D-Animal
The first sense to return was not sight.
It was smell.
Strong antiseptic, almost aggressive, mixed with dried blood, heated metal, and old canvas warmed by the morning sun. A smell that did not belong to real hospitals — only to war infirmaries, hastily assembled to patch up those who were still breathing.
Elara inhaled deeply… and regretted it.
Pain came as an immediate answer, a brutal warning from her own body. Not a sudden shock, but a burning weight, spread across her back, as if someone had pressed a hot plate against her skin. A low groan escaped her lips before she even realized she was awake.
— "Tsc…" — she murmured, throat dry, voice far too hoarse for someone so young.
She opened her eyes.
For an instant, everything was blurred, distorted by the white light seeping through the irregular gaps of the tent. The morning sun cut through the beige canvas in slanted beams, carrying dust in the air — tiny particles dancing slowly, as if the world had slowed down just for her.
She blinked a few times, forcing focus.
The improvised ceiling. Thick canvas seams. Hanging cables. A metal IV stand beside her.
— Infirmary… — she thought.
Her head throbbed, heavy, as if stuffed with wet cotton. Elara tried to move on instinct — and her body responded with immediate protest.
— "Ah…" — a short, restrained sound escaped when she tried to sit up too much.
That was when she saw him.
Rafael.
He was sitting on a white plastic chair — cheap, crooked, clearly made to last very little and never meant for comfort. His large body leaned forward, arms crossed awkwardly, head tilted against his own shoulder. His neck bent at an impossible angle, betraying an entire night without rest.
Sleeping.
Or rather — out cold from exhaustion.
Elara raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised.
— "You… sleep like that?" — she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Before she could think further, something warm tightened around her hand.
She looked down.
Lucas.
The boy was slumped against the side of the cot, half his body supported there, half almost slipping off. One hand gripped hers tightly, as if afraid she would disappear if he let go. His red hair was messy, his face marked by deep dark circles and a tense expression, even in sleep.
Something gave way inside Elara's chest.
With extreme care, she sat up a little more, ignoring the growing pain in her back, and lifted her free hand to gently stroke her brother's hair.
— "Hey…" — she whispered. — "I'm here."
Lucas stirred.
His eyes snapped open, wide, confused for a second that felt eternal. Then they focused on her.
— "Elara?!" — his voice came out too loud, broken by shock and immediate relief.
He straightened up in a jump, almost knocking over the chair beside him.
— "You… you woke up!"
— "Apparently," — she replied, a corner of a tired smile forming despite the pain.
Lucas didn't think. He simply leaned forward, hugging her with awkward care, as if unsure where to touch without hurting her.
— "You passed out… I thought…" — his voice faltered.
— "Shh," — Elara murmured. — "Easy. I'm still here."
The movement made her back burn again, but she didn't push him away.
That was when footsteps approached.
Boots scraping against the improvised tent floor.
The doctor entered with a clipboard in hand, eyes fixed on notes, clearly immersed in numbers, dosages, and reports. He walked straight toward the cot… and then saw it.
Elara sitting up.
Conscious.
The man literally jumped backward.
— "FUCK—!"
The clipboard nearly slipped from his hands. His honey-brown eyes widened so exaggeratedly that Elara blinked, confused.
— "What?" — she asked, genuinely surprised. — "Is there something on my face?"
— "What the fuck!" — he exploded, running a hand through his hair tied in a ponytail. — "How are you AWAKE?!"
He took two steps closer… and stopped again, as if afraid she might vanish.
— "You were supposed to stay out for at least twelve more hours! I put heavy analgesics in your IV — the kind that cause deep sedation!"
Elara glanced at her arm, following the IV line to her vein.
— "Oh," — she commented. — "So that's what that was."
The doctor let out an incredulous, nervous laugh.
— "That's not normal! You had infected cuts, rising fever, your whole system overloaded! No adolescent—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Looked her up and down.
Took a deep breath.
— "Right… forget it. You people never follow statistics anyway."
And then he ran out of the tent, shouting something about "calling the general" and "checking vitals."
Outside, something answered.
Not with words.
But with a low metallic purr.
Fenrir.
The black wolf, who had remained shut down since his mistress collapsed, felt it.
His internal motors began to grind softly, gears awakening one by one. A deep, controlled sound echoed through the infirmary area, like the awakening of a mechanical beast that never truly sleeps.
Fenrir's eyes lit up in a deep, almost silvery tone.
Several soldiers immediately raised their weapons.
— "Contact!" — "D-Animal reactivating!"
Fenrir did not snarl.
Did not attack.
He simply began to move, each step heavy and deliberate, heading toward the tent where his mistress was.
Inside it.
Elara closed her eyes for a moment.
— "It's okay…" — she murmured, more to him than to the humans. — "I woke up."
From atop a nearby post, hidden from the soldiers' direct view, Visio answered.
A soft screech echoed, muffled by the hot morning wind. Light smoke escaped beneath his wings as the internal cooling system activated. The cooling vents hummed discreetly, dissipating heat accumulated after hours exposed to the sun since five in the morning.
The owl's eyes lit up.
His wings stretched fully — not to fly, but to breathe.
Beside him, Cain did the same, the black falcon adjusting his stance.
D-Animals awake.
Alert level raised.
Inside the tent, Lucas tightened his grip on Elara's hand.
— "Are they going to get mad?" — he whispered.
Elara opened her eyes, feeling the pain pulse… but also feeling something that hadn't been there before.
Clarity.
— "No," — she replied, firm. — "They're just not used to it."
She leaned lightly against the cot, straightening her posture despite the burning in her back.
Outside, Fenrir stopped at the tent entrance.
Still.
Guardian.
And, for the first time since everything began, Elara Pack was awake in a world that still insisted on collapsing — ready to understand what she had lost… and what she still needed to protect.
Fenrir tilted his head slightly when Elara looked at him.
It was not a programmed gesture. It was not a command.
It was recognition.
Elara smiled — a small, tired, but genuine smile — and slowly raised her hand, like greeting an old friend.
— "Hi…" — she murmured. — "Sorry I blacked out."
The black wolf answered with a low, deep purr, almost imperceptible to anyone not used to it. The gears adjusted in micro-movements, the metallic body relaxing a few degrees, as if it had just confirmed that the world still made sense.
Some soldiers exchanged tense looks.
That wasn't a machine reacting to a system. It was a living bond reaffirming itself.
Lucas let out a long breath, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, his face finally relaxing after hours of constant tension.
— "You almost gave me a heart attack," — he grumbled, but there was a shaky smile there. — "Never do that again."
— "I'll try," — Elara replied, weak humor in her voice. — "No promises."
That was when a loud crack broke the moment.
Crack.
Then another.
Crack—crack.
Rafael woke up.
He jerked in the plastic chair, large muscles complaining after a whole night of bad sleep. He stood with a low grunt, stretching his arms overhead. His spine cracked loudly. His neck rolled with a dry sound. His shoulders followed, as if his body were falling apart and reassembling at the same time.
— "Fuck…" — he muttered, voice rough with sleep and accumulated exhaustion.
When his eyes focused on Elara sitting up on the cot, awake, conscious, he froze.
For a full second.
Then he let out a slow breath through his nose.
— "Yeah," — he said, stepping closer. — "Should've bet on that."
Elara raised an eyebrow.
— "Good morning to you too."
— "You don't know how to stay down," — Rafael replied, sitting on the edge of the cot with surprising care. — "Since I met you, you've been like this." He made a vague gesture with his hand. — "Stubborn to the bone."
Lucas smiled faintly.
Rafael rested his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward slightly. His gaze swept over Elara from head to toe, attentive, assessing without needing to touch.
— "Can you feel your legs?" — he asked.
— "Yes."
— "Vision?"
— "Normal."
— "Head?"
— "Hurts, but it always does."
— "Good," — he nodded. — "Then you're alive."
Kaiser was not there.
And the emptiness was noticeable.
Outside the tent, a few meters away, the Ligre remained surrounded by soldiers, sensors, and clipboards. His colossal body was partially immobilized by restrictive fields — not by submission, but by protocol.
A younger soldier walked around him, jotting notes frantically.
— "I've never seen integration like this…" — he murmured, impressed. — "Stable hybrid core… two dominant classes… this shouldn't be possible."
Another replied, more cautiously:
— "It shouldn't. And it's not legal."
The articles were clear.
TECHNOLOGICAL CRIMES.
Modifying a D-Armilla without state authorization. Creating a D-Animal without a recognized Digital Seed. Reusing Utho.
Each line meant decades in prison. Some meant life.
Rafael knew.
He always had.
In any other scenario, he'd already be in cuffs, isolated, classified as a biotechnological criminal. Kaiser would be dismantled, his core destroyed, his existence erased as if it never mattered.
But this wasn't a normal scenario.
Ferus advanced. Deletios emerged in waves. Entire federations were under threat.
The world was too broken to follow old laws to the letter.
The soldier analyzing Kaiser closed his clipboard slowly, eyes still fixed on the creature.
— "This…" — he murmured. — "This is high-level war engineering."
Kaiser remained motionless, but internal sensors tracked every movement around him. Kaine, hidden among plates and shadows, watched in silence.
Inside the tent, the atmosphere shifted again as firm footsteps approached.
The general entered.
Argus Marthin paused briefly upon seeing Fenrir stationed at the infirmary entrance. His eyebrows rose for an instant — not in alarm, but in evaluation.
— "Hmph," — he murmured. — "Exemplary discipline."
Fenrir did not move.
Argus passed him and entered the tent, followed closely by the doctor, already with clipboard open, expression still caught between shock and disbelief.
— "Any numbness?" — the doctor asked, approaching Elara. — "Tingling? Dizziness?"
— "Just pain," — she replied. — "A lot."
— "Good," — he grumbled. — "Pain is a good sign."
He quickly checked her vitals with professional speed: pressure, pulse, temperature. Adjusted the IV, lowered the analgesic dosage with an obvious look of disapproval.
— "You metabolized this way too fast," — he said. — "That's not normal."
— "I never was," — Elara replied flatly.
Argus watched everything in silence, hands clasped behind his back.
— "You should be out of combat for days," — the general finally said.
Elara lifted her gaze to him.
— "And the world should've ended yesterday," — she replied. — "But here we are."
A brief silence followed.
Then Argus nodded slowly.
— "Rest while you can," — he said. — "Because it won't last."
Elara closed her eyes for a moment, feeling Fenrir there, Rafael at her side, Lucas holding her hand.
She wasn't ready.
She never was.
And still, she always stood back up.
_______________________________
TECHNOLOGICAL CRIMES
Article 7 — Illegal Modification of D-Armilla — Altering D-Armilla without state authorization.
Penalty:
• 20 to 40 years
• Permanent prohibition of technological access
_______________________________
Article 8 — Construction of Artificial D-Animal — Creating a D-Animal without a recognized Digital Seed.
Penalty:
• Life imprisonment
• Immediate destruction of the created entity
⚠️ Note: classified military exceptions do not apply to civilians.
_______________________________
Article 9 — Reuse of Utho — Using parts of dead D-Animals for creation or reinforcement.
Penalty:
• 25 years
• Registration as a biotechnological criminal
• Confiscation of all material