There was nothing new in the Wildspire Waste; every day was just sleeping and eating.
The confusion lingering from his encounter with the Admiral and Hara that day had completely vanished after a good night's sleep. Asterion had wiped it from his mind; after all, those were concerns for the distant future, hardly worth fretting over right now.
Right now, Asterion only wanted to continue preying on creatures rich in bioenergy. He needed to accumulate enough power to evolve a pair of wings first, finally breaking free from the limitations of being a land-bound Brute Wyvern.
Asterion had figured it out: all his problems stemmed from a lack of strength. If he were as powerful as Fatalis—if he could become one of the Forbidden Species—would he even need to worry about such things?
So, eating more meat was the only business that mattered.
The hunters were gradually integrating into the Wildspire Waste, though Asterion could see their lives weren't exactly easy. The hunters of the First Fleet were severely lacking in supplies.
Moreover, with only two technicians accompanying the First Fleet, the initial construction of the base had them agonizing over how to secure basic living necessities. Water filtration, base construction, equipment forging and maintenance... everything relied on those two engineers. It was enough to make them tear their hair out.
But going bald wouldn't help. If they didn't have materials, they didn't have them—screwing their heads off wouldn't change that.
During a hunt, Asterion had spotted the ship the hunters were building from a distance. To be honest, that small boat looked like it could hold a dozen people at most. It certainly didn't look capable of crossing the ocean back to the Old World... At best, once finished, it would make it easier for the hunters to explore the neighboring Ancient Forest.
Compared to the desolate Wildspire Waste, the Ancient Forest was rich in gatherable resources. At the very least, there was no shortage of timber, which would solve some of the hunters' immediate problems.
During this period, the hunters and Asterion maintained a peaceful coexistence. The hunters were busy perfecting their forward base, while Asterion was busy stockpiling power.
He had located the Rathian whose tail he had severed. She was in a small forest in the northwest of the Wildspire Waste. Since water flowing down from the Ancient Forest passed through here en route to the marshlands, this area was a rare oasis of lush scenery in the Waste, teeming with trees and flowers.
Rathians who had lost the competition for territory in the "fighting pit" of the Ancient Forest would nest here to lay and incubate their eggs. They would also hunt Apceros in the marshlands and nearby areas.
The Rathian's trail had actually been brought to Asterion's attention by his Kulu-Ya-Ku "bro." While stealing eggs, the Kulu-Ya-Ku had stumbled upon the maimed Rathian. Naturally, he hadn't forgotten the monster that had beaten his offspring into a coma. Abandoning the egg he was holding, the Kulu-Ya-Ku had sprinted all the way back to report to Asterion.
Unfortunately, by the time Asterion arrived, the Rathian had already finished eating. Spotting Asterion's approach, she immediately took flight, showing no intention of fighting him again.
She showed none of the pride befitting the "Queen of the Land," not even looking back as she flew away. Asterion cursed the spineless dragon in frustration, but it was useless. The Tempered Rathian had certainly heard his roar, but she had no intention of returning.
It wasn't surprising. If this Rathian possessed a never-say-die fighting spirit, she wouldn't have ended up in the Wildspire Waste in the first place... She would either have secured a mate and nested in the canopy of the Ancient Forest or died beneath the claws of another Rathian.
Having no desire to challenge a whole group of exiled Rathians at once, Asterion gloomily noted the direction of her escape. After a quick snack of an Apceros, he returned to the nest with his Kulu-Ya-Ku companion and the egg the bird had stolen.
The rainy season of the Wildspire Waste had arrived once again.
Unlike the adjacent Ancient Forest, the earth energy beneath the Wildspire Waste was obstructed and flowed poorly. This was why these two coastal, neighboring regions exhibited such vastly different landscapes.
The Ancient Forest was lush and humid, while the Wildspire Waste was arid and desolate, largely dominated by desert.
Because of this, the annual rainy season was incredibly precious to the life within the Wildspire Waste. Even the perpetually barren rocky grounds would be dyed in patches of green during this time.
The local flora would seize this opportunity to absorb as much water as possible to sustain themselves for the coming year. They would also use this window to bloom, fruit, and scatter their seeds with frantic speed.
It wasn't just plants; the rainy season was also the breeding season for animals. Not just wyverns, but ordinary creatures like Kelbi and Shepherd Hares... In short, life was thriving, and everyone was working hard at it.
The rainy season was a festival for the entire Wildspire Waste. But this time, even though Asterion had experienced a rainy season here since arriving in this world, he felt this year's "gift" was a bit too... heavy.
Rain.
Overwhelming, torrential rain.
The relentless raindrops fell like an airtight veil, shrouding everything outside the cave in a blur of white mist. But it wasn't mist; it was a thick wall of rainwater. For a moment, Asterion wondered if the ocean had submerged the land, filling the very air with water.
Yet the air was still there; it was all just a hallucination born of his daze.
The rain was simply too heavy, and it had been pouring for three or four days straight. One only had to peek outside to see that a small stream had formed at the entrance of the nest, rapidly expanding into a river.
The accumulated rainwater on the ground, churning with the Waste's sand and soil, formed a yellow river flowing over the surface and through the crevices of the rocks—creeping closer and closer to the cave entrance.
Asterion was worried. If this rain continued, that yellow river would eventually flow into the nest, turning his home into a giant puddle.
Most importantly, the Kulu-Ya-Ku had been starving for three or four days. If Asterion hadn't stopped him, he probably would have braved the storm to hunt long ago.
Asterion was naturally very hungry as well, but by digesting the bioenergy stored in his body, he could hold out a while longer.
However, the Kulu-Ya-Ku didn't possess such an ability. Strictly speaking, ordinary wyverns below the level of Elder Dragons generally couldn't effectively utilize the bioenergy within them; they could only passively accept its influence.
Which meant that starvation could actually lead to death.
A normal Kulu-Ya-Ku needed to eat three or four eggs a day. For his Kulu companion to endure this long, he was already burning through previously stored fat.
"Roar, ro-ro-roar!" (Tell you what, you stay put here. I'll go get you some eggs.)
After thinking it over, Asterion didn't feel safe letting the Kulu-Ya-Ku go out. This rainy season was clearly abnormal. It was likely the work of an Elder Dragon. If the Kulu-Ya-Ku went out alone, what if he got swept away by the flood or killed by other starving monsters?
"Squawk!!" (Not scared!)
Having lived with the Kulu-Ya-Ku for so long, Asterion could now more or less understand what his bird-brained brother was saying.
"Roar!" (Not scared my ass! Listen to me!)
Roaring in annoyance, Asterion pinned the Kulu-Ya-Ku to the ground with one claw. With that skinny frame, who was he trying to impress acting tough?
"Roar roar, ro-ro-ro-roar." (Stay home and don't run around. I'll bring you back some food.)
After repeatedly warning the skittish Kulu-Ya-Ku, Asterion stepped out not into a post-rain clear sky, but directly into the violent storm.
Large, dense raindrops, driven by the gale, pelted Asterion's shell. If one listened closely, a crackling sound could be heard.
The paths he usually walked had completely turned into rivers. With Asterion's weight, he didn't have to worry about being blown away, but the storm completely obscured his vision and masked all sound, making it far from comfortable.
Honestly, Asterion had quite enjoyed the rainy season last year. He liked standing in the rain, enjoying the sound of droplets hitting his shell.
When things go wrong, an Elder Dragon is inevitably behind it. This was basically one of the fundamental laws of this world.
Hmm, fundamental law number two: the first Elder Dragon to pop up is usually not the one actually causing the trouble; they're just getting purely framed and chased by hunters.
[Gale], [Torrential Rain]. To be honest, as soon as these keywords appeared, Asterion immediately thought of a specific culprit capable of turning the rainy season into a disaster.
Kushala Daora.
If you added the conditions [Night], [Ancient Forest], [5 Purple Rewards], and [2 Players/20 Minutes], it became so beautiful it was off the charts... just thinking about it was a treat, possibly ending in [One Cart].
Asterion first went to the familiar flower field marsh area. The Barroth that usually occupied this place was long gone, probably hiding from the rain in some relatively dry cave.
After all, the marsh area no longer looked like a marsh; it had become a massive lake. The pale purple flowers were submerged, leaving only the dense splashes of rain hitting the lake's surface visible.
He didn't rush to the high slopes near the marsh to find the Apceros. Instead, Asterion walked toward the seaside. He had sensed something wrong in the distant sky, where the clouds were curling.
The dark clouds that should have blanketed the entire sky seemed to be torn apart by invisible giant hands, cascading down from the heavens like a waterfall—vertical, like a wall.
Then they curled and collided with each other.
Yes, there were even two such "hands," making the sky in that direction seem fused with the ground. Azure lightning flashed through it occasionally. When thunder rolled and the lightning illuminated the gloom, faint silhouettes of massive figures could be seen flashing within.
The closer he got to the beach, the more he could feel the heavy oppression, as if the sky itself had been overturned. It wasn't just physical pressure, but the pressure emanating from an Elder Dragon.
Standing on a rock near the shore, Asterion could clearly feel the aura of the Elder Dragon hidden within the approaching sea breeze and the rain pouring down on his head.
It was different from the pressure caused by the slag expelled by Zorah Magdaros. This was a pressure from a creature on the same level of existence, yet completely distinct in nature.
Asterion saw it.
Two Kushala Daoras were battling in the sky above the sea.
One was agile and nimble, clad in silver-gray scales that looked profound and steel-like under the lightning. The other was a brownish color throughout; its scales didn't reflect light but seemed to absorb it, looking dull and heavy.
Asterion couldn't see much else. The battle between the two Kushala Daoras was intense. The winds they controlled savagely tore at everything in the sky, wrapping them in black cloud masses. Only when one side occasionally gained the upper hand would they break out, allowing Asterion to catch a few glimpses.
Case closed.
The culprits turning this year's rainy season into a flood were the Kushala Daoras. Not just one, but two.
Undoubtedly members of the Elder Dragon species. Even if Kushala Daora ranked near the bottom of the Elder Dragon hierarchy, they were still far beyond what ordinary wyverns could hope to challenge.
As the name implied, the Kushala Daora—the Steel Dragon—was covered in a steel shell. Wyverns that included ore in their diet often possessed similar traits, just as Asterion had a Great Sword forged from ore.
But unlike Asterion, the Kushala Daora possessed a shell of pure metal. This metal casing was its bone, its flesh, and its scales—a structure of metallic layers stacked upon one another.
As an "Intelligence Glavenus," Asterion easily identified the condition of the brownish Kushala Daora. Without a doubt, that was a Kushala Daora in the process of shedding its skin.
When a Kushala Daora's skin was exposed to wind, sun, air, and moisture for a long time, or as its body grew with age, its original skin would rust and oxidize like real metal, necessitating a molt.
But that was where things got strange. According to Asterion's memory, a molting Kushala Daora was known as a Rusted Kushala Daora. Due to the immense pain caused by the shedding process, a Kushala in this state would exhibit ferocity and aggression far exceeding the norm, and its movements would become even more agitated and agile due to the pain.
Simply put, it would be thrashing around in agony.
Yet, the Rusted Kushala Daora in the sky was behaving differently. Compared to its silver-gray kin, it should have been the more active and restless one due to the pain of molting. But the reality was that this Rusted Kushala was on the defensive most of the time, being suppressed by the other dragon.
How bizarre.
What did this mean? Was the other Kushala Daora a Tempered one, or even an Arch-Tempered Kushala Daora?
It didn't look like it... especially since the silver-gray Kushala Daora was physically smaller than the Rusted one.