A sharp weapon was a precious rarity for the Glavenus Tribe, whose forging skills were practically non-existent. For many years, bone weapons and bone knives had been the primary tools of the Grimalkynes.
But bone was, after all, just bone. Even if it came from a monster, it would eventually corrode under the effects of time and the elements. Moreover, bone tools were dull—nowhere near as sharp as the ore-based weapons they traded for with the "Ape-Wyverns."
"Ooh! This is the good stuff, meow!" The stall owner jumped up with a look of pure joy. "In that case, I have to bring out my best wares too, meow! This, this, and this—this whole set of Boss Glavenus statues is yours, meow!"
This honest Grimalkyne stuffed the entire collection of wood carvings the Admiral had pointed out earlier into the Admiral's arms. Fortunately, the Admiral's wingspan—or rather, his embrace—was wide enough that he actually managed to hold them all.
"Hahaha! Then I'll gladly take them! Thanks, boss!" the Admiral said with a booming laugh.
Behind him, several hunters whispered among themselves.
"…I didn't realize the Admiral had a hobby like this…"
"It's pretty normal. The Field Master has a few too; I saw them when I went to ask about long sword techniques. I heard the Admiral has a bunch displayed in his room. Every time he comes for the Great Stomach Festival, he brings more back…"
There was a flurry of quiet chatter.
"Well, you'll understand the feeling eventually." The Admiral didn't mind the gossip. He turned around, clutching his new statues, and said, "To us old-timers, it feels like only yesterday that Boss Glavenus was just a little hatchling."
"It's like watching your own child grow up," Hara added softly, glancing at the passing Grimalkynes. "When we first met Boss Glavenus, we had only just arrived in the New World. Back then, even hunting a single Jyuratodus was a massive struggle for him. He even had to set traps."
"A monster that sets traps? That really is hard to imagine," the hunters said, looking at each other. "Then we should get a few statues for ourselves as souvenirs. Could you tell us more stories about Boss Glavenus?"
"Of course," Hara said with a smile. "But remember not to mention these things in front of the Grimalkynes… hm? You understand?"
"Understood!"
They all knew the score—the Grimalkynes didn't want to hear about their big boss being small and pathetic in the past.
After years of investigation and attending the annual Great Stomach Festival, the Grimalkynes of the Glavenus Tribe were very familiar with the "Ape-Wyvern" species. As the Admiral and his group walked down the path carrying their novel wood carvings, they were greeted by familiar voices from time to time.
"Yo! Back again, meow? The strongest Ape-Wyvern of them all, meow!" A Grimalkyne chopping firewood in front of a house turned to greet them.
"Kaka, is that you? I've told you, we aren't 'Ape-Wyverns.' Call us humans," the Admiral greeted him warmly. Correcting the terminology had become a routine, mentioned almost as an afterthought.
"But you really are strong, meow. I've never seen a cat who could hoist such a huge rock and carry it off so easily, meow. It wouldn't surprise me if you suddenly grew horns like the Boss one day, meow." Putting down his axe, Kaka ran over. "The usual, meow?"
"That's right, the usual. I'll leave the firewood for our stay during the festival to you," the Admiral said, half-squatting with a smile. "Just like every year."
"No problem, meow!" Being old customers, Kaka agreed readily.
"By the way, have you seen Sparky?" the Admiral asked curiously. "He's usually working with the tribe this time of year. Did Congcong kick him out?"
Many might have forgotten, but Sparky had a girlfriend named Congcong, the original "Strongest Chef Cat."
"He seems to have left suddenly for some business, meow," Kaka scratched his head, trying to recall. "Yeah, I think he went outside the Boss's territory, meow. Said he found the 'local' Grimalkynes, meow?"
"Local Grimalkynes?"
The Admiral and Hara spoke simultaneously, locking eyes.
Generally speaking, when powerful outside monsters enter a territory, the local "gangs" aren't exactly friendly. Resources in any given area are finite; outsiders inevitably encroach on those resources, harming the interests of the original inhabitants—Wait, what? Lynians?
Then it wasn't an issue.
After all, Lynians never really had much territory to begin with.
Unlike the Protectors of the Waste who lived in the Wildspire Waste, the Grimalkynes of the Ancient Forest called themselves the Forest Bugtrappers. As the name suggested, while the Protectors used spears and shields, the Bugtrappers used bug cages.
They would catch various insects in the forest, raise them, and then utilize them. For instance, they would capture Flashflies in cages. If they were caught in an ambush, they would break the cage, causing the agitated Flashfly to release a blinding light that stunned the monster, buying themselves time to escape.
They didn't just use Flashflies; they utilized poison bugs, paralysis bugs, and more. In short, these local cats were a bit like Pokémon Trainers—specifically, Bug-type Masters. Bug Catcher Boys? Bug Catcher Cats?
In any case, although they were all Grimalkynes and could recognize each other as the same species, there had been very little contact between the Protectors of the Waste and the Forest Bugtrappers for thousands of years—at least, not until Asterion opened the passage between the Wildspire Waste and the Ancient Forest. Note: "Little contact" didn't mean "none."
They knew of each other's existence. Some Forest Bugtrapper tribes with well-preserved historical records could even call out the name of the Protectors.
After all, the geography of the New World was not static. Bioenergy was constantly in motion; rock layers shifted or split. Many Elder Dragons lived here, and the Elder Crossing occurred periodically.
Take Zorah Magdaros as an example. One has a lifespan of about four or five hundred years. When a Zorah Magdaros reaches the end of its life, it repeatedly attempts to enter the heart of the New World's ley lines to die, following a powerful, distant call. The life energy released upon its actual death flows into the main ley lines, causing massive changes to the geography of the entire continent.
This meant the New World was constantly changing. In the past, there were times when the Wildspire Waste and the Ancient Forest had paths wide enough for ordinary creatures to travel. It was during those periods that the Grimalkyne tribes of both regions became aware of each other, only for contact to be severed by subsequent geological shifts.
It was like trying to get back with an ex-girlfriend; once the connection is broken, trying to reconnect is often fraught with caution and testing.
After all, unlike the Glavenus Tribe, which had grown accustomed to a stable, peaceful life under Asterion's protection, the local Forest Bugtrappers had always lived in dire straits.
It was exactly like how the Protectors of the Waste had lived for countless years.
They had to sacrifice tribe members just to hunt or gather enough food; cats died unexpectedly from time to time; and they were forced to split up and live in smaller groups to reduce the pressure on the tribe's resources.
Aside from the Protectors preferring caves while the Bugtrappers preferred the gaps between giant trees, there was no difference.
Oh, perhaps there was a difference in coat color?
The Protectors were beautiful little black cats with a white "scarf" of fur around their necks. The Forest Bugtrappers, however, had brownish-green or brownish-yellow fur, looking more like traditional lynxes. They also had a white scarf-like ring of fur around their necks, but only the fur on the tips of their ears was black, and they had a black paw print on their bellies.
Despite being distant relatives from afar, the Forest Bugtrappers remained wary of the Glavenus Tribe. Fishing spots in underground rivers, plant fruits, and easy-to-hunt prey were limited. To them, the Glavenus Tribe was simply too massive.
And too arrogant.
Without even a single tentative contact, the local Forest Bugtrappers had completely withdrawn from the area, leaving no trail behind.
Clearly, they knew a fundamental truth: if you don't want to be found by other creatures, leave no openings—and any contact creates an opening.
There were many reasons, but the result was that the Glavenus Tribe Grimalkynes, despite their kind intentions to find their local kin and share the good life—eating big and drinking hard—couldn't find a single cat.
It wasn't until many years later—now—that the former Protectors had finally adapted to the Ancient Forest. They had learned the rules of survival, which plants and bugs to be careful of, and how to handle danger, whether to fight back or flee. Only after they began exploring outside Asterion's territory did they find a trace left by other Grimalkynes.
Wall paintings.
Just like the murals the Glavenus Tribe had once left all over the southern tip of the Wildspire Waste, these were introductions of the tribe—or perhaps, a signal marking their territory.
In any case, it was this artistic expression that allowed Sparky to discover their existence while out exploring and hunting. Now, with the Gourmet Fest approaching, he had taken Pot and other strong Grimalkynes to knock on their door.
Of course, it wasn't to do anything bad. They were there to invite their forest cousins to the festival—and to help them live a better life.
Should one expect anything less from the pure-hearted Lynians? Once they had prospered, they wanted their kin, who were still living meal-to-meal, to enjoy the same happiness.
Well, the only problem was that the local cats seemed a bit terrified right now.
"Don't—don't come any closer, meow!! I'm very tough, meow!!"
Despite the bravado, the Grimalkyne shouting these words was scrambling backward on all fours, completely abandoning the mount he had been riding.
Imagine it: as a human, you're riding a horse, and suddenly four or five people—well, things that look like people—burst out from the leaves. They have the same body structure as you, but compared to the average human height of 1.8 meters, these people are over three meters tall.
That was the situation this Forest Bugtrapper was facing. He had been riding a Jagras, transporting the prey he caught today back to the tribe, when a group of giant cats suddenly jumped out and surrounded him.
Never mind him scrambling away; even the Jagras, once it realized what was happening, became so flustered it tripped over its own feet. As it tried to turn and flee, its limbs tangled, and it nearly slammed into the ground.
"Wait, don't run, meow! Soso! I haven't gotten on yet, meow!!"
In an instant, his posture shifted from scrambling backward to lunging forward with his right paw outstretched. The Forest Bugtrapper's face was the picture of despair.
The prey he had worked so hard for was on the Jagras's back. The Jagras he had finally tamed was running away with the food, and most importantly, at this critical life-or-death moment, he wasn't on the monster's back!
Long story short, his life was probably ending right here, meow.
Thud!!
Before the Forest Bugtrapper could finish his internal montage of friends and family, a slightly leaner Grimalkyne suddenly dropped from the sky, landing heavily on the Jagras's head!
"Hiss!!"
With a cry of pain, the Jagras's flight was interrupted. Not only did it tumble to the ground, but the Grimalkyne who landed on it performed a somersault to dissipate the force and followed up with a quick smack to its head with a weapon.
Clang!
The Jagras wasn't going anywhere.
"Are you okay, meow?"
In the reflection of the Forest Bugtrapper's widening pupils, Sparky, wearing a cloak woven from fine scales, walked over and offered a paw.
"...Meow?"
"I've brought guests back, meow! Everyone, come out and look, meow!!"
Through narrow cave crevices, up steep cliffs, and along winding vine paths, the Forest Bugtrapper—who had a bug cage tied to his waist—finally led Sparky and the others to a hidden area high in the canopy. It hung in mid-air like a suspended basket.
"Orange is back, meow?"
"Guests? There are actually guests, meow?"
"Where, where, meow?"
"..."
For a moment, the basket-like habitat was filled with curious feline chatter. But what Sparky and his companions found interesting was that even while gossiping, these cats kept their voices low, as if terrified of being overheard.
"Anyway, this is my home, meow," the Bugtrapper named Orange said, turning to Sparky. "Unlike down on the ground, you can't make too much noise here, meow. A dangerous fellow lives right above us, meow."
"We understand, meow," Sparky whispered back.
He lowered his voice even more than Orange had.
"You don't have to go that low, meow." Feeling strangely drawn into a mysterious atmosphere by Sparky's secretive expression, Orange lowered his own voice further, despite saying it wasn't necessary.
A bit dim-witted.
"Don't worry, meow. We won't bring you any trouble, meow," Sparky gave a reliable smile.
After so many years, he had grown into a dependable, mature Grimalkyne. He was no longer the insecure youth of the past; he had shed his shyness and blossomed into a seasoned cat.
"Let's bring out our gifts first, meow. Brother Pot."
"Right, they're all here."
As he spoke, Pot easily swung a bulging sack off his back.
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