CHAPTER 34: SERIN’S SLOW RECOVERY

Another three days passed.

Serin no longer woke to panic. She still startled, still flinched at footsteps, still froze when someone moved too quickly, but she did not wake expecting chains.

She woke to warmth.

To blankets.

To food.

Food she had never seen before.

"Breakfast," Nurse Elara said, setting a tray gently on her lap. "You need calories. Eat slowly."

Serin blinked at the tray.

There was soup—thick, creamy, warm, smelling faintly of herbs and something savory she couldn’t name.

There were flat round discs—golden-brown, soft, and slightly sweet-smelling. They called them pancakes, served with a drizzle of something called maple syrup that shined like liquid gold.

And beside them, small, crispy pieces of meat. Not roasted on a stick. Not salted and preserved. Hot, juicy, coated in something crunchy. Fried chicken, they called it.

She had never seen food like this.

She touched the pancake first, pressing gently with a finger. It sprang back with softness. Not bread. Not cake. Something in between.

She took a hesitant bite.

And stopped.

Her eyes widened.

It was warm. Sweet. Soft. It tasted like... comfort. Like safety. Like mornings that belonged to people who didn’t fear the night.

She looked up, eyes glistening.

Nurse Elara just smiled. "Good, huh?"

Serin couldn’t speak. She just nodded and took another bite. Then another. Slow, careful, savoring every second.

The soup was rich and soothing. The chicken startled her, the crunch made her flinch—but after tasting it, she ate silently, slowly, reverently.

When she finished, she whispered, "What... is this?"

"Just breakfast," Elara said.

Serin stared at the empty tray.

Breakfast.

She had never eaten something so simple, yet so miraculous.

By the fifth day, she could walk.

Not far. Not fast. But on her own feet.

Nurse Elara offered her an oversized jacket and a pair of strange shoes with laces.

"You want to go outside?" the nurse asked.

Serin hesitated.

Outside.

Out there.

Where the iron dragons flew.

Where the ground trembled with thunder-wheeled giants.

Where people ran in strange uniforms, chanting in unison.

The world she had seen only through the crack of a tent flap.

"I... want to see," she finally whispered.

"Then let’s walk," Elara smiled.

They stepped outside.

And again, Serin felt as if she had stepped into another world.

Concrete stretched beneath her feet—smooth, flat, seamless ground unlike dirt or cobblestone. So perfect it almost felt artificial—crafted by gods or machines.

People jogged in formation across the yard, chanting in rhythm. Soldiers, Elara had called them. They moved in lines, precise, disciplined, like a single creature made of many bodies.

Their strange metal weapons glinted in the sun. Each one identical.

She didn’t know that word yet.

She only knew—they are all exactly the same.

And that felt... impossible.

Then something roared overhead.

Serin froze, heart lurching.

A massive metal beast soared through the sky—silver, winged, engines screaming like thunder.

She stared, mouth open, frozen between awe and fear.

It was huge. Bigger than any wyvern. Bigger than any griffon. And its body was fixed as its wings didn’t flap.

"That..." Serin whispered. "That’s not alive."

"Nope," Elara said, smiling. "That’s a plane. A C-17 Globemaster, I think. Or C-5 Galaxy. I don’t really know the difference."

"How does it fly if it has no wings that flap?" Serin breathed.

"It... just flies," Elara shrugged.

"Magic?" Serin asked.

Elara laughed softly. "No. No magic."

Serin’s brain stalled. Like how such a massive thing fly without flapping its wings?

Then—BOOM-CRACK-ROAR

Two smaller winged beasts sliced across the sky—sleek, fast, roaring like lightning. They twisted and spun, chasing each other like falcons locked in a deadly dance.

"What... are those?" Serin breathed.

"F-22 Raptors. Fighters," Elara replied, shielding her eyes as she looked up. "Training, I think."

"Raptors," Serin repeated quietly. "Fighters."

She tried again. "Do they use wind magic?"

"No."

"Do they have a spirit bound inside?"

"No."

"Then how do they fly?!"

Elara paused.

She opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

"...I have absolutely no idea," she admitted. "I’m a nurse, not an engineer."

Serin’s mouth slowly fell open.

These people.

These strange people.

They harnessed the sky.

Without magic.

And didn’t even know how it worked.

It was simply—normal—to them.

As normal as walking.

As normal as breathing.

Then she noticed a group of soldiers congregating in one spot. She instinctively went over there and the nurse simply followed her from behind.

Laughter.

She hadn’t heard genuine laughter in... she couldn’t even remember.

Nurse Elara walked beside her, greeting one of the men casually. "Morning, Staff Sergeant Burke."

Burke—a broad-shouldered soldier with rolled sleeves, an apron, and a spatula—turned, eyebrows lifting at the sight of Serin. Not suspicious. Not alarmed. Just... curious.

Others noticed too. Conversations slowed. Heads turned. Not out of hostility, not even out of pity—just simple human curiosity.

A newcomer.

One who didn’t belong to their world.

Serin felt their gazes and, for a moment, almost backed away. Instinct told her to hide, to shrink, to disappear. But none of them reached for weapons. None stepped forward to block her path. They just... watched.

Burke’s gaze flicked to Nurse Elara.

"She okay to be out of medbay?"

Elara nodded. "Doctor cleared light walks. No stress, no crowds. She was curious about the place."

Burke nodded, then flipped something on the grill. The smell hit Serin like magic.

Rich.

Savory.

Warm.

Something sizzling—meat, but not like fire-seared boar meat or smoked venison. This aroma was layered—spices, oils, maybe the same crunchy meat she had eaten at breakfast, but different.

He glanced at Serin. "You want one?"

Serin blinked. "...One?"

"One burger," Burke said, lifting a round, golden-brown bread-thing split in half. He added sizzling meat, some bright red slices, green curled leaves, and drizzled something yellow and creamy. Then he wrapped it in paper and held it out.

She stared at it.

It wasn’t shaped like food.

It was a bundle. A crafted bundle.

"...I can eat this?"

Burke smiled just a little. "That’s the whole point."

Serin reached out and took it with both hands, as though it were something sacred.

She lifted it slowly.

The heat seeped through the soft bread.

Her fingers trembled.

She took a bite—

—and froze.

Warm.

Juicy.

Soft.

Crunchy.

Sweet from the bread.

Salty from the meat.

Sour from something called pickles.

Creamy and smooth from the yellow sauce.

A perfect blend.

Her eyes widened. She didn’t blink.

She didn’t even breathe for a second.

Burke chuckled. "Yeah...she likes it."

Serin slowly lowered the burger, staring at it like she had just bitten into a dream.

"It’s..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "...it’s amazing."