The brilliant sun shone over the Isle of the Rising Sun in the aftermath of the disaster. The collapsed and cracked city would probably take a long time to repair, while no one knew when the completely ruined giant engine could be fixed. The heart-stopping tumbling the night before had given the island an extraordinarily short night and a hurried dawn. Every institution in the city had been forced into high-power operation to treat the wounded and repair the damaged critical equipment. The only good news was that the casualties were not as severe as expected. Most of the collapsed and cracked areas were on the outskirts or in overly old urban districts, where the population was limited. Moreover, the city's earthquake-resistant design had allowed it to hold out for a long time when the shaking first began, giving the citizens ample opportunity to take shelter in the more stable central districts of the floating island.
Looking down at the ground from high above the city, one could see clouds of dust and columns of smoke that had yet to disperse. Traffic controls had already been imposed inside the dome. The only things flying through the sky were engineering airships and flying cars carrying out the most urgent missions. On the streets below, meanwhile, the citizens could be seen acting in orderly fashion. They spontaneously treated everyone nearby who needed help, lined up to receive supplies salvaged from the collapsed warehouses, and voluntarily reported whether they had been injured in the earlier disaster and how much the injuries affected their ability to work. There was no chaos or complaining, and it was rare to see even a single elf looking dejected. They had organized themselves with astonishing order. The disaster had struck without warning, but everyone in the city seemed