Things indeed looked quite bad.
A heavy scent of crushed rock and dust hung in the air. The tall Wyverian woman—the Master of the Third Fleet of the Elder Dragon Research Commission—stood atop a slightly tilted coral ridge. Her gaze swept past the bustling crowd below, looking toward the far reaches of the Coral Highlands, which were currently shrouded in a gray-blue mist. Their airship rested right out there.
Thirty years ago, she had defied all opposition to lead a group of knowledge-hungry scholars into the unknown depths of the New World. Aboard the newly invented airship from Astera, they had soared past the desolate Wildspire Waste, climbing higher and higher until they finally arrived at the Coral Highlands.
However, while flying over the Coral Highlands, the airship was suddenly attacked by a flock of Legiana. The monsters viewed this strange intruder as a threat to their territory. The fragile airbag of the airship stood no chance against the onslaught of the Flying Wyverns, ultimately crashing into the Highlands. From that moment on, all contact with Astera was lost.
The vast majority of the crew members were scholars who were far more skilled with pens than weapons—essentially defenseless academics. Fortunately, when they first set out, they had brought along a few experienced technicians and smiths, as well as two hunter squads to serve as escorts.
Without them, these scholars would never have survived in this perilous land, so far removed from civilization, let alone continued their research regardless of the risks.
The crash had severely damaged the airship's keel, and the airbag was beyond repair, stripping them of any hope of taking flight again. Furthermore, the Coral Highlands sat at an incredibly high altitude, surrounded by sheer cliffs and complex coral topography, with countless platforms scattered everywhere, making navigation exceptionally difficult.
The hunters had tried numerous times but failed to find a path back to the Wildspire Waste. Fortunately, these scholars possessed an incredibly resilient mindset... or perhaps they were just blissfully dense?
In short, under the leadership of the Third Fleet Master, they didn't lose hope or waste time. Instead, they adapted to their environment, utilizing their knowledge to settle down. Using the crashed airship as their hub, they poured all their energy into studying the miraculous ecosystem made of massive terrestrial coral.
This research, completely cut off from the Research Commission, lasted for nearly thirty years. The smiths and technicians used the tall, vibrant, living coral surrounding them as natural camouflage, cleverly obscuring the ship's silhouette and the camp's artificial light sources. This prevented the airship from being obliterated a second time by some short-tempered monster.
Over time, their initial anxiety faded. Many of the Third Fleet scholars had even accepted the prospect of spending the rest of their lives here, researching until their final days. They grew accustomed to gathering the highlands' endemic flora, filtering moisture-rich air for drinking water, and storing their research manuscripts in specially made, moisture-proof leather scrolls.
But now, everything had changed.
Nature itself was being torn apart. It all began a while ago with the earthquakes. At first, they were mere tremors, but soon, the frequency and intensity began to increase exponentially.
Many experienced scholars developed a vague, ominous premonition: these escalating earthquakes would likely trigger a chain-reaction collapse of the Coral Highlands' fragile architecture. It might even fracture the once-stable coral bedrock, giving rise to entirely unpredictable new landscapes.
And most importantly, it would likely open up a path leading down to the ground.
Because of this rigorous risk assessment, starting about a month ago, the scholars had been busily moving their belongings off the ship. This included basic necessities like food, handwritten research journals, perfectly preserved ecological specimens, and precise yet worn observation instruments...
They transferred these supplies to a relatively flat, open area far from the cliff's edge, shielding them with waterproof monster hides to ensure that if the worst came to pass, their decades of hard work wouldn't be destroyed along with the airship.
Their concerns proved justified. Just as the Third Fleet Master was called back from a nearby cave, a bizarre rumbling echoed from beneath the cliffs—from the bottomless chasm that lay beneath the Coral Highlands. It sounded like a colossal monster breaking free from its cage, mixed with the thunderous cracking of breaking bedrock.
The earth shook, and the mountains trembled.
The dead coral skeletal structures forming the foundation of the Highlands emitted a teeth-grinding crunch as they fractured. The violent, erratic shaking made it impossible to stand upright, causing several faint-hearted scholars to cry out in panic as they lost their balance.
Even more terrifyingly, several jagged fissures tore across the ground. One scholar slipped, nearly sliding half-body first into the abyss. Fortunately, a hunter reacted with lightning speed, diving forward to catch the scholar's foot just in time to avert tragedy.
Even though the Coral Highlands were perpetually humid and filled with dense moisture, the massive geological tearing kicked up an immense cloud of white dust—a mixture of pulverized coral and rock debris—blotting out the sky.
When the blinding dust finally began to settle, everyone stared in dumbfounded shock toward the edge of the cliff.
Beyond the familiar terrain of the Highlands, where a gentle slope used to be, a deep, wide, and seemingly bottomless crater now yawned.
The edges of this fissure were highly irregular, exposing cross-sections of rock layers from different eras beneath, interspersed with numerous strata of coral skeletons.
Instantly, the scholars lunged toward the edge of the cliff like dogs seeing a fresh pile of dung, peering downward despite the hunters' desperate attempts to pull them back.
They could faintly discern massive, uneven boulders piled high against the inner walls of the rift. Some of these rocks had remarkably flat surfaces, as if sheared clean by some unimaginable external force, while others were as sharp as blades and completely jagged—a telltale sign of stone violently fractured under immense pressure.
The chasm sloped steeply downward into infinity, with occasional outcroppings of fossilized coral visible along the descent. Its incline was so severe that it was impossible to tell where it ultimately led.
At its furthest depths lay a darkness that swallowed light itself. Even the hunters with the sharpest eyesight could not discern what lay hidden below. There was only pitch black.
"What on earth is this?" The scholar who had gone to inform the Fleet Master earlier was now sprawled at the edge of the rift, staring down in disbelief. "Given the direction, could this possibly lead to the Wildspire Waste?"
His words instantly sparked excitement among many of the surrounding scholars. Even though they had contentedly conducted research in this isolated place for over thirty years, humans are social creatures after all. Three decades of isolation and the lingering regret of being unable to share their findings with the outside world had been a quiet torment for many.
They yearned to know if Astera had made new technological breakthroughs, if any new Elder Dragons had been discovered, and what new intelligence had arrived from the Old World. Most of all, they wanted to know if their friends were still well.
"Don't get your hopes up too soon," a white-haired elder scholar chimed in, throwing cold water on their excitement. "It could very well be a dead end filled with nothing but rocks and Effluvium—don't forget the creatures we've observed leaping up from the depths before."
Over the past thirty years, the scholars had observed Odogaron and Ebony Odogaron leaping up from the Rotten Vale into the Coral Highlands countless times, so they were quite familiar with their habits.
"No one will know for sure until we actually go down and take a look, right?" an escort hunter said, walking over. His armor was practically on the verge of falling apart, covered in patches and looking incredibly battered. "What should we do now, Master? With the earthquakes being this violent, the safe camp we mapped out earlier is completely useless now that this massive fissure has opened up."
"Let's set up a new camp first," the Third Fleet Master said after a moment of thought. "Leave the airship where it is. Since the supplies and data have already been moved down, just declare it a restricted area for everyone."
"And what about this fissure?" a scholar asked, adjusting his glasses.
"We do not enter," the Third Fleet Master said resolutely. "Given your extensive knowledge, you should all be able to see that for some unknown reason, the leylines of the New World are undergoing violent shifts. These frequent, high-intensity earthquakes are the clearest proof.
"This means the geological structure below is in an extremely active and unstable state. Venturing in blindly under these conditions will only lead to unnecessary casualties." Noticing the disappointed expressions on several faces, she continued, "Don't just fixate on what's below. If this path truly leads to the Wildspire Waste, I am certain our colleagues at Astera will not hesitate to explore it from their end.
"Rather than taking reckless risks, we should focus on the safer research topics we currently have at hand. Once the new camp is established, I will need a team to accompany me to observe a new form of life that has appeared in the cave. I call them the Fungal People."
"Fungal People?" Several scholars perked up immediately.
"Yes, they were discovered in the nearest cave. They are quite fascinating, with mouths full of sharp white teeth." At this, a smile broke through the Fleet Master's usually stern expression. "They seem to have emerged alongside the earthquakes. If they possess intelligence and can communicate, perhaps we can uncover why these tremors have suddenly become so frequent."
"Oh! Now that is fascinating!"
Even though the ground beneath their feet still trembled with occasional, heart-stopping aftershocks, the scholars' attention was thoroughly captured by the Fleet Master's mention of the Fungal People. They completely forgot about the deep rift beside them.
And it was no wonder. With their vast knowledge, they were well aware of the immense biological chasm that separated traditional fungi from higher animals in terms of cellular structure and physiological function.
If a lifeform truly existed that could display highly complex animalistic traits while remaining fundamentally fungal, its evolutionary path would completely shatter conventional biological imagination. For any scholar, such a discovery was an irresistible temptation.
Watching the group of scholars—who had been panicking over the earthquake moments ago—now bickering passionately over the assignment of the new research project, the veteran hunter leading the escorts couldn't help but let out a long sigh.
"I really hope we can reestablish contact with Astera soon..."
He muttered under his breath. The scholars' excitement meant nothing to him; after all, his sole duty was to keep them safe. He simply wanted a proper rest and, ideally, a brand-new set of gear.
The Third Fleet had been in dire need of support from Astera for a very long time.
Yet, the turning point facing the Third Fleet was merely the most insignificant fraction of the grand transformations sweeping across the New World.
In more distant regions, majestic, sweeping mountain ranges were fracturing at their bases, collapsing like building blocks. Rivers were being rerouted, valleys filled, and the earth pushed upward to form entirely new mountain chains... Perhaps by the time everything settled once more, the geography of the New World would be completely unrecognizable. Mankind would have to redraw every single map, even for the places they knew best.
Believing that he had brought wisdom and civilization to all life in the New World, no dragon knew better than Asterion what the continent was enduring at this very moment. Virtually connected to the bioenergy of the entire New World's leylines, he could clearly perceive the epicenter of every single earthquake—the direct result of massive energy eruptions.
With Asterion's mischievous sense of humor, he had even given his actions a code name:
"I shall unleash the Rumbling upon the New World!"
However, now, several months later, Asterion's work was finally nearing its conclusion. Most of what needed to be done was complete; the rest could only be left to time, allowing the organisms of the New World to naturally evolve into whatever forms suited them best as the ages passed.
At this stage, it was time to protect himself first.
The ubiquitous energy of the leylines served as his eyes. Asterion could clearly sense that the massive source of energy from before had stopped wandering aimlessly across the New World. Instead, it was advancing in a straight line directly toward his position.
Without a doubt, that unknown Forbidden Monster was coming straight for him—and it wasn't coming alone!
Within the Leyline Corridor at the edge of the New World, there existed another presence whose energy levels were also incredibly powerful, though still weaker than his own—Asterion figured this newcomer was strong enough to at least sit at the same table as Safi'jiiva.
Judging by its location, being so close to the New World and moving within the Leyline Corridor... it had to be Shara Ishvalda.
It wasn't even traveling along the pre-existing Leyline Corridors; rather, it was tearing open an entirely new pathway. Looking at it from this perspective, it practically confirmed the creature's identity as Shara Ishvalda, which was currently tunneling its way toward Asterion as well.