"Bleurgh!!!"
The Bazelgeuse brothers had barely touched the ground before a hunter drew a knife, sliced the vines binding him, and flopped ungracefully onto the dirt to vomit.
Flying safely on the back of a large monster had seemed like a treat at first. Unlike Rathalos, who were master flyers, the Bazelgeuse relied on gliding, making the flight relatively stable.
However, the novelty wore off quickly. Even if the Bazelgeuse weren't flying at breakneck speeds, the relentless wind and the freezing temperatures of high altitudes had chilled the hunters to the bone. By the end, the journey had become a trial of endurance.
The Admiral also untied his vines, stretching his limbs with a look of discomfort. He moved his arms and legs to get the blood flowing again after being bound for so long, his joints popping and cracking with every movement.
Before long, accompanied by the sharp hiss of jet-like air currents, Asterion landed as well. He did a quick sweep of the area and, seeing that the Admiral and the others were fine, went off to find the local "dragons" for some food.
Since the goal wasn't to kill the hunters from exhaustion on the road, the journey naturally required a mid-way rest. While the hunters lit fires to cook, Asterion needed to eat to replenish the energy consumed by his fiery propulsion.
His energy consumption was high, yet his thrust was insufficient. Asterion desperately hoped that the Elder Dragons the Third Fleet was tracking could help him solve these two problems. Even if his flight speed remained slow, he wanted to move past this current "leap-frog" style of flying.
If he could fly faster than he could run, he'd consider it a win.
Arrival at Astera
Under Asterion's forced march, when the sun rose high once more, illuminating the Wildspire Waste, the hunters of Astera finally saw a black dot appear in the distant sky. It grew larger and closer until—Boom!
"Mon—Monster! A monster is attacking the base!!"
As the Bazelgeuse brothers dove and landed directly in an open clearing within Astera, a hunter nearby began shouting in wide-eyed shock.
What else was there to say?
In an instant, hunters with melee weapons drew their blades, while those with ranged weapons aimed their Bows, Light Bowguns, and Heavy Bowguns at the Bazelgeuse duo—though no one fired the first shot.
A mere encounter didn't automatically mean hostility. It was an unwritten rule: unless the Kingdom or the Guild had specifically issued a hunt decree, hunters were not to strike first in a sudden encounter unless the monster attacked.
And one certainly didn't "bait" a monster into attacking just to justify a hunt. Any hunters who dared such a thing were dealt with by the Guild Knights. This was the hard-earned wisdom of a humanity that had rebuilt itself after civilization's collapse; monsters were incredibly powerful, and even victory often came at a staggering cost of lives and resources. Unnecessary conflict was to be avoided.
"Don't attack!"
"Everyone, stay calm!"
The long-standing hunter code saved the Admiral and his group from taking a volley of arrows and Sticky Ammo to the face. The Commander rushed out of his office, shouting immediately to prevent a nervous hunter from causing an irreversible mistake.
"ROAAR!!"
Looking around, the Bazelgeuse brothers let out a dissatisfied roar. The hostility radiating from these "Ape-Wyverns" made them want to start dropping scales.
Fortunately, thanks to the Grand Appreciation Fest, which Astera hunters attended annually, some recognized the Bazelgeuse that usually showed up to gorge themselves during the festivities. These hunters helped the Commander calm the crowd, shouting for others to hold their fire.
"The Admiral?! You're back?!"
CRASH!
Amidst the chaotic scene, before the hunters staying at the base could even finish welcoming the Admiral and his team down from the monsters' legs, a sharp whistling sound heralded a heavy impact. Asterion slammed into the center of Astera, the force of his landing shattering the stone tiles beneath his feet.
However, Asterion's appearance didn't cause a panic. The "Glavenus Boss" was quite famous in Astera. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that some hunters worshipped him as the guardian deity of the base—and their own personal protector.
In the quarters of these specific hunters, one could find wooden carvings purchased from the Glavenus tribe, depicting Asterion at various stages of his growth. The hunters of Astera were, in fact, the primary customers for the Grimalkyne woodcarvers.
"Lower your weapons, all of you!"
"Quickly, get some dried meat from the warehouse!"
"Move it! We need to clear a large enough space before dark! Don't let the Glavenus Boss look down on us!"
"..."
The hunters... were surprisingly well-practiced at this.
The Secret Weapon
Squatting in the clearing, Asterion silently observed the busy humans, watching them steal glances at him while pretending to work.
"Surprised?" The Commander, who had been directing the other hunters, quietly approached Asterion's side with a smile. "Don't be a stranger, and don't be nervous. Kulu-Ya-Ku—or the 'Egg-Stealing Meows' as the Grimalkynes call them—occasionally visit the base, so everyone is used to having 'dragons' drop by."
Well, the only real headache was the logistics. After all, the amount Asterion and the Bazelgeuse ate in one sitting wasn't something a Kulu-Ya-Ku's bird-like stomach could compare to.
The Commander decided to let his "future self" worry about the supplies; for now, he was just happy they were back.
"Anyway, though it's not our first meeting, I should say it—welcome to Astera, Glavenus Boss," the Commander said, reaching out to touch Asterion's foreleg.
"Growl!"
Asterion let out a meaningless grunt in response, knowing the hunters couldn't understand him anyway.
In the past, he lacked the strength and felt too insecure to enter, so he had only ever approached the cliffs outside Astera. Now, he looked around at the base where he had spent thousands of hours in a previous life's video game. Aside from iconic landmarks—like the office area built from a derelict ship—many things didn't match his memory.
For instance, the scholars hadn't yet planted the Ancient Tree sapling in the base, nor had they learned to use its power to boost production. Near the cliffs, there was a visible industrial zone that was significantly larger than the Smithy he remembered.
The entire base was larger than in his memories. It was clear that the industrial zone was currently the heart of Astera. Massive chimneys belched grey smoke, and the sound of metal being hammered was constant. There was also a factory area with a makeshift roof.
To Asterion, it looked like an assembly line for cars or ships. Several small vessels were suspended on crossbeams. None of them were large—maybe enough for three hunters to stand on—and they lacked living quarters or storage space.
Compared to the three ships that carried the Second Fleet members, these were like children compared to parents. Were they actually ships?
"As expected of the Glavenus Boss, you've already found our secret weapon?" Following Asterion's gaze, the Commander smiled. Though he couldn't see exactly what Asterion was looking at from that height, he knew what was there. "We won't be as helpless during this Elder Crossing as we were ten years ago. Please, look forward to our performance, Boss!"
Are they really that confident?
Asterion wanted to mock them. He remembered clearly that before the Fifth Fleet (the combat specialists) and the "Sapphire Star" arrived, the Research Commission's progress was essentially zero.
Still, it felt wrong to dismiss the efforts of the first four fleets. The story of Monster Hunter: World was one of legacy. It was the tireless work of the first four fleets that paved the way for the Fifth. Whether it was the items or the weapons, they allowed the Fifth Fleet to focus entirely on investigation and combat without being bogged down by logistics.
A likely-to-fail attempt—that was Asterion's assessment of the small ships the Commander was so proud of.
The War Council
Asterion and the Bazelgeuse brothers settled into Astera. The Commander cleared a large area for them; the brothers didn't need a roof, just a place to rest their feet.
Relying solely on hunters to provide nutrition wasn't enough, so Asterion and the Bazelgeuse would go out to hunt and bring carcasses back. In these moments, the Astera hunters took on the role of the Grimalkynes—butchering and cooking so that everyone had meat to eat.
However, there were no cooking competitions or festive banquets. As the ten-year mark approached, a heavy, tense atmosphere settled over Astera.
The atmosphere of war.
For hunters, investigating an Elder Dragon was a war where they staked their lives. Even after ten years, the places where Teostra had unleashed its full power had not recovered. Forget the ecosystem; even a single sprouting sapling was considered a miracle.
Everyone in Astera had stepped onto that land once the lava cooled. No one understood the sheer scale of an Elder Dragon's power better than they did, and no one feared it more.
But they didn't retreat. Instead, they used their collective wisdom, drawing strength from every possible source to challenge the secrets of the Elder Dragons once more.
Thirty years had been enough for the hunters to train Wingdrakes to be more obedient. Every day, hunters patrolled the coast from high above in three shifts, ensuring any anomaly on the sea's surface would be spotted immediately.
Asterion also began to gauge the hunters' current combat power. He hadn't found the Dragonator he had been looking for, but he saw many Cannons being prepared with ample ammunition. These were being moved either to large ships docked at the coast or to those small vessels. Strangely, while the small ships looked ready for use, they were never launched into the sea.
Airships?
As someone who had "read the script," Asterion thought of the Third Fleet's flying research vessel. The hunters didn't hide anything from him, methodically equipping those small boats with large balloons and inflating them one by one.
They actually flew.
"Excellent! Then, let the war council begin!"
Seeing the prototype airships take flight, the Commander finally felt a weight lift from his chest. If they couldn't get close to the Zorah Magdaros that accompanied every Elder Crossing by sea, they would approach from the sky!
"Begin the report," the Commander said commandingly as the leaders of Astera gathered.
"Uh, shall I start?" The Second Fleet Master scratched his head awkwardly, glancing at Asterion, who was lounging near the derelict ship that served as the meeting hall.
After all these days, they had mostly adapted to having two uncontrollable large monsters roaming the base. As the leader of the Second Fleet, he had seen many battles and had been invited by the Guild to craft weapons against large monsters and even Elder Dragons.
He thought he was world-wise, but this was the first time he had to discuss a battle plan with a monster. It was surreal.
"In short, the Cannons are all cast and mounted on the ships. We have enough cannonballs to sustain a full battle. All hunters' weapons and armor have been sharpened and polished," the Second Fleet Master said methodically. "The airship trials were a success. Though they aren't fast, their altitude should keep the hunters safe from most standard attacks... Well, that's about all we technicians can do. The rest is up to you."
"Don't say that; you've been a huge help," the Admiral said, crossing his arms and laughing. "If we'd had these conditions during the last Elder Crossing, we wouldn't have had to run away so pathetically from Teostra's flames."
"Is it really any different now?" the Second Fleet Master quipped. "Just don't go crashing my precious ships head-first into an Elder Dragon... Fine, I'll go on the ships myself."
"It won't be that dramatic," the Admiral grumbled playfully. "Anyway, the plan is simpler than before: provide maximum support to the Glavenus Boss to defeat or even slay Nergigante. Then, follow the Elder Dragons crossing the sea to find exactly where Zorah Magdaros and the new Elder Dragons are heading on the New World. Any problems, Boss?"
Investigating why the Elder Dragons crossed the sea every ten years remained the primary mission of the Research Commission.
Asterion already knew the answer. Xeno'jiiva was calling out to aging Elder Dragons nearing the end of their lives, drawing them to the New World to die and fuel the Bioenergy of the Elder's Recess. Every ten years, this call reached a peak.
Because Elder Dragons have such long lifespans, when the call was at its strongest, the elderly Zorah Magdaros would follow its instincts to the New World to find the path into the ley lines. But if the call weakened, a Zorah Magdaros that felt it still had some life left in it might return to its previous habitat—until twenty years later, when its death was truly imminent.
————
Supporting me on Pa-treon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .c-om/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Pa-treon normally.)