Come. Let them all come. The more, the merrier.
Do not let waiting become a regret!
To be perfectly honest, when Asterion first realized those two behemoths were marching directly toward him, his very first instinct had been to run.
But the very next second, he mentally slapped himself with a claw.
Bah! You spineless coward, what is there to run from?
Still, Asterion couldn't shake that guilty, sinking feeling you get when you're caught doing something bad. Cough, cough... Well, decades of living a cautious life before this had left him with habits that were hard to erase overnight. Fortunately, as his rationality flooded back, he quickly realized there was absolutely no need to flee.
The Elder's Recess was his home turf, the very nexus where the bioenergy of the New World converged! With his vast range of perception and his absolute mastery over energy, Asterion—who possessed the exact same capabilities as a Safi'jiiva—was practically immortal here.
If anyone truly pushed him to the brink, he could simply drain the bioenergy of the entire New World to mend his wounds on the spot. Sustaining a single dragon with an entire continent's lifeblood was more than enough.
So, there was nothing left to fear.
The first one to knock on his door wasn't that slow-moving Shara Ishvalda. When Asterion looked up, his eyes met a pair of massive, jet-black wings covered in sharp, backward-growing scales. As those wings beat against the air, they unleashed a blast of freezing frost, dusting the scorching heat of the Elder's Recess with a layer of rime.
The sheer majesty and terror the Alatreon displayed in reality far surpassed any video game model. This monster was covered from head to toe in inverted scales, every single inch of its body practically screaming do not mess with me.
It was roughly the same size as Asterion. Its proudly raised dragon head clearly didn't know the meaning of keeping a low profile, and its massive horns looked as though they were meant to pierce right through the heavens. Talk about arrogant.
But truth be told, after identifying exactly what kind of dragon it was, Asterion secretly let out a sigh of relief. It really was an Alatreon.
It was good that it was a dragon he actually recognized. What Asterion feared most was some completely brand-new Black Dragon emerging from some forgotten corner of the world—one that had never appeared in the games of his past life, leaving him with zero information.
As an information-driven Glavenus—or rather, an information-driven evolved species—once the initial arrogant high of his evolution wore off, his guiding principle remained to plan thoroughly before acting. He wanted to avoid any battle with unknown variables at all costs. If an unfamiliar dragon truly appeared, he would much rather test its waters repeatedly to gather intelligence on its weaknesses first.
The appearance of the Alatreon was well within Asterion's expectations. In the memories of his past life, within the original game's lore, the Alatreon had deliberately left its secluded habitat and crossed the ocean to the New World specifically because of Safi'jiiva's activity.
It was worth mentioning that while a standard Safi'jiiva wasn't classified as a Black Dragon like Shara Ishvalda wasn't, their combat prowess certainly placed them at the very peak of the tier just below Black Dragons.
Originally, a Safi'jiiva with the raw strength of a Black Dragon could have emerged—that specific Xeno'jiiva secretly hiding in the Confluence of Fates. The sheer volume of energy it absorbed would have been enough to propel it into the rank of Black Dragons upon reaching adulthood, earning it the title of the King of Elder Dragons.
Too bad Asterion had intercepted its fate.
In short, the Safi'jiiva lineage of Elder Dragons was truly unique. Their method of reproduction defied conventional biology; they had no need to mate with the opposite sex, utilizing pure asexual reproduction.
As long as the surrounding environment possessed a sufficient abundance of bioenergy, they could create a cocoon capable of birthing a new Safi'jiiva simply by absorbing and compressing that energy.
This was exactly why, in the game's storyline, the Admiral and the others discovered a bizarre, massive cocoon-like structure when they ventured deep into the Secluded Valley. Scattered all around that cocoon and throughout the valley were the tattered, cloth-like remnants of shed skin left behind by Xeno'jiiva and Safi'jiiva.
This habit of breeding frantically whenever food was abundant felt a bit familiar, didn't it? Combine that with the fact that a Safi'jiiva could boundlessly and recklessly siphon the surrounding bioenergy to empower itself or heal its wounds—even if it wasn't injured, the perpetual motion engine within its body meant it didn't need to eat, yet the mere act of absorbing bioenergy brought it joy.
This predatory draining could easily lead to the complete depletion of energy in an entire region, subsequently triggering the collapse or death of the area's entire ecosystem. A single Safi'jiiva could achieve this level of devastation, let alone several more.
And that was disrupting the Alatreon's peaceful life.
This was the core reason in the game's lore why the Alatreon would specifically leave its roost—which had transformed into the "Sacred Land" just to accommodate it—and travel thousands of miles to the Secluded Valley. This rather reclusive Black Dragon had likely come for the sole purpose of executing that Safi'jiiva. It was just that, in the game's timeline, the Sapphire Star—the protagonist—had beaten it to the punch.
After taking a lap around the Secluded Valley and realizing its target was gone, the Alatreon naturally lost its desire to fight and was ultimately repelled by the hunters.
But now, the commotion Asterion was causing was far greater than anything Safi'jiiva had ever managed.
"Roar." (You've arrived.)
Asterion's casual greeting actually caught the opposing Alatreon off guard. A flicker of doubt flashed within its massive dragon eyes. In the Alatreon's understanding, any kin capable of altering the ecosystem on such a massive scale, acting with such cruel and extreme methods, and viewing ordinary life as nothing but dirt ought to possess a temper that was volatile to the absolute extreme.
Heck, its mental state might not even be stable. Furthermore, given how recently it had been born, it likely wouldn't even know how to speak, let alone possess clear logical reasoning and self-awareness.
Yet looking at it now, though the waves of energy radiating from this young kin were massive enough to put any dragon on high alert, and its actions were incredibly ruthless, it possessed a formidable degree of intelligence. Its mental state even seemed... remarkably calm?
In truth, the Alatreon hadn't immediately picked a fight with Asterion like some brainless brute the moment it made landfall on the New World.
It wasn't just any random dragon. The Alatreon had deliberately spent a considerable amount of time scouting out a good portion of the New World, treating it like a field inspection.
After all, this matter concerned whether it would fight this young junior or even kill it. An event with such monumental consequences naturally required certainty before proceeding. Because of this, the Alatreon understood better than anyone just what an unbelievable feat this mysterious, newborn kin had accomplished across this continent.
Those frequent earthquakes that split the earth and shattered mountains, along with the cataclysmic shifts in geography, were merely surface-level phenomena caused by the eruption of energy in the Alatreon's eyes. What truly shocked it were the ordinary plants and animals whose very biological forms were being forcibly rewritten by the Safi-attribute energy.
Well, large monsters were included in that as well. After all, even apex predators like the Azure Rathalos were nothing more than ordinary wild beasts in the eyes of a Black Dragon.
Possessing a boundless lifespan and having lived for countless years, the Alatreon naturally possessed wisdom matching its age. Simultaneously possessing a supreme mastery over all five elemental energies, it didn't need to observe or dissect like human scholars to perceive exactly what kind of changes were occurring within these minuscule creatures.
This was precisely why the Alatreon marveled at the unique power wielded by this newborn kin it had never met before: Evolution.
For any living being existing in the physical world, evolution was undoubtedly the single most impactful and critical force.
The Alatreon had even gone so far as to completely suppress its intimidating aura, landing quietly by the shore of a vast inland lake to watch and wait. It had witnessed with its own eyes that eerie blue energy seeping upward from the veins of the earth beneath the lake, blending into the water.
It had also watched as ordinary fish—barely the size of a palm and sitting at the very bottom of the food chain—absorbed this ethereal blue energy. Within a mere matter of days, their bodies began to swell rapidly like balloons.
They grew incredibly fast, yet this expansion didn't look diseased. On the contrary, it infused these fish with an overwhelming sense of power and vitality. Their originally fragile, silvery-gray scales gradually hardened and sloughed off, replaced by an impenetrable layer of shimmering, crystal-blue armor.
What the Alatreon found most mind-boggling was that the pelvic and pectoral fins of these fish underwent a skeletal mutation, sprouting thick, clawed limbs. Using these newly grown, razor-sharp talons, they tore apart a massive predatory fish that had tried to hunt them. Ultimately, they broke free from the confines of the lake entirely, stumbling onto dry land.
By this stage, these fish could essentially be classified as small monsters. Their chests heaved violently—a brand-new respiratory system adapting to the open air. With every breath, a misty vapor of blue moisture hissed from their gills.
The sight had caused the Alatreon's eyes to widen on the spot. This cross-species morphological transformation—one that should have taken millions of years of natural evolutionary history—had unfolded in less than half a month.
During its journey across the New World, the Alatreon had witnessed such extreme, rapid evolution more times than it could count. An anomaly of this scale was a topic that would keep even Black Dragons talking for a very long time.
Therefore, even before facing Asterion directly, the Alatreon already had a relatively clear understanding of what kind of authority its newborn kin wielded, what it was trying to achieve, and what kind of vision it held, purely from these masterpieces scattered across the continent.
"Roar." (You know of me.)
The Alatreon spoke with certainty.
From Asterion's eyes, the Alatreon failed to catch even a hint of tension or wariness brought about by its sudden descent. This was hardly the instinctive reaction of a living being suddenly encountering an unknown entity whose power rivaled its own. It was as though the other party had long anticipated its arrival—and knew exactly who it was.
Yet no matter how much the Alatreon scoured its memories, it was absolutely certain it had never seen the dragon before it, whether by appearance or by aura. Just as it had previously deduced, this was a newborn kin that had never existed in the world before—a life freshly cradled by nature.
"Roar, roar-roar?" (Yes, I know. And? Are you here to stop me?)
Asterion's tone was somewhat blunt. He didn't even bother inventing an excuse to explain how he knew about the Alatreon, choosing instead to cut straight to the chase: Was the Alatreon going to fight him? Was it going to stop him for the sake of the New World's other inhabitants?
If it was the latter, Asterion could only say the Alatreon was too late.
The Safi-attribute energy had already woven itself into the very bedrock of the New World. Even if Asterion were to drop dead on the spot, this evolution would not grind to a halt.
"Roar-roar, roar-roar-roar." (Stop you? No. I have no interest in what you are doing.)
The Alatreon's voice was remarkably composed. In stark contrast to its fiercely aggressive appearance, its temperament was surprisingly calm, catching Asterion completely off guard.
You really couldn't judge a dragon by its cover. He had assumed the Alatreon would have a fiery temper, throwing hands the moment they met—it was all the hunters' fault!
The Guild's intelligence was completely misleading. What do they mean, "a Black Dragon representing absolute destruction"? The guy was actually pretty easy to talk to.
"Roar?" (Then?)
Asterion asked.
"Roar-roar-roar." (You may only do this on this continent.)
It wasn't a tone open for negotiation. The Alatreon was delivering a unilateral notice.
"Roar-roar, roar-roar-roar." (Bind your power. Ensure your energy does not bleed into the oceans or the rest of the world.)
"Roar?" (Why? Are you trying to order me around?)
With a low growl, Asterion felt a surge of irritation. Setting rules for me?
We're both Black Dragons here, who's afraid of who?!
If I actually start running, can you even catch me? Can you even match my speed!
Or could it be... the Alatreon can't bear to see so much life perish?
The thought flashed through Asterion's mind, only to be shattered by the Alatreon itself in the very next second.
"Roar-roar, roar-roar-roar." (We do not care what games you play on this land, but your amusement must not interfere with us.)
The Alatreon seemed to grow slightly impatient, scraping the ground with its sharp foreclaws. After months of energy flooding the area, the terrain nearby was coated in a thick layer of Safi-crystals.
And Asterion... he understood.
The Alatreon was here to claim its territory!
The agonizing struggle of the New World's ecosystem and the forced evolution pushing creatures to slaughter one another meant absolutely nothing to the Alatreon. It had witnessed identical cycles countless times over thousands of years; the evolution of life and the war over resources had never truly ceased.
Perhaps the only difference was that time had been compressed today. A grueling evolution meant to span tens of millions of years had been condensed into a matter of months.
Across the vast expanse of time, the birth and death of various organisms were the most ordinary events imaginable—sometimes it was an individual, sometimes an entire species. It wasn't special.
Without a doubt, no matter how selective the Alatreon was, it had to admit that this extraordinary power could be deemed a miracle, fully worthy of a Black Dragon's status. It also recognized that this newborn kin's existence wasn't meant for the mindless destruction of everything around it.
But that didn't mean the Alatreon wanted to see the boundaries of its own roost painted in the exact same shade of blue. Even for a dragon like it, such a scenery would inevitably grow dreadfully tedious—let alone for the rest of its kind.