Hmm... calculating based on the timeline, he should have wings, right?
But he probably won't have internal heat organs.
He'll likely have fire organs, though it was anyone's guess whose tail he would inherit. If he could inherit the unique ability of the Kulve Taroth—the power to manipulate his own body temperature—the little guy wouldn't even need heat dissipation vents or high-speed tail-blade vibrations to achieve extreme cutting power.
He could simply heat the tail itself. At temperatures exceeding a thousand degrees, that tail would melt through almost anything it touched. It would be like a hot knife through butter.
Of course, not inheriting the tail-blade wouldn't be a dealbreaker. As long as he got the wings and fire organs, the kid was guaranteed to be at least a mid-tier Elder Dragon.
Maybe he'd even inherit the Kulve Taroth's breath? A single exhale could turn everything in front of him to ash.
Oh, right—there's also the ability to manipulate magnetism. Magnetism is one of the four fundamental forces; if mastered, it's arguably superior to ice, fire, thunder, or water.
It was... strange.
Even Asterion realized his current mood was complicated. He was genuinely looking forward to this child's birth. Like any normal father, he found himself fantasizing about what traits the child would inherit from him and its mother, even imagining the child's future.
He was hardly acting like a dragon anymore.
In over forty years, this was the first time he had felt this way. Asterion figured he couldn't really blame himself; after all, Mirrorblade's arrival had been far too sudden. The lad had just inexplicably hopped onto his face the moment he woke up, baring teeth and swinging a blade.
Who wouldn't give a kid like that a good thumping?
But this child in the egg was different.
Turning back to glance at the massive egg in the center of the nest, Asterion thought for a moment. He opened his maw and spat out several globs of scalding lava around the base of the egg, encircling it like a thermal fireplace.
Perfect.
Asterion thought with satisfaction. He had almost forgotten he could still "spit" things.
Seeing Asterion contribute to the incubation of the egg, the Kulve Taroth became even happier. She turned and exhaled a gentle wave of heat toward the egg.
A mother's love!
The hunters of this era didn't know much about the Kulve Taroth yet, but back in his original world, they called her the "Mother Goddess," and they weren't wrong. Compared to a Glavenus, the Kulve Taroth possessed far more maternal instinct.
"Roar, roar-roar." (I really want it to be born soon. I hope its scales are as beautiful as yours.)
The Kulve Taroth had already begun her "pre-natal education" through the shell.
"Roar?" (Me? Beautiful?)
Asterion arched his neck to look at his own body. Even in the dim light of the cavern, his mirror-like scales and shell remained bright, even reflecting the forms of the Kulve Taroth and the egg.
"Roar! Roar-roar, roar." (Of course! It was because of your beautiful scales that I chose to mate with you. Our offspring will make my kin so envious they won't be able to look away. They won't even need gold to decorate themselves.)
Asterion... widened his eyes.
What did she mean?
Was he the one who had been "used" for his looks?
Mirrorblade felt miserable... no, there was no point in lying to himself. He was absolutely pathetic!
He had worked hard for over a decade, only for his irresponsible old man to disappear for that entire time!
Do you have any idea what he went through during those years?!
About five or six years after his father abandoned the nest, the once-peaceful territory turned chaotic. Foreign monsters constantly charged in, looking for a meal.
Normally, a Glavenus pack wouldn't lack combat power, but the Seething Bazelgeuse had no interest in those weaker intruders, and the Kulu-Ya-Ku brothers were... well, useless. So, the burden fell entirely on Mirrorblade and the Acidic Glavenus. It was no exaggeration to say that he had carried the Glavenus pack on his back!
And the result?
That unreliable father of his returns, dives straight underground, and even brings some mysterious female dragon home! They spent all day in that hole doing who-knows-what!
When he went down to shout a few words, his father just kicked him right back to the surface—actually, he'd been kicked out of the Glavenus territory entirely!
Where was the justice?!
Where was the law?!
Bitterness filled his heart, but Mirrorblade didn't even have wine to drown his sorrows. Even if the Glavenus pack brewed enough to fill a lake, it wouldn't be enough to get him drunk. Conveniently, the hunters had finished treating their wounded and were preparing to return to Astera. Mirrorblade decided to simply follow them.
Fine! You're the boss!
I'm done with the Ancient Forest! I'm going to the Wildspire Waste!
Though Asterion maintained a policy of "survival of the fittest," his assessment of Mirrorblade wasn't wrong. Mirrorblade was more like a human than a dragon.
Strictly speaking, that first crucial year of life—meant for developing Glavenus habits and forging the tail-blade—had been spent alongside a "pure" dragon like the Acidic Glavenus. Then, he had been driven out by Asterion to survive alone in the wild. By all logic, Mirrorblade shouldn't have turned out like this.
But perhaps it was the "Mirror" (Intelligence) in his name? Regardless, Mirrorblade often contemplated—contemplated himself, and the world around him.
The more he thought, the smarter he became. The smarter he became, the more delicate and sensitive his emotions grew.
Mirrorblade's current dejection was so palpable that even the hunters standing at the edge of the snow-sled could feel it. They knew exactly why he was like this; many Grimalkynes had witnessed Asterion swinging his sword-tail to drive Mirrorblade away.
"From a father's perspective, the Big Boss Glavenus is a bit heartlessly cold, isn't he?" Leaning against the side of the vessel, Hara raised his binoculars to observe Mirrorblade ahead of them.
"Oh? From your tone, you sound like you almost agree with him?" Still sporting his usual bare-armed look, the Admiral stood at the bow, asking without turning around.
"Caught me?" Hara chuckled, lowering the binoculars. "It's because Mirrorblade is a dragon. Of course, I don't mean that as a slight—I'm not qualified to look down on a powerful dragon."
"I can feel his confusion," Hara added quickly before the Admiral could follow up. "As a dragon, Mirrorblade is a bit too rational, too smart. It's a different kind of intelligence than the Big Boss's. Mirrorblade's intelligence makes it hard for him to adapt to the world of monsters, yet he can't escape it."
"In other words, there isn't an environment that truly suits him, is there?" The Commander hobbled up to the bow, joining his old friends' conversation.
"Who knows?" Hara shrugged. "Mirrorblade isn't going to share his inner thoughts with us. Not even his Grimalkyne friends know for sure."
Mirrorblade wasn't traveling alone. A dozen or so Grimalkynes, led by Kankan, had boarded the vessel. They couldn't bear to see Mirrorblade leave alone and wanted to stay by his side.
"Well, as long as he has friends, he'll be fine," the Commander said with a smile. "In terms of a dragon's lifespan, Mirrorblade is still very young, isn't he?"
"True enough."
The "snow-sled" finally cleared the snowy region just before the rising temperatures could completely melt the drifts in the southern Ancient Forest. Technical crews then inflated the gasbags, transforming it once again into an airship.
The innovation and development of technology had vastly increased the hunters' efficiency. In much less time than in the past, the expedition team saw the flags fluttering atop the towers of Astera.
However, the hunters left behind at the base weren't excited at first. They didn't just see the airship; they saw the massive beast marching beneath it. The alarm bells rang instantly, calling everyone to assemble for battle.
Fortunately, as Mirrorblade drew closer, the tension eased. Many of the resident hunters had visited the Glavenus pack before or participated in the Grand Feast. They were familiar with the Big Boss's son; some lucky ones had even hand-fed meat to Mirrorblade.
"Admiral!!"
"Commander!!"
"And everyone! You're finally back!!"
The gates of Astera swung open, and a crowd of hunters, scholars, and technicians rushed out to welcome the returning heroes.
"I knew you could do it! As soon as the temperature started rising, I knew you'd succeeded!"
"Amazing work, Admiral! The base has felt a lot safer lately! It's all thanks to you!!"
To the Commission, these brave souls who ventured to the source of the problem were heroes. Their success meant that the efforts and resources poured in by the Kingdom and the Guild hadn't been wasted, and they wouldn't have to abandon the New World.
A few people even ran over to Mirrorblade to greet him. One bold hunter asked him if the steak he'd cooked years ago was still the best he'd ever had. Mirrorblade's answer was simple: he'd forgotten.
It was a lively scene, but there was a discordant note. Astera was slowly beginning to look less like a mere military outpost. The frequent trips of the 4th Fleet between the two continents had brought New World specialties back to the Old World and vice versa.
Even personnel reinforcements no longer relied on the decennial fleets; the 4th Fleet could bring people over during their transport runs.
Of course, the 5th Fleet—hand-picked elites from various kingdoms and villages—remained the exception. They were the "best of the best," capable of creating miracles.
Among the crowd, some hunters who had arrived during the expedition's absence gripped their weapons, eyeing Mirrorblade with suspicion. Mirrorblade gave them a disdainful look and snorted at the familiar faces greeting him.
"Don't worry, his name is Mirrorblade. He's a friend," the Admiral laughed heartily, signaling the hunters to lower their weapons.
"Incredible," one hunter said, choosing to trust the leader while sheathing his sword. "The Commission can actually tame monsters like this?"
Swoosh—BOOM!!
At those words, the Admiral's expression shifted instantly. But before he could intervene, Mirrorblade moved. His body coiled, and his long, wide sword-tail cut a silver arc through the air, slamming down heavily right in front of the hunter.
The speed and power were so immense that a massive fissure was carved into the rocky ground. The hunter and his companions only had time to half-draw their weapons or stumble into late stances before they found themselves staring into Mirrorblade's cold gaze, peering over his curved tail.
"Calm—calm down, Little Boss!" The Admiral was breaking into a sweat. "They just got here from the Old World; they don't know any better! Hey, you lot, apologize! Now! Don't forget what I just said: Mirrorblade is our friend. He possesses intelligence similar to ours. There is no such thing as 'taming' here!"
"I—I'm sorry!" The hunter didn't need a second prompt. He apologized at the speed of light. "I spoke out of turn!"
His apology was sincere; facing a dozen-meter-long blade, he performed a deep bow so low his head nearly touched his toes.
"Roar!"
With a huff, Mirrorblade didn't do anything else. He retracted his heavy tail and, ignoring the celebrating hunters, strode toward the interior of the base.
"S—sorry, meow! The Little Boss is in a bad mood lately, meow!"
A Grimalkyne ran over to whisper the explanation before scurrying after his companions, calling out, "Wait for me, meow!"
"That... that scared the life out of me." Only after Mirrorblade disappeared through the gates did the hunter finally relax, wiping cold sweat from his brow.
"Terrifying. The Commission actually maintains friendly relations with something like that?" a nearby hunter remarked. "I read the briefings before setting out, but seeing it is another thing entirely."
"This is the New World," the Admiral said, walking up to them. "Don't use your common sense to define this continent. This is a land of miracles... Welcome to the New World!"
As he spoke, he gave the hunter a heavy, encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Yes, sir! And my apologies!" The hunter stood at attention instinctively, looking embarrassed. "I almost caused a disaster. I'm glad nothing was destroyed."
"Don't worry about it; the circumstances were unique," the Commander said, stepping forward. "Thank you for traveling so far to support the Commission. Make sure to have a drink at the banquet tonight."
"YEAH!!!"
Before the hunter could respond, the veterans nearby erupted in cheers, and soon, the newcomers joined in.
"Grandpa!! You're back!!"
Amidst the cheering, a strong, black-haired boy about fourteen or fifteen years old burst through the crowd. He crashed into the Commander, hugging him and shouting with joy.
Clang!
The Commander was nearly knocked over. Realizing he'd been a bit too enthusiastic, the sturdy boy quickly braced the old man with his arms to keep him from falling.
"You're hurt?! Grandpa!" the boy said tensely. "What happened?! Why?!"
Decades had passed, and the once dark-haired young man had reached the age where people called him "Grandpa."
"It's just a minor injury, don't make such a fuss," the Commander said helplessly. "Keep your voice down."
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