Three seconds after the Admiral's scandalous declaration of a duel, a fierce gale burst from Logan's nest.
The Admiral climbed up from the ground at the mouth of the nest, brushing the dust from his body and helplessly rubbing his head.
"Ahhh~ I got a little too excited. Let a few thoughtless words slip out. But my old friend has grown stronger again… what a powerful wind. Could it be that, after mastering fire, he's now grasped the power of wind as well?"
Though the Admiral wore no armor, Logan hadn't truly struck him—he had only blasted him out of the nest with a wave of wind pressure, enough to clear his head.
This was not the older Admiral of the future; at present, he was not yet forty years old. His manner still carried a touch of recklessness, though what had truly set him off was the news of that battle involving nine Elder Dragons.
Just the thought of such a scene was enough to set his blood surging!
Especially since that battle had included the Dragon of Destruction and Regeneration!
The Admiral remembered very clearly—back then, Logan's description of the Elder Dragon now named "Nergigante" had been exactly that: the Dragon of Destruction and Regeneration.
That title of Logan's was now officially recorded in the Hunter's Guild's Nergigante dossier. The very first line opened with it, directly stating Nergigante's role in the ecosystem. For the Guild, this had been an unexpected boon—they didn't need to spend vast amounts of time and effort observing or speculating; they already knew the ecological nature of this Elder Dragon.
As for whether the description was accurate, the Guild had no doubts whatsoever.
After all, this had come straight from the mouth of another mysterious Elder Dragon of the New World—how could it be false?
Who truly understood Elder Dragons better: those skeptics, or this mysterious Elder Dragon who lived among them in the New World?
The weight of that authority wasn't even on the same scale!
Upon learning that among the monsters besieging the Elder Dragon which had thrown the New World into chaos—and might even have destroyed it—there had actually been a Nergigante, the Admiral simply couldn't contain himself.
He wished he'd been there in person, free to choose any Elder Dragon to take on.
But reality was that he couldn't even find one, and in the heat of the moment he decided to challenge Logan—the "Elder Dragon" before him. Even dying on the spot would have been acceptable!
Now, though, one blast of wind pressure had sobered him up in an instant.
Over the years, the Admiral had found Logan's strength harder and harder to grasp; the changes within the Ancient Tree's Fire Wyvern cohort had also grown beyond his understanding, though they clearly had everything to do with Logan.
According to the scholars' deductions, it was precisely because Logan was a "mysterious Elder Dragon" similar to the Fire Wyverns—and capable, by intent, of exerting a symbiotic influence over the Fire Wyvern group.
Given the basic principle that Elder Dragons "reshape their ecosystems to suit themselves," the Ancient Tree Fire Wyverns' aberrations seemed entirely reasonable, and there was every chance they would "evolve" even further in the future.
Such was the wonder of nature—the powerful emblem of life's self-adaptation.
What the scholars now sought was a macroscopic observation of the entire Ancient Tree region; a dedicated study of the Fire Wyvern group's "evolution"; and a thorough investigation into the ecological and reproductive habits of the "King of the Fire Wyverns."
If not for the shortage of hunters—and the fact that the Fire Wyvern cohort's goodwill toward the Research Commission was not yet high enough to ignore—there would likely already be a team of observers and scholars stationed in the Ancient Tree, conducting close-range observation of Logan.
The Admiral drew a deep breath and started toward the nest again, intending to ask Logan more about the Elder Dragons' melee—only to be blocked firmly by Tonkotsu.
"No, I've cooled off. I'm really not here to pick a fight with the Fire Wyvern boss!"
...
In the end, the Admiral still failed to get back into the nest. Resigned, he followed Tonkotsu to the Fire Wyvern & Cats' Seat, turning frustration into appetite and taking big bites of the Grimalkyne's newest creation.
They called it the "Fire Wyvern Vitality Cat Meal" or something—just from the name, it sounded perfect for a tough guy like him.
After one serving, the Admiral patted his slightly rounded belly. Satisfied, he was about to praise Chef Eggroll—the flavor was already no worse than Sita's!
But in the next breath, heat surged through his body; his blood seemed to boil, as if he had boundless energy to burn. Realizing something was off about this cat meal, the Admiral hurried out of the canteen and ran to the camp. He strapped on his armor and weapons, tucked away the Fire Wyvern identification scale Tonkotsu had delivered, and set off at a long stride toward the midlayer of the Ancient Tree.
He planned to head back to Astera while burning off the excess energy with hard exercise.
This cat meal was way out of line! How could there be such an indecent cat meal?
Had the Grimalkyne gone mad with the urge to breed?
The Admiral left in such a rush that the cats around the hunters' camp were stunned. No one knew what he was up to, leaving without supplies or traps. With no time to spare, the Felyne scrambled to pack the necessary hunting gear, then mounted the Jagras the Grimalkyne kept for hire and sped off along the Admiral's trail.
Tonkotsu had eaten a portion of the meal as well. Perhaps because his appetite was smaller than the Admiral's, he hadn't eaten much; although he felt a strange impulse too, for now he could still keep it in check.
Seeing this, Chef Eggroll—the one who created the dish—looked very satisfied. By observing the reactions of the Fire Wyvern, the human, and the Grimalkyne, he gauged whether the dosage mixed into the meal was appropriate.
For the moment, there was room to improve—at the very least, Tonkotsu was barely affected.
After all, the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne chieftain had issued a strict order: this meal had to increase the Grimalkyne's breeding rate.
...
On the outskirts of the Ancient Forest, the Admiral raised his shield. The instant after he casually blocked the Great Jagras's blow, a red glow flashed over him.
Counter Guard!
His lance thrust in on a slant, crackling with thunder. In a flourish so showy it nearly looked exaggerated, he knocked the Great Jagras—more than 10 m long—clean into the air with a single strike.
Under that blow, the Great Jagras's body flipped backward involuntarily.
The Admiral set his stance—shield braced before his chest, lance leveled in one hand—and, legs driving, launched into a rapid charge.
The Great Jagras had only just recovered its balance and started to turn its head when the thrust struck it square between the brows.
Wracked with pain, it forced down the dizziness in its skull and, roaring, raised its forelimbs high and slammed them down.
Unhurried, the Admiral slipped into a nimble backstep to evade the strike. The muscles of his left arm bulged around the lance; borrowing the momentum of a forward hop, he drove out an earth-shattering thrust.
A thunderous bang.
The Great Jagras was blasted back a long distance by the impact, crashed hard into a large tree, and collapsed, thrashing mindlessly.
Seeing this, the Admiral stowed lance and shield and gave a whistle. The tamed Jagras mount the cat had delivered a few days ago trotted over. From the Jagras's saddlebag he took out a Tranq Bomb, covered his mouth and nose, and lobbed it onto the Great Jagras.
Wrapped in the cloud of potent paralytic powder as the bomb burst, the already-dazed Great Jagras soon fell still, lying quietly on the ground.
"That was close—I almost didn't rein it in."
He wiped the fine sweat from his brow and pulled a signal flare from his pack.
After priming it, he relied on brute strength and hurled it straight up into the sky.
He patted the Jagras—tongue lolling, panting hard; after all, it had slogged along under his weight for days—then casually found a spot nearby to sit.
Feeding the Jagras its special feed, he waited for Astera to send people to take custody of the barely alive Great Jagras.
All around was silent; not even insects chirped—only a fog-dimmed night sky.
"Hm? Fog?"
Then, as he tilted his head up to the night, the Admiral realized that during his hunt—three full days of chasing this unlucky Great Jagras—the starry sky had hung above like a painted backdrop.
Starlight shimmered; the moonlight was gentle.
But now a thin white mist had risen, veiling everything around.
The Admiral furrowed his brow. Pretending not to notice, he quietly slipped his right hand into the shield's armguard. With his left, under the cover of taking out special feed for the Jagras, he palmed an Immunizer, mixed it in as if nothing were amiss, and popped it into his own mouth in one bite.
"Mm. This special feed beats the canteen's emergency rations by a mile. I didn't expect your chow to be better than a hunter's."
He gave the Jagras a teasing pat on the head. The Jagras chomped away and couldn't be bothered with the guy who had nearly pushed it past its carrying limit.
Once the Immunizer went down, the Admiral's dulled senses snapped back at once.
Just then, he noticed the pack on the Jagras's back opening on its own. The bag puffed and sank, as if unseen hands were rummaging through it.
The Admiral understood immediately.
He stood and looked over with feigned surprise.
"Huh? Why's this pack open again? I'm pretty sure I just closed it. Some memory I've got."
With a crisp snap, he shut the open pack once more, even tying a knot at the mouth before nodding in satisfaction.
"Gotta be careful next time. Wouldn't want anything falling out."
Off to the side, Chameleos hastily drew back its tongue and stared at the Admiral in disbelief. In its mind, this man had always been a loudmouthed "idiot," yet here he was, sharp as a blade.
It had just returned from the depths of the Ancient Forest when it spotted the Admiral fighting the Great Jagras.
That Great Jagras's family—thirteen Jagras in all—had all fallen to the Admiral's lance.
On its own, that would have been whatever; whether a Great Jagras lived or died had nothing to do with it. But from the pack on a Jagras hiding in the nearby brush, it had keenly caught the scents of an Ancient Potion—and of the Fire Wyvern identification scale it had given to Logan.
The Ancient Potion, fine—Chameleos snacked on those all the time. But that scale was different.
That was its IOU.
And it had ended up in the Admiral's hands!
If the Admiral took it back to Astera and reported everything in detail, wouldn't Chameleos be utterly humiliated in front of the Supply Team Leader?
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