Already aged and further slowed by its injuries, the Popo could not run fast. Altaïr was in no hurry, driving it toward the coastline at an unhurried pace.
Once they reached the shore, the old Popo refused to take another step forward.
Experience and instinct told it that stepping onto this seemingly calm, frozen sea meant certain death.
Driven by a powerful will to survive, the old Popo turned around and lowered its pair of dull yellow, curved tusk at the Hunter, seemingly ready for a desperate last stand.
Altaïr felt helpless.
An aged Popo naturally posed no threat to him; he could slaughter it with a casual strike. However, there was still some distance to the ice floes. He couldn't exactly drag a two or three-ton carcass himself, could he?
Just as he was wondering how to scare this Popo into moving further forward, a series of sharp "cracking" sounds echoed from the ice nearby, as if something had breached the surface.
Altaïr turned his head and saw two strange, grayish-blue creatures breaking through the ice and crawling onto the surface.
The creatures weren't large, barely over a meter long and less than two meters in total. Their bodies were round and bloated, making them look like some kind of giant frog at first glance.
But one look at those razor-sharp teeth and the chisel-like, barbed bone spikes on their heads made it clear that these things had little in common with something as soft and harmless as a frog.
Zamite, as the name implied, these were the larval forms of the Zamrios.
An Amphibian Small Monster found only along the coasts of frigid zones, Altaïr had read about them in his field guides, but this was the first time he had seen one in person.
"Gah-hiss–"
"Jigah!"
The two Zamite that had crawled onto the ice sniffed left and right, locking onto their position almost instantly. They began lunging toward them in rhythmic, hopping bounds.
"A Zamite is still technically a Zamtrios, right? Wonder if I can just kill a pup and bring it back to finish the job?" Altaïr muttered to himself.
Of course, that wasn't an option; he was just grumbling.
The appearance of the Zamite made him both pleased and regretful. Pleased because the tactic of using an injured Popo to lure a Zamtrios was clearly effective; if it could attract the young, attracting an adult should be no problem.
The pity was that they were still at the edge of the coastline where the water was too shallow, not the typical hunting grounds for an adult Zamtrios.
If this Popo had been a bit more cooperative and walked a few hundred meters further out, his target likely would have been the first to be lured in.
As the Popo let out panicked, low bellows, the two Zamite rapidly approached, their bloodthirsty and ferocious momentum rivaling that of many Large Monsters.
"This isn't for you," Altaïr said, drawing his weapon and stepping forward to meet them. "Go get your mother!"
"Jigao!" Noticing the approaching Hunter, the fierce Zamite immediately changed targets. Their four short legs kicked off the ice as they lunged through the air one after the other, jaws snapping at the Hunter.
An inexperienced novice might have panicked in the face of such a sudden pounce, but as a 4★ Hunter, if he still fumbled against a couple of Small Monsters, he might as well consider a career change.
With a diagonal swing of his Long Sword, he landed a reverse fade slash across the skull of the leading Zamite, knocking it out of the air. In the same motion, Altaïr took a fading step back, letting the second Zamite's lunge whistle past him. The Zamite he had struck tumbled away but scrambled back to its feet immediately, which came as a surprise to him.
If it had been a Monster like a Prey, a strike like that would have been enough to lop off its head. How was this Zamite acting as if nothing had happened?
His gaze shifted, quickly finding the reason. "Was the blade deflected by the bone spikes and plating on its head?"
Altaïr immediately shifted his attack pattern. Catching the moment one of the Zamite leaped again, he flicked the Long Sword upward.
The tip of the blade sliced through the Zamite's soft underbelly at a sharp angle, carving through its throat and chest in one motion. The creature tumbled to the ground, its screams a series of "gi-ga" rasps as its internal organs spilled out during its death throes.
Altaïr didn't spare the dying creature another glance. He spun around, swinging his blade toward the second Zamite that was pouncing from behind in a sneak attack.
The blade precisely bypassed the hard bone armor, cutting in from the side to finish it off cleanly.
But just then, the sound of shattering ice rang out again.
A third Zamite, which hadn't shown itself until now, burrowed out from beneath the wounded Popo. The bone spikes on its head acted like a sharp chisel, driving deep into the Popo's abdomen.
As it twisted its body and tore with its razor-sharp teeth, the Zamite acted like a small drill, burrowing its entire body into the Popo's belly.
It chewed and feasted as it tunneled deeper, a level of agony far beyond anything Altaïr's shallow sword wound had caused.
Maddened by the pain, the Popo lost its mind and began to bolt, letting out low, pained bellows.
Altaïr cursed under his breath, sheathed his weapon, and sprinted after it.
The only saving grace was that the poor old Popo was running toward the frozen coastline, exactly where the Hunter wanted it to go.
As it ran, blood geysered from the massive hole in its belly, leaving a dark red trail across the ice. The blood seeped through cracks in the surface and into the unfrozen seawater below.
After a desperate dash of two or three hundred meters, the old Popo's pace slowed and faltered until it finally collapsed onto the ice, unable to support itself any longer.
Blood mixed with bits of internal organs sprayed from its mouth and nose, staining a large patch of the ice red. Its life entered its final countdown.
But then, the dying Popo suddenly began to convulse violently.
A large lump bulged under the skin of its blood-soaked abdomen. A second later, amid a spray of flesh and blood, the vicious little Monster burst out, emerging from within the Popo while it was still drawing its final breaths.
Altaïr's pace faltered involuntarily.
It wasn't because of the Zamite's brutality, but because of the change in its body.
Before burrowing into the Popo, this Zamite had been about one hundred and eighty centimeters long, weighing perhaps a hundred kilograms. Now that it had burst out, its entire body had more than tripled in size.
Doubling its size in mere minutes? No creature, regardless of how fast it grew, should be able to manage this. Otherwise, provided there was enough food, wouldn't these Zamite mature within a single day?
It defied the laws of nature.
Altaïr narrowed his eyes, observing closely, and soon spotted the trick.
The Zamite's length hadn't actually increased much. While its tail and limbs had indeed grown larger, they were still within the reasonable limits of biological muscle congestion and swelling.
The primary reason for its increased size lay in its torso.
The creature had likely swallowed several times its own weight in flesh and blood, forcibly bloating its body and creating the illusion that it had grown several times over.
"How greedy." Looking at the Zamite, whose belly was so swollen it looked like a ball and could barely walk straight, Altaïr felt a wave of disgust.
He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and approached quickly, intending to butcher the thing first.
Did you think the bait I worked so hard to find was for you to eat for free?
At that moment, the ice beneath the Hunter's feet began to vibrate slightly, as if something was rapidly approaching from beneath the frozen layer.
Altaïr skidded to a halt. His Iron Gospel slid from its scabbard as his gaze swept the surrounding ice, alert for the Monster that could appear at any moment.
Dozens of meters away, a triangular dorsal fin carved through the hard ice like a giant cleaver, heading straight for him.
"Finally decided to show up?" Beneath his visor, a smirk appeared on Altaïr's face.
What he truly feared was a sneak attack from under the ice, much like how the Zamite had ambushed the Popo.
But now that it had revealed itself, there was nothing to fear. In a direct confrontation, he didn't back down from any 4★ threat level Monster.
The fin drew closer. Just as Altaïr settled into his stance to meet the attack, a massive, blue-and-green Monster suddenly erupted through the ice. It opened its cavernous, tooth-filled maw and swallowed the bloated Zamite whole in a single gulp.
(Translated by yourtl.app)
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TL NOTES — LORE SECTION
Some terms and creatures referenced in this story may be unfamiliar to readers new to the Monster Hunter universe. The following entries provide additional context.
MONSTERS
Zamite — The juvenile form of the Zamtrios. Smaller and far less imposing than the adult, Zamite are nonetheless dangerous pack hunters that compensate for their size with aggression and the chisel-like bone spikes on their heads, capable of boring through flesh and even thin ice. A defining trait of their biology is their ability to gorge themselves rapidly on large prey, temporarily bloating their bodies to several times their normal size.