The preparations had taken no small amount of time, but as the days passed, all the necessary work was finally coming to an end. All that remained was to finish the final repairs on the few large baskets—then they could depart.
By this time, the spore situation in the forest had grown increasingly severe. The entire depths of the forest were shrouded in a yellow haze, making hunting ever more difficult for the Fire Wyverns—so much so that, in the end, Logan and the Flame Rathalos had to personally lead the hunts.
The constant hunting meant the wyverns had been breathing in far too much effluvium, and their tempers were beginning to slip out of control.
Fortunately, Logan's strength still carried enough weight to deter trouble, and with the suppression from the Tempered Fire Wyverns, no major incidents occurred.
"Wuu~~ roaar~~!"
A long, drawn-out cry—like that of a Fire Wyvern hatchling in distress—echoed from afar. The wyverns, having just finished a joint hunt and in the middle of searing away the white spores clinging to a Kestodon's body, all lifted their heads toward the source of the sound.
High above, Logan recognized the voice instantly and sensed something was wrong. He called out to the Flame Rathalos, who was on the other side of the formation keeping watch, then ordered the rest of the wyverns to bring the prey back to the Ancient Tree.
He himself took off, accompanied by the Flame Rathalos and two other male Fire Wyverns on sentry duty, flying toward the sound.
At that moment, outside a hunters' temporary camp, four armored Grimalkyne companions stood back-to-back, weapons and shields raised, facing off in grim sorrow against four Jagras—tainted by the effluvium until both their skin and eyes had turned ashen gray.
Each of the Jagras still bore a specially made saddle; one even had a load of supplies strapped to its back.
It was clear that, after prolonged exposure to the effluvium, these once-tamed Jagras—former battle partners of the cats—had completely lost their senses and turned on their feline handlers.
The supposed hatchling's distress call had, in fact, been the rescue horn the cats had invented.
By the time Logan arrived, the fight had already begun.
The cats, trained many times as companions, were no weaker than the Jagras in raw ability. But because these creatures had once been their comrades, they hesitated to strike, and as the fight dragged on, they were clearly being pushed onto the defensive.
The flames on Logan and the Flame Rathalos swept away a swath of the miasma, revealing the battle of the cats below.
Without needing to say a word, Logan and the Flame Rathalos instinctively unleashed their fiery breath, dispersing the nearby white spores and miasma. Seizing the opening, the other two Rathalos dove down without hesitation, cleanly dispatching the four Jagras.
"Wu-meow~ My Jagras, meow~~" The Grimalkyne holding a shield stared at the Jagras' mangled corpses, grief welling up inside.
Those were its Jagras—its own partners that had roamed the forest with it, that had trained together in coordinated strikes at the Astera Outpost—and now, just like that, they were gone.
The Grimalkyne wiped its tears, bowed alongside its companions in thanks to the Rathalos, then looked up at Logan in the sky with tearful eyes, like a child wanting to complain to a parent after being wronged.
But the current situation left no room for that. The cats swallowed their grief, swiftly removing the cargo from the Jagras' bodies, dividing it up, strapping it to their backs, and preparing to make the journey back to the Ancient Tree on foot.
They were the group assigned to carry this batch of supplies back.
In the outskirts of the Ancient Forest, the spread of the miasma spores wasn't severe, and even upon first entering the forest, it had still been manageable.
However, the deeper they went, the more erratic the Jagras' condition became. Along the way, they also suffered numerous attacks from small monsters, accelerating the Jagras' rate of being corrupted.
The cats, thanks to their veils, weren't affected as badly.
By the time they realized something was wrong, it was already too late—they couldn't even retreat and had no choice but to grit their teeth and push forward, which eventually led to the scene just moments ago.
As the cats were bidding farewell to the Rathalos, and the Rathalos themselves were about to take off, Logan was just about to speak when a powerful wave of intuition slammed into him.
He turned his head toward the far end of the forest path. A four-legged, two-winged silhouette was slowly making its way toward them.
"Rooaaar~"
With an urgent roar, Logan gave the two Rathalos an order to take the cats and leave immediately.
As for himself, he called to the Flame Rathalos and took off toward that figure.
The Rathalos who had received the order didn't understand, but still chose to grab the cats and head toward the Ancient Tree.
The creature's entire body was wreathed in miasma, white spore sacs hanging from it in clusters like a wedding gown.
But the stench of decay and the strips of monster hide and skin hanging from the barbs on its body made it look as if it had crawled straight out of a grave. Just looking at it induced a wave of physical revulsion.
Gazing at that slowly approaching figure, Logan couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
'In my past life's game… no wonder it had that Resident Evil crossover. This thing looks exactly like a biohazard zombie monster version.'
Still, that didn't change the fact—it was an Elder Dragon.
Not the juvenile Chameleos from back then, whose poison fog could barely cover a quarter of an area. But one whose age no one knew, dwelling at the origin of the New World's Everstream, absorbing its energy through countless years.
Even if it wasn't famed for raw combat prowess, it still commanded every bit of the presence befitting an Elder Dragon.
The miasma now blanketing nearly the entire forest was its handiwork.
Fight?
Or leave?
The Blackveil Vaal Hazak had absolutely no interest in the Rathalos—not even in the two special individuals above it, their bodies wreathed in flames and unaffected by the miasma.
It was here for a leisurely stroll, not a battle. As long as Logan and the Flame Rathalos didn't show any clear intent to attack it, then—just like with that Black Wolf Bird earlier—it could simply ignore them.
Logan felt his heartbeat start to pound faster, his blood surging through his body, carrying with it a faint, restless heat.
Beside him, the Flame Rathalos glanced at Logan, then at the unfamiliar dragon below, and suddenly seemed to understand what Logan was thinking.
Without a word, it hurled a blazing fireball, spinning as it tore through the miasma before slamming into the Blackveil Vaal Hazak with a resounding boom.
"…Wait, seriously, bro?"
Logan's pupils widened. He stared in disbelief at the Flame Rathalos, now brimming with battle intent as if ready to dive down and settle the fight with the Blackveil Vaal Hazak right here and now.
"I haven't even decided yet! Why the hell did you just start the fight?!"
Logan roared, but when he saw the Flame Rathalos looking back at him in confusion—those eyes in the flames shining with a crystal-clear stupidity—he finally understood exactly what kind of creature he was dealing with.
"Roooar!!"
A hoarse, hell-deep sound rose from below as the Blackveil Vaal Hazak's miasma surged violently around it. Unharmed, it fixed its crimson eyes—gleaming beneath its bioluminescent organs—coldly on Logan and the Flame Rathalos.
Its inner and outer jaws spread wide, as if ready to tear them apart in the very next second.
It had never expected that, after coming onto land, there would be a second short-sighted fool to provoke it.
When had these non–Elder Dragon creatures gotten so bold?
The Flame Rathalos stared in surprise at the Blackveil Vaal Hazak, which had taken the full blast of a fireball without so much as breaking its guard.
There was no need to think about it—this was one hell of a wall they had just kicked.
Still, as a special subspecies, it was just as confident in its own strength. Without hesitation, it sent several more fireballs raining down, then—without even checking if they hit—dove straight in to engage.
Logan thought the Flame Rathalos's actions were far too reckless, but since the fight had already started, there was no other choice for him either.
Gathering power, he unleashed a stream of searing flame and joined the battle.
The Blackveil Vaal Hazak nimbly dodged the Flame Rathalos's fireballs. With a single beat of its wings, a massive surge of miasma spewed from the glands at its cheeks. Activated by the immense vitality it possessed, the miasma twisted into a roaring vortex that swallowed the diving Flame Rathalos whole.
Then, tilting its head upward, it exhaled a dense breath of miasma to meet Logan's charged flames head-on.
To his surprise, the miasma—normally countered by fire—was, under the reinforcement of the Blackveil Vaal Hazak's life energy, able to completely cancel out his flame breath.
No—
It was breaking through Logan's flames, forcing them back toward him.
Worse still, the miasma spreading from the Blackveil Vaal Hazak wove together like a vast net, rising upward to exceed its previous height, sealing off the entire area and enveloping Logan.
The flames burning on Logan's body began to scorch away the miasma, but each strand carried the creature's life energy, making them resistant—fire and miasma canceling each other out as the energy within him steadily drained away.
Just like back in the Chameleos's poison fog, his fire-aspected energy circulation began to show losses—small, but still there.
He forced more fire from his maw, buying himself a momentary gap, then twisted to the side, narrowly evading the incoming breath of miasma.
At the same time, the Flame Rathalos tore through the miasma vortex, body blazing, and lunged toward the Blackveil Vaal Hazak, cutting off its follow-up breath attack.
Flame-tipped claws raked toward its body—yet the Blackveil Vaal Hazak didn't dodge in the slightest, instead slamming headlong into the attack.
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