Xeno'jiiva was like a fisherman sitting alone on a platform, casting his hook and line to catch Elder Dragons nearing the end of their lives, steadily absorbing their life energy.
Asterion knew everything, but he wouldn't tell the hunters a single thing.
On one hand, it was because he wasn't entirely sure if his meta-knowledge was 100% accurate in this living, breathing world. On the other, Asterion had realized that even if he gave them the answers directly, the hunters likely wouldn't believe him.
These people—carrying dreams and passion, risking their lives to explore the New World—craved the satisfaction of uncovering the truth themselves. What they sought wasn't just the secret of the Elder Crossing, but the journey toward that secret and the joy of exploring the unknown.
And so... there was no need to speak.
"Roar!" Asterion let out a low growl and nodded, acknowledging the Admiral's words.
"Of course, if we follow that Elder Dragon across the sea and uncover the secret of the Crossing, or if an emergency prevents us from continuing our exploration, we will shift our objective," the Commander added. "We will help you, Boss, to prey upon that Elder Dragon. Is that acceptable?"
"Roar."
Asterion had no objections.
He could lie here, resting peacefully and conserving his strength, thanks to the hunters. He didn't have to patrol the long coastline at the southern tip of the Wildspire Waste with the Bazelgeuse brothers to ensure they didn't miss the crossing—the hunters handled all those trivial logistics.
Though there were no Grimalkynes present to translate his words, Asterion's ability to understand the Admiral and the Commander and respond accurately still drew gasps of amazement from the humans who hadn't met him before.
"Directly cooperating with a monster?" The Tech Chief took a swig of ale, his eyes never leaving Asterion. He couldn't help but marvel, "Truly... it's unimaginable."
"Well, that's the New World for you, old man," Hara said with a smile. "In any case, to ensure both sides can cooperate or coordinate effectively, we need to summarize the intelligence we currently have... I hope you won't be offended, Boss."
"Roar."
Asterion didn't nod or shake his head; he simply narrowed his eyes.
The scholars then began, looking a bit nervous.
It was a strange meeting. Asterion listened as the Tech Chief and the Master Smith described the current power of Astera and their various weapons, from cannons to Great Ballistae. He then listened to a Wyverian scholar analyze his own fighting style, formulating how the hunters should coordinate their tactics with him.
"...What needs to be noted is that, unlike the Flying Wyverns or even the flight-capable Elder Dragons we usually see, Boss Glavenus possesses a unique method of flight. He doesn't rely on wings flapping against the air to generate lift; instead, he jets flames to produce propulsion!"
The more the scholar spoke, the more fanatical his expression became.
"Based on my observations, I conducted a simple experiment. I fashioned a sealed sphere, filled it with fuel, drilled a single hole in the top, and ignited the contents—can you guess what happened?"
"It exploded?" the Admiral asked, looking curious.
"Maybe it did?" the scholar said, looking uncertain. "But the explosion was smaller than I expected, and flames did indeed shoot out of the hole. The sphere fell from its stand and flew a short distance in the opposite direction of the flames before falling still... Hmm, it's quite strange. The flames hadn't even gone out yet, so why did it..."
"Ahem!" The Commander coughed loudly, interrupting the scholar's musings. He said with a sigh, "Back to business. Now is not the time for research."
"Ah, apologies, apologies! Whenever research comes up, I just can't help myself." The scholar shot Asterion a nervous glance—after all, what he was doing could be seen as prying into Asterion's secrets. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the monster had no reaction.
"My point is, based on this unique flight method alone, Boss Glavenus could already be classified as an Elder Dragon. However, he cannot fly for long periods. It's more like long-distance jumping; he needs to land and take off again at intervals. I suspect this might be because he is still growing..."
The scholar trailed off vaguely.
"Anyway, ignoring the underlying principles for now, Boss Glavenus can indeed burst into speeds that exceed human visual reaction time," the scholar summarized. "And he applies this explosive power to his unique Glavenus Sword Style. Uh, I'll let the Sword Master handle this part? I don't know much about combat."
"Very well," the Sword Master nodded, his helmet clinking. "First, any hunter supporting Boss Glavenus must use ranged weapons. We cannot attempt to support him with melee strikes against the monster's weak points like we did ten years ago."
"Don't let his size fool you. He might be an Apex among large monsters, but he possesses agility and explosive power that defy his bulk. I've had the honor of witnessing him hunt recently. The flames erupting from his wing-bones allow him to move at angles and speeds that defy common sense. Even his tail strikes can be accelerated mid-swing."
"As for the Glavenus Sword Style..." The Sword Master hesitated. "As a human, I don't understand the mechanics behind his power generation. But judging by the area of destruction, when Boss Glavenus fights, anything near him is likely to be caught in the crossfire."
Asterion's Tail-Blade Dance had a far greater reach than a hunter's Spirit Blade flurry. This was the real world, not a game; there was no convenient "Friendly Fire Off" setting. In reality, only the most elite hunters were qualified to use ranged weapons, as they had to judge their own timing to ensure their attacks didn't obstruct or injure melee allies.
It was a massive test of both chemistry and skill.
Listening to a scholar analyze his abilities from a human perspective was actually quite interesting. Asterion even hoped to gain some inspiration from the man to make himself even more perfect.
Time slipped away during the tense preparations until a Wingdrake carrying a hunter flew back to Astera. As soon as the hunter landed, he shouted, "The Third Fleet has appeared!"
Instantly, the entirety of Astera sprang into action according to the plan. The ships moored at the docks hoisted their sails. Fully armed hunters called out to one another on deck, checking the mounted weaponry and ammunition to ensure nothing would fall overboard or cause an accident if hit by large waves or shockwaves.
The specially crafted airships also departed. In a rather counter-intuitive display—much like how a Paolumu floats after inhaling air—the scholars and technicians filled the airships' gas bags with massive amounts of air, and they simply rose. It made Asterion marvel at the wonders of "Capcom Science."
These little airships were quite cute. Asterion counted seven of them. Some carried two people, some three. The two-man ships were equipped with a cannon, while the three-man ships were not. The only commonality was that everyone on board was fully armed, even the Master Smith of the Second Fleet.
They were certainly enthusiastic, though it remained to be seen how much use they'd be in battle. When facing an Elder Dragon, driving it away counts as a win, and avoiding major casualties counts as a victory.
"Roar!" (Let's go. It's time to eat meat.)
Asterion let out a roar toward the Bazelgeuse brothers. Searing flames erupted from behind him, propelling him into the sky. He soared into the distance, heading toward the Wingdrakes carrying the hunters.
"Roar-on!" (Meat! Meat that makes us stronger!!)
Following closely behind Asterion, the Bazelgeuse duo flapped their wings and took flight.
"Roar-on!" (And combat! Yes! Combat!)
As if suddenly remembering something, the Bazelgeuse brothers let out two more roars in quick succession.
Asterion shook his mallet-like head. He suddenly felt that his "Boss" was a bit terrifying. Since following him, he hadn't had to worry about food, but somehow, he had subconsciously turned into a creature whose head was filled with nothing but meat.
Amidst the screaming whistle of his thermal jets, Asterion bypassed the hunters dangling from Wingdrakes and surged ahead. According to the Admiral, while the Third Fleet knew the nautical charts to Astera, they wouldn't head there directly in order to keep track of the crossing Elder Dragon.
After a period of high-speed flight, Asterion spotted several blurred black dots on the azure sea. However, when he landed on the beach of a nearby shore, he could see nothing but the golden surface of the sea shimmering in the sunlight.
But it didn't matter. All he had to do now was wait. Asterion felt his blood beginning to pump with excitement. Hot white steam hissed from his nostrils. His muscles twitched minutely as his body temperature rose rapidly, ensuring he would be in peak condition the moment combat began.
The Bazelgeuse brothers didn't land; they continued to circle in the sky.
The hunters' battle plan was a long, garbled mess of instructions, but Asterion only understood one sentence: Boss Glavenus, just fight however you want. We will find our own opportunities to coordinate.
Then what was there to think about? Let's get to it!
Asterion could already see the back of Zorah Magdaros emerging from the water. Or, more accurately, the mountain of minerals it carried on its back, supported by its wings.
The Royal Paleontology Scriveners, unable to study Zorah Magdaros in depth, had categorized it as a "Mountain Dragon" based on their observations. They imagined that beneath the rock and earth, it looked similar to a Lao-Shan Lung. But as an "Informed Glavenus," Asterion knew that Zorah Magdaros actually possessed a skeleton similar to a Flying Wyvern.
It was simply gargantuan—imagine a Flying Wyvern as massive as a mountain range. It had four legs and two wings, though the wings were incapable of flight and had become vestigial, serving only as a tray to hold the volcanic minerals accumulated over its long life.
In other words, Zorah Magdaros had literally built itself into a mountain. It could live freely in underwater volcanoes or near any volcanic site, relying on natural eruptions to accumulate enough energy to survive.
For a Zorah Magdaros nearing the end of its life, even when crossing the ocean with its feet firmly on the seabed, a large portion of the mineral mountain on its back would still break the surface.
"Roar-on!" (Lots of meat! Right on top!!)
The Bazelgeuse brothers overhead kept reporting what they saw. Just like in the past, there were many monsters on Zorah Magdaros's back. Some had flown there to rest, while others had been brought along in a daze, waking up to find no land in sight, only the "island" beneath their feet drifting along.
If this had been the Bazelgeuse brothers of the past, they would have already flown over to start carpet-bombing. But after following Asterion for so long and tasting the sweetness of coordinated hunts against powerful dragons, they had learned patience. They knew to let these creatures reach land—where Asterion could truly excel—before starting the fight.
Cooperative hunting was just better than solo hunting!
Think of the "Dual Rajang" nightmares! Think of the "Blazing White Night!"
(I was truly broken by those monkeys; two fists are no match for four hands. I was pounced on until I didn't know my own mother.)
"ROAR!!!"
An exceptionally familiar roar rang out. Asterion whipped his head around and saw a black dot rapidly approaching from the inland sky. It was descending fast—not toward the Zorah Magdaros still at sea, but toward him and the Bazelgeuse brothers!
It was Nergigante!!
With the Bazelgeuse brothers' aerial capabilities, they would be bullied to death in a dogfight against Nergigante. Nergigante was a master of both air and ground combat. Almost the moment they heard the roar, the Bazelgeuse duo tucked their wings and dove for the ground.
At the same time, Asterion leaped from his spot, lunging toward the direction of Nergigante's descent. The eight wing-bones on his back adjusted their angles and ignited again, ensuring that his speed didn't just maintain during the jump—it increased!
Aerial Draw Slash!!
He adjusted his posture in mid-air, swinging his blade-tail toward Nergigante. The brothers had been prepared for Nergigante's appearance; the only surprise was that this guy actually remembered them and hadn't gone to pick a fight with the crossing Elder Dragon first, like it had ten years ago.
"ROAR!!!"
To be honest, Nergigante didn't even recognize who this sudden jumping monster was. Asterion's appearance had changed too much. He had only recognized that disgusting, exploding dragon from before.
But it didn't matter. He recognized this strike.
This familiar color, the scales and shell that reflected dazzling light in the sun, and this familiar way of attacking with a tail! Even in mid-air, that posture of twisting the body to whip the tail!!
IT'S YOU!!!
When rivals meet, sparks fly.
Nergigante would remember the humiliation of having the most precious essence of his prey stolen from right under his nose ten years ago until the world ended! He hadn't felt much immediately after the theft, but after finishing the Teostra's carcass, the realization hit him.
Back then, the feeling was deep regret. Back then, the feeling was pure rage!
Hatred!
And this hatred would resurface every time he woke up, every time he was hungry, every time he was full, and every time he pursued another dragon!
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