Hot. Scorching hot.
The blazing sunlight roasted everything below without a single blind spot, the rising heat warping the air near the ground.
If you tossed a slab of meat straight onto the sun-baked earth, it'd probably be cooked through in less than ten minutes.
This was a barren wasteland with scarcely any green to speak of—only vast stretches of towering stone pillars, as if something had forcibly thrust them up from the earth, one after another.
You could barely spot traces of plant life in the crevices and shadows of the rocks, struggling to sustain the most basic food chain in this desolate place, keeping it from falling too far behind its neighbors in the grand scheme of life.
Of course, to Asterion, the life in this wasteland already felt a bit too thriving.
In terms of danger, that is.
Boom!
A heavy footstep thundered like the prelude to chaos, growing closer, clearer—though the occasional stumble betrayed its owner's panic.
That made sense, though. Behind that lone set of footsteps came a chaotic stampede, a cacophony of pounding feet. Just from the sound, you could picture one figure sprinting ahead while a mob chased behind in a ridiculous scene.
The only difference? Neither the pursuer nor the pursued was human.
Asterion wasn't surprised in the least—or rather, he'd grown used to this sort of thing.
This had nothing to do with people.
It was dragons.
Peeking out from behind a boulder at the edge of a stone cave—well, trying to peek, at least—Asterion caught sight of the situation outside.
A long-tailed wyvern, covered in yellow scales and resembling a bird, was clutching a massive egg as it bolted across the rocky wasteland. It had a thick, blunt beak and a vibrant crest of red-orange feathers atop its head.
Chasing it was a pack of four-legged dragons with turtle-like shells on their backs.
The case was crystal clear: the bird wyvern up front had stolen an egg from the shelled dragons behind it, and now the furious victims were hot on its tail.
You could tell this fleeing bird wyvern was a repeat offender. Despite being the one running, it knew its escape route like the back of its claw.
Its seemingly frantic steps never hindered its flight. Jutting rocks, uneven slopes, pitfalls in the path—it dodged them all with practiced ease, even using them to slow its pursuers.
The cunning creature would occasionally twist mid-leap over a pit, angling its yellow scales to reflect the midday sun straight into the eyes of the less fortunate chasers behind it, blinding them with the glare.
Masterful.
"Gurgle-gurgle-gurgle… KWAH!!"
The bird wyvern visibly relaxed upon spotting the stone cave ahead, its steps lightening as it let out a loud, triumphant cry, as if urging something—or someone.
"That's just too shameless," Asterion muttered to himself, sighing inwardly at the urgent call.
BOOM!!
As the chase tore through the drafty cave, Asterion leaped down from a high ledge, crouching low and curling his long, massive tail upward as much as possible.
"ROOOAR!!!"
Dragon's Roar!
In a flash visible to the naked eye, the pack of shelled dragons panicked. Their instincts screamed at them to flee, abandoning even their grudge over the stolen egg.
Under Asterion's satisfied gaze, the pitiful creatures charged in frantically, only to scatter just as frantically after a brief moment of chaos.
It didn't take long for the dust kicked up outside the cave to settle, leaving nothing behind.
The egg thief was safe—for now.
With that in mind, Asterion turned to face the little thief… from an upward angle.
Yes, as dragons went, this egg thief was even taller than him. But unlike Asterion, there wasn't a shred of majesty or dominance in this bird wyvern. In his presence, it somehow looked downright pathetic.
It was hard to imagine a creature from the Bird Wyvern family—with its narrow, scaley, muscle-less face—could express such heartache. Reluctant, oh-so-reluctant, the thief tremblingly extended its egg-holding foreclaws toward Asterion.
One eye kept darting sideways, as if hoping for a miracle.
Miracles weren't happening.
Asterion ate quickly.
It was just a Herbivore egg—gone in a few bites. He ate slowly only to avoid wasting the nutrient-rich yolk.
It wasn't enough, or rather, for the current Asterion, eggs like this shouldn't even be on his menu. He needed something more substantial, something tougher… but what choice did he have when he'd hatched in this world with nothing around him?
Yes, Asterion was a transmigrator. He'd bought Monster Hunter Wilds the moment it dropped, only for his 3080 rig to glitch out before he could even load in. Well, technically, he did load in—but the grass, rocks, and sky kept flickering nonstop. Unplayable.
What drove him up the wall was seeing someone else streaming Wilds smoothly on a 1080 setup. After raging at Capcom, Asterion closed his eyes… and opened them inside an egg.
No longer in the safe, peaceful world he'd lived in for over twenty years, but in the game world he loved so much.
The New World.
Some unknown era of the New World.
And he was no longer human—but a dragon that could eat raw ore.
Going from a familiar, safe environment to this perilous wilderness was despairing enough for any… well, dragon. What crushed Asterion even more was being born as a hatchling in this brutal eat-or-be-eaten world with no adults to guide him through infancy.
When he broke out of his eggshell in a dark underground cave, all he saw was a desolate desert dotted with ant mounds of varying sizes.
Those familiar landmarks, plus his reflection in the underground river's flow, made it painfully clear what had happened.
He was a dragon now—a Glavenus, known as the Searing Blade, or the "Long Sword Dragon" among hunters.
As the face of Monster Hunter Generations's cover Four Heavenly Kings, Glavenus was a fan favorite for its design and fighting style—widely considered the coolest dragon… the most Long Sword-like dragon.
Asterion knew everything about Glavenus and the New World by heart. Problem was, that knowledge was for adult Glavenus. What did it have to do with a tiny hatchling who hadn't even hardened his tail, let alone had a mother to feed him?
A newborn Glavenus's tail was soft, and without gorging on ore, it hadn't yet formed the mineral-rich greatblade that gave the species its name. With a hatchling's pitiful bite force, the only things he could bully were harmless Herbivores.
He couldn't even breathe fire.
For Asterion, this meant he'd likely fall far behind other Glavenus hatchlings from the start. No mother to feed him enough meat for healthy growth, no ore to forge his signature greatsword.
In the brutal wild, such disadvantages were often fatal—affecting a dragon's entire life.
Which was exactly why Asterion had sunk to teaming up with a Qurupeco, a notorious egg thief that even other dragons despised. They were partners in crime now—because a dragon's gotta eat, right?!
Filling your stomach isn't shameful.
…Okay, maybe it was a little shameful.
Whenever his stomach growled, Asterion couldn't help but sigh. He'd look down at his body—tiny, cute, chicken-like forelimbs, sturdy hind legs disproportionate to the rest of him…
And, of course, his long, slender sword tail. It wasn't a sword tail yet, but Asterion had high hopes for the appendage that made up nearly half his body length.
Cool!
"Slurp, nom-nom-nom, slurp!"
The crude eating noises from beside him snapped Asterion out of his memories. He turned to see the Qurupeco who'd delivered the egg now chowing down.
In the corner of the cave sat three intact eggs—spoils from the Qurupeco's earlier heists. Its tongue, specially structured with barbs to prevent yolk from spilling, was hard at work.
"SLURP!"
Louder now.
This was Qurupeco—Asterion's dragon brother for life. It was the one who'd kept him fed through the toughest days after hatching… well, kinda by force.
Starving and dizzy, Asterion had pounced on the first living thing his size he saw—a Qurupeco fleeing with an egg. Scared out of its wits, it dropped the egg and bolted. That was Asterion's first meal in this world.
Then it became a routine. Strangely, maybe out of habit with its escape route, the Qurupeco kept coming back the same way even after being robbed once, twice, thrice.
All eggs confiscated.
But when Asterion had scared off a pack of Herbivores chasing the Qurupeco during its first escape, the clever bird wyvern seemed to get it.
Normally, a Qurupeco steals three to four eggs a day. From then on, this one brought back at least seven or eight—and this drafty cave on its escape route became their base. One thing led to another, and here they were.
If a system works stably and benefits both parties, don't change it. Don't take unnecessary risks… Asterion lived by that.
One thing he only realized after they could face each other without issue: the Qurupeco he'd scared into abandoning its egg on their first meeting was actually bigger than him.
An adult Qurupeco was over nine meters long and three to four meters tall—far larger than a newborn hatchling. Yet in a natural world where size often determined friend or foe, the bigger Qurupeco was the one who ran.
Just instinct, he supposed.
At least it worked out for Asterion back then.
"Gurgle?"
The Qurupeco tilted its bird-like head curiously as Asterion approached.
"Roar! Roar-roar-roar!"
Asterion's roars roughly translated to:
Bro! You keep stealing eggs to raise me now, but once I grow up, you won't need to steal anymore. I'll take them down myself, and you can eat the eggs fair and square!
Something like that. Asterion wasn't sure if the Qurupeco understood, but—this brother? He was in for life!!
"Kwah-kwah! Gurgle-gurgle!"
Who knows what it was saying, but the Qurupeco extended its foreclaws, still cradling an egg.
The yolk was gone. Only the white remained.
"Roar? Roar-roar-roar-roar!" (You little glutton!)
Asterion was almost speechless at his brother's pickiness. This guy only ate the yolks, leaving the whites like some kind of gourmet.
Before meeting Asterion, eggs with the yolks eaten would've been tossed. Now? No waste.
Not picky—Asterion took it and ate.
He refused to let a single calorie go to waste. He'd even lick passing carrier ants off the ground. Anything to grow faster.
New World eggs—from species living here—were packed with nutrients. The land's energy enriched them, sustaining higher-tier predators. That was the food chain: energy flowing through eating and being eaten, accumulating with each cycle.
Compared to his early post-hatching days, Asterion felt he was growing fast.
Muscles in his hind legs were bulking up rapidly—crucial for supporting a Glavenus's massive frame during unimaginable bursts of speed. His carapace was hardening, losing its initial translucency.
Wild animal young grew quickest right after birth.
Watching his tail swish, Asterion decided to treat himself today—eat extra dirt… maybe stumble on an ore vein.
He craved a real hunt.
Not this pathetic egg-stealing life, living like a Qurupeco. A true carnivorous Brute Wyvern hunt—befitting a cover monster.
Pride. Instinct.
His instincts were calling—eat meat!