Ultimately, the falling volcanic ash would provide rich nutrients for the growth of new life.
As a premium fertilizer in its own right, it could allow newborn plants to thrive—but this was still not the outcome Asterion desired.
That was why he was merely luring the Zorah Magdaros toward the New World; there was no possibility of it entering the Everstream. He would simply finish it off at the coast.
Every evolution was for the sake of better survival. Unlike Xeno'jiiva, which evolved three pairs of glowing organs on its head, Asterion chose to place his in the gaps between the scales and carapace of his chest and abdomen. It was a bit difficult to imagine using words alone, but in a nutshell, he looked like Gandora-X the Dragon of Demolition—though, of course, without quite as many lightbulbs as Gandora-X.
After all, unlike Xeno'jiiva, once it matured into Safi'jiiva, those three pairs of glowing organs on the head naturally atrophied. This was because a Safi'jiiva, possessing a "perpetual motion machine" energy cycle, no longer needed to actively seek out and absorb Bio-Energy from the Everstream to grow like its juvenile form did. Once its internal energy circulation was perfectly constructed, such exposed and fragile organs lost their purpose and would instead become weaknesses.
Asterion... he chose to accept this weakness. In the future, when he too possessed a perpetual energy source, he certainly wouldn't lack power, but he refused to give up the special ability to probe the flow of Bio-Energy and call out to other Elder Dragons.
Do you know what this is called?
It's called "ordering à la carte."
It was practically like walking into a restaurant; whenever he was hungry, he just rang the bell, and even Elder Dragons from another continent would accept the summons and come to him. The efficiency was incredible. Who could refuse having a delicious and nutritious Elder Dragon feast delivered right to their door while they napped at home?
Not to mention, compared to Elder Dragons in their prime with overwhelming combat power, the older they got, the easier they were to bully. Yet, they contained more nutrients than the young ones—rich energy and mellow meat. They were practically overripe soft persimmons, and you always pick the softest persimmon to squeeze!
"Jie jie."
He let out an indistinguishable, villainous laugh. In any case, Asterion had already named these three new organs his "Order Bells," and he had already used them to send out a call. Now, he just had to wait for the Zorah Magdaros to take the bait.
Fifty years had passed since their first meeting. The increasingly decrepit Zorah Magdaros would only respond to this call more eagerly, rather than suddenly remembering it might still have a little life left in it.
It was a good thing!
Ordering always required patience. It would likely take some time for the Zorah Magdaros to receive the "death certificate" call and rush to the New World. Asterion wasn't in a hurry; he had already brought Kulve Taroth and the little one back to the surface world.
When the long-absent sunlight pierced through the layers of overlapping leaves to fall upon him, Asterion felt quite comfortable. As for the little one, she experienced what it truly meant to be the center of attention. My child, when you were born, the very forests of the Ancient Forest whispered your name... Cough! Alright, actually, it was the Glavenus tribe shouting her name at the top of their lungs.
"Little Boss!"
It was like a festival. The Grimalkynes of the Glavenus tribe celebrated the return of the Dragon God. A giant pot, specially forged based on Asterion's former size, was dragged out and scrubbed clean. Massive bundles of firewood were piled beneath it and lit, the roaring flames beginning to stew a meat broth.
Like building a bridge, the Grimalkynes laid two long wooden planks directly across the mouth of the giant pot. They stood on top to season the soup or add ingredients. Amidst the rising white steam, Asterion was half-afraid these cats would lose their footing and fall in, becoming a pot of "Cat Soup" on the spot.
The entire Glavenus tribe was in motion. The Forest Bugtrappers even brought over their long-stored aged meat. Huge chunks of fresh meat were tossed into the pot or skewered directly for roasting. For a time, the entire Glavenus settlement was permeated with the aroma of spices.
Even after so many years without cooking, the Grimalkynes displayed astonishing proficiency and organizational skills. Bonfires rose from the stone slabs, and large cuts of high-grade meat, rich in life energy, sizzled over the flames. The aroma of fat dripping into the fire caused the little one—who hadn't stepped foot outside the Everstream since birth—to widen her eyes. She looked like she wanted to pounce and take a bite immediately.
Of course, taste is relative. Kulve Taroth didn't care for chili or heavily spiced food. When the Grimalkynes eagerly brought food to her, she just lowered her head to sniff it and stopped eating. Compared to meat covered in plant fragments, Kulve Taroth still preferred consuming minerals.
Wasn't that a lucky coincidence?
The Glavenus tribe had plenty of minerals now!
The Grimalkynes immediately turned into porters, carrying vine baskets of the tribe's ore on their backs. Soon, a small mountain of ore was piled in front of Kulve Taroth. What was there left to say? Eat!
Unlike her mother, the little one had inherited Asterion's good appetite and love for meat. Even though this was her first time eating meat, she fell in love with the taste. The more stimulating the flavor of the meat, the more she loved it, chewing through meat and bone alike until they were crushed and swallowed.
Sunlight, rivers, leaves, small animals—the little one began living a lawless life, frolicking in the giant trees all day and only returning when her stomach rumbled. She was very happy.
But her good days didn't last long. Asterion wasn't exactly a "carefree" dragon. Once the little one had more or less adapted to the outside light, air, and basic environment, her flight training was about to begin.
Even though they hadn't seen him in so long, Sparky and Hara remained intensely loyal to Asterion. They reported every major event of the past years in meticulous detail. Thus, Asterion already knew that the hunters had given him a new name: the Aero-Soaring Dragon.
Overall, he was quite satisfied. As long as it wasn't "Comet Dragon" or "Valstrax," it was fine. And it was very accurate... well, come to think of it, he wouldn't necessarily be named that, because compared to a real Valstrax and its comet-like flight speed, the speed Asterion had shown during his last few appearances was still too slow.
A Valstrax's normal flight speed was five or six times the speed of sound. The two only shared a similar method of flight. At this point in time, the hunters over in the Old World should have already discovered Valstrax; they would definitely be able to tell the difference.
Although Asterion felt that once his final evolution was complete and he attained the power of a Forbidden Monster, the hunters would give him another new name, it didn't matter. Just like the situation Mirrorblade faced, the name "Aero-Soaring Dragon" would likely be inherited by the little one eventually... which was fine. Asterion was getting used to it.
"Roar?" (Fly?)
A tender but eager cry interrupted Asterion's thoughts. The little thing tilted her head, her mouth still gnawing on a half-broken crystal spike she had scavenged from Asterion's hind leg, making a crunching sound.
"Roar." (Fly. Watch me.)
Asterion couldn't help but sigh. The little thing was exceptionally—ten out of ten—restless. Her attention span was far too short; one second she was listening intently, the next she was off pouncing on butterflies or biting beetles. She was so hyperactive it was like she had ADHD, which gave Asterion a massive headache.
To be honest, he'd rather go pick a fight with a Ruiner Nergigante.
Asterion finally realized how good he'd had it with Mirrorblade. When he was teaching Mirrorblade the Glavenus sword techniques, the boy was about the same age as this little one, but Mirrorblade was much more composed. His personality was on the colder side—at the very least, Asterion didn't have to keep a foreclaw pinned on his head just to get him to stay still for a moment.
Using his foreclaw to pull the little thing off his body for the umpteenth time, Asterion stood up on his forelimbs and unfurled his wings.
Unlike the common membrane wings seen on Flying Wyverns like Rathalos, his had no membranes. Instead, they were filled with a mechanical and violent beauty that words couldn't describe—like two thick cannon barrels, each linked by four wing bones and covered in a thick layer of bio-crystals. Under the sunlight, they weren't even ghostly blue anymore, but a bright sea blue. They were stunning.
As Asterion breathed, a transparent, bright yellow light began to glow from the inside out of his chest and abdomen. Bio-Energy began to gather toward his back, and the surrounding air rapidly heated up.
Inhale, ignite, jet—
Blazing white flames suddenly surged from the nozzles at the ends of the wing bones, propelling Asterion up from the edge of the giant tree's canopy. He hovered there in mid-air. The powerful airflow even formed a small rotating storm nearby; countless broken branches and withered leaves were sucked in, only to be instantly turned to ash the moment they touched the white flames.
"Roar!" (This is flying?!)
With two claws hooked onto the edge of the canopy, the little thing's eyes sparkled as she watched Asterion. She finally stopped fidgeting. She was captivated by the shocking scene before her; for the first time, her young soul felt the yearning for flight.
Even a hatchling understands what "cool" looks like!
"Roar." (This is flying.)
As he answered, Asterion adjusted his posture, moving up, down, left, and right in mid-air. The little one's head moved in perfect sync with him. It was clear she was truly curious and longed for such flight.
Despite having an exceptionally massive body, Asterion displayed a level of flexibility in the air that was completely at odds with his size. The only ones suffering were probably the surrounding tall trees; the jet heat Asterion emitted was no joke—anything it swept over was charred instantly.
The piercing noise of the jetting flames, the whistle of breaking air, and the scorching heat that turned nearby leaves to ash... The little one watched Asterion, then mimicked his earlier take-off stance by raising her forebody. A pair of misshapen wings, seemingly carved from the same mold as Asterion's, spread slightly to the sides. Although everything about her looked immature, some things were etched into her very bones.
Jet!
As the little one took a deep breath, a burst of blue-purple flame surged from the ends of her wing bones the next second. In the blink of an eye, it burned a hole right through the tree canopy. Though that flame wasn't as blinding as Asterion's white fire, it contained a similarly startling explosive power.
The smell of char immediately filled the air. Asterion even heard a chorus of cat screeches from within the canopy; it seemed those curious Grimalkynes had been climbing through the branches to get a closer look.
A cat's curiosity... well, that was normal. For the Grimalkynes of the Glavenus tribe, who wouldn't want to witness the Dragon God teaching his second child to fly with their own eyes?
This was a major event worthy of being recorded in the tribe's murals!
Watching the small figure below trying her best to produce light and fire, Asterion couldn't help but feel a bit complicated. Honestly, it was a strange feeling; in two lifetimes, this was only the second time he'd felt this sense of teaching a child survival skills. And this time was even harder than the last—after all, swinging a blade and flying were two completely different things.
Unlike traditional Flying Wyverns, Asterion knew his method of flight was quite violent. It required maintaining body balance and jet angles at all times; a single slip-up and you'd plow headfirst into the dirt.
And that was what surprised him: the "Aero-Soaring Dragon's" body was actually pushed into the air by those blue-purple flames. Though she wasn't high, she was stable—based on Asterion's own experience learning to fly, this was somewhat unbelievable.
Wait, could flames of that color really provide enough thrust?
When his flames were that color, he hadn't been able to maintain stable flight at all; if he managed to get off the ground, he'd just drop right back down... Hmm, maybe it was because the little one was still quite light?
After all, the physical structures of the two dragons were still very different. The most direct evidence was that the little one hadn't inherited Asterion's saw-blade tail; her tail was merely somewhat sharp, looking like a knife.
The little one had mainly inherited the fire organs and the corresponding flight system from him, but she hadn't inherited the internal heat organs. This indeed reduced her body weight significantly.
Asterion didn't know how big the little one would eventually grow. After all, both he and Kulve Taroth were already considered giants among Elder Dragons. Would she still be able to fly stably once she grew larger?
No one knew the answer to that. Fortunately, from her appearance, the little one hadn't inherited every single physical trait of her parents. At the very least, she didn't have the layer of bio-crystals covering Asterion's body; they were only visible as spine-like crystals on her tail and back. Who knew if more would appear as she grew?
"Roar." (Not bad.)
Asterion let out an encouraging roar, but he soon noticed the little one was flying a bit strangely. Trying to take off for the first time, she was very unaccustomed to the feeling of her body leaving solid ground. As a result, while her hindquarters were already in the air, pushed up by her wings, her pair of foreclaws were still instinctively gripping the branches beneath her.
"ROAR!!!"
Immediately letting out a thunderous, panicked yell, the little thing began kicking her two hind legs like crazy, trying to "rescue" herself. However, it didn't help the situation at all; it only made her grip the branches with her foreclaws even tighter.
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