Aboard the speeding small Sandship.
As Altaïr gradually calmed down, lingering fear rose in his chest.
He didn't think he had been wrong to send Isis away on the Palamute first and stay behind to cover the retreat, but he had to admit that facing a Monoblos alone was still far too much for him at his current level.
The reason he had managed to gain the upper hand in that first split-second clash was only because his movement pattern fell outside the Monoblos's expectations.
On its second charge, the Monoblos had clearly been on guard, lowering its head further to block the gap he had used to slide underneath.
To avoid it, he would have had to time a sideways dive perfectly, and even then the Monoblos would have followed with another relentless barrage.
If Sajji hadn't brought out his "big baby" in time to break the deadlock, he might well have been in serious danger.
"I owe you big time." Once he relaxed, Altaïr's limbs went a little weak. He rubbed Sajji's head.
Even Clawdia, who normally had no interest in machinery, approached and stared intently at Sajji. "How did you manage to build this thing, meow? The Kittenator Technique is a secret art of the Kamura Meowcenaries, meow. Did Auntie Shalan really teach you this, meow?!
"But wait, that doesn't add up, meow. Auntie Shalan never used it herself, meow. She says she refuses to use it, but Father says she just couldn't do it, meow. There's no way Father would be wrong, meow."
Sajji nuzzled against Altaïr's palm. "Lady Shalan did tell me about it, meow. She also said it's a secret technique of the Kamura Meowcenaries, so she couldn't tell me the details, meow, and told me to work it out on my own, meow.
"Since I've had quite a bit of free time lately, I decided to research it myself, meow. Not long ago, I got some ideas and put together a preliminary prototype, meow.
"But as you all saw, meow, its durability, force, and destructive power are still nowhere near enough, meow. The fact that it flipped the Monoblos just now was pure luck, meow.
"It would be more accurate to say it tripped the thing rather than overturned it, meow.
"Once we reach Val Habar, I plan to have a proper discussion with Teacher Naziya on how to improve it so it can truly be used in actual combat, meow!"
"Have you given this portable Dragonator a name yet?" Altaïr suddenly asked.
"Not yet, meow. That thing just now couldn't even be called a prototype, meow. It's more like a model I made while studying mechanical structures, meow, so I didn't assign it a model number, meow."
"Going by your naming habits, how about calling it the 'Monoblos' series?" Altaïr suggested with a smile.
Sajji froze for a moment upon hearing this, then began bouncing around in delight. "Great, meow! Even though it's already destroyed, it shall be named 'Monoblos Unit One,' meow!"
As it turned out, the route repeatedly scouted by the tournament organizers was, for the most part, safe.
Although the first half had seen attacks by a Cephalos school and a Monoblos, after that, the participating ships no longer encountered anything overly life-threatening.
As for the scattered Genprey, Remobra, and the Nibelsnarf lurking beneath the sand, trying to ambush passing Sandships only to be nimbly dodged, none of them even counted as "dangerous" anymore.
—--
After several hours of intense competition, the participating ships arrived at Val Habar one after another, and the first Rekusara Sandship Race came to a successful conclusion.
A few minor injuries, one severe injury, zero deaths. Wasn't that successful enough?
If a similar event were held elsewhere, the organizers could forget about ever hosting a second one, but this was the Great Desert.
By conservative estimates, fewer than thirty ships participated this year, and that number might double next year.
Even the lone severely injured participant, the poor soul who was sent flying by a Monoblos and nearly lost his life, was shouting from his hospital bed that once he healed up, he would come back next year to reclaim the championship that should have been his.
Of course, none of this had much to do with Altaïr and his group.
Aside from Lambert, who had literally partied herself into shock, passed out for an hour midway, and then immediately jumped up to keep partying the moment she woke up, none of the other three had any interest in participating again next year.
This kind of thing was fine for cutting loose once if you happened to stumble into it, but there was no need to make it a regular occurrence.
After the tournament ended, their companions from the Loc Lac Rangers were due to return to Loc Lac.
Asa, who had represented Loc Lac, the Loc Lac Rangers, and the Sandship fleet, ultimately didn't manage to place very well.
Thanks to the excuse of "rescuing a comrade," he narrowly escaped a thorough scolding from his wife.
As for the matter of "the Rangers and the fleet's honor," Altaïr wasn't worried at all.
Knowing that little mustachioed Guildmarm as he did, he figured she would most likely spin it as something like, "The Loc Lac representative team gave up their chance at the championship to bravely repel a Monoblos, ensuring the tournament proceeded smoothly."
Then next year, they'd send all the best hands from the Sandship fleet to reclaim their pride.
They had met old friends, had a blast at the tournament, and made it to Val Habar along the way. Though the journey had been a little perilous, overall it could still be called smooth.
Only one thing was giving him a terrible headache. Isis was angry.
Isis had always had a remarkably even temper. In over two years of knowing her, he had never seen her lose it, and he had absolutely no idea how to handle it.
Looking at Isis's stern, utterly silent face, Altaïr cast a pleading glance at Nymera.
Nymera spread her hands and shrugged, her eyes making her meaning perfectly clear. He had made this mess, and he could fix it himself.
He then looked at Clawdia, who had spent the most time with Isis.
Clawdia turned around and began licking her claws, acting as if she hadn't seen a thing.
Even Hibiki had shrunk his head back and hidden behind Nymera, wearing an innocent expression that practically screamed, "It's got nothing to do with me, he was the one who told me to do it."
As for Lambert, ever since the tournament ended, she had seemed completely burnt out, in a daze, drifting along behind them like a wandering spirit.
Only Sajji discreetly mouthed a message to him: "The Felyne Chef! Find the Felyne Chef!"
Altaïr's eyes lit up. He struggled to make his tone sound cheerful and natural. "It's been so long since we've been back in Val Habar. Let's go to the Felyne Chef's place for a feast, my treat!"
Isis, who had been walking ahead, stopped in her tracks.
Just when Altaïr expected her to whirl around with a cheerful "Awesome!" and let joy melt her anger away, he met Isis's icy glare instead.
"Do you think I'm stupid? That my head is stuffed with nothing but food, and just hearing about a meal will make me forget everything?"
Altaïr: "..."
Noticing Altaïr's awkward expression, Isis's face tightened further. She strode ahead alone, all the way to the Guild Hall at the center of Val Habar.
Without a word, she went to the counter, booked a Hunter Cabin, walked in by herself, and slammed the door shut with a loud bang!
"Let me in! Let me in, meow! I'm innocent, meow!" Clawdia scratched at the door.
Isis opened the door just a crack to let Clawdia slip inside, then shut it again firmly.
Left outside, desperate to apologize but with no idea where to begin, Altaïr stood there at a loss.
Lambert drifted away like a ghost, utterly uninterested in these matters. Nymera sighed and beckoned Altaïr over.
The two moved far enough from Isis's room to avoid being overheard.
"It never even occurred to you to apologize, because deep down, you don't believe you did anything wrong. You see it as a rational and reasonable decision.
"But try putting yourself in her shoes. Then you'll understand why Isis is so furious."
Without waiting for Altaïr to reply, Nymera turned and walked away.
Altaïr sat cross-legged on the hallway floor, folding his arms. He muttered to himself, "Putting myself in her shoes, huh..."
Sajji squeezed in to sit right next to him, adopting the same posture, cross-legged with his arms folded. "Boss, when you were locked in a standoff with the Monoblos, Isis, with no Armor on, suddenly came running over. She said she was better suited to hold it off because... because she had a shield, so a charge wouldn't kill her so easily, meow? Then she called over Hibiki to drag you away and faced the Monoblos alone, meow..."
Altaïr: "..."
No wonder Isis was that furious. Just imagining that scene was enough to make his blood pressure spike.
(Translated by yourtl.app)