"He's my friend, meow," Sparky added with a helpless sigh, covering his face with a paw.
"Ohhh!!!"
Sparky's words triggered a wave of worshipful gasps from the Bugtrappers.
"To... to actually be friends with such a powerful monster, meow?! You're amazing, Sparky, meow!" Orange jumped up in excitement. "Can I go up and take a look too, meow?"
"Kulu-ga!"
Before Sparky could say a word, the Kulu-Ya-Ku brothers jerked their necks back in a tactical "no," striking a posture of clear refusal.
"Uh, I guess that's a no, meow," Sparky said, scratching his head. "In the entire Glavenus Tribe, I'm the only one who can do that... well, and occasionally Congcong, meow."
"Is that so..."
A row of excited cat ears drooped in disappointment.
"Erm, there's no need to be so discouraged," Sparky said, caught between laughter and pity. "Let's head up first."
He planned to take these distant cousins to see the piles of monster carcasses up in the canopy. He figured that once they saw those powerful monsters dead in heaps, they would surely be convinced to move in and start a better life.
In turn, the members of the Exploration Team would gain more intelligence, making future expeditions much safer.
The Great Stomach Festival began.
Unlike in Asterion's memories, the festival didn't start during the day. Instead, it commenced at midnight, once the sky had turned pitch black.
"This is so everyone remembers that we first met you in that dark cave, Boss, meow," Leaf explained to Asterion.
Today, she wore an ornately woven outfit. With every slight movement, the stones sewn into her clothes made a melodic clinking sound. A thick fur cloak draped over her shoulders, and she wore a crown fashioned from the bones of an unidentifiable monster, also decorated with beautiful gems.
Though it was night, the area from the mid-section of the Great Tree up to the canopy was illuminated by burning torches, making it as bright as day. There was no trace of the post-sunset chill or even the humidity.
The entire place was aglow.
Ooooh! Ooooh!
The deep, resonant blast of a horn sounded from the base of the Great Tree. Then came another, and another, continuous and long, until finally, a Grimalkyne standing on the outermost edge of the canopy blew the largest and longest horn of all.
Asterion watched with great interest as the Grimalkynes added these flourishes to the festival over the years. This so-called "sense of ritual" was built on simple things: steps that gave meaning, strange incantations, and solemnity. When treated with gravity, these actions instilled a sense of mystical awe and identity in the participating creatures, eventually becoming a habit through annual repetition.
Compared to the first few Great Stomach Festivals in his memory, the current one had become a holiday with a mature, established process.
For one thing, although the canopy where Asterion resided was the center of the festival, it couldn't possibly hold several thousand Grimalkynes—at least, not if they wanted to do anything other than stand in a pile.
Therefore, only the thousand or so Grimalkynes who had contributed the most to the tribe over the past year were allowed onto the canopy to spend the holiday, enjoying the honor of seeing the Glavenus Boss up close.
The remaining Grimalkynes and their kittens were spread along the paths leading up to the canopy or celebrated within the Glavenus Tribe's main living quarters.
The Grimalkynes were singing. From the mid-section of the tree to the canopy, massive pots lined both sides of the path. Wooden planks were laid across the pots, and two or three Grimalkynes stood on each plank. Some stirred the pots with long shovels, while others lifted long ladles to taste the broth, joining the song with loud, cheerful voices during their breaks.
"...Forget 'em all but the Boss, bring him the choice cuts, meow!"
"Beasts and wyverns, down the hatch! Flesh and bone, we leave no batch, meow!"
CLANG!
With perfect synchronicity, when the song reached this point, the Grimalkynes struck the rims of the giant pots with their tools.
"No room for the scraps, only the prime! Boil it and roast it, it's feasting time, meow!"
"This dragon runs, that dragon leaps, but look at that bear, he's a pile in the heaps, meow!"
KRONG!!
Another ladle struck a pot rim. A Grimalkyne wielding a metal fork hooked a massive chunk of meat out of the pot and flicked it through the air without even looking. Immediately, a Grimalkyne running along the main path caught the meat on a wooden tray balanced on his head.
The rhythm of the song dictated the pace of their footsteps. The entire path was filled with these tray-bearing Grimalkynes, moving like duckweed floating on a river, swaying as they delivered the heavy meat to the next station.
"The Glavenus Boss is coming for you, meow!!"
"Grimalkynes, oh Grimalkynes!"
"Heaping platters for the table, meow!"
"The secret's in the spice, meow!"
THUD!
The rhythm was joined by more than just the clanging of pots. Evolved, burly Grimalkynes—holding cleavers so large they required two normal cats to lift—slammed their blades down onto chopping blocks.
"We boil, we roast!"
"We chop meat for the Boss, meow!"
"Living is for eating and working, meow!"
THUD!!
Massive chunks of meat were torn from the bone, diced into smaller pieces, and pushed into the wooden trays. The pervading aroma of meat made the burly Grimalkynes close their eyes and lean forward to take a deep breath. They were singing too—or rather, roaring!
"We tear, we hack!"
"We chop meat for the Boss, meow!"
"Living is for eating and working, meow!"
"Wooo-hooo!!!"
Like a pack of wolves responding to a single howl, the Grimalkynes all raised their heads and shouted in unison.
The tray-bearing Grimalkyne was no different. He had already delivered the minced meat, mixed with chili and vegetables, to Asterion. He gave a sudden leap and tossed the tray's contents directly into Asterion's mouth.
Delicious.
It was fragrant but not overcooked, and there was even a hint of sweetness. Asterion was genuinely impressed.
"Roar?" (The Old Shaman's work?) he asked Leaf beside him.
"Eh? Yes, meow." Leaf took a moment to realize what he was asking before nodding. "The teacher said he heard it from you, Boss, meow."
"Roar-roar, roar-roar-roar!"
Asterion couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh. He had been completely tone-deaf when he sang that song; he'd only shared it with the Old Shaman because he thought it was funny back when he granted Pot the title of Slayer. He hadn't expected the old guy to remember it.
Not only did he remember it, but it seemed to have integrated into the "Grimalkyne spirit"—whatever that was. Regardless, this was the way of the Glavenus Tribe now.
Asterion's sudden laughter was seen by the Grimalkynes as a sign of approval, making them even more excited and energetic.
It wasn't just the Grimalkynes; even the Admiral, who had come specifically for the festival, was standing shirtless in front of a pot, enthusiastically banging a spoon. His bare torso was a map of defined muscle, and under the firelight, his sweat-slicked skin shone as if it had been oiled. Wait, did this old guy actually oil himself?
"CHOP MEAT FOR THE BOSS!!!" the Admiral bellowed, raising his spoon.
Nearby hunters covered their faces in sheer embarrassment. But the embarrassment didn't last long, because the Admiral's shout was immediately echoed by the surrounding Grimalkynes.
"CHOP MEAT FOR THE BOSS!!!"
"My god..."
A scholar attending the Great Stomach Festival for the first time was busy recording this precious cultural heritage of the New World's native Lynians, feeling a mix of excitement and secondhand embarrassment. Suddenly, Hara patted him on the shoulder.
"Don't be shy! Everyone in the Glavenus Tribe is very welcoming," Hara said with a hearty laugh. He shoved a large piece of bone-in meat into his hesitant companion's mouth and then grabbed another piece for himself. "Eat up!!"
"Eat up!!!"
In the Glavenus Tribe, that was a slogan no cat could refuse.
"Eat well and drink your fill!!!"
Even the Acidic Glavenus was peacefully participating in the festival. To her, this was a wonderful day where she could eat her fill for free without the effort of hunting. It was pure bliss!
The Acidic Glavenus had her spot on the canopy, as did Mirrorblade. Asterion hadn't seen the kid for a while and had assumed that after being "schooled," he had finally understood what Glavenus pride meant and what it took to survive in this cruel world.
Asterion had actually felt quite proud when he noticed the boy was gone. He'd even fantasized about Mirrorblade carving out a name for himself alone, reaching Elder Dragon-level strength, and then returning to challenge him—at which point Asterion would have the pleasure of knocking him flat again.
As it turned out, the kid hadn't "grown up" at all. The day before the Great Stomach Festival officially began, Mirrorblade had come scurrying back to Asterion's territory. He expertly found his usual spot on the canopy, flopped down, and started waiting for food.
It made Asterion want to kick the brat right off the tree.
Bah! No ambition! You only came back for the food!
Of course, the Grimalkynes were unaware of the petty thoughts between father and son. They were just happy to see Mirrorblade back for the holidays and kept tossing large chunks of meat into his mouth.
He is the Boss's kid, after all, meow!
Times had changed; the ones cooking for Asterion now weren't even ordinary Grimalkyne chefs, but the evolved, burly Grimalkynes led by Pot.
This was a good thing. Asterion remembered the old days when the chefs had to work in teams of ten or more just to slice enough meat to keep him full, let alone do any sophisticated cooking. They'd even had to rotate teams in shifts, otherwise, some cats might have literally worked themselves to death.
But after switching to strong Grimalkynes like Pot, although they still needed to cooperate, the number of chefs required had drastically decreased. With Pot's strength, he could handle tasks alone that used to require a team of normal Grimalkynes. Because of this, they weren't just the Dragon-Chosen Warriors—they were the Dragon-Chosen Chefs!!
In the past, Pot was just an ordinary Grimalkyne with no interest in the culinary arts as long as the food was cooked and edible. But now, it was different. All the cats who had evolved into the burly forms had undergone culinary training under the Head Chef. While they might not all be world-class, they were certainly better than the average Grimalkyne.
Asterion had only just learned about this. Technically, this was the first time he was enjoying the service of the Dragon-Chosen Chefs.
Wait... are there this many evolved Grimalkynes now?
Scanning the crowd, Asterion realized that the thousand "high-contribution" cats Leaf mentioned didn't even include these evolved ones. They were a separate group, numbering around four or five hundred.
A single evolved cat was twice the height of a normal Grimalkyne, to say nothing of their bulk. Pot's thigh was thicker than a normal Grimalkyne's waist. If it weren't for the fact that both groups had black fur and white "bibs," people might have thought they were different species entirely.
Is that... a lot?
According to Leaf, every Grimalkyne in the tribe, including the kittens, had consumed the powder made from Asterion's shed blade-scales or carapace. Despite that, only these few hundred "big fat cats" had been born.
A few hundred out of several thousand... put that way, it didn't seem like much.
Any Grimalkyne confident in their cooking could present their masterpiece to Asterion. The Glavenus Tribe didn't have any restrictive bureaucracy; there was no rule saying you couldn't cook for the Boss just because your status was low. Of course, bringing him a pot of garbage was strictly forbidden. But as long as the food was decent, it could be presented. After all, Asterion's stomach was a bottomless pit; the only difference was that mediocre food didn't get a reward.
The Dragon-Chosen Chefs set up their stations right in front of Asterion. During the festival, they served only him. In previous years, they would have cooked for the Bazelgeuse brothers and the Kulu-Ya-Ku brothers... oh, and the Acidic Glavenus and Mirrorblade.
Ordinary chefs with confident dishes could send their food up from the living area below, but their main task was to fill the bellies of the common Grimalkynes so every cat could feel the joy of the holiday.
The hunters from Astera were also competitors for the Dragon-Chosen Chefs. They were old regulars, so when it came to truly new rivals... Pot shifted his gaze toward the edge of the cooking area. There stood the Bugtrappers—the guests that Sparky and his team had brought back.
Having received the Glavenus Tribe's warm hospitality, the simple-hearted Bugtrappers wanted to reciprocate. Their way of doing so was to let the most respected cat—er, dragon—of the tribe taste their own tribe's most delicious food.
This was the suggestion Sparky had given when the Bugtrappers wanted to give him a return gift for his honesty and generosity.
If they could earn the Glavenus Boss's approval, these distant cousins would find it much easier to integrate into the tribe in the future.
Unlike the other chef teams, the Bugtrappers hadn't used the pre-cut festival meat provided by the tribe. They had brought their own specialty ingredients to the Great Stomach Festival.
To be fair, if the subordinates Sparky had taken to the Bugtrappers hadn't been strong Grimalkynes like Pot, they wouldn't have been able to carry enough of those specialty ingredients back.
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