It was separated from the herd. Not only that, the entire creature was flipped over in a bizarre position, wedged between several thick tree trunks. Its thick, rounded feet couldn't get any purchase to right itself, and the massive carapace on its back completely prevented it from rolling over. Its only hope was to call for its kin to help.
But unfortunately for it, the other Apceros had already been driven off by Asterion. They didn't dare approach the flowering marsh area now.
The Asterion of today wasn't that same little Glavenus fresh from the shell with a soft tail. He was incredibly tough now. And unlike species such as Kulu-Ya-Ku, which don't grow excessively large even as adults, the Apceros weren't afraid of them. What they did fear were the truly large monsters.
Even if he was just a juvenile, when that juvenile was unusually developed and possessed significant offensive power, the Apceros didn't dare ignore Asterion's roars and threats.
He had merely adopted an attack stance and sliced a nearby boulder in half. The Apceros that had intended to follow the sound immediately turned and fled without a backward glance. Avoiding danger was, by instinct, their highest priority.
And once again, the injured party was an Apceros.
It couldn't be helped. Who else but these herbivores, which were numerous and had no real combat ability? Most importantly, they provided a lot of meat, making them the top choice on the menu for all sorts of large carnivorous monsters.
Using Asterion's small, stubby claws to maneuver a constantly struggling Apceros into this position had been difficult. The most important part was not to harm it in the process, ensuring it stayed lively enough to keep wailing.
It was only at times like this that he found himself dearly missing human arms and hands. They were far too convenient for this kind of delicate work.
But in the end, Asterion succeeded. In the process, the Apceros had been scraped by the sword-like tail he'd used to assist his stubby claws, and it was now bleeding steadily. But this blood, dripping little by little into the marsh, only added another layer of temptation to the trap.
With the exception of a few biologically unique species, a monster's senses—a sharper sense of smell, keener eyesight, and so on—generally far surpassed a human's.
And for those monsters that already had Apceros on their menu, the blood dripping into the marsh waters was like a distinct invitation, carried by the current from far away.
The Jyuratodus had arrived.
Like a shark that had smelled blood. From his hiding place, Asterion could clearly see the trail of parted water plants and flowers in the swamp, and the dorsal fin cutting through the muddy surface.
Asterion was somewhat disappointed. The Jyuratodus didn't seem to suspect that the wailing Apceros was a trap. It made all his careful preparations feel a bit like casting pearls before swine. He had gone to great lengths to make the whole scene look as if the Apceros had gotten itself stuck in the trees by accident.
The Jyuratodus submerged beneath the mud, and now even its dorsal fin was gone. But Asterion knew it hadn't left. This was the prelude to an attack.
First, it would dive to the bottom of the marsh, then burst out from below, striking its prey's undefended, soft underbelly. This was the Jyuratodus's complete hunting process, and it was a single trick that worked every time.
BOOM!
Just as it had shattered the boulder Asterion had been on, the Jyuratodus burst from the base of the trees, its massive jaws clamping down on the Apceros's body.
"GUUAAH!!!"
The Apceros's wail intensified, and at that exact moment, Asterion rose from the mud. The moment the Jyuratodus chose to attack from below, Asterion knew it was finished.
Pssssht!
Like a giant balloon suddenly springing a leak, a loud psssht sound erupted. A thick, pale blue-white mist appeared from nowhere, enveloping the Jyuratodus right where its jaws had clamped onto the Apceros.
A Sleep Toad.
Hunters would one day give this creature that name. Its power was straightforward: when it sensed danger or was attacked, it would violently expel the massive amount of sleep gas stored in its body, creating an opportunity for a safe escape.
The sleep effect was incredibly potent. Forget a relatively small monster like a Jyuratodus; even an Elder Dragon would be put to sleep upon inhaling the gas.
Of course, its efficacy against Elder Dragons was just a game mechanic. As for in the real world... Asterion could only say that remained to be seen.
It was a nice thought. What if?
The trap Asterion had set wasn't complex; in fact, it was downright simple. The core of it all was just a single Sleep Toad.
Perhaps because of the vast amount of sleep gas they contained, these frogs were naturally sedentary. Unless absolutely necessary, they would stay quietly in one safe spot, only using their gas to hunt when they felt hungry.
He had originally wanted to use a Paratoad, but compared to the Sleep Toad, Paratoads were just a bit too active.
He had used his magnificent sword-tail as a... well, a tray.
In short, Asterion had carefully scooped up the patch of ground the Sleep Toad was sitting on and, bit by bit, moved it to the trap location, not daring to make any sudden or risky movements.
He had no desire to fall asleep defenselessly in the wild. That was no different from waiting to die.
Just like the Jyuratodus now.
"Hahaha, hahahaha, hahahahahaha!" "You've finally fallen into my hands!"
The Jyuratodus was sleeping so peacefully that even the excited roars of a Glavenus couldn't wake it. Bubbles were still popping from its nostrils.
Asterion circled the sleeping Jyuratodus. Only at this close range could he truly appreciate the size difference between himself and his enemy. Even though Glavenus had one of the longest bodies among Brute Wyverns, this Jyuratodus was still more than twice his size.
Not daring to waste time, Asterion quickly sized up the sleeping Jyuratodus, looking for the weakest point on its body.
The Sleep Toad's effect wasn't as elegant as it was in the-game, where it could make a raging monster instantly calm down and find a comfortable position to nap.
If Asterion had to describe it, the real-world Sleep Toad was less a gentle sedative and more like a knockout punch, instantly rendering the monster unconscious.
As a result, when the Jyuratodus collapsed, it couldn't possibly settle into the safe, relaxed posture it might use in its nest. Instead, it had fallen with its underbelly completely exposed.
True, it wasn't as hard as the dark scales on its back. But that didn't mean the Jyuratodus's belly was soft. Rows of horizontal plating formed a resilient surface, covered in small, dense scales. It wasn't "hard," but it was definitely "tough."
But compared to the scales on its back and flanks, this was definitely its weak point.
And Asterion always aimed for the weak point.
He picked the perfect angle to ensure his spinning slash would connect with as much of the Jyuratodus's belly as possible. Once again, Asterion bit down on the tip of his own tail.
Charge! Iai! The Peerless Heaven-and-Earth Great Spinning Slash!
When he felt all his strength gather into that single point, Asterion violently unleashed the destructive blow!
The bright red, mineral-coated sword-tail tore through the air between Asterion and the Jyuratodus. In an instant, it struck the monster's pale underbelly.
And missed.
Or rather, it was off-target. Asterion only realized it when he landed and turned to inspect his handiwork.
To be blunt, he wasn't exactly a master swordsman. In his previous life, he was far more skilled at typing in front of a computer. So, it wasn't all that surprising that an attack where he turned his entire body into a blade had gone awry.
The angle of his rotation, the height of his body as he aimed, the arc of his unfurling tail, the softness of the mud underfoot... there were many reasons.
But the end result was that Asterion's original plan—to slice a massive gash starting from the belly near its tail and going all the way up—had failed.
The cut veered from a straight line into a diagonal. The initial point of impact was still the belly near the tail, but as the wound traveled toward the chest, it skewed upward, ultimately tearing open a huge chunk of flesh and dark scales on the right side of its thorax.
It was deep enough to see bone.
This was a completely different result from one-shotting those Gajau. It made Asterion realize for the first time that his signature move still had such shortcomings.
But refining his technique was a problem for later. The most important thing right now was this huge monster, which had just been jolted awake by the pain.
The Jyuratodus was roaring in fury. Its pitch-black eyes seemed to have turned red with pain.
Asterion's slash had been so deep that when the Jyuratodus instinctively thrashed its tail in anger, a long loop of its fish... no, monster... intestines actually spilled out, instantly stained black by the mud.
The smell of meat.
The first thing Asterion smelled wasn't danger, but the rich aroma of fresh blood and meat wafting from the wound.
In his eyes, the Jyuratodus was just a giant, walking energy bar. Asterion could almost taste that chewy life energy.
Almost. He was even chewing the air in anticipation.
Like chewing gum.
"ROAR!!!!"
This wasn't Asterion's roar; it was the Jyuratodus's. The massive monster, now fully awake, rammed its body toward Asterion without hesitation. If that blow connected, it would leave him reeling.
But unfortunately, a simple Shoulder Tackle like that wasn't going to hit Asterion. He was already intimately familiar with the Jyuratodus's standard moveset from countless dings of his weapon, and he was even on guard for any real-world variations that didn't exist in the game.
In monster terms: just stay out of its way.
Hundreds of nature documentaries had taught Asterion that a wounded animal is the most dangerous. Moreover, as an "informed" Glavenus, Asterion fully understood that he was now in the superior position.
True, the Jyuratodus hadn't been instantly disemboweled and killed by his spinning slash. But an injury severe enough to have its intestines spilling out meant it was, at the very least, grievously wounded.
A few more violent charges, and the Jyuratodus would end up tearing its own guts to shreds. Not to mention the blood gushing from the wound, rapidly draining its stamina.
Asterion leaped agilely. The Jyuratodus was too slow to catch his powerful, muscular legs. And while his form was still small for his species, "small" also meant "nimble."
It failed to hit him, failed to spit on him...
As if it knew its life was ending, the pain drove the Jyuratodus to charge Asterion frantically. And it wasn't an illusion—Asterion clearly saw greed in its eyes.
That was it. This thing also craved Asterion's life energy and flesh. If it could just eat him, it would gain enough energy to heal its wounds... or at least, start healing, whether it would ultimately be successful or not.
That was just fine.
Asterion could feel his own blood pumping faster than usual. He was excited. His Glavenus instincts were thrilled by this battle, yet it also made him calmer, more cold-blooded.
Just fine indeed.
You want to eat me, and I want to eat you. The law between monsters was just that cruel and direct.
At least, for everything beneath Elder Dragons. ...And perhaps even Elder Dragons couldn't escape this cycle.
The victor grows stronger, the loser becomes waste. We are all just part of the natural order.
He leaped back again, but this time Asterion wasn't just dodging. With a simple twist of his body in mid-air, his sword-tail—polished so bright it was almost a mirror—flashed past the Jyuratodus's right side.
KRAK-KRAK!
With a series of crisp tearing sounds, the Jyuratodus's right dorsal fin and its massive pectoral fin were shorn clean off, offering almost no resistance.
My blade is plenty sharp, too.
"AWOOO!!!"
It roared again, but unlike before, this time its cry carried an undeniable trace of weakness.
Its body staggered. Losing a dorsal fin was nothing, but having a large chunk of its right pectoral fin sliced off by Asterion was a much more serious blow.
The two huge pectoral fins on its left and right were, in essence, the Jyuratodus's degenerated... or perhaps evolved... forelimbs.
In any case, having lost the fin on one side, its balance was clearly compromised.
Coupled with the constant blood loss and the weakness flooding its body, it now wanted to flee.
————
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