The Commander's body had been severely frostbitten by the Velkhana.
Even though the Admiral and the two hunters who arrived first had moved as quickly as possible to shatter the ice encasing him, the nerves in half of his body and both legs had sustained permanent damage.
Neither the battlefield nor the Glavenus Tribe possessed the medical facilities to treat such an injury. They lacked specialized doctors and the necessary medicine. Ultimately, the Commander had to accept his condition, finding himself able to move freely only by wearing a suit of armor specially crafted for him by the Smithy Master of the Second Fleet.
Despite sustaining injuries that would classify him as disabled, the Commander showed no signs of frustration or gloom. Instead, he remained as steadfast and calm as ever.
In the aftermath of the battle, he had not rested for a single moment. He spent his time comforting those who were similarly injured or maimed and finalizing a mutual-aid agreement with the Chief of the Glavenus Tribe, fulfilling his responsibilities to the end.
"I told you, don't worry about it. It's just a scratch," the Commander said with a calm smile, seeing the pained expression on his grandson's face. He reached out and ruffled the boy's black hair roughly. "I'm still alive, aren't I? More importantly, my mind is still sharp. That's enough for me."
"Exactly. To my old friend here, nothing is more important than that," the Admiral added with a look of relief, patting the Commander on the shoulder. "You'd better not try to sneak off and retire on me."
"Uncle..." the black-haired boy murmured, looking toward the Admiral.
"There is no need to feel sad for me," the Commander said, taking his grandson's arm and leading him out of the crowd so he could see what was being unloaded from the airship.
"Compared to the warriors who are buried forever in the ice and snow, I am very lucky." The Commander's tone was tranquil as he watched the hunters carry small boxes off the ship in their arms, but anyone looking into his eyes could see an indelible trace of sorrow and grief.
This solemn sight caused the surrounding crowd, who had been cheering for the heroes' return, to slowly lower their arms. They were not green recruits; they knew exactly what this scene signified.
This was the price of exploring the domain of an Elder Dragon. This was the cost of challenging an Elder Dragon head-on.
Fourteen hunters, three technicians, two hundred and twenty-six standard Grimalkyne warriors, and four Grimalkyne Dragon-Chosen Braves—these were the lives swallowed by the Velkhana subjugation campaign. This was the price the Glavenus Tribe and Astera paid for their survival.
The Commander, and indeed every surviving human and Felyne, told themselves this. Only by doing so could they ease the weight on their hearts and believe that the sacrifices of these people and cats were meaningful.
The latter was particularly crucial.
The Velkhana had been driven off—and later hunted down and killed—by the sudden return of the Glavenus Boss, Asterion. If Asterion had not appeared at that moment, how would they have repelled the Velkhana in that state?
Furthermore, how would they have saved themselves from that freezing wind that seemed intent on turning the entire world into a block of ice? They would have been buried deep beneath the snow.
It was Asterion who had melted the ice in that region, rescuing the humans and Grimalkynes buried under the avalanche and preventing even greater casualties. But... what if Asterion hadn't been there?
Can humanity truly unravel the mystery of the Elder Dragons? the Commander couldn't help but ask himself. Or rather... can humans even get close to them?
"...Let's go," the Commander ordered calmly after letting out a long sigh. "Let us hold the funeral first."
The funerals of the Elder Dragon Observation Ship were not complex. There were no extravagant or solemn rituals, no mournful music, and no piercing wails. The process was simple and plain. Because of the long distance and the time elapsed, the fallen had already been cremated alongside the Glavenus Tribe; only their ashes were brought back to Astera.
Perhaps because a similar funeral had already been held at the Glavenus Tribe, the members of the expedition were just barely able to maintain their composure. However, many who had stayed behind at the base found it difficult to control themselves, weeping for their departed friends.
This was the funeral of a New World hunter.
The expedition members had written their wills before setting out. According to their final wishes, the ashes of some were buried beneath the cliffs near Astera, while others would be taken back to the Old Continent by the Fourth Fleet to be returned to their families.
The funeral was followed by a welcome for the new members. However, due to the daytime funeral, there was little laughter at the reception. No one even spoke loudly; they simply huddled around the campfire, listening to the expedition members recount their experiences over the past year.
The terror of the Velkhana, the return of the Glavenus Boss... there were too many stories to tell.
The sorrow and brief moments of joy of the hunters were all observed by Mirrorblade. He lay coiled beside the wreckage of the large ship used as the residential area in Astera, like a detached sage watching everything from the outside.
The Grimalkynes who had set out with him originally wanted to stay by his side, but Mirrorblade had pretended to be angry and chased them off to join the banquet. He could still see those Grimalkynes dancing around the bonfire, which did help liven up the atmosphere.
"Growl?" (What do you want?)
Mirrorblade lifted his head slightly and let out a low growl, warning the hunter in front of him. He then suddenly realized that this Fanged Beast-type human couldn't understand a word he was saying, and Sparky wasn't around to translate... he was wasting his breath.
"Um, uh, my name is Arun. I'm a field hunter with the Fourth Fleet. Uh, I'm sorry."
Mirrorblade hadn't said much, nor had he made a threatening face, but the hunter was already so nervous he was stuttering.
It was understandable. To a hunter from the Old Continent, being in such close proximity to a monster was somewhat life-threatening—Mirrorblade's glinting, sharp teeth were hanging right over his head!
"I, uh, well, I thought you might be lonely over here by yourself, so—ah, sorry, the Admiral said I could treat you like a person, so that's why I said that. I didn't mean there was anything wrong with you being a dragon," Arun blurted out, seemingly speaking whatever came to mind in his panic. "Anyway, I think since it's a banquet, everyone should participate."
"I heard from the Meowscular Chef that this meat, mixed with crushed Might Seed powder and niter, is your favorite food. So, I brought a tub for you. Uh, I hope you like it..."
Mirrorblade remained silent. Under his cold gaze, Arun's voice grew smaller and smaller. Finally, after quickly placing the wooden tub in front of Mirrorblade, the hunter turned and bolted.
The way he moved, the speed he showed—it was as if he expected Mirrorblade to bite his head off at any second. He didn't even dare to look back. Naturally, Arun's frantic sprint drew a wave of laughter from the other hunters. His companions were bolder; they turned and raised their mugs toward Mirrorblade in a respectful toast.
Mirrorblade snorted through his nostrils and lowered his head to eat the meat.
It was the familiar taste.
"The meeting is now in session."
Ever the dutiful leader, the Commander convened a summary meeting at the open-air council table in Astera the day after the welcome banquet.
"Regardless of the process, the Velkhana has been thoroughly subjugated. You in Astera should also be feeling the temperatures rising rapidly," the Commander said to the Tech Chief.
"Indeed. Even the rioting monsters seem to have settled down. At the very least, they aren't wandering all over the map anymore," the Tech Chief said with a shake of his head. "Because of that, we can finally focus on mining in peace."
"Good. Let's start with the good news. Through this battle with the Velkhana, I have officially concluded an alliance between Astera and the Glavenus Tribe on behalf of the Research Commission," the Commander continued. "Should either the Glavenus Tribe or Astera come under attack or threat from monsters, the other party is obligated to provide support."
"Additionally, the Glavenus Tribe is willing to provide us with various basic living supplies, including grain, at a low cost. This will allow the Fourth Fleet to use their limited cargo space for more valuable items: ore, weapons, and the like."
"Meaning that aside from the food we get from hunting, we'll be relying on the Glavenus Tribe for other grains and vegetables?" The Scholar Representative pushed up his glasses. "What about the reliability of the transport?"
"There shouldn't be an issue. Since we've mastered the airship technology, as long as we don't venture recklessly into unexplored areas, we generally won't encounter much danger. That Seething Bazelgeuse isn't exactly good-tempered, and he's been patrolling Asterion's territory," the Commander said with a nod.
"In fact, I suggested this idea to the Kingdom before. The Guild also agrees that we should build good relations with the local Lynians, obtaining information and support from them to reduce the pressure on the Guild's supply lines."
"This way, the Commission can focus all its energy on exploration," the Admiral said, crossing his arms. "Not having to worry about basic chores is a good thing."
The construction of Astera was also nearing its end. They no longer had to worry about food or the safety of their living quarters, nor did they have to spend all day in the mines digging incessantly.
A Research Commission that was completely freed from manual labor—one that could use all its strength to investigate the secrets of the Elder Dragons without worrying about logistics.
At least for now, the Kingdom and the Guild had no intention of occupying land and building human cities or bringing in immigrants to the New World. They only wanted to put an end to the strange phenomenon of the Elder Crossing, preventing the decennial migration of Elder Dragons from causing catastrophic damage to the towns and villages along their path, thereby reducing the loss of life and property.
The dedicated people of the Research Commission had no ulterior motives; they only wanted to solve the unknown mystery.
"The Elder Crossing, huh?" Hara rubbed his chin. "I still feel the secret of the Elder Crossing is hidden within the Rotten Vale. Otherwise, there's no explaining why a Kushala Daora would travel across the sea just to choose such a cramped, dark place to die. I'll likely return there to continue the investigation."
"Based on the timeline, how many years are left until the next Elder Crossing?" the Commander asked.
"Four years," the Scholar Representative answered without hesitation. "Six years ago, the Fourth Fleet arrived in the New World following a Kirin. That Kirin then headed toward where the Third Fleet's airship disappeared, eventually vanishing into the mountain peaks."
"Only four years left," the Commander let out a long breath. "We need to use this time to hone ourselves, expand our arsenal, and prepare for every possible hardship. According to the Guild's orders, they are assembling a large number of elite, high-rank hunters to form the Fifth Fleet. Among them is even a powerhouse who repelled an Elder Dragon single-handedly."
"When the Fifth Fleet arrives, that will be our moment to discover the secret of the Elder Crossing in one fell swoop!" the Admiral concluded with great momentum. "Fifty years of exploration and accumulation will bear fruit at that moment. Everyone, our efforts have not been in vain!"
As the Admiral finished speaking, the expressions of those led by the Tech Chief seemed almost dazed.
"Does that mean... I don't have to mine anymore?" the Tech Chief murmured, touching his safety helmet. "Is our mission finally coming to an end?"
It felt so sudden, yet so real.
"We all hope so," the Commander said with an encouraging smile. "In any case, it's good news, right?"
"Yeah," the Tech Chief said emotionally. "I thought I wouldn't live to see this day."
"Never give up hope," Hara said with a laugh. "Who knows when the answer will suddenly appear right before your eyes?"
"Yes, exactly," the Commander nodded. "In any case, we have fully earned the trust of the Glavenus Tribe. We are permitted to station up to two hunter squads within the Glavenus Tribe's home—the middle layer of the Great Tree. Scholars and technical staff, however, are not restricted."
"The connection between the Glavenus Tribe and Astera will become even closer. According to Sparky, we can set up mutual quest boards. The Grimalkynes can post quests for hunters, and hunters can post quests for the Grimalkynes—provided the appropriate rewards are prepared."
"Oh? Even outside of the Great Stomach Festival, we can stay at the Great Tree?" The Scholar Representative pushed up his glasses, looking expectant. "That really is fantastic."
"Quite generous, isn't it?" The Admiral smiled before adding, "But don't forget one thing: the covenant we signed is with the Glavenus Tribe, not the Glavenus Boss. Don't go over there and annoy the Boss during your investigations."
"I thought it was the Qi Xiang Dragon that promised the covenant," the Scholar Representative said with a look of regret. "But since we're talking about the Qi Xiang Dragon, we have to mention that Golden Dragon, right?! It was so golden, so shiny! I bet once word of its appearance reaches the Old Continent, countless hunters would be willing to die just for one of its scales!!"
"It's a pity. It just showed its face once and then burrowed back underground. The Grimalkynes won't let us go down there for a look, either," the Scholar Representative sighed deeply.
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