Herbivores. This is a type of grass-eating wyvern found widely in both the Old World and the New World.
The herbivorous wyverns living in the Wildspire Waste have hard, turtle-like shells on their backs, which is why they are also known as Apceros, a type of "carapace herbivore."
Although they are both plant-eating wyverns, Apceros are far from the top of the Wildspire Waste's food chain—unlike Diablos—and are instead at the very bottom.
They sound like something anything passing by could bully, but Asterion knew that wasn't the case.
At least for a young wyvern with no one to care for it, killing a single Apceros from its herd was anything but simple.
Here's a joke: everyone knows about Deviljho, right?
That wyvern, a veritable plague to both Hunters and other monsters alike, naturally feels no parental affection for its offspring. It's the type to breed but not to raise.
But when a Deviljho hatchling is found, it's not just the large, aggressive wyverns—even passing herbivores will kill it without hesitation. And they absolutely have the ability to do so.
Look at the Apceros's setup: their backs have strong, defensive carapaces, tough enough to withstand a Rathian's fiery breath and diving talons. Asterion had once personally witnessed a Rathian that had come to hunt them, only to be completely stymied when the Apceros huddled together, facing their shells outward.
In the end, the Rathian, having failed to seize an early opportunity, spat some fire, realized it was useless, and had no choice but to fly away in frustration.
The Apceros's tail is also exceptionally thick and developed, its end spiked like a mace. Asterion dared not imagine what would happen if he, in his current state, were surrounded by a herd of Apceros and beaten with those things.
He'd be turned into Glavenus-paste, wouldn't he?
Even herbivores can kill wyverns!
As a former veteran Hunter who had been all about the lore, Asterion had already memorized this kind of ecological data, and it had now successfully become a vital reference for his survival in this familiar yet strange world.
But it could only be a reference.
Craving fresh meat, Asterion had been lying in wait in this swamp for a full day. He had his sights set on a small Apceros family, few in number: only four adults and two juveniles.
As for the large Apceros herds of ten or even dozens, Asterion gave them a wide berth the moment he saw them. He had no desire to be a lion gored by buffalo horns.
If the situation allowed, Asterion wanted to hunt an adult Apceros. But if not, killing a juvenile was nothing to be ashamed of.
Getting meat was the most important thing.
This was one of the two areas in the Wildspire Waste that least resembled a waste. A small river flowed down from high ground, tumbled over a low stone cliff, and fanned out, forming an exceptionally large swampy region—at least, it was much larger than the area in the game Asterion remembered, and the specific terrain didn't match.
That was normal, though. After all, any large monster hunting or fighting here could change the landscape. A few new pits or piles of rock and earth were perfectly normal.
Many aquatic plants grew in the swamp, but the most beautiful was a plant very similar in color and shape to lavender. Its elegant, gentle purple hue made the surrounding rock formations feel much less desolate.
But this place was also exceptionally dangerous.
Because the Wildspire Waste as a whole lacked water resources, this swamp and the river flowing through it supplied drinking water for almost half the wyverns in the Waste. They could show up at any time.
This was not good news for Asterion. Although he wasn't a Deviljho hatchling, any large, high-tier wyvern that saw him would, out of instinct and simple intelligence, likely try to kill him.
After all, one less competitor was one less competitor. They were unwilling to see a potential threat grow up.
Splash!
Suddenly, the sound of water parting came from the distance. This jolted Asterion, and even his thoughts, which had begun to wander after the long wait, snapped back into focus.
Staring intently, Asterion saw a group of Apceros striding through the swamp. Four adults, two juveniles—undoubtedly the targets he had been waiting for.
The sun was about to set. In Asterion's observation, this small Apceros family regularly came to this flowery swamp area to drink at this time.
Perhaps they had recognized that drinking at this hour was safe. So, while they remained vigilant, the Apceros would still relax considerably. Two days ago, while observing, he had even seen them seemingly splashing and playing with each other.
Especially the two young Apceros.
Asterion held his breath. He had dug a pit beforehand and half-buried himself in the muck, letting the purple flowers and plants conceal him as much as possible, leaving only the top half of his wyvern head exposed to peek out.
This was knowledge he had learned from watching Animal World in his past life.
The powerful body of a Glavenus allowed him to hold his breath for several minutes without any training. The mud caked all over his body also perfectly masked the unique scent of a high-tier species that clung to Asterion. The only problem was that this behavior was probably a bit disgraceful for a Glavenus. If other Glavenus saw this, they might disown him.
Probably.
But who cared? It worked.
The splash, splash, splash of water grew closer. A young Apceros, curiously chasing a butterfly fluttering among the flowers, had unknowingly strayed a bit far from its parents.
"Awooo..."
It was the call of an adult Apceros. It was calling for its child to return to its side quickly. The young Apceros received the signal; it stopped looking at the butterfly and turned back toward its parents.
This was the moment Asterion had been waiting for.
Thump...
The sound of strong legs stamping hard on the swamp bottom. Hidden in the mud, Asterion launched himself into the air!
SPLASH!!
The mud and water flung up with him seemed like a sky-blotting curtain falling upon the small Apceros. It let out a terrified shriek, and this became the last sound it would ever make in its life.
CRUNCH.
A Brute Wyvern, and a Glavenus at that—a species nicknamed the "Biting Wyvern"—even with Asterion's current strength, his bite force easily snapped the young Apceros's neck.
And then—RUN!!
The Wildspire Waste was fraught with peril. Engage, secure, and get out.
Just like a guerilla, a mature hunter would never be greedy for even one extra second. The slightest greed could lead to death.
Asterion understood this well. After biting the young Apceros to death, he didn't even glance back at the adults. He clamped the juvenile's corpse in his jaws and ran frantically in the opposite direction. He even purposefully used his tail to hoist the prey up, preventing the body from tripping him as he fled.
Dammit, legs! Run!!
His continuous, heavy footsteps kicked up a series of splashes in the swamp. However, unlike when a Kulu-Ya-Ku steals an egg, Asterion sprinted nearly two hundred meters without hearing any hurried footsteps or angry roars from the Apceros behind him.
When he belatedly stopped and looked back, he was surprised to find that the Apceros hadn't given chase. Instead, they were wailing mournfully, protecting their last remaining juvenile in their center as they fled back the way they came.
This was completely different from what Asterion had anticipated. His preparations hadn't been necessary.
His long-awaited, long-prepared-for first hunt was much simpler than he had imagined. Perhaps it was due to the planning of his human soul and intellect, or perhaps it was the naturally powerful body of a Glavenus. But it left Asterion with a sense of unreality, and even a faint feeling of disappointment.
But thinking about it carefully, it made sense. A Glavenus wasn't a monster like Deviljho. A Glavenus hatchling wasn't so threatening that herbivores would risk their lives to kill it.
It was normal for them to flee with their only remaining offspring for the sake of survival.
"Awooo!"
Sinking his teeth into the young Apceros's soft belly, Asterion swallowed the precious meat and fresh, warm wyvern blood with satisfaction. He could feel his body finally getting what it craved. The feeling was intoxicating.
Must eat meat!
Must eat meat every meal!!
He didn't even have time to bring the prey back to the shelter he shared with his Kulu-Ya-Ku brother. After all, carrying a bleeding carcass across the Wildspire Waste was tantamount to issuing a challenge. Asterion impatiently found a dry stone platform and began to eat right then and there.
He planned to eat quickly and run as soon as he was done.
It tasted delicious, almost like the roast suckling pig he remembered eating, just not as crispy. But honestly, Asterion didn't know how different his current perception was from his previous life's. His senses were no longer human; they belonged to a Glavenus.
No joke, according to the lore Asterion remembered, a Glavenus's stomach was lined with a heat-resistant crystalline layer, capable of withstanding temperatures over 1,500 degrees Celsius. A human stomach certainly couldn't do that.
Furthermore, a Glavenus's senses of smell and taste were different from a human's. It was possible that the thing he now found delicious would have made his human self vomit on the spot.
To be fair, based on his experience of eating dirt and ore after hatching, Asterion thought those minerals were quite tasty—crispy, delicious, and with a unique fragrance.
But as for savoring the taste of ore with a human palate... let's not talk about that.
Some things were like a slippery slope; the speed at which one hit rock bottom was incredible.
After living in this world as a Glavenus for about a month, Asterion was sometimes surprised to find that he was becoming more adapted to thinking from a wyvern's perspective than a human's.
Of course, this didn't mean Asterion had lost his human intelligence or reason. It was a shift in identity, in cognition. That intelligence would now just be used to make his wyvern life better.
Whether it was hunting, shelter, or even the instincts and physiological preferences unique to a wyvern, many things that his human self would have found unbearable were no big deal to him now.
Survive first, talk later.
The soul and mind are, after all, based on the physical body, and are deeply influenced by it.
Swallowing the warm, nutritious organs, Asterion immersed himself in the joy of his first meat. This was a joy other Glavenus hatchlings got to experience from their mothers right after birth, yet he had waited so long and had to hunt for himself.
It was enough to make a wyvern tear up.
To put it bluntly, his body craved this stuff.
The killing instinct!
Vmmm~
Suddenly, Asterion felt a faint vibration in his bones—an almost mystical sensation, and it wasn't an illusion. His red eyes looked toward the water's surface next to the rock. Beside the stems of the aquatic plants, ripples were spreading out, overlapping and interfering with each other.
Something's wrong!
No need to think, no need to check. The moment his instincts sensed danger, Asterion chose to trust them unconditionally!
He didn't even care about his unfinished feast. Kicking off with both legs, Asterion leaped straight off the massive rock he had been resting on—BOOM!!!
Before he even landed, Asterion twisted in mid-air to look back. Amidst a tremendous roar, he saw the massive rock—large enough for him to stand on while eating—be violently thrown upward from below!!
Mud splattered in all directions, even catching up to the leaping Asterion in mid-air, splattering trails of muck across his carapace.
But compared to the monster that had just burst out from beneath the swamp, a little mess was nothing.
A Jyuratodus.
The knowledge in his brain immediately allowed Asterion to identify the monster that had crashed his dinner party.
To be honest, from the moment he identified this world and location by the anthills scattered throughout the Wildspire Waste and its characteristic wyverns, Asterion had been mentally prepared. As long as he wanted to grow stronger, he would sooner or later meet all the monsters from the game in his past life.
This even included wyverns that had never appeared in the game but might exist in this real-world region. After all, the real world wasn't a game. How could a game fully represent all the species living in a real ecosystem?
Not to mention, Capcom loved to drip-feed content, their productivity so low they couldn't even manage a loud fart.
The strange phenomenon known as the Elder Crossing didn't just attract Hunters. It wasn't only Elder Dragons that traveled from the Old World to the New. There were also some daring Old World wyverns that followed behind the Elder Dragons, hitching a ride to the New World.
Why else would Asterion say that life in the Wildspire Waste was a little too abundant?