The only small regret was that the strong stench of blood from the fish corpses littering the ground added a grim tension to the swamp. When that Jyuratodus arrived, it would likely be on high alert, making it impossible to continue the pursuit.
But Asterion wasn't in a hurry. Having already settled on the overarching goal of revenge, waiting a few extra days was nothing. He had that much patience.
Revenge wasn't something to be rushed; the more anxious one was, the more likely they were to make mistakes. Making a little progress each day was good enough.
Today, he'd chop up some Gajau. Tomorrow, he'd clear out some juvenile Jyuratodus. The day after, he'd find a good spot to set a trap…
Besides, if he used these next few days to eat, Asterion's body would likely grow even stronger. This would increase his chances of victory.
According to the information in his memory, although a monster like the Gajau had always been classified as a "Fish" before World, in this installment, it was classified as a Piscine Wyvern… It was quite mysterious. If it really was a Piscine Wyvern, then it should provide more life energy, right?
All good news.
With two or three of the largest fish carcasses clenched in his jaws and each of his pitifully small foreclaws clutching a few more, Asterion grunted and huffed as he left the swamp area.
Not long after he left, that Jyuratodus swam into the area. It was breathing heavily, having already sniffed the lingering scent of blood in the air. It quickly discovered the Gajau carcasses that Asterion hadn't been able to carry away.
It showed no sadness or anger that its little buddies, who usually followed it around for scraps, had been killed. Although the Jyuratodus was classified as a large monster and occupied a mid-level ecological niche, its intelligence was lacking compared to a high-niche wyvern like the Glavenus.
It could be said it was a little clever, but not by much.
With no time to mourn the deaths of its Gajau buddies, the Jyuratodus quickly devoured the fish chunks Asterion had left behind. And wouldn't you know it—they were delicious.
It completely whetted its appetite.
But Asterion would never know of the monster's small joy. In fact, on the way home, Asterion had already stopped. He was staring blankly at the massive object in front of him, not even noticing when the fish chunks hanging from his foreclaws dropped to the ground.
It was a sensation difficult to describe in words. To use an analogy, it was as if the very air around him had suddenly taken on a tangible weight, pressing down on Asterion until he could barely breathe.
Pressure.
Pressure emanating from the behemoth before him.
Every muscle in his body, even the blood flowing through his veins, seemed to be suppressed. Asterion's instincts were relentlessly warning him to flee—warning him that he had trespassed into the territory of a stronger, superior being.
The thing before him… it was as if a small volcano had materialized from thin air on the desolate, ochre-colored rocky ground. A real, small volcano, about two or three times Asterion's height, composed of numerous charred-black rocks of various sizes... They were probably rocks? In any case, they were piled high, forming this small hill.
Not only that, but in the crevices between the rocks, one could see dark-red magma, almost solidified and barely moving, dripping slowly, as if their interiors were still silently burning.
This was an intangible deterrent. Even though the owner of this... thing... was not present, the mere residue it had unintentionally dropped was enough to agitate the nearby fauna, including the large monsters that typically dominated this region.
An Elder Dragon.
This was the intimidating presence of an Elder Dragon.
Their mere existence was enough to influence every living creature in their environment. To put it crudely, even their droppings could make species on the normal food chain feel agitated and threatened.
Jyuratodus, Diablos, Glavenus—in the face of an Elder Dragon, they were all just small fry, not even worth mentioning.
Asterion knew what this was. If his memory served him right, this was a trace left behind by Zorah Magdaros.
The so-called Zorah Magdaros was a type of "Mountain Dragon." As the name implied, its very being was an extraordinarily massive mountain range. When its feet touched the seabed, its head and back could breach the water's surface. It was hard to even imagine its sheer immensity.
Naturally, these burning rocks couldn't be Zorah Magdaros's droppings. The excrement from a dragon as large as a mountain range couldn't possibly be this small. Moreover, no strange, giant footprints or lava trails had appeared in the Wildspire Waste recently.
Therefore, the most likely possibility was that Zorah Magdaros had vented heat or magma somewhere unknown. The rocks and ores accumulated on its back, near its heat-venting organs, were then ejected all at once, ultimately landing in this spot within the Wildspire Waste.
The Zorah Magdaros itself likely hadn't made landfall in the Wildspire Waste. Otherwise, the entire region wouldn't be this peaceful.
If a mountain-sized Elder Dragon traversed the Wildspire Waste, the sheer destruction and impact from its movement would be enough to annihilate a vast area.
Much like Arthas's march on Silvermoon, it would create a "Dead Scar."
But even so, Asterion was already being affected by this massive Zorah Magdaros trace.
His reason told him Zorah Magdaros hadn't actually appeared in the Wildspire Waste, that this place was still safe. His instincts, however, screamed at him to run—young wyverns were exceptionally sensitive to danger.
This was a feeling the Jyuratodus could never hope to evoke in him.
A suppression rooted in his very bloodline.
After staring at the small mountain of slag for a moment, Asterion silently picked up the fish chunks that had fallen to the ground and left without a backward glance.
Being frightened by a piece of scrap casually spat out by another dragon... this stung his Glavenus pride. If he were just an ordinary Glavenus, it wouldn't have mattered. For them, bowing to or being suppressed by an Elder Dragon was not unacceptable.
But Asterion was different.
After realizing how unique his body was, he had developed an equally unique ambition. An ordinary Glavenus would be intimidated by an Elder Dragon, but if a Glavenus with the wisdom of a transmigrator was also intimidated, then wouldn't he have transmigrated for nothing?
Besides, it was just an Elder Dragon. If he ever got the chance to eat one, it was hard to say who the real Elder Dragon would be!
The fish chunks he brought back became the next day's breakfast. Waking up from a night's sleep, it was another beautiful day.
The appearance of the Zorah Magdaros trace left Asterion somewhat bewildered. In the game, the hunters tracked Zorah Magdaros to the New World. But according to the game's lore, the Zorah Magdaros that was ultimately prevented from entering the Everstream to die was not, in fact, visiting the New World for the first time.
There was only one Zorah Magdaros from start to finish. The plot explicitly stated that the New World's bioenergy was only sufficient to sustain one.
The Zorah Magdaros's life cycle was measured in centuries. Disregarding its birth and youth, once it entered its twilight years, it would attempt to enter the Everstream once every few decades.
But perhaps its lifespan hadn't truly reached its end, or perhaps the Xeno'jiiva hiding at the New World's bioenergy convergence point didn't yet require the lifetime of accumulated energy that a Zorah Magdaros would release upon death to grow. Thus, the "call" wasn't strong. In any case, on its previous attempts, the Zorah Magdaros had never managed to enter the depths of the Everstream.
At this moment, Asterion had no idea which attempt to return to the New World from the sea this Zorah Magdaros trace represented. Since his birth, he had come to know the surrounding area very well, clearly understanding which parts were dangerous and which were safe, but he had never seen any sign of human-made objects.
Still, the trace left by Zorah Magdaros was a significant sign. Perhaps, at this very moment, hunters had already landed in some corner of the Wildspire Waste.
What kind of impact would they have on the Wildspire Waste?
He wasn't sure what the situation outside was, but Asterion's revenge plan proceeded as usual. He simply warned his Kulu-Ya-Ku brother to be careful and not wander off randomly during this time.
If Guild Hunters had truly landed on the edge of the Wildspire Waste, then a small Bird Wyvern like his Kulu-Ya-Ku brother would be a prime... source of materials... for hunters lacking supplies and equipment.
After all, unlike hunters in the Old World, hunters in the New World weren't constrained by cumbersome and strict approval processes and applications just to go on a hunt.
After adjusting his mindset, Asterion actually returned to the pile of rocks left by Zorah Magdaros. Thanks to the Elder Dragon aura it emitted, the safety of the immediate vicinity had increased considerably.
Asterion took a deep breath. Truthfully, he didn't know how long this Zorah Magdaros trace had been here. The Elder Dragon aura it emitted had dissipated slightly compared to yesterday, but it was still dense.
But Asterion still opened his mouth.
He planned to eat this "ore mountain" infused with the aura of Zorah Magdaros.
Yes, an ore mountain. Although it was a trace left by an Elder Dragon, this pile of fused rocks wasn't the flesh, carapace, or waste of Zorah Magdaros. Rather, it was formed from the rocks and mineral veins that had clung to the Elder Dragon's body as it moved through the earth's ley lines or during volcanic eruptions, all condensed together.
Compared to ordinary ore, this mass simply contained an extra ingredient: the Elder Dragon energy of Zorah Magdaros, accumulated over long years of clinging to its body.
This was what Asterion wanted to eat.
Over eons, Zorah Magdaros relied on volcanoes to amass life-sustaining energy. It also accumulated the minerals from those eruptions on its back, forging a literal mountain upon its shell.
For Asterion, this was an absolutely nutritious, unexpected feast that had fallen from the heavens.
This was the essence of ore, smelted by volcanic heat. It wasn't the low-quality stuff he usually had to painstakingly search for, which was full of impurities, rock, and dirt. This was pure, finished ore.
There was no need to separate the minerals fused together. Whether it was Iron Ore, copper ore, Machalite Ore, Dragonite Ore, Carbalite Ore, or Brilliant Crystal… it was all good stuff. All he had to do was eat!
This was a feast no ordinary Glavenus fledgling could ever hope to get. Asterion ate frantically, like a bottomless pit. In this moment, he seemed less like a carnivorous Glavenus and more like some dragon species that subsisted on dirt.
By the time Asterion finished devouring the massive chunk of Zorah Magdaros rock, even scraping off a layer of the underlying dirt, he let out a satisfied burp. He reflexively tried to pat his belly with his foreclaws, but they were too short, tapping his chest instead.
He now had a clearer understanding of just how special his body was. At the very least, a normal dragon absolutely could not swallow something twice its own size in one sitting.
His belly didn't even look any bigger.
But Asterion knew clearly that the things he had eaten hadn't vanished. He could feel the tip of his tail itching, as if something was about to grow, and the hot current surging inside his body had intensified.
And after he returned to his nest and slept soundly for a day, the changes to his body became even more apparent. Perhaps because he was young and small, any changes quickly manifested.
Setting other things aside, the most visible change was Asterion's blade-like tail. It was no longer the grayish-white, tinged with cyan, that had resulted from eating so much Iron Ore and Machalite Ore. Now, it had a streak of vibrant red.
Undoubtedly, the ores infused with Zorah Magdaros's abundant fire-elemental energy had played a major role in this process. The Glavenus "greatsword" that Asterion was forging had naturally changed as well.
When Asterion sharpened it until it was red-hot, he was surprised to find its temperature was significantly higher than before. Swinging it sent sparks flying.
However, the carapace on Asterion's body hadn't changed much. It seemed the essence of what he had eaten this time had been channeled entirely into his tail.
But this was a good thing. With the hunt for the Jyuratodus imminent, a sharper, higher-damage weapon was exactly what Asterion wanted.
It felt like someone fresh out of the starting village who had just been handed an endgame weapon. Everything felt different.
Toting this new weapon, Asterion unhesitatingly… set a trap.
Uh, right in the swamp area.
He could fight, but a trap was still a trap. The two weren't mutually exclusive.
The same familiar place, the same familiar hiding spot. The Jyuratodus, which wasn't truly intelligent, didn't even realize a wyvern had its sights on it. It never imagined that the Glavenus fledgling it had chased away not long ago would return to hunt it.
It spent its days like a carefree dragon, eating, drinking, and wandering about without a single ounce of tension.
"Awooo! Awooo!!"
In a relatively open part of the swamp, a few trees grew sparsely, surrounded by several medium-sized rocks. The line of sight was clear, and there was nothing that looked suspicious.
And there, between the trunks of these trees, an Apceros was roaring incessantly. The sound was mournful and incredibly loud, audible even from the far edge of the swamp.
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