Circling in the skies, Logan found no trace of scale dust drifting in the air. On the ground below, the monsters he spotted showed no sign of infection by Frenzy. Logan finally exhaled in relief.
"Seems it's just a Gore Magala."
The concentration of Frenzy Virus within a Shagaru Magala was staggering—when released, it could blot out the sun itself, creating an environment saturated entirely with scales and Frenzy Virus.
Its platinum-white scales were the sole gleam of light within that abyssal darkness.
If the Gore Magala was a lesser demon from the deepest pit of the abyss, then the Shagaru Magala was an angel born from those very demons—an angel in form only.
A great demon wearing an angel's skin.
For Logan, the Gore Magala wasn't nearly as terrifying. From the standpoint of combat, he was practically its natural counter.
Everyone knew the Gore Magala was "blind." Like a malformed embryo yet to evolve eyes, it sensed the world solely through the feedback of its scale dust. Its "sight" was akin to a crude kind of thermal imaging.
But that very scale dust was fatally weak against flame. Inactive particles—those without life energy to keep them moving—would ignite and dissipate the moment they touched fire.
This was why, whenever Gore Magala appeared, Teostra and Lunastra often became the main forces driving it to extinction.
The Gore Magala was a malignant tumor lurking in the world's shadows. It could not endure beneath the blaze of the sun.
And so, Logan and Aki circled the area again and again, until at last the setting sun dyed the evening clouds red—only then did Logan realize how much time had passed.
The Gore Magala was unlike the Shagaru Magala. Its primary purpose was not to spread the Frenzy Virus to expand its kind, but simply to ensure its own survival. Only by surviving could it endure the perilous molting process required to evolve into a Shagaru Magala. That was the creature's true priority.
Because of this, Gore Magala usually resided in places rarely visited by other life forms. It only ventured into species-rich areas when hunger drove it to hunt, and it seldom clashed with high-ecological-tier large monsters.
More often than not, it would strike only when such monsters had suffered a sudden and severe decline in stamina, or when they were weakened by the Frenzy Virus.
Otherwise, it would simply emerge after nightfall, relying on its natural camouflage to finish the day's hunt.
Thus, Logan's flying search that day—no matter how much he hoped for luck—was nearly a futile effort. The Gore Magala was simply not going to appear here.
Night itself posed little hindrance to the blind Gore Magala, but for Logan and Aki it was another matter entirely. Darkness drastically limited their vision. Though unwilling to admit defeat, in the end they returned to the Ancient Tree before the night fully descended.
Elsewhere in the same region, heading almost the opposite direction, the Admiral and Tonkotsu followed that strange trail of scale dust into an area nearly devoid of life.
The place looked as if it had once suffered some immense impact, like two Elder Dragons had clashed here in a brutal battle. The trees and grass were all fresh growth, and on the ground still lingered traces of scorched black matter that had not yet fully faded.
Along the way, the trail of scale dust had appeared only intermittently—so faint the scoutflies could not even track it.
If not for the Admiral's sharp eye and steady patience, they would have lost the trail long ago.
As the sun dipped low, Tonkotsu—hungry after a whole afternoon—was about to suggest they rest when he suddenly noticed the Admiral raise a hand in signal. He fell silent at once and hurried to his leader's side.
"What… what kind of monster is that?"
Before them loomed a Gore Magala—its whole body cloaked in black carapace like natural camouflage. Its head, shaped like that of a venomous serpent, bore no eyes, only a pair of folding antennae rising from its crown. Its massive wings draped across its back like a tattered cloak. The beast clawed at the ground in visible agony.
The black scales they had tracked all afternoon were now constantly regenerating, falling from its wings, drifting away on the wind.
Its blood-red, sinister wingclaws scratched at its own head and neck again and again, with a force that seemed as if it meant to tear its own hide apart—ripping free the demon concealed within.
"What… what is that, meow?"
Tonkotsu felt his fur bristle at a single glance. It was as if he were gazing upon something foul, something that should not exist in this world.
This was a natural enemy to all life!
"Hss… its features seem familiar. I feel like I've seen something like it before, but I can't recall right now. Judging by its frame, though, it's most likely an Elder Dragon. We should fall back."
The Admiral could not shake the sense that he had once seen mention of this pitch-black creature in the Guild's records. But perhaps those records were so sparse that even a veteran like him retained only the faintest impression.
As for retreating—that was simply the most basic safety measure.
No matter how powerful a hunter became, the first and most important rule was caution.
If your initial judgment told you the enemy was very likely an Elder Dragon, then no matter what its true strength later proved to be—whether great or small—the correct choice in the moment, with no reliable information, was always to retreat.
The kind of fool who charged recklessly at an unknown monster… would not even leave ashes behind.
"Understood, meow..."
Tonkotsu gave a soft reply. Just as he was about to retreat, a few specks of scale dust drifted onto his body.
The next instant, the Gore Magala—letting out a low, pained howl—suddenly whipped its head around. Though eyeless, it locked onto the positions of Tonkotsu and the Admiral with uncanny precision.
"Looks like this thing doesn't plan on letting us leave."
The Admiral spoke with a casual smile, though inwardly he couldn't help but marvel at the Gore Magala's keen perception.
Fortunately, he hadn't come here underestimating the enemy. He had brought his full gear. Even if this creature really was an Elder Dragon, he still had the strength to fight!
The Gore Magala was furious. Tonight marked the first molting of its life—a critical event.
For a Gore Magala, molting and growth usually spanned years. But there were two exceptions: the first molt, and the last molt.
The first molt was tied to the host from which it had been born.
If the host was a high-ecological-tier monster, rich in nutrients and energy, then once the Gore Magala hatched, it could reach its first molt in an exceptionally short time.
This particular Gore Magala had been born from the corpse of a Zinogre. From the very beginning, its foundation was not low. Now that its body had fully matured, all its indicators had reached the threshold—so it had eagerly chosen today to molt.
Molting was a dangerous and agonizing process. During this time, it couldn't spare the focus to restrain its scale dust. The dust scattered freely with the wind, causing any unfortunate monster with weakened resistance to contract the Frenzy Virus. This heightened the risk of exposing itself while still in a relatively weak state.
Among monsters capable of molting, this period was always their most violent. Thus, the moment it sensed the presence of the Admiral and Tonkotsu, the Gore Magala made its decision in an instant.
Even though these two creatures were small, it would eliminate them all the same!
The Admiral watched warily as the Gore Magala tensed its limbs, readying for attack. Slowly parting the grass, he set his shield and lance into place.
In recent years, he'd felt a sense of nostalgia—he hadn't wielded a lance in a long time.
But this was the weapon he excelled at most!
If not for his earlier battle against the Nergigante, where his original weapons had been heavily damaged beyond repair—and since the outpost's high-grade materials had to be prioritized for the resident Huntsman—he wouldn't have been forced to make do with other arms.
After all, for a hunter of his caliber, lower-tier weapons all performed much the same in practice.
Now, however, the Admiral wore armor forged from Seregios materials—cobbled together from the corpses of three tempered Seregios slain by Logan, with leftover research scraps pieced in until at last he had a complete high-grade set.
As for the lance, that had been no small price: bartered from the Grimalkyne of the Fire Wyvern tribe dwelling in the Ancient Tree, crafted from Azure Rathalos materials, supplemented by remnants shipped from the Old World. The result—a Blue Tail Lance!
Although for now it still couldn't compare to the weapons forged from Logan's materials, within the Astera Outpost this lance was undeniably a top-tier weapon.
In the words of the Second Fleet Master, this lance represented the absolute limit of what could be achieved using ordinary monster materials. To go further, it would need an upgrade with either Elder Dragon parts—or rare, almost illusory materials like those from Logan.
As for his current gear, overall, the Admiral was quite satisfied. What he looked forward to most now was for Logan to shed his scales. Once that happened, he could find an excuse during a mission to trade for one or two suitable pieces, and use them to upgrade this weapon.
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