
— "Wait…" — Lucas murmured, connecting the dots. — "You're saying we can move… without being tracked?"
Elara smiled faintly.
— "Exactly."
She crossed her arms, her gaze distant for a moment.
— "A fixed base like the bunker is great… but eventually someone finds it. They always do." — she said. — "A living, mobile base that can hide, change routes, carry supplies, people, equipment…"
She looked back at Lucas.
— "That gives us a real chance to look for our parents without becoming an easy target in the process."
Lucas felt something warm spread through his chest. It wasn't complete relief — fear and uncertainty were still there — but it was hope. Concrete. Planned.
— "And Miguel?" — he asked. — "Can we… trust him?"
Elara didn't answer right away.
— "Trust?" — she repeated thoughtfully. — "Not completely. Not yet."
She sighed.
— "But he lost everything because of the FIS. His family. The life he had." — her eyes hardened slightly. — "That creates two kinds of people: the ones who break… and the ones who want to see the world burn."
Lucas swallowed.
— "And him?"
— "He wants revenge." — Elara replied honestly. — "And for now, our interests align."
She stepped closer again and rested her hand on her brother's shoulder.
— "I promise you one thing." — she said firmly. — "I won't put you at unnecessary risk. Not now. Not ever."
Lucas nodded slowly.
— "I know." — he murmured. — "It's always been that way."
They stayed there for a few more seconds, in silence.
Outside the infirmary, the bunker remained alive — machines running, D-Animals patrolling, plans taking shape.
And for the first time since their world began to fall apart, the future stopped being just survival.
It began to look like direction.