He heard it.
He heard it!!
That familiar palpitation. Even though the only sounds reaching his ears right now were the roar of flames and Nergigante's furious bellows, Asterion still heard it!!
It was that music carved deep into his bloodline, etched into the very depths of his soul!!
Dun-dun! Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun!! Dun-dun!
The invisible, phantom melody was deafening in that moment.
Asterion felt sick all over. His whole body felt wrong—after regaining forelimbs, Asterion usually walked on all fours to maintain balance.
But just now, in his panic to rush out of the sea of fire, he had reared up his upper body and run out on two legs, just like in his past life.
It was purely an instinctive reaction.
"Roaaaar!!!"
The roar grew thicker and more resonant. Having just emerged from the flames, Asterion looked up to see a black monster with a flushed face and thick neck dive-bombing straight down from the sky. It smashed violently into the very spot where he had just been fighting Nergigante!!
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!
Uh, this Bazelgeuse didn't seem particularly bright. It had indeed descended from the heavens, following the attack pattern in Asterion's memory, slamming its neck—laden with teardrop-shaped blasting scales—toward the battlefield shared by Asterion and Nergigante. But its movements were too slow.
Both Asterion and Nergigante had long since vacated that spot. The Bazelgeuse seemed to realize this, but it was too late to adjust. No matter how it twisted, it couldn't hit either of them, eventually crashing clumsily into the rocks.
However, such an impact wasn't an unacceptable injury for a Bazelgeuse; it was a signature move.
Amidst the raging fire, the Bazelgeuse simply climbed to its feet. It lifted its thick, sturdy head to scan Asterion and Nergigante.
"Roaaar!!!" (Come! Fight!)
With a single roar, the Bazelgeuse's intentions couldn't be clearer. This guy was here to brawl.
Its face was small, but from the head down to the neck, it was incredibly thick—the neck was so broad it looked almost as wide as its body.
Covered entirely in very regular, silver-gray scales, its head and neck connected to resemble a large club. Its thick, rounded tail also looked like a club. The Bazelgeuse was essentially a dumbbell: two clubs connected by a body.
But what drew the eye even more were the blasting scales hanging from its massive chin, the underside of its neck, and beneath its thick tail. It is worth noting that these "scales" weren't true scales, but solids formed from body fluids secreted by the Bazelgeuse's blasting glands, which coagulated upon contact with the air.
Shaped like teardrops, these were the very "seeds" that had just fallen from the sky into the battlefield. They were the cause of the violent explosions, and the source of the Bazelgeuse's infamy.
Asterion was willing to crown the Bazelgeuse as the number one nuisance of the New World. In terms of sheer annoyance, no other monster compared.
Obsessed with battle, craving battle, seeking opportunities to join battles, and if there were no battles, finding ways to create one just to join in—that was the Bazelgeuse.
As a Flying Wyvern, the Bazelgeuse wasn't particularly agile in flight, but it possessed extreme endurance and the ability to fly for long periods. This granted it immense mobility. However, what earned the Bazelgeuse the nickname "World Police" wasn't its mobility, but its ability to sense conflict.
simply put, this special ability allowed the Bazelgeuse to sense where dragons were fighting, prompting it to fly over and join the fray.
Belligerent, warlike, possessing intense aggression, high mobility, and conflict perception—when these traits converged in a single monster, they created the anomaly that was the Bazelgeuse.
Case in point: the moment it landed, it issued a challenge. This guy didn't even fear Elder Dragons. From ordinary monsters up to Elder Dragons, and even its own kind—everything fell within its scope of "things to beat up."
It lived purely for war.
As for Asterion—well, he was busy wolfing down Nergigante's horn.
It was the piece he had just sliced off, which had conveniently landed by his feet. No need to say more; eat it quick.
But to be honest, Nergigante's horn didn't provide any evolutionary traits. It was just purely hard. Asterion ate it with a sense of grievance.
Nergigante, however, felt no grievance, only fury—what did it just see?! This little dragon was actually eating its horn?!!
Pain! Suffering! Rage! Nergigante's fury burned across the Wildspire Waste!
"Roar!!!"
Without any actual meaning, just a pure roar, Nergigante bellowed loudly. The spikes all over its body grew blacker and harder, and then he—he flapped his wings and flew away.
Under Asterion's dumbfounded gaze, the Nergigante—who a second ago seemed angry enough to eat a dragon and determined not to let a single villain escape—had suddenly taken flight the next second, flying off into the distance without looking back.
"Roaaar!!" (Why did it run again?!)
The Bazelgeuse's roar snapped Asterion out of his shock. He suddenly realized that it seemed only he and this battle-maniac remained.
Suddenly, Asterion understood Nergigante's thinking.
It wasn't worth it.
Clearly, Nergigante and this Bazelgeuse had dealt with each other before, yet Nergigante had never taken the Bazelgeuse's bioenergy. Was it because it didn't want to?
No. The answer was simply that it wasn't worth the cost.
Anger is fleeting; bioenergy is real.
For Nergigante, if an opponent was strong enough that the bioenergy gained from the fight would be far less than the energy consumed during the battle, it would avoid such meaningless conflict.
Under this fundamental principle, even Asterion eating its dropped horn was something Nergigante could tolerate. After all, with its regenerative abilities, something like a horn could easily grow back.
But to fight a difficult opponent like Asterion who dealt high damage, and then fight a disgusting thing covered in bombs... even if it won in the end, it would be a net loss—because neither of these guys were Elder Dragons.
Having combat power comparable to an Elder Dragon but lacking the bioenergy an Elder Dragon should have—fighting this battle would be nothing but a pure loss.
In the world of Elder Dragons, being able to deal effective damage to an Elder Dragon meant the potential to kill one. Therefore, possessing the potential to kill one counted as having combat power comparable to an Elder Dragon.
The logic held up.
So, Nergigante fled without hesitation.
It wouldn't do a losing deal even if it died.
"Roar, roar!!" (Damn you! Nergigante!!)
Cursing Nergigante for the umpteenth time today, Asterion turned his gaze back to the Bazelgeuse, still grumbling incessantly.
First, it tried to steal his food, then tried to hunt him, and after attracting this disgusting Bazelgeuse, it ran away itself, leaving him—a flightless dragon—to be entangled with the bomber.
Indeed! None of these flying dragons were any good!!
Disgusting!!
"Roaaaaaaar!!" (It's just us left! Come! BATTLE!!!)
Unlike Asterion, the Bazelgeuse was incredibly excited. Even the blasting scales hanging from its chin and tail were dyed with a layer of orange-red—a clear sign that the Bazelgeuse was hyped up and the scales were ready to detonate at any moment.
Earlier, while still in the sky before descending, the Bazelgeuse had already noticed this novel fellow he had never seen before.
To be able to fight that brute strength dragon covered in spikes for so long, and even cut off the Spiky Dragon's horn... that was truly... too strong!!
No dragon! Note: No dragon knew better than this Bazelgeuse just how strong that spike-covered dragon was! After all, he had fought the Spiky Dragon countless times, essentially ending in the Bazelgeuse's defeat every time.
The Bazelgeuse... missed those battles where his life was threatened.
It was truly exhilarating.
It was a pity that as he grew older and larger, and the power of his blasting scales increased, that Spiky Dragon became unwilling to fight him—as soon as he entered the arena, the Spiky Dragon would roar twice and leave immediately.
Sigh, dragons just aren't what they used to be.
But now, it was different.
This new dragon, one he hadn't seen before, could actually injure the Spiky Dragon. The Bazelgeuse, who fought repeatedly despite defeat and played dirty, knew exactly how strong the Spiky Dragon was; ordinary monsters would be slapped to death and eaten in two hits by it.
Most importantly, this new dragon had no wings—which meant even if he wanted to run, he couldn't.
The Bazelgeuse was eager to try!
With a wooden expression on his face, Asterion could tell, even thinking with his tail, that he was the one being "tried"... not to mention the Bazelgeuse was literally speaking dragon-tongue to invite a fight.
"Roar-roar!" (We go our separate ways now. You chase Nergigante, I go back to my home. Any objections?)
"Roar-ang!" (Nergigante? What's that? The Spiky Dragon?)
The Bazelgeuse actually answered. His personality was livelier than Asterion expected.
"Roar-roar!" (Yes, the Spiky Dragon. Do you agree?)
"Roaaaar!!" (KILL!!!)
Uh, the only answer Asterion got was a war cry. The Bazelgeuse lifted his wings, which served as forelimbs, and pressed his massive bulk directly toward Asterion.
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!!
Explosions!
Those blasting scales, already lit to translucence under the Bazelgeuse's control, heated up in the shortest possible time. They burned orange-red—even white-hot—proof of their intense temperature!!
But it was too slow.
Whether in the sky or on the ground, the Bazelgeuse's movements fell into the category of clumsy. Trying to hit Asterion, who possessed powerful muscular legs, was a bit naive.
Well, Asterion's forelimbs had once again become decorations. in a real fight, he was still accustomed to rearing up, relying on his hind legs to move quickly across the ground—though they weren't entirely useless. At the very least, Asterion could now press his pair of forelimbs heavily onto the Bazelgeuse's club-like head, preventing him from getting up.
This was a maneuver his past little stubby claws could never have achieved.
Standing on two legs, pinning the Bazelgeuse's head down firmly with two claws, Asterion watched as the Bazelgeuse struggled desperately. He lunged forward, or tried to sway his head left and right to pull back, but failed each time. He could only thrash blindly, his wings kicking up a cloud of gravel and dust.
The scene was somewhat comical; if it were Palicoes, it might even be called cute. But with two giant beasts, it was hardly a laughing matter.
Asterion's forelimbs didn't possess the solid muscle of his hind legs and couldn't output force continuously. He was losing his hold on the crazed Bazelgeuse.
Left with no choice, Asterion lowered his head and bit down on the Bazelgeuse's rotund neck. Uh, Asterion couldn't quite distinguish the boundary between the Bazelgeuse's neck and head, but the effect was excellent.
"Roaaaaar!!" (It hurts!!)
Asterion's bite was no ordinary dragon bite. Hard, sharp—one bite dug in like the shovel of an excavator, forcibly scooping out a large chunk of scales and the flesh beneath from the Bazelgeuse's head.
The pain caused the Bazelgeuse to instantly erupt with greater strength. He finally broke free of Asterion's suppression, but before he could catch his breath, the saw-blade tail Asterion thrust forward was already in front of his face!
Boom!
Being an experienced old dragon, Nergigante had already used its own body to demonstrate just how sharp the tail of this strange dragon, Asterion, really was. The Bazelgeuse had no intention of testing it himself.
So, he detonated the blasting scales beneath his neck without hesitation. The violent explosion instantly engulfed the short distance between Asterion and the Bazelgeuse. The shockwave generated by the blast pushed Asterion's heavy body askew; he stumbled a few steps before falling to the ground.
This close-range explosion even caused a reaction in the blade-scales on Asterion's body. Under the force of the impact, they shattered, leaving tear-like wounds on the flesh in front of the Bazelgeuse, some scales embedding deep into the meat.
"Roaaaaar!!!"
This time, the Bazelgeuse wasn't saying anything. He was simply screaming in pain, no different from a human shouting "Ah!"
The impact and heat caused by the blasting scales' detonation weren't an issue for the Bazelgeuse; after all, this was his own attack. His under-neck area and body surface had sufficient resistance to such assaults.
Especially since one of his signature moves was to press his body directly onto an enemy and detonate the scales at point-blank range.
Therefore, what made the Bazelgeuse cry out wasn't his own explosion, but Asterion's blade-scales and the sword-tail that had been knocked off course by the blast, eventually landing on one of the Bazelgeuse's wings.
The Bazelgeuse's blasting scales could regenerate quickly after exploding, but as mentioned earlier, these scales were essentially just solidified liquid secretions. The Bazelgeuse's strength lay in the ability to secrete this fluid, not in his own physical regeneration.
In other words, he could bleed.
Wounds torn by blade-scales, wing membrane sliced by the saw-blade—unlike the injuries on Nergigante, these were genuine, lasting damages.
But Asterion wasn't having an easy time right now either. The spikes Nergigante had previously driven into his body hadn't been pulled out yet. These lethal little things dug even deeper with Asterion's intense movements, damaging his soft internal organs.
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