"Roar! Roar, roar!" (But Mother said I'm your child! And she said you didn't even have wings when she first met you! Why don't I have wings?!)
The kid's resentment seemed a bit heavy. What was this about? Had he been bullied by some flying wyverns?
To harbor such deep-seated bitterness at such a young age—he certainly had a discerning eye for what he was missing.
"Roar." (Because you were born too early, so you didn't inherit my wings.)
Asterion presented this cold, hard reality to Mirrorblade, then curved his own tail around to gesture. "Roar! Roar, roar!" (But it doesn't matter. My wings might still have hidden risks, but my tail doesn't. You've already inherited my most essential part: the tail.)
Uh, did he really inherit it? Asterion wondered.
In any case, the forelimbs certainly hadn't been passed down; Mirrorblade still possessed the typical body structure of thick hind legs and tiny, stunted foreclaws.
Out of the corner of his eye, Asterion caught a glimpse of the blade-scales at the base of his own sword-tail. Guarded beneath those scales was flesh and tissue derived from an Elder Dragon...
Great, he thought. Now even the blade-tail isn't a complete inheritance.
Compared to Asterion, who was like a 2090 Ti graphics card, Mirrorblade was at best a 1090 Ti. There was a generational gap in their hardware specifications. Asterion quickly decided it was best not to tell Mirrorblade that his blade-tail was also an "outdated version." The kid's resentment was already high enough.
"Roar!" (The tail is enough!)
Unaware of Asterion's inner monologue, Mirrorblade angrily dropped into an offensive stance.
"Roar, roar!" (Let's fight! Father! I'm going to defeat you!!)
The moment he had sensed Asterion's aura, he had charged straight over. Mirrorblade had come for blood!
Asterion: "..."
He felt he hadn't done anything to wrong Mirrorblade. Not only had he ensured the boy was born with equipment far surpassing a normal monster, but he had also taught him the Glavenus sword techniques—and now, those techniques were being turned against him.
"Roar?" (You've already defeated your mother?)
Seeing how serious the kid was, Asterion turned solemn.
"Roar, roar!" (I've already beaten her! Now I'm going to beat you!)
"Roar." (Then come.)
Since the kid was practically filling out an application for a beatdown, Asterion could only oblige.
He ignited his propulsion, taking flight and gliding down toward the base of the Great Tree. It wasn't long before he saw Mirrorblade running down a path of tangled vines, his dragon face twisted in indignation. He seemed even angrier now.
"Roar?" (Swing at me. Let me see how your swordsmanship has progressed.)
Asterion spoke casually, resting his blade-tail diagonally against the ground at his side, the edge facing forward.
Mirrorblade didn't hold back. He swung his tail in a massive arc, aiming to cleave Asterion apart.
Clang!
A clash of blades!
Without any flashy movements, Asterion simply snapped his tail—which had been braced against the ground—upward and forward. He intercepted Mirrorblade's vertical strike perfectly.
However, only Asterion remained effortless. The momentum gathered from dragging his tail across the ground and snapping it upward didn't just knock Mirrorblade's tail back; the sheer force sent the young dragon stumbling toward his rear right.
In contrast, Asterion remained calmly crouched on all fours, having barely moved.
After just that first exchange, Mirrorblade's heart sank. No longer a hatchling, he understood exactly what this meant: his strength was being utterly suppressed.
The last time he had felt this way was against his mother, the Acidic Glavenus, but he had been small then. Eventually, he had succeeded in defeating her.
What's happening? Is Father really this strong?
"Roar?" (Why are you freezing? Aren't you going to attack?)
Seeing Mirrorblade standing at a distance, swaying his tail but making no move, Asterion couldn't help but chuckle.
"Roar?" (If you aren't coming, then I'm coming to you.)
Whoosh!!
Before the words had even faded, Mirrorblade spun violently, lashing out!
Furthermore, Mirrorblade's tail expanded with a series of mechanical clicks. The outermost layer of blade-scales flared open, vibrating with muscular tremors until they became a blurred afterimage.
Even though Asterion had never looked in a mirror during his past battles, this familiar movement filled him with sentiment—it felt like he was beating up his past self.
Clang!
Mirrorblade's sword trajectory was far too easy to read. Asterion didn't bother with anything fancy; he used simple horizontal and vertical slashes. But they were incredibly fast and backed by immense power.
Mirrorblade was forced back step by step. Every time he used his tail to parry Asterion's descending blade, his entire frame would sink into the dirt, or he'd wobble violently to the left or right. He looked like a dragon whose only goal was to "win" by not falling over.
A Deviant Glavenus is still a Glavenus. Mirrorblade seemed to have inherited his mother's cold nature—proud and obsessed with combat. Because of this, being suppressed for so long drove him into a rage. He tried to force a trade, willing to take a hit just to land one on Asterion.
But when he actually tried it, he realized with despair that he couldn't. If he didn't parry or dodge Asterion's strikes, that merciless blade would surely carve a massive wound into him before his own tail could even get close to Asterion.
It was a one-sided slaughter.
Asterion had gauged his rebellious son's actual combat strength. He had indeed developed quickly, just as Asterion had in the past, but he was still too green. There was still a long road ahead before he reached his peak.
Clang! Clang, clang!
Asterion unleashed three rapid strikes. The first two vibrated Mirrorblade's defensive tail aside, and the third suddenly accelerated. Before Mirrorblade could pull his tail back, the edge flashed toward his exposed flank!!
Thwack!
At the last millisecond, Asterion turned the edge and slapped Mirrorblade with the flat of the tail. The heavy blow sent the boy crashing into the ground, completely shutting down any hope of a counterattack.
He had lost.
No matter how bad his temper or how cold his heart, Mirrorblade recognized the truth. If Asterion hadn't held back just now, he'd currently be crying while holding his own spilling guts.
"Roar?" (Is this all you've got?)
Seeing Mirrorblade lying there motionless, Asterion—who had already reset his stance to wait for the next charge—felt a surge of disappointment.
This child wasn't another "him" after all. The gap was too wide. Whether it was continuing the fight or something else—even if he scrambled up and ran away without looking back—Asterion would have been satisfied.
But this? Lying in the dirt waiting for death?
Asterion grew genuinely angry. From the moment he had reincarnated, through countless battles and multiple brushes with death, he had never once placed his fate in the jaws of another dragon.
Whoosh!
A merciless strike!
This blow was aimed directly at Mirrorblade's neck. A vertical cleave! No holding back!
Thud!!
The sharp blade bit into the soil with a muffled thud. Perhaps sensing the crisis or the killing intent instinctively, Mirrorblade jerked his neck away at the last second, his head twisting at an awkward angle.
"ROAR!!"
Shocked to his core, Mirrorblade could only manage a roar full of hostility and terror. He never expected Asterion to suddenly go for the kill. Under his angry gaze, Asterion met him with eyes that were cold as ice.
"ROAR!!" (Better I kill you now than have you lie there waiting for death after some other monster beats you in the future!)
Mirrorblade... was speechless.
He could feel that Asterion was being serious—the kind of "seriousness" he had wanted when he first issued the challenge. But now that Asterion was actually serious, Mirrorblade was terrified.
Because Asterion really looked like he wanted to kill him.
With speed and power far exceeding before, Asterion alternated between fast and slow strikes. Steam occasionally hissed from the exhaust vents at the end of his tail to boost his speed. He wasn't using his fire-element attacks yet, but he was no longer showing any mercy.
Mirrorblade, who had at least managed a back-and-forth earlier, now struggled just to stay alive. He stumbled and rolled, using his tail desperately to block Asterion from hitting a vital organ.
Even so, wounds began to appear on Mirrorblade's body. The widest was as broad as a Felyne's head, right on his lower abdomen. Asterion had suddenly switched a horizontal sweep into a thrust, nearly disemboweling him.
"Gah-kwa?!!" (What's going on?!!)
Just as Asterion's flurry of blows was forcing Mirrorblade into a desperate, muddy roll for survival, a certain "bird-thing" came running from the distance, squawking loudly.
One look. With just one look, Asterion's anger evaporated, replaced by a sudden urge to laugh.
It was indeed the Kulu-Ya-Ku Brother, but he wasn't dressed like a bird—or even a monster—anymore.
He was wearing a vibrant, multicolored outfit made of sky-blue, green, and red fabric. It was clearly custom-made for him, with specific holes for his foreclaws to poke through—nothing like human clothing.
Chains were wrapped around his long, slender neck, reflecting golden light in the sun. He even wore a hat on his head that looked like some kind of crown.
At a glance, the Kulu-Ya-Ku Brother looked like he had just returned from a vacation on a Hawaiian beach. He was loud, flashy, and incredibly arrogant.
"Hey! Slow down!! Wait!!"
Behind the Kulu-Ya-Ku, several humans emerged from the forest path. One woman was waving her hands, seemingly worried the bird would get lost.
Asterion didn't recognize the others yet, but the Admiral's lion-like mane of hair was already beginning to take shape, making him highly recognizable.
Hunters?
Why was the Kulu-Ya-Ku Brother hanging out with hunters? So, according to the old Shaman, the reason he hadn't returned for so many days was because he went to the hunter camp?
"Ho! It's Boss Glavenus!!" At the same time Asterion recognized the Admiral, the Admiral noticed him and became visibly excited.
"Gah-kwa!" (You're back! Kid!!)
The Kulu-Ya-Ku immediately demoted Asterion's seniority with his opening squawk. Even though they were sworn brothers, he could never seem to fix that verbal habit.
He had rushed over because he saw Mirrorblade taking a beating, but once he saw the one doing the beating was Asterion, Mirrorblade vanished from his eyes. Instead, he happily ran up and gave Asterion a hug around the chest.
Has this bird grown too?
Asterion lifted a foreclaw and patted the Kulu-Ya-Ku's back. Given Asterion's current size, the fact that the Kulu-Ya-Ku's torso could reach this height meant he was likely much larger than a typical member of his species.
He wasn't sure exactly how much larger, though. Asterion hadn't seen a wild Kulu-Ya-Ku in ages; those things usually hung around the Wildspire Waste or the coast of the Ancient Forest.
"Roar, roar?" (You're back... You seem to be doing pretty well?)
"Gah-kwa!" (Happy! Where's second brother?)
The Kulu-Ya-Ku Brother had remembered to refer to the Bazelgeuse as "second brother."
"Roar, roar." (Resting up above.)
"Goo-gah-kwa, gah-kwa!" (That's good. You guys were gone for a long time.)
"Roar." (Was it long? I didn't really notice.)
"..."
"Yo! Long time no see, Boss!" While the dragon and bird caught up, the Admiral and his group jogged over. He raised a hand in a familiar greeting.
Asterion's acquaintances weren't limited to the Admiral; Hara was there too. She was the one who had been shouting for the Kulu-Ya-Ku not to run off. The Seeker and the Commander weren't present, likely busy handling affairs back in Astera.
The overflowing bioenergy of the New World had strengthened the bodies and lifespans of monsters; naturally, it had a similar effect on the humans. After all these years, the Admiral showed no signs of aging; if anything, his corded muscles looked even leaner and tighter.
Since the old guy couldn't understand him anyway, Asterion simply nodded in response.
"Hah... You're looking more impressive than ever, Boss Glavenus." After the greeting, the Admiral didn't stand on ceremony. He took a few steps back to admire Asterion's wings, his eyes practically glowing. "These look way cooler than what the scholars drew."
Three years ago, the Wyverian scholar Lanxi had hand-drawn the shape of Boss Glavenus's new wings. After the report reached Astera, a scholar team led by the Admiral had followed up, only to find that Asterion had already left with the Bazelgeuse. They had stayed for a while before eventually returning in disappointment.
Thus, for the people of Astera—excluding the few who had seen Asterion right after his metamorphosis—their impressions were based entirely on those few hand-drawn sketches.
"Roar?"
Asterion let out a non-committal grunt. However, he used a foreclaw to nudge the clothes the Kulu-Ya-Ku Brother was wearing. He believed the hunters would understand the gesture.
"Oh! That's a gift!" The Admiral replied cheerfully. "How about it? Looks sharp, doesn't he?"
A gift?
Asterion hadn't expected the hunters to have such wild imaginations—giving a monster a gift, and a set of clothes at that. Thinking back to the early days, when the scholars at Astera wanted to get on his good side, they only ever offered meat or minerals.
They've improved, haven't they?
"But the gift for you isn't clothes," the Admiral couldn't help but complain. "The technical staff back at base said if we made them sew clothes for monsters again, they'd commit suicide."
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