The Kushala Daora was dead.
There was no tragic, final struggle, nor were there any profound last words from a creature of "Elder Dragon intelligence." It died without so much as a ripple—its neck simply snapped as Asterion and the Bazelgeuse brothers swarmed over it.
To Asterion's relief, although the Seething Bazelgeuse of his memory were always consumed by fury, these Bazelgeuse brothers hadn't lost their minds to that rage. Even after the Kushala Daora collapsed, they didn't turn their aggression toward him.
"Roar!" (I'm going after the thorny dragon!)
Leaving only that short cry, the Bazelgeuse brothers impatiently took to the skies, pursuing the direction where the Nergigante had last disappeared. It was anyone's guess if they would actually find it.
"Roar!!" (Don't look for too long! Come back soon for dinner!)
Asterion only had time to look up and shout before hearing a resounding roar in response. He wasn't going to stop them; in fact, if the brothers hadn't volunteered, Asterion would have pursued the Nergigante himself.
The logic was simple: half a Nergigante certainly had less meat than a whole one. If the Nergigante crashed and died after flying a short distance, the Bazelgeuse brothers were essentially just going on a grocery run to pick up the remains.
But if the Nergigante managed to escape even with half its body missing—well, then it escaped. The brothers just needed to get back in time to eat.
Asterion, of course, had no intention of hogging the brothers' spoils. With one whole Kushala Daora and half a Nergigante, there was plenty for both of them to feast on.
Even the hunters could have a few scraps as trophies—Kushala scales, Nergigante shells, and the like. Asterion had no interest in those bits; he'd let the hunters take them to craft equipment.
The fact that the Elder Dragon accompanying the Third Fleet turned out to be a Kushala Daora was excellent news for Asterion. If he could acquire its ability to control storms, it could mean a massive upgrade to his body's flight systems and endurance!
His flight speed might even break the sound barrier, rivaling a Valstrax!
At the thought of such a possibility, Asterion felt like the wounds on his wings didn't even hurt anymore. He was buzzing with excitement.
By the time the hunters had landed their small boats and reached the Kushala Daora's corpse, the Bazelgeuse brothers had returned.
"Roar?" (Nothing?)
"Roar..." (No idea where it went. The blood trail went cold.)
The Bazelgeuse brother shook his head. According to him, they could see bloodstains on the rocks at first, but the marks grew thinner and thinner until they vanished entirely.
"Roar, roar-roar." (It's fine, let's eat first. You take this part. If you find a Gem, save it for me; I'll trade you another one I find later.)
Asterion wouldn't mistreat the brothers, and they had no complaints. The happiest time after a battle began.
Eating!
Compared to the Kushala Daora, the Bazelgeuse brothers preferred the Nergigante's meat. After all, a Nergigante actually had meat on its bones, whereas the Kushala Daora was mostly a metallic shell. There were very few parts the Bazelgeuse could even bite through.
The hunters didn't disturb the two dragons while they ate. The Admiral, however, was filled with regret. He even knelt and pounded the ground, looking like he hated himself for arriving too late to fight side-by-side with Asterion.
Asterion ignored him, using his tail to sweep a pile of carved Kushala scales toward the hunters, along with some scraped Nergigante shells. As for the materials dropped during the great battle, the hunters would have to scavenge the battlefield themselves—Asterion was busy.
He didn't even have time to eat the meat yet; he had to finish the Elder Dragon blood that had leaked out first. In its final frenzy, the Kushala Daora had sprayed blood from its neck, forming a literal pool on the rock surface, with some of it seeping into the crevices.
Asterion had to swallow it all before it seeped too deep or lost its vitality.
Furthermore, before the Bazelgeuse brothers had returned, he had been pressed against the blood vessels of the Nergigante's lower half, chugging its Elder Dragon blood like he was drinking a soda through a straw. It was incredibly satisfying.
Asterion found it fascinating that even though this rear half of the Nergigante had no head and had been severed from the brain's command for so long, it still acted as if it were alive. Not only did the legs twitch, but the blood inside seemed to be continuously regenerating.
This exuberant vitality was almost terrifying. He kept guzzling blood from the vessels, and while it seemed like it was running out, a quick squeeze would produce even more.
It wasn't surprising, really. Every time a Nergigante fought, it threw its blood around like it cost nothing. No matter how much it bled, it stayed energetic—its hematopoiesis (blood-making ability) was simply too powerful.
For Asterion, this was great news. Based on his discoveries during the fight, he planned to truly possess Elder Dragon blood, and he had chosen the Nergigante as the target for his hematological evolution.
Originally, he was worried that half a Nergigante wouldn't be enough. But since this half-corpse could continue producing blood for a short time, the quantity should suffice.
Once the Bazelgeuse brothers finished the Nergigante's meat, Asterion would pick the skeleton clean, marrow and all.
As a side note, Asterion claimed the Nergigante's spikes and the skin beneath them. The Bazelgeuse brother didn't mind, as Asterion gave him the meat further down, which was more energy-dense and tasted better.
Compared to the Nergigante's high-speed recovery, the Seregios's rapid scale regeneration was a joke. Given the choice, Asterion would drop the latter for the former without a second thought.
It was a simple process of upgrading the inferior for the superior.
While Asterion was busy feasting, the hunters were occupied with investigating everything their curiosity could find. The Third Fleet's ship was anchored in the offshore waters where it wouldn't run aground. The people on board refused to even go to Astera to rest first, immediately joining the research efforts.
It was no wonder. Unlike the first two fleets, the Third Fleet was primarily composed of top scholars and researchers from the Old World. Thanks to improved maritime technology, despite using only three ships like the Second Fleet, they carried far more people—over a hundred and ten in total.
One hundred and ten scholars. One hundred and ten researchers with explosive levels of curiosity. To be honest, in the eyes of the Commander, having so many scholars arrive in the New World at once was like dropping mice into a grain bin; there was no talking them out of anything.
Specifically, the Third Fleet Master. This tall, shapely Wyverian woman was the type who simply didn't listen to reason. The Commander was terrified that these newcomers would bring their Old World mindsets with them and accidentally offend "Big Boss Glavenus."
He had wanted to take the Third Fleet back to Astera first to explain the precautions for surviving the New World and how to safely communicate with Asterion or the Glavenus tribe—but it was useless!
These scholars were shouting about the New World, curiosity, research papers, adventure, and courage as they charged forward. Forget stopping them—the Third Fleet Master was the one shouting the loudest!
It was this woman who, upon noticing the battle between the dragons had ended, immediately ordered the ship to turn around and dock. The Commander could only cover his face and sigh.
"So this... is the Glinting Mirror-Blade?" the tall Wyverian woman murmured, holding a notebook as she watched Asterion from a distance.
She wore loose black clothing underneath a voluminous robe with a blue-purple-white gradient. Almost everyone in the Third Fleet dressed similarly; they clearly weren't built for combat.
"Technically, we shouldn't call him 'Big Boss Glavenus' or 'Glinting Mirror-Blade' anymore, but we haven't given him a new name yet," the Commander said, standing beside her with his arms crossed. "The version of him you're seeing now is completely different from the one years ago. If things go well, you might see the actual Glinting Mirror-Blade in the Glavenus tribe's territory later—that's Big Boss Glavenus's child."
"A child?"
"Yes," the Commander nodded. "It's as if he took a snapshot of his old self and made it independent. Honestly, seeing it makes us quite nostalgic."
"Big Boss Glavenus, huh?" The Third Fleet Master pushed up her glasses and smiled. "Except for the tail, there's almost nothing that looks like a Glavenus... and even the tail has changed significantly."
"Well, it's hard to explain in a few words," the Commander sighed.
"I know. Even though I was in the Old World, I never missed a single report sent back from the New World, especially those regarding him." The Third Fleet Master watched Asterion feasting in the distance with a look of fanatical obsession. "How marvelous. There has never been a monster like this. It's like a butterfly."
"A butterfly?" the Commander asked, surprised.
"Yes, a butterfly," she nodded. "Larva, pupa, butterfly. A butterfly's life is divided into three stages, each with a completely different appearance. Don't you think he's very similar to the Glinting Mirror-Blade? Oh, let's keep calling him that until a new name appears."
"There's still a difference, isn't there?" a voice suddenly joined the conversation. "Big Boss Glavenus didn't turn into a pupa and stay still. He certainly didn't change his body in secret inside a cocoon."
"In academic terms, that process is called complete metamorphosis... but you're right. He is different from a butterfly. According to the reports, his changes happen too frequently and too suddenly." The Third Fleet Master turned around. "Yo, you're here?"
"Why aren't you resting?" the Commander said sternly. "That wasn't a minor injury you took."
The newcomer was the Second Fleet Master. A white bandage was wrapped diagonally across his right eye, though there were no other visible wounds on his body.
"Compared to the people missing arms or legs, this is a scratch," the Second Fleet Master waved it off nonchalantly. "Besides, this involves Big Boss Glavenus. Who wouldn't be curious?"
"Don't talk about losing an eye so lightly," the Commander sighed.
"Just bad luck... or maybe great luck?" The Second Fleet Master laughed heartily. "Who would've thought that when the Zorah Magdaros spat magma and hit the airship, a bit of it would land right on my face? I'm lucky to only be blind in one eye—oh! Now I'm just like Dot! Haha, I'll have to find him for a drink when we get back!"
"We have a batch of newcomers now. Better not call him 'Dot' in front of them," the Commander reminded him. "Otherwise, his dignity as the Head Chef will be completely gone."
Hahahaha!!
The Second Fleet Master and the Commander burst into laughter together. The Third Fleet Master smiled but didn't interrupt until they had calmed down. "Pleasure to meet you. I am the Master of the Third Fleet."
"Oh! Looking forward to working with you," the Second Fleet Master greeted her boisterously.
"Likewise. In fact, I have a favor to ask you right now," she said seriously. "As the master craftsman of the Second Fleet, could you please modify our ships into those flying airships?"
"Huh??" The Second Fleet Master's eyes widened. "Are you sure? You saw what happened, didn't you? Our airship fleet was practically wiped out in this operation. They couldn't even make a splash against an Elder Dragon."
"Actually, they did make a splash, didn't they?" the Third Fleet Master joked before turning serious. "In the name of the Guild, this is my request as the Third Fleet Master. I believe these modifications will help us investigate the New World more effectively, allowing us to observe monsters more safely or reach areas that were previously inaccessible."
As expected of the leader of the scholars, she could see the advantages of the airships at a single glance.
"Alright, since it's in the name of the Guild, we'll figure something out when we get back," the Second Fleet Master said, scratching his head.
"Indeed. Gathering materials and performing modifications won't happen overnight," the Commander added. "For now, let's focus on the task at hand."
"Right," the Third Fleet Master nodded. "Commander, as the person in charge, do you think I can approach the Glinting Mirror-Blade now and attempt to communicate?"
"Better not," the Commander shook his head. "I'm not as close to him as the Admiral is, but even I know that in his eyes, eating is a very serious matter. Look—even the Admiral isn't going over to bother him right now."
Looking where the Commander pointed, the Third Fleet Master saw the Admiral pulling a long, black spike out of a rock. He tested its flexibility, looked satisfied, and then tucked it into his belt.
Don't ask; he was just "collecting materials."
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