The blockheaded Bazelgeuse was completely immersed in chow time, oblivious to the world around it.
For Nergigante, this was absolutely a difficult choice.
The Teostra Gem seemed to have already stolen his soul. That red-glowing life energy lingered in Nergigante's mind—but it had already run away, and fast. Chasing it meant another big fight.
By now, Nergigante had to admit—just a tiny pinch—to Asterion's offensive power. He acknowledged that taking Asterion down in a short time... to put it plainly, within five minutes, was impossible.
Under the current circumstances, Nergigante would only allow himself to waste at most five minutes fighting. No! Three minutes! Two minutes!!
Because for every second wasted, that Bazelgeuse would gobble down more meat!!
Even setting the Gem aside, Teostra's corpse contained massive amounts of nutrition and life energy—
"Roar!!"
The urgency left Nergigante unable to think further. He always had trouble controlling himself around food, especially with a Bazelgeuse right in front of him tearing into the meat with its mouth wide open. The scent of blood made Nergigante even thirstier.
Don't let the fact that Bazelgeuse's mouth didn't look that big fool you; this guy ate fast.
Three seconds. Nergigante engaged in a fierce internal debate lasting all of three seconds before decisively choosing to finish the meat in front of him first—leaving meat that was right within reach uneaten was an intolerable sin. If another monster finished it off, that would be a double sin.
And so, Asterion gained the most precious thing of all: time to run.
He sprinted toward the direction of his home in his memory for quite a while. Not hearing Nergigante's roar, Asterion hurriedly looked back and found no dragon chasing him. He instantly let out a sigh of relief.
He knew he was safe for the time being.
Asterion felt zero guilt about leaving Bazelgeuse behind and bailing early. After all, the two dragons weren't exactly close. Judging by Bazelgeuse's attitude, if today's situation hadn't been special, it would have had a proper go at Asterion too.
Taking a step back, Asterion estimated that even if he yelled "Run!", that guy wouldn't have followed him anyway—so good luck to him.
Heheh.
The Teostra Gem. To think he actually secured the most precious spoil of war from Teostra like this. Asterion's mental state was already incredibly high, excited to the extreme. If he could cross his legs right now, he'd definitely be shaking his foot like crazy.
As expected, fortune favors the bold!
The only regret was that he only got to eat Teostra's heart and lungs, missing out on the body muscle or special organs, and he certainly didn't get his fill of Elder Dragon blood—but that wasn't a huge problem. He couldn't hog all the good stuff.
To prevent Nergigante from catching up and spotting his home's location from the sky, Asterion specifically took a detour, passing through the Jyuratodus territory before diving into the underground cave network.
Cautious dragons always live longer; this fact shouldn't be influenced by one's strength.
Teostra had absolutely committed a great sin. As Asterion ran, he discovered that the guy's attacks had nearly dried up the water systems near the coast. Even the flower field swamp zone over ten kilometers away was affected—not Asterion's flower field swamp, though.
The water level had dropped significantly, but compared to the roadside scenery on Asterion's way here, this place was much luckier. At least plants still existed, rather than being roasted yellow or leaving nothing but black ash on the ground.
As for how many animals died... Asterion could only say countless numbers. Who knew how many fish in the sea had died alone.
The Hunters coming to investigate the battlefield later would probably be able to eat their fill of fish. Chef Teostra's personal cooking, absolutely authentic flavor.
Asterion felt he was quite experienced now. Wherever an Elder Dragon appeared, nothing good would happen—no wonder in the game, Hunters would beat up an innocent passing Elder Dragon before finding the true mastermind. Asterion wanted to retract his sympathy for those dragons.
While happily letting his thoughts wander, Asterion spent nearly half a month on the run before finally returning to his lair.
He could finally digest that Teostra Gem in his stomach in peace. This was definitely a bountiful amount of life energy, though Asterion hadn't decided on its specific use yet.
Since it had come to this, he should rest well first.
He had conducted a great hunt. Although the victory was a bit unfair, Asterion had indeed participated in an Elder Dragon hunt and successfully killed an aged Teostra.
Killing the young and killing the old is part of the cycle of natural life; it is an experience one must taste.
With such a rich harvest, Asterion could finally settle down for a while. He needed to digest and consolidate his gains—but the Hunters couldn't settle down. In fact, with the arrival of the Second Fleet in the New World, they were overflowing with enthusiasm from head to toe.
At Astera. A muscular man with thinning hair, showing signs of balding, was vigorously pounding a hammer against an anvil. He was forging a piece of armor plating, but no matter how he struck it, his brow remained furrowed, looking unsatisfied.
(This is the guy. Brothers, imagine what he looked like when he was young. At this point in time, he hasn't gone blind yet.)
This was the Second Fleet Master. He was trying to master the properties of materials unique to the New World but was currently facing a dilemma—insufficient equipment.
"Is there anything you need help with, meow?"
A slightly weather-beaten feline voice approached from the distance. The Second Fleet Master looked up and saw a Palico with a muscular physique, but with a layer of gauze wrapped diagonally over its right eye.
"Yo! How's the recovery going?" The Second Fleet Master straightened up and greeted him. "Walking freely already?"
"It wasn't a serious injury to begin with, meow. The doctor wouldn't let me leave for fear of infection, meow," Dot said nonchalantly.
"That kind of injury can't be counted as ordinary," the Second Fleet Master couldn't help but quip. "You scared a lot of people when you were brought onto the ship. Half your body was dyed red with blood."
"For an old Hunter, it's just a scratch, meow." Dot waved his paw coolly.
"So, what do you plan to do next?" The Second Fleet Master looked Dot over. "The weapon issue is easy to solve; I can forge you a new Great Sword, one that suits your style. But can you still be a Hunter Palico without an eye?"
Dot's right eye, grazed by fragments of a Great Sword, was blind. For Hunters and Palicoes who fought on the front lines year-round, losing an eye was extremely dangerous.
It meant they would lack stereoscopic vision, their sense of space would be affected, and their field of view would narrow. This meant a one-eyed Hunter or Palico might fail to detect attacks coming from certain directions.
For a Hunter who needs to perceive every movement and detail of monsters in battle and react in the shortest time possible, this is fatal.
Not to mention the balance issues and psychological impact brought by losing an eye. Even if one could train specifically to mitigate these negative effects, they could never be completely eliminated.
"Ah, something like that, meow." As if he weren't talking about his own affairs, Dot was terrifyingly calm. "I'm planning to become a Head Chef, so everyone can eat delicious meals, meow—do you know the Felyne Granny, meow? I'm her disciple, meow."
No longer a Hunter Palico, no longer fighting on the front lines. Despite having been a Hunter Palico for most of his life, this career-ending injury and forced change of profession should have been filled with sorrow and helplessness, yet Dot seemed light as a cloud and gentle as a breeze.
"Oh?" The Second Fleet Master's eyes lit up. "That's great news. Everything in the New World is good, except the food is a bit... hard to describe."
"Can't be helped. Everyone came to investigate first, so combat power was the priority, meow," Dot said somewhat helplessly. "It'll get better slowly, meow... What about you? Gotten used to life in the New World?"
"Mm, it's alright, I guess?" The Second Fleet Master stroked his beard. "I feel like I've got more energy lately, but I'm lacking handy tools. The fire in the base's forge can't even melt some of the rare ores we brought. That won't do."
"I can't help with that, meow." Dot laughed. "That knowledge is a bit too hard for a cat, meow."
Unlike the First Fleet, which was composed almost entirely of combat-focused Hunters, the Second Fleet—based on intelligence provided by First Fleet personnel who returned to the Old World and the Commander's requests—sent out a total of ninety people. Sixty percent were technical personnel, thirty percent were accompanying researchers, and they had practically no combat power.
The three ships they arrived on were loaded with massive amounts of supplies for building up Astera, including both edible and non-edible goods.
Clearly, despite the Second Fleet Master looking burly enough to grab a blade and hack a dragon at any moment, he was actually a tech guy. And a very skilled one at that, or he wouldn't be the Fleet Master.
"Don't say that. If you can make good food, you've already helped a ton," the Second Fleet Master laughed heartily. "What comes next is a massive engineering project. We at least need to build the Smithy first, otherwise, even the best ideas can't be realized."
"Then good luck!" Dot raised a paw and high-fived the Second Fleet Master. "Create a flame of enthusiasm that never goes out, meow!"
This phrase was the Second Fleet's motto. After all, their emblem was a flame. Yeah, similar to how the First Fleet folks always talked about the Sapphire Star guiding the way.
"Oh! You too! Future Head Chef!"
After bidding farewell to the busy Second Fleet Master, Dot walked through Astera, curiously observing the new additions—he had been confined to the sickbed for so long that he barely recognized the current base.
It was the first time Astera had so many people. There were strangers everywhere, and the base had many new buildings and new equipment with unrecognizable functions—these tech guys always brought out weird stuff from time to time. Dot was used to it.
Before long, Dot arrived at the location of the former Star Ship's prow. This memorial prow had been turned into a solemn meeting place by the First Fleet. The Second Fleet's banner was already fluttering there, right next to the First Fleet's flag.
"Yo! Partner! You're here?" Upon seeing Dot appear, the Admiral, who had been looking serious, immediately grinned. He waved his hand. "How was your rest? I bet you couldn't sit still."
"You knew I couldn't sit still and still wouldn't save me, meow?" Dot said grumpily, plopping down beside the Admiral.
"That won't do," the Admiral laughed heartily. "In the infirmary, the doctor's word is law. I don't want to get scolded."
"That doesn't sound like something the Admiral would say, meow." Dot huffed, glancing sideways at his partner. "How does the promotion feel, meow? And you, Commander, meow?"
Along with the Second Fleet came promotion letters for the Admiral and the Commander. Since the Guild would be continuously sending personnel to the New World in the future, they needed experienced, reliable pioneers to lead.
Regarding the "reliable" part, Dot remained skeptical... specifically referring to a certain Admiral.
"If you wanted to congratulate us, you've already missed the first wave," the Commander said, suppressing a laugh.
Dot's injury and retirement weren't a huge deal to these old friends. Or rather, in the high-risk group of Hunters and Palicoes, being able to retire with all limbs attached was already a stroke of luck, at least luckier than most Hunters.
The first lesson old Hunters taught new Hunters was to take them to see the poor souls carted back. Disability was a blessing; more died out there without their bodies ever being found.
Monsters really did eat people, especially those who angered them.
"So, what's the Admiral's first order, meow?" Dot asked curiously. "With so many reinforcements, we should be doing some proper investigations now, right meow?"
"Orders, huh..." The Admiral kept a straight face—and cast his gaze toward the Commander.
"Mine ore first," the Commander said somewhat helplessly. "The Second Fleet folks look down on the weapons we're currently using. They plan to build a new Smithy and then forge a batch of weapons for us from scratch. This requires a massive amount of ore and monster materials."
"Aren't there any on the ship, meow?"
"There are, but using those rare ores for this kind of thing is a waste. I still want them to build some Cannons or Dragonators," the Commander shook his head slightly. "So deep investigations will have to wait for later. We can't rush it."
"Alright, meow," Dot sighed. "This really is..."
"Don't be so impatient," the Admiral smiled and rubbed his partner's cat head. "I've already decided to dedicate my entire life to investigating the New World."
"You're just a human, not a Lynian or a Wyverian, meow. 'Entire life' isn't that long, so of course you have to hurry, meow." Dot rolled his eyes grumpily. "Rest assured... I'll accompany you, meow."
"Oh! As expected of you, Partner! So reliable!"
"Let go! Don't hug me so hard, meow!! Meow-aaah!!!"
"Hahahahahahahaha!!"
Dot used [Fury Swipes].
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