"Say, Falcon, are Canynes really hard to raise? I hadn't even heard of them before I met you."
"Not at all," Falcon replied with a gentle smile as he continued stroking his Canyne. "The training success rate for Canynes is about the same as that of Felyne companions. The reason you haven't heard of them is probably because my village is too remote. Even if we have extra Canynes, they're usually prioritized for shipment to Elgado across the sea."
"I see…" The hunter nodded thoughtfully, then let out a sigh.
"What a shame, though. Such amazing hunting partners... If only we could find Canynes here in the New World too. I'd even settle for a substitute! Just imagine how much our mobility would improve."
"Actually… it's not entirely impossible."
At that moment, a Sword and Shield user who had been quietly listening suddenly spoke up, drawing the attention of several people nearby.
They couldn't help it—Falcon's Canyne had indeed been far too eye-catching during their travels. Everyone was fascinated by the idea of a loyal, agile beast that could serve both as a mount and as hunting support.
As all eyes fell on him, the Sword and Shield hunter tensed slightly, then cleared his throat and said, "Did you all forget about those Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne warriors back at the base?"
With that one comment, everyone instantly caught his drift.
Those Grimalkyne who called themselves the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne each had their own personal Jagras.
Those creatures—usually sneaky and aggressive—had become surprisingly tame under the Grimalkynes' care. What's more, they showed no fear at all during hunts.
From what they'd observed so far, while those Jagras weren't quite as intelligent or expressive as Falcon's Canyne, they had their own unique combat abilities.
And that kind of discipline? It could be trained.
In other words—could it be that the Jagras, whom they'd long dismissed, actually had the potential to be like Canynes?
The thought lit a fire in their hearts—until they remembered something.
The Jagras kept inside the enclosures at the base never paid attention to anyone except the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne.
Even the researchers who fed them daily got no acknowledgment—just silent chewing, no eye contact, nothing.
Could the Research Commission really tame creatures like that?
As the hunters gradually sat back down, clearly discouraged, the Sword and Shield hunter rolled his eyes. He deliberately coughed loudly again to draw their attention and, once everyone was looking, spoke with mock frustration: "I know exactly what you're all thinking. You're worried we can't even communicate with the Jagras, let alone start taming them, right? So what's the point in dreaming?"
"Exactly."
Everyone nodded.
"Ugh, do none of you use your heads?" He set his canteen aside and gave them a look of exasperation. "Think! Who do those Jagras belong to?"
"Who else? Obviously, the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne," grunted a muscular hunter as he wiped down his switch axe.
"Then shut up and let the smart ones talk," the Sword and Shield hunter snapped, before turning back to the more thoughtful faces around him. "We may not be able to tame the Jagras ourselves—but the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne can. And don't forget—we're allies with them."
"We get it now! You're saying we could ask the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne to help us train a batch of Jagras, right?!"
The Sword and Shield user nodded and shrugged. "See? It's really that simple. With help from the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne, taming Jagras should be a piece of cake. And as for the actual training plan—don't we have Falcon? We could use his village's methods as a reference and come up with a practical training regimen."
"Oooh~!"
Some of the hunters had already started clapping excitedly.
It made sense!
At the edge of the temporary camp, the Huntsman had quietly listened to the entire exchange. He turned to the Wyverian Hunter beside him, who had already fallen into thoughtful silence.
Although there were scholars among the First Fleet, the real brains of the group was this quiet but incredibly capable Wyverian Hunter.
"What's your take?"
"It's highly feasible," the Wyverian Hunter replied. "Once this mission is over, we could hold a meeting to discuss it. The young scholar from the Second Fleet who took over the Research Division might be able to refine the plan even further."
That young Wyverian scholar from the Second Fleet had, in just a short time, not only taken over the Research Division and organized it perfectly, but also optimized the base's personnel assignments, planning schedules, and resource distribution—he was an exceptional prodigy in every sense.
Entrusting him with this project would no doubt yield results that satisfied everyone.
The Huntsman nodded. He had only brought it up in passing—he was a pure hunter at heart and this sort of thing wasn't really his area of expertise. But since the Wyverian Hunter said it could work, then it probably would.
The hunters began discussing in earnest the idea of having the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne help tame Jagras. The mood in camp improved noticeably, easing the mental fatigue left behind by the day's search efforts.
"By the way, Falcon—why did you come to the New World?"
His hunting partner asked the question out of curiosity.
It was one of the most common questions in the entire Research Commission.
Most hunters came in pursuit of Elder Dragons, though a few had other goals.
So while the topic was routine, it was also one of the most talked-about.
"Me?"
Falcon lifted his head to gaze at the starry sky. At some point, the gentle smile on his face had faded.
His tone grew heavier, as if he were lost in memories—of his village, perhaps, or of something more distant.
"My home, Kamura Village, is a small place. Most of the hunters raised there rarely travel far—at most, we do trade runs to nearby villages or to Elgado. The village chief once told me I was the most adventurous hunter we had. That my life shouldn't be confined to such a small place. So, with everyone's support, I took Kiba with me, left the village behind, and crossed the sea to Dundorma."
"My reason for coming to the New World is simple: to become stronger, to gain more hunting experience. So that one day, when I retire, I can return to my village and train the next generation—to raise excellent hunters for our people."
As he spoke, Falcon gently stroked his Canyne's mane.
There were still things he hadn't said.
He could never forget the Rampage nineteen years ago.
His father—a regular villager—had gone to the defense point with a calm, warm smile…
And never came back.
He could never forget that terrifying monster wreathed in purple ghostfire—the one that stormed into the village during the Rampage and left devastation in its wake.
If it hadn't been for Uncle Fugen, the village's strongest hunter back then, who risked everything to drive it away, the entire village might have been wiped out.
Seeing Falcon's somber expression, the others exchanged glances and tactfully changed the subject. Still, the conversation grew noticeably quieter.
Sensing his master's unease, Kiba gently nudged his stomach with her head, as if trying to comfort him.
"I'm fine," Falcon said, forcing a smile. "Kinda makes me miss the dango back home… though, honestly, Auntie Felyne's stew rice is still better. Hey, Kiba, what do you think about bringing back a Felyne who knows how to cook when we return?"
"Woof!" Kiba barked in agreement.
Everything about the village was great—except for one thing.
Not a single person in Kamura Village had any cooking talent.
Not a single one!
...
Early the next morning, the group split into teams of four once again and began searching the area for traces of the Teostra.
The Wildspire Waste was vast. Even in just a single section of it, twenty people spread out didn't make much of a dent.
Not to mention, the region was riddled with underground caves and tunnels. The Teostra often retreated into these caverns to rest, especially at night.
That made tracking it significantly more difficult.
At this stage, the Research Commission had yet to fully explore either the Ancient Forest or the Wildspire Waste. They hadn't made contact with the Grimalkyne tribes deeper within the Waste, and with a shortage of personnel, every investigation consumed enormous time and energy.
This situation would persist for many years before things began to improve as manpower gradually increased.
...
"What's this? A spine from that unidentified Elder Dragon?"
The Huntsman brushed away a layer of yellow sand, revealing a bony spine, which he handed to the field researcher in his team.
The researcher accepted it, opened his notebook, and found a simplified sketch of the intact spine that the Admiral had been holding just before he lost consciousness. After carefully comparing the two, he gave the Huntsman a nod.
"Yes, all the identifying features match up. Aside from the fact that this one's texture isn't quite as hard as the spine we brought back, there's not much difference."
After hearing the field researcher's assessment, the Huntsman slowly exhaled.
"If that Elder Dragon left traces here, then the Teostra likely isn't far either. Everyone, stay sharp. We might have to face two Elder Dragons at once."
The Huntsman gazed out over the sand-swept wasteland. The abnormal heat hanging in the air gave him a strong sense of foreboding—he could feel it. A clash with the Teostra was imminent.
...
[Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!]
Three red signal flares shot into the sky.
Falcon, his teammates, and their companions quickly drank their pre-prepared cool drinks, eyes fixed warily on the sand mound ahead—on the massive beast perched silently atop it, as if basking lazily in the sun.
It wasn't doing anything aggressive.
But even in stillness, the creature radiated like a second sun. The very air around it shimmered and warped from the intense heat. A nearby cactus began rapidly losing moisture, its skin visibly wilting under the temperature.
"So that's the Teostra…? That's weird. It doesn't seem nearly as aggressive as the stories claimed. It clearly saw us, but it hasn't made a single move. Why?"
The Sword and Shield user frowned in confusion. When the Teostra had first emerged from behind that sand mound, he'd been startled out of his wits—he'd even braced himself for a fight to the death.
But all this so-called "Big Flame Cat" did was glance in their direction… and then calmly stride to the top of the mound to sunbathe, completely ignoring them.
"No idea. But honestly, that's not a bad thing. Once the Huntsman and the others arrive, we'll decide what to do next."
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