D-Animal
Elara realized it before she could even put it into words.
The looks.
They weren't looks of gratitude—they were looks of expectation.
The people hiding in the underground shelter began to edge closer to the entrance, cautiously peering at Iron as if he were a newly raised wall standing between them and death. Some murmured among themselves, others pointed discreetly. There was relief, yes… but there was also something ugly, silent, crawling beneath it.
Dependence.
"He's going to stay here, right?"
"With that lion there, we're safe…"
"It's better not to go out. Let him stay up front."
Elara felt her stomach churn.
Iron remained motionless, but his body bore the clear marks of the fight—cracked plates, exposed circuitry, vapor escaping in heavy, uneven breaths. That wasn't invincibility. It was endurance being pushed to its limit.
She let out a quiet snort, short and irritated.
Lucas, still pressed close to her side, heard it.
"What is it?" he asked softly, glancing toward the people.
"Them," Elara replied, eyes still on Iron. "They've already decided their survival is someone else's responsibility."
Lucas frowned.
"But… he's strong."
"Being strong doesn't mean being disposable," she said.
Before the conversation could go further, Elara made a decision.
She gripped Lucas's wrist firmly and pulled him with her, moving away from the entrance to the shelter. Some people watched them, confused; others looked annoyed—as if she were committing some kind of silent betrayal.
She didn't care.
She stepped out into the side street carefully, weaving through debris, the smell of smoke still thick in the air. Iron remained in a defensive stance, and Seung-Woo stood just ahead of him, speaking quickly with a wounded soldier.
Elara approached from behind without drawing attention.
"Seung," she whispered, low enough that only he could hear. "We're not staying here."
He turned, surprised.
"What?" he asked. "But… this place is still relatively safe."
She shook her head.
"For now," she replied. "But look around."
He followed her gaze—the people watching Iron as if he were an endless barrier, the silent pressure building, the expectation that he would simply remain there… alone.
"They'll use you until you break," Elara continued, her voice steady, contained. "And when Iron falls, they'll look for another shield. I won't let that happen."
Seung-Woo fell silent for a few seconds.
"I can endure," he said finally.
"I know," she answered immediately. "But you shouldn't have to prove that right now."
He took a deep breath, clearly torn.
Before he could respond, Elara had already turned away.
"Stay with Lucas," she told her brother. "Don't move."
"Where are you going?" Lucas asked, alarmed.
"To get something that should've been done from the beginning."
She ran.
Elara moved through partially destroyed shops, dodging rubble, slipping into an abandoned urban maintenance depot. She found what she was looking for almost too easily—tools left behind in a rush, open crates, repair kits no one had dared to use.
She grabbed everything.
Magnetic keys. Conductive sealant. Improvised replacement plates. An old but functional portable scanner.
When she returned, the scene was unchanged—Iron standing guard, Seung-Woo being watched like a pillar that wasn't allowed to fall.
Elara didn't ask permission.
She approached the lion.
Iron slowly turned his head, blue eyes settling on her. There was no hostility. Only attention.
Elara raised her hands slowly.
"Easy," she murmured. "I'm just going to help."
She knelt beside his front paw, examining the cracks in the armor with clinical focus. Her mismatched eyes traced every detail—impact patterns, structural failures, stress points.
"You fought beautifully," she said softly. "But beautiful doesn't keep anyone standing."
Seung-Woo watched from a distance, tense.
"Elara… do you know what you're doing?"
"If I didn't," she replied without looking at him, "I wouldn't be touching him."
She opened the kit and applied conductive sealant to the most critical fissures, pressing the plates back into place with practiced precision. She adjusted exposed cables, insulated overload points, redistributed energy to prevent cascading failures.
Iron released a low sound—not pain, but recalibration.
She ran a steady hand along the side of his metallic torso, feeling the vibration gradually lessen.
"You're not disposable machines," she murmured. "None of you are."
Seung-Woo swallowed.
In that moment, he understood.
Elara wasn't just repairing Iron.
She was refusing to accept a world where strength meant silent sacrifice.
When she finished, she stood, wiping her hands on her clothes, her face smeared with soot, her eyes steady.
"Now," she said, "he'll last longer."
Iron lifted his head, his stance slightly more stable.
Elara turned to Seung-Woo.
"Survival," she said bluntly, "doesn't come from one shield. It comes from movement. From choice. From not letting anyone be crushed under other people's expectations."
She drew a deep breath.
"That's the key."
And for the first time since the chaos began, Seung-Woo didn't feel like he was fighting alone.
---
Elara inhaled deeply.
The air still smelled of smoke, burnt metal, and old fear—the kind that doesn't fade quickly, that settles deep in the chest and makes every step feel heavier. She looked one last time at Iron, now steadier, plates realigned, energy flowing with less strain. The lion remained still but alert, as if it understood this moment wasn't about confrontation, but strategic withdrawal.
She raised her left arm.
The D-Armilla responded at once, glowing softly, controlled—very different from the violent activations before. Elara kept her voice low, almost respectful—not a command of war, but of trust.
"Surveillance mission complete," she murmured.
"Visio, deactivate."
In the sky, the metallic owl reacted.
Visio tilted its head one last time, violet eyes shining as it swept the surroundings as if committing every route, every shadow, every remaining danger to memory. Then its wings opened in an elegant motion, and its body dissolved into digital particles, spiraling inward as they were drawn back into Elara's D-Armilla.
The bond closed with a gentle pulse.
Silence.
An odd, almost uncomfortable silence after so much information had been poured straight into her mind. Elara blinked a few times, feeling the world return to relying solely on her own senses—sight, sound, raw instinct.
She didn't waste time.
She grabbed Lucas's arm with one hand and, with the other, tugged Seung-Woo by the sleeve of his tactical clothing.
"Let's go," she said firmly, leaving no room for debate.
Lucas's eyes widened.
"Now?"
"Now," she confirmed. "Before someone decides you're a shield too."
Seung-Woo hesitated for only a second, looking back—at the people still gathered, at the soldiers reorganizing, at Iron standing like a silent bastion.
Elara noticed.
"Seung," she said quietly. "If we stay, they'll ask for more. And more. Until there's nothing left."
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then nodded.
"Understood."
He raised his right arm, the D-Armilla still warm from recent use, and spoke with the same calm authority he'd used in battle—this time without violence in his voice.
"Iron, deactivate."
The lion responded immediately.
The blue fire in its eyes dimmed, shifting from living flame to a controlled glow. The armor plates began to retract with heavy clicks, folding inward, dismantling in precise patterns. The colossal body lost density, dissolving into a gridded projection that was drawn back into Seung-Woo's D-Armilla.
The ground trembled slightly as the last piece vanished.
And with it, the "shield" was gone.
Some people murmured in panic.
"—Hey, the lion—"
"—Where is it going—"
"—You can't leave—"
Elara didn't look back.
She pulled Lucas with her, keeping him close, shielding him with her own presence. Seung-Woo walked at her side, alert, eyes scanning every corner, every reflection in shattered glass, every shadow that might hide danger.
They moved away in silence, following a side street partially blocked by debris. Elara chose the path instinctively—avoiding areas too open, alleys too narrow, intersections too obvious. Every step was deliberate.
Lucas trembled slightly.
Not from cold.
From delayed adrenaline.
"That… that thing… the bear… and the lion… and the rabbit…" he started, his voice breaking.
Elara tightened her grip on his arm.
"Don't think about that now," she said gently but firmly. "Just walk. One step at a time."
Seung-Woo heard.
"He's right," he added. "Your body's still in survival mode. Later… we process."
Lucas nodded, breathing deeply, trying to keep up.
As they moved on, the sounds of battle grew more distant—still there, still threatening, but less immediate. The roars of Indomita, the crack of gunfire, occasional explosions echoed like thunder slowly retreating.
Elara felt the D-Armilla heavy on her wrist.
Lupus and Fenrir remained silent.
And that… wasn't weakness.
It was restraint.
She knew that summoning them there would draw too much attention. She didn't want anyone to see. Didn't want questions. Didn't want calculating eyes trying to measure the worth of something they didn't yet understand.
She had already seen what the world did to those who seemed "too useful."
They turned a corner.
A military patrol rushed past on the other side of the avenue, accompanied by two assault D-Animals. They crouched behind an overturned car, waited, breathing quietly.
When the danger passed, Elara stood first.
"Quick," she said.
They moved on for several more blocks until they reached an old residential building—thick concrete, reinforced doors, secondary entrances—built in a time when people feared earthquakes and human wars, not D-Animals.
Elara tested the side door.
Locked.
She kicked loose a panel beside it, revealing an old maintenance access.
"You two, in," she ordered.
Lucas and Seung-Woo obeyed.
Inside, the building was unnaturally quiet—residents had likely evacuated or hidden on upper floors. Elara closed the door carefully and leaned her back against it for a second longer than she meant to.
Her heart still raced.
She wiped her face, feeling soot, dried sweat, the accumulated weight of the day.
Seung-Woo watched her.
"You didn't hesitate for a second to leave," he said—not accusing, just stating fact.
She met his gaze.
"Staying wouldn't have helped," she replied. "It would've just… delayed the problem."
Lucas slid down to sit on the floor, resting his head against the wall.
"I thought you were going to die out there," he murmured.
Elara crouched in front of him, gently holding his face.
"Look at me," she said.
Lucas did.
"As long as I'm breathing," Elara said slowly, "no one is going to use you as a shield. Not you… not Seung… not any D-Animal."
She released his face and stood.
"That goes for everyone."
Seung-Woo felt something settle into place in his chest.
He had always lived surrounded by expectations, orders, inherited duties—but there, in that dim stairwell, with the city burning outside, Elara Pack had done something simple and radical:
She chose not to sacrifice anyone.
Not even when the world screamed for it.
Outside, another distant explosion echoed.
But inside, for that brief span of time, they were alive.
And for Elara, that was still the only victory that mattered.