Moreover, the scholars believed that this Glavenus might be capable of communication. It wasn't just because he had refrained from attacking the hunters pushing carts on several occasions, but more significantly, because he had crafted a simple set of armor for his Kulu-Ya-Ku companion using his own shell pieces.
It served not only as an identifying mark but also provided a certain degree of protection for the Kulu-Ya-Ku. However, what was truly significant was that this was an act of tool-making.
It represented a difference in consciousness that was distinct from all other wyverns.
Back in the Old World, these scholars had studied many types of wyverns. Yet, in the wild, those creatures relied primarily on their own bodies—fangs, claws, or special elemental energies—to survive.
No monster had ever been known to consciously create tools for self-protection.
But this Glavenus could.
If this news were to reach the Old World, it would undoubtedly spark amazement and curiosity among countless scholars.
Yes, the Glavenus is indeed one of the most intelligent among Brute Wyverns, but this particular individual displayed a wisdom that transcended his species. How could the scholars not be astounded?
Therefore, since this unique Glavenus hadn't shown the extreme aggression typical of his kind—and even turned a blind eye to the hunters' activities in the Wildspire Waste—they decided to simply observe him for now. Any concrete decisions would have to wait until the Commander returned.
As the elite core of the First Fleet, their mission upon departure was to unravel the mystery of the Elder Crossing. After making landfall, the Commander had decided to leave a portion of the crew behind to establish a stronghold—Astera—while he led a team of elites to track Zorah Magdaros's trail.
He still hadn't returned.
However, Asterion couldn't feel the hunters' anxiety regarding their Commander. He unconditionally believed that the man—who was practically a Rajang variant in human form—would survive safely for another forty-plus years.
Asterion was busy.
Busy eating, and busy accumulating energy to evolve.
Honestly, Asterion was starting to feel more and more like a Deviljho. From morning to night, he was constantly occupied with finding nutritious things to eat. The only difference was that he didn't shove just any meat into his mouth indiscriminately like a Deviljho would.
Even so, Asterion was aware that he was placing heavy pressure on the local ecology of the area he inhabited. It was a fact he could sense himself.
The most obvious evidence was that Asterion's hunting grounds were constantly expanding. Unlike a typical Glavenus, the drive fueling his predation wasn't battle lust or simple hunger, but Bioenergy.
True, there were plenty of Apceros around, and eating them alone would be enough to fill Asterion's stomach, but the Bioenergy stored within an Apceros was meager.
Just filling his belly wasn't Asterion's goal. He needed food that was more nutritious and accumulated more Bioenergy—in plain terms, large wyverns that sat at the top of the food chain.
These large wyverns lived long lives, constantly preying on lifeforms lower in the food chain and storing that Bioenergy within their own bodies.
Even if he didn't utilize the specific evolutionary data these large wyverns possessed, simply accumulating their Bioenergy was beneficial enough.
Asterion's evolution required massive amounts of Bioenergy. As long as he wanted to keep moving forward, it meant he would inevitably become an ecological killer like a Deviljho—or rather, a killer of high-tier wyverns.
Hmm, thinking about it that way, I'm actually a bit more like Nergigante.
However, Asterion didn't want to become a public enemy of the ecosystem like Deviljho, where even a passing Aptonoth would try to take a bite out of a Deviljho hatchling. So, he maintained at least some level of planning in his predation.
He began to venture into the desert region.
The terrain of the Wildspire Waste could generally be divided into four categories. The first consisted of the towering stone pillars and walls that had been squeezed out of the earth like skyscrapers; many flying wyverns and birds chose to make their homes atop them.
The second was the desert, which occupied at least two-thirds of the area. Diablos was the apex ruler here, alongside various other wyverns of all sizes.
The third was the rocky scrubland—the Gobi-like wasteland—which hadn't fully turned into desert. It had flatlands and canyons, with some drought-resistant vegetation growing there. Asterion's nest was located in this sector.
As for the fourth, it was the area bordering the sea and the lower reaches of the Ancient Forest, such as the flowering marshlands. Life was more abundant and diverse there.
This was why flying wyverns were considered "noble." Some of those guys could fly right over the steep cliffs, hunting in the resource-rich Ancient Forest during the day and returning to the Wildspire Waste to rest at night.
I'm calling you out! The Rath family!
Other miscellaneous flying wyverns, like Seregios or Astalos, didn't even need mentioning; those guys went wherever they pleased, ate, and left.
The cliffs that trapped hunters and flightless wyverns like Asterion were no obstacle to them at all.
"Despicable! Disgusting! If you have the guts, go hunt in the Ancient Forest, and if you have the guts, don't come back!"
— The above statement came from a certain wyvern consumed by envy, jealousy, and hate.
While grumbling and cursing like this, Asterion carefully searched for prey in the desert. This vast desert wasn't just home to Diablos—a guy who was strictly vegetarian yet had an exceptionally violent temper.
If one wasn't careful, it wasn't just a Diablos's massive horns that might suddenly pop out of the sand to impale your backside; it could also be the gaping maw of a Nibelsnarf.
And that guy ate meat.
His luck today wasn't great. Asterion wandered for most of the day without finding suitable prey. He did spot a Tigrex in the distance bashing its head against a giant anthill for some reason, but he had absolutely no intention of hunting it.
There was no helping it; fighting that thing was just a bad deal.
It had high combat power, an aggressive nature, and an intense bloodlust. What if he got killed?
And even if he didn't die, what if he was heavily injured after the battle and some other wyvern came along to finish him off?
It was possible that the Bioenergy lost in a desperate fight would outweigh what he gained from eating it. Thus, after weighing the pros and cons, Asterion wisely chose to retreat to the rocky wasteland.
With the arrival of the rainy season, the danger level of the Wildspire Waste had clearly increased. Even monsters like Tigrex were popping up, likely having chased some prey all the way here.
A Tigrex's desire for battle was far more intense than a Glavenus's. A single large kill was enough to sustain a Tigrex for several days, yet these guys would continue to pursue and slaughter every prey animal they could catch even on a full stomach. It was killing for the sake of killing.
Because of this, Tigrex needed to migrate frequently to find new hunting grounds... This level of bloodlust was something even a Glavenus couldn't match; at least a Glavenus wouldn't attack every single prey animal in its territory.
Yeah, even a special variant like me with an exceptionally high appetite wouldn't do something like that.
"The dragons living in the Wildspire Waste are in for a treat," Asterion couldn't help but remark sarcastically. The arrival of a Tigrex was like tossing a catfish into a fish pond.
He decided to avoid the desert side for the near future. He wasn't going to take a losing deal. He'd wait until the Tigrex and the desert's old veteran ruler, Diablos, fought it out to the death before going back.
As always, danger lurked everywhere in the Wildspire Waste.
"Roar?" (Hm?)
Asterion, having just passed through a canyon, suddenly stopped. He widened his eyes, looking at the figure sprinting outside the canyon—yellow scales, bright head feathers, and most importantly, that crude dark-red vest worn on its body. Who else could it be but his Brother Kulu?
And behind Brother Kulu—or to be precise, in the sky above him—a Rathian was furiously spitting out a massive fireball.
BOOM!!
The exploding fireball brought with it scorching heat, blasting the rocks behind the sprinting Kulu-Ya-Ku into powder.
"Gu-ji!!"
Clearly terrified, Brother Kulu looked like a panic-stricken wreck, hopping left and right to dodge the Rathian's breath attacks and the claws swiping down during her relentless dives.
"Roar, roar, roar!!" (Over here! You idiot!)
Asterion instantly panicked. He roared as he ran toward Brother Kulu.
"Gu-ji, gu-ji! Gu-ji-ji-ji-ji-ji-ji!!!"
Hearing the familiar voice nearly made Brother Kulu burst into avian tears. He instantly changed direction, charging toward Asterion while squawking frantically.
There was no need to ask why the Rathian had suddenly targeted Brother Kulu; Asterion immediately spotted the large egg the Kulu-Ya-Ku was clutching to his chest.
Uh, Apceros eggs and Rathian eggs were the ones Kulu-Ya-Ku stole most often; they were practically staples on the menu.
But generally speaking, this kind of activity was done when the Rath couple wasn't in the nest. If caught red-handed by the parents, a Kulu-Ya-Ku would usually drop the egg and run for its life. Therefore, a situation like this, where Brother Kulu refused to give up the egg even while fleeing, was extremely rare.
Who gave him the courage?
After a brief thought, Asterion realized the answer.
It was him.
It was the Glavenus.
Alright then, never mind.
Asterion's body was frighteningly agile. In just a few seconds, he rushed in front of Brother Kulu.
With a sliding bird-step, Brother Kulu slid past Asterion's leg to the rear. This was a hot-blooded combo move they had practiced countless times. Confirming with his peripheral vision that Brother Kulu was clear of his tail's range, Asterion twisted his hips and whipped that immensely heavy sword-tail around—straight at the Rathian!!
SLASH!!
Consumed by the rage of having her egg stolen, the Rathian hadn't anticipated a Glavenus suddenly bursting out in a place like this. Consequently, her body was still maintaining a forward gliding posture in pursuit.
Watching the Rathian about to slam right into his sword-tail, Asterion was so excited his breathing grew heavier.
BOOM!!
A sudden fireball explosion! In that split second, at that critical juncture, the Rathian abruptly spat a fireball at the cliff wall of the canyon to her right!
Borrowing the wind force and recoil generated by the explosion, the Rathian managed to leverage herself in mid-air, lifting her body toward the sky and forcefully dodging Asterion's heavy slash.
Such instantaneous decision-making and execution capability could already be considered instinctual. This Rathian was by no means ordinary.
"REEEAAAA!!!"
Having been intercepted and narrowly escaping a surprise attack, the Rathian landed on a nearby cliff ledge. She roared in fury, allowing Asterion to get a clearer look at her appearance.
She was indeed special.
Because the scales on the edges of this Rathian's wings and foreclaws were faintly emitting a golden radiance under the sunlight—this was a Rathian in the process of molting into a Gold Rathian.
The traces were few, but the signs were definitely there.
Only one out of every few hundred Rathians would become a rare individual with a full body of gold. This was due to absorbing large amounts of metallic elements from their diet, forming alloy scales. While possessing a beautiful appearance, their combat power was also exceptionally formidable.
Not only was their intelligence higher than that of a common Rathian, but their attack frequency was faster, and both their fire and poison were enhanced.
Interesting.
Asterion stared excitedly at the Rathian. At this moment, he had completely forgotten how he had just been complaining about the Tigrex. Right now, he was even more "Tigrex" than a Tigrex—he wanted to hunt this Rathian!
A Rathian showing signs of reaching the limit of further evolution meant that her body contained a richer concentration of Bioenergy. It also meant she could provide Asterion with more evolutionary information.
Specifically, wing information!!
The wings of the Rath family!!!
Your wings are very nice; let me use them!
Brother Kulu really is my lucky star, bringing me such precious prey.
Suppressing the excitement in his heart, the cold ruthlessness of a Glavenus shrouded Asterion's consciousness. He was about to begin the hunt.
This was indeed a rare, top-tier feast, but "top-tier" also implied the difficulty of the hunt.
As an "Intel Glavenus," from the moment he saw the Rathian clearly, Asterion had been constantly observing her appearance and summarizing information he could use in the upcoming battle.
A Rathian showing signs of evolving into a Gold Rathian meant she had lived for a long time. This wasn't just empty talk; surviving in the cruel wilderness long enough to have the opportunity to evolve upwards meant this Rathian had experienced countless brutal battles.
No wonder she could instinctively make the most correct reaction when suddenly ambushed just now. This was fundamentally a Tempered Rathian!!
He just didn't know what Threat Level she was.
So-called "Tempered" monsters were battle-hardened, enhanced individuals. They were elite monsters that had survived to the end of the brutal long-term survival competition of nature. Whether it was the thickness and defense of their scales, their attack power, or the potency of their special abilities, they were far stronger than the ordinary monsters of their kind.
It was like the difference between a normal mob and an elite mob in a typical game; even if the character model looked the same, the stats were simply higher, and they were much harder to beat.
————
Supporting me on Pa-treon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .c-om/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Pa-treon normally.)