"This is just... Boss Glavenus is a harder taskmaster than even the Commander," a hunter groaned, sprawled out on the ground with all the energy of a discarded rag.
"Well, in a way, it's a form of recognition!" The Admiral sat cross-legged beside him, letting out a booming laugh. "Though looking at it now, it seems Boss Glavenus didn't care much for the food we used to send up to him."
"He's exactly like a child; when he finds something he likes, he just has to eat his fill," Hara remarked. "I honestly thought that even after the festival ended, we wouldn't be able to leave. I thought we'd be stuck cooking until he finally got bored of the taste."
"I doubt that," the Admiral said, waving a hand dismissively. "I can feel it—to Boss Glavenus, becoming stronger is the only thing that truly matters. The fact that he's only participated in one 'Great Stomach Festival' in all these years is proof enough. Speaking of which, do you remember how many scars that Bazelgeuse had on him?"
"Yeah, he's covered in massive wounds from head to tail. According to the Grimalkynes, he didn't look like that before he left this time," Hara nodded. "I'm really curious what they encountered out in the wild. On the other hand, Boss Glavenus doesn't look injured at all... though why am I not surprised?"
Hara couldn't shake the image of that creature from her mind—a monster that knew how to set traps and use hit-and-run tactics. With intelligence like that, it was no wonder he stayed out of harm's way.
"Boss Glavenus was likely injured too," the Admiral said with certainty. "It's just that he can regenerate his scales and shell at high speeds, so you don't see any lingering scars."
"Getting stronger, huh?" A scholar rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm curious why Boss Glavenus wants to be even more powerful when he's already so dominant... though, I suppose for a monster, seeking strength doesn't require a reason."
"Maybe he wants to grow into his final form?" another hunter chimed in. "Isn't there a theory that Boss Glavenus is a special kind of Elder Dragon? That he's still in his growth phase?"
"That's just a hypothesis," the scholar said, turning to look at Asterion, who was still basking in the sun at the edge of the canopy. "Though... it's a hypothesis that's looking more like the truth every day."
"Rather than a hypothesis, I'd say we're just waiting to see what he'll look like when he finally stops changing," Hara added. "According to the Admiral's agreement with Boss Glavenus, he and the Bazelgeuse should be returning to Astera with us very soon, right?"
"That's right," the Admiral nodded. "Tomorrow."
"So soon? The festival only ended today!" a hunter shouted in surprise. "Talk about efficiency, Boss Glavenus!"
"That's why I said strength is the only thing he cares about. If he can actually defeat or even kill Nergigante during this Elder Crossing, and successfully hunt the Elder Dragons coming across the sea, he'll likely undergo an even further transformation," the Admiral said cheerfully. "I'm dying to see it."
"I just hope the members of the Third Fleet arrive safely and don't run into an accident like the Second Fleet did," Hara sighed. "Ten years ago, if the Second Fleet hadn't been lucky enough to evacuate quickly, Teostra's flames would have..."
Hara trailed off, but everyone present understood. Aside from her and the Admiral, the remaining hunters and scholars were all members of the Second Fleet. They had witnessed the battle between Teostra and Nergigante at sea from a terrifyingly close distance—specifically, that feeling of absolute despair when trapped on a ship with nowhere to run.
"True. Let's hope the Third Fleet makes it in one piece," the scholar said solemnly. "If we're leaving tomorrow, we'd better get a move on and pack our gear."
Time to move!
When the Glavenus tribe had originally migrated from the Wildspire Waste to the Ancient Forest, the journey had taken nearly a year. But that was because they had too much to carry and too many cats, large and small, to look after; for safety's sake, they couldn't move fast. If it were just hunters acting alone, the pace would be much quicker.
However, Asterion still felt it was too slow. The Elder Crossing occurred roughly every ten years, but it wasn't as if the Elder Dragons checked a calendar to arrive exactly on the dot. He didn't want to arrive late only to find that Nergigante had already polished off all the prime Elder Dragon meat.
So... Asterion decided his Bazelgeuse brother would have to suffer a little for the cause.
"ROAR??" (Tie them to me??)
For the first time, a sense of shock and utter confusion could be heard in the Bazelgeuse's roar. What Asterion was suggesting left him completely baffled.
Asterion had a plan.
He intended to strap every single hunter to the Bazelgeuse and have the bomber dragon—capable of sustained, long-distance flight—carry them all the way to Astera in one go.
"Growl, huff..." (I have no choice. I can't fly for long periods, so you have to carry them. Otherwise, every time I land, I'll be fine, but they'll probably be vibrated to death.)
"ROAR!" (Why do I have to carry them at all!)
The Bazelgeuse was resistant. Even though the combined weight of the hunters wasn't enough to ground him, it was still extra baggage, making flight more taxing.
"Growl, growl!" (To help us, obviously. Don't you remember before we killed that fire-breathing Teostra, it was these monkeys who helped me hold off Nergigante?)
"Roar?" (That happened?)
The Bazelgeuse had long since forgotten.
Asterion: "..."
"Growl! Growl!!" (Of course it did! Would your Big Brother lie to you? In any case, don't underestimate these humanoids. They are weak individually, but they can craft some very useful weapons!)
Like, for instance—the Dragonator!!
The Second Fleet had brought a wealth of technicians and scholars to Astera. As the leader of the base, the Commander was well aware of the enemies the Research Commission would face.
Powerful Tempered monsters, frequently appearing Elder Dragons—since they were preparing for such adversaries, it was only natural to create massive weapons capable of dealing significant damage.
Humanity in the world of Monster Hunter once possessed a glorious civilization, but a gap in history was created by the attack of the "Forbidden Monster," Fatalis. The human civilization that had flourished since then was entirely different from the ancient one, though they occasionally excavated ancient technology from ruins in the wild.
The Dragonator was one such example.
There were actually two types of Dragonators. One was the type excavated from ruins or reclaimed from monsters with a hoarding habit (like Ahtal-Ka or Gogmazios) by the Kingdom and the Guild—original pieces of ancient human engineering.
The other type was the result of scholars and technicians from the Wycademy studying and replicating the ancient designs. While their power was somewhat diminished, they were still formidable Dragonators.
The New World Research Commission was a group targeting Elder Dragons; naturally, they needed weapons capable of repelling them.
Killing them was usually out of the question.
Or rather, the reason the Admiral had sought out Asterion was specifically to kill an Elder Dragon, something the hunters could never achieve on their own.
Truth be told, when the Admiral had confidently stated that Astera would assist Asterion in slaying Nergigante and the crossing Elder Dragons, Asterion had been quite looking forward to it.
Despite his grumbling and the extreme discomfort of having hunters squirming around on his back, the Bazelgeuse followed Asterion's orders. There was no helping it—Asterion was the Alpha. A dragon who could provide a steady supply of food was always in the right.
Scraping his talons against the canopy surface, the Bazelgeuse looked miserable. He didn't want to do this, but the hunters were even less enthusiastic.
"Is... is this really okay?" one hunter asked, death-gripping the thick vines tied around his waist. He tried to convince himself this was perfectly normal, but he failed miserably. "We're going to die! Admiral! We're definitely going to die!!"
"Hahahahahaha! Isn't this exciting?" Tied to the back of the Bazelgeuse's hind legs just like the other hunter, the Admiral showed no sign of nervousness or fear. Instead, with an expression of pure exhilaration, he directed the Grimalkynes to tie the knots even tighter.
Indeed, it was the Grimalkynes of the Glavenus tribe who were lashing the hunters to the Bazelgeuse. As the Admiral's good friend, Sparky personally tied the vines for the strong humanoid, cinching them so tight it looked like he was trying to prevent any chance of him falling off.
Each hunter's hands were left free, and they each held a small knife. If things went south, they could cut the vines and jump... though they generally wouldn't, as jumping meant leaving their lives entirely to fate.
"It's too tight! I can't breathe!" a scholar protested.
"Can't be helped, meow! Safety first, meow! You don't want to fall off mid-air, meow!" Sparky's voice sounded a bit strained.
"You're just enjoying this, aren't you?!" the scholar yelled. "You bad cat!!"
"No way, meow!" Sparky wasn't even trying to act anymore, letting out a snicker. "And isn't this interesting, meow? Being carried by Boss Bazelgeuse is a privilege even we haven't enjoyed, meow!"
"Exactly!" the Admiral said with gusto. "Think about it! If you untie yourself and leave now, wouldn't you regret not taking this dragon-ride decades later?!"
The scholar fell silent.
The Admiral was right.
Setting aside the 'why' and 'how,' the journey they were about to embark on was a miraculous flight that no one in the Guild or the entire Kingdom's history had ever experienced—traveling via monster transport! And not the kind of flight where a monster carries you back to its nest to eat you!
A safe flight!
Wait... was it safe?
Following the Admiral's words, the previously anxious hunters and scholars suddenly went quiet. Everyone's expression became a bit complex—and yes, a bit excited.
Fortunately, there weren't many hunters in this group, and the Bazelgeuse was massive enough with thick enough legs to accommodate them... provided they didn't look up.
"...Hey, I say... those things above our heads... they're the ones that explode, right?"
One hunter, after a long moment of mental preparation, looked up and spoke with a trembling voice.
The hunters were tied to the hind legs, which were right next to the tail. Hanging thick and heavy beneath that tail were rows upon rows of blasting scales. It wasn't an illusion—when the Bazelgeuse, uncomfortable with the weight, flicked his tail, a blasting scale brushed right past the hunters' faces.
The Admiral: "..."
Even he couldn't find a way to spin that one!
"Well, it's certainly a novel experience," Hara said, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. "If we were back in the Old World, this is the kind of spectacle you couldn't even see in your dreams."
Bazelgeuse, take off!!
"Pad-pad-pad-pad-AAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
Amidst the screams of several hunters, the Bazelgeuse took a few short running steps and then violently flapped his wings, taking flight toward the opening Asterion had cleared.
They would pass through the shortcut to return to the Wildspire Waste and then head for Astera. The Bazelgeuse's wings weren't suited for high-altitude soaring; he couldn't continuously climb to clear the sheer cliffs between the Wildspire Waste and the Ancient Forest.
Without needing to give further instructions to the Glavenus tribe, Asterion followed with a leap, his eight wing-spines erupting in a jet-like burst as he caught up.
It was a long journey, and the scholar strapped to the Bazelgeuse finally got to see the long-distance flight style of the "Boss Glavenus" he had been so curious about. It was... how should he put it? A bit pathetic.
When they first started, Asterion's speed was incredibly fast. Before the hunters could even get a clear look, Asterion, using his "jet propulsion" flight, had already shot past the flapping Bazelgeuse and disappeared into the distant forest.
Then, he would follow a smooth arc back toward the ground. In the scholar's eyes, the dragon—who was just massive and close—would rapidly become small and distant until he vanished into the trees.
But as the Bazelgeuse continued his steady, slow gliding, Asterion would suddenly burst out from the emerald sea of trees again, trace a perfect semi-circle in the sky, and then land far ahead in the forest once more.
How to describe it? It was... a little funny?
It was like a kangaroo constantly hopping through a thicket, or a school of fish breaching the surface of the ocean.
However, in the scholar's eyes, this method of travel was already incredibly fast. At the start of every "leap," Asterion easily overtook the Bazelgeuse, only to be left behind as he landed to recover.
"...This... is... proof... of... youth!"
The scholar's shout was swallowed by the wind, making it hard to hear clearly, but those fragmented words were enough to get the point across.
He believed Asterion couldn't maintain high-speed flight for long because he wasn't fully developed yet and had to land frequently to rest.
He wasn't entirely wrong; he was indeed underdeveloped.
Because he hadn't "developed" wings for sustained flight at all.
Given the travel speed of Asterion and the Bazelgeuse, the hunters didn't even need to stop to rest, eat, or sleep—at least not before they reached the shortcut. If they were hungry, they chewed on some rations; if they were thirsty, they took a swig of water.
The Grimalkynes had been very thoughtful; wooden canteens filled with food and water were hanging on the outside of the vines, within easy reach.
One word: Endure!
They just had to endure!
————
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