Altaïr lay sprawled on his back with his limbs splayed, his helmet torn off and tossed aside. His face streaked with blood and scorch marks, he panted heavily.
Beside him, Deadeye Yian Garuga's chest, throat, and head were a mangled mass of flesh and blood, as though they had been run through a meat grinder.
Through the massive gash in its chest, an opening large enough for a person to crawl through, its motionless heart was visible.
Deadeye was dead.
Its final fiery breath had failed to drive the Hunter out from beneath it. During that mad exchange of wounds for life, the already grievously injured Monster had given out first, while its ruined wings had barred its last avenue of escape.
Still, for an old madman that lived only to fight and had battled all its life, perhaps this was not such a bad end.
Isis's face appeared in Altaïr's field of vision, blocking out a small patch of sky.
She pressed several spots on Altaïr's body, confirmed that the areas most prone to fractures were largely intact, and then examined his burns.
Although the Brute Tigrex Armor Set had excellent resistance to extreme heat, charging headlong through the Yian Garuga's breath had still left Altaïr with severe burns.
Yet many of those wounds had already begun to heal. Dead skin had even sloughed away from some of them, revealing fresh flesh beneath.
The sight Isis had imagined, Altaïr half-cooked from head to toe, had never materialized. On the contrary, his injuries now seemed less serious than her own.
As Isis continued her hands-on examination, Altaïr opened his mouth to speak, but something seemed lodged in his throat, and only a string of muffled grunts came out.
Isis curled her lip, placed both hands where his chest met his abdomen, and pressed down hard.
Altaïr jackknifed like a fish on a chopping board, and a large, half-congealed blood clot shot from his mouth.
His breathing eased at once. Altaïr hurriedly stopped Isis from pressing again, clutched his stomach, and sat up.
"All right, all right. A few more of those and you'll break my ribs..."
Isis snorted, seized Altaïr's outstretched hand, and hauled him to his feet with enough force to nearly dislocate his shoulder.
"Do you enjoy trying to take Monsters down with you? You could have won easily if you'd kept maneuvering for a little longer. Why risk your life?"
"Ahem, hear me out." Altaïr assumed a serious expression. "There are bound to be times in the future when we'll have no choice but to risk our lives, right?
"If I don't push myself to the limit at least once now and learn what that's like, how am I supposed to risk my life with confidence when I really have to?"
"Nonsense." Isis gave him an irritated look that plainly said, "Do you take me for a fool?" She continued, "'Risk your life with confidence,' you say? When the time comes, if you aren't confident, will you just refuse to risk your life?"
Altaïr choked. He had no answer.
The whole idea of "risking your life with confidence" was nonsense to begin with. If you were truly confident, could it still be called risking your life?
"Oh, right, Morgan! Come carve it up. I'll stand guard!" Altaïr blatantly changed the subject and started toward Morgan, who was checking the condition of his weapon nearby.
Morgan looked up at him. "Leave lookout duty to Hakucho. Isis, keep working him over.
"His voice sounds hoarse. There may still be blood in his windpipe. Press a few more times and clear it all out."
"Got it!" Isis grabbed Altaïr by the shoulders, hooked one of his legs, and casually tripped him back to the ground. She then began a punishing barrage of squeezing and kneading while Clawdia helped hold his arms and legs down.
Altaïr felt as if he had turned into Dango, with his innards about to be squeezed out through his mouth. He dimly remembered using this exact method when he had tried to make Dango release pheromone gas...
He tried to call for help, but no one took pity on him. Even Sajji pretended not to notice and slipped away to join Hakucho on lookout duty.
Lambert and Ning-Ning emerged from the forest where they had been hiding.
As she watched Morgan carve the Deadeye Yian Garuga's body, Lambert was so envious that tears seemed ready to dribble from the corners of her mouth.
She desperately wanted to carve some of it herself. That black-and-purple color scheme would make for an incredibly cool Hunting Horn!
Unfortunately, she had no right to the materials.
She had indeed helped a little during the Hunt, and if she shamelessly asked for some, Morgan, whose life she had saved, probably would not refuse to share. But Lambert was not brazen enough to ask.
More importantly, as a mere 3★ Hunter, she could not brazenly take materials from a Deviant Monster with a 6★ Danger Rating and expect the Guild to approve. She might even bring the Guild Night down on her head.
It would be better to find a "normal" Yian Garuga later, conduct a proper Hunt, advance to 4★, and upgrade her equipment in one go.
With nothing else to do, Lambert joined the lookout line. For some reason, Ning-Ning followed along, still holding the rocket high in her paws.
Sajji was scratching Hakucho under the chin and found the sight rather strange. "Why have you been holding that thing up this whole time, meow?"
Ning-Ning trotted over to Sajji, chattering as she went. "I pulled out the, uh... what's it called... the safety, meow?
"But I didn't get a chance to use it. Can you put it back in for me, meow?"
"Y-you pulled the safety, meow?!" Sajji shuddered. "Stop! Stay right where you are, meow!"
Ning-Ning obediently skidded to a halt and nearly tripped over a pebble.
Sajji was so frightened that his tail went rigid. "Hold still, meow! If you fall over now, all of us here will go up together, meow!"
He gingerly took the armed rocket from Ning-Ning's paws, worked on it for a while, and finally managed to remove the fuse.
Ning-Ning gazed at Sajji with hopeful eyes, wishing he would give the rocket back.
Sajji sighed. "I've removed the fuse, meow. This thing is useless now, meow."
Ning-Ning blinked. "Then give me a new one, meow?"
Sajji shook his head. "We didn't bring many of these high-yield rockets, meow. We used them all in the fight earlier, meow."
Ning-Ning looked as if lightning had just struck her.
Lambert glanced down at the frozen Felyne, thought for a moment, and tugged the tip of her ear. "Hey, you little bastard. What are you going to do now?"
Reeling from the shock, Ning-Ning could barely think, but she still instinctively answered with a vague "Meow?"
"The Yian Garuga that destroyed your home has been Hunted. The target of your revenge is gone. Are you still planning to gather your few underlings and wander around the forest every day?
"They don't really like that kind of life, do they?"
Ning-Ning fell silent.
Of course she knew. A life spent constantly harassing the Black Madman was neither stable nor safe. The others had been injured more than once. They had only acknowledged her as Boss because they had endured her claws and eaten the food she bought for them.
Several had already left over the past few months.
Now that her enemy was dead, she could follow the example of other Felyne leaders: lead the others in foraging and fishing across the forest, rebuild their home, and make a life there. The others would probably prefer that kind of life too.
But was that what she wanted?
She still had not gotten the chance to use the big boom that could blast apart a whole tree in one shot--"You aren't the kind of Felyne who likes a peaceful life, are you? I can hear it deep inside you... the roar of a wild beast." Lambert crouched beside Ning-Ning.
"How about coming with me? I'll show you a more thrilling world."
Ning-Ning stared blankly at Lambert for a few seconds, then suddenly shook her head. "No, meow. If I'm going to follow anyone, it'll be Boss Sajji and the others, meow. Who'd ever follow you, meow?"
A vein bulged at Lambert's temple. "Senior Altaïr and the others are all High Rank Hunters. To them, the Black Madman was nothing but small fry. Follow them? What makes you think you're qualified?"
Ning-Ning kept shaking her head. "Still not following you, meow. You're too weak, meow. I bet you couldn't even beat me. Why would I ever acknowledge you as Boss, meow?"
Lambert's eyelid twitched.
Suddenly, she leaned close to Ning-Ning and pointed at her own face. "Quick, scratch me."
Without a moment's hesitation, Ning-Ning obliged Lambert's bizarre request. Several bloody scratches from Felyne claws instantly appeared across Lambert's pale, gaunt cheek.
"Very good. Normally, a Hunter isn't supposed to attack a wild Felyne first. But once the Felyne attacks..."
Lambert rose with a savage grin and hefted her Hunting Horn onto her shoulder. "All right, you reckless little bastard. Let's fight. The loser becomes the dog."