But times had changed. The "underdogs" had grown smarter.
Creatures that should have remained at the absolute bottom of the food chain had evolved intelligence. They didn't just learn to utilize the terrain to dig burrows for hiding or camouflaging themselves; they also learned to communicate. They understood that they could band together, craft weapons, and launch highly organized counterattacks—even managing to slay far more powerful predators.
In truth, there were no longer distinct predators and prey—or rather, every living creature had now become a predator.
Even the most docile herbivores, which used to run a few paces and wait to die whenever danger approached, had learned to fight back, let alone the other creatures.
As the number of predators swelled, the available prey dwindled—and so, the predators had to turn on one another.
To put it more bluntly, every single newly evolved beast-folk tribe in this forest now shared a predatory relationship, viewing one another as nothing more than a source of food.
To ensure the survival of their own kin and prevent them from starving or being slaughtered, the sole option was to completely exterminate and devour any tribe that posed a threat. There was absolutely no room for compromise.
Brutal wars of total extermination raged across the forest daily. Midst triumphant cheers, the victors would devour the vanquished, carving and polishing their bones into new weapons, and fashioning their hides into protective armor.
Not a single cub, nor even a single egg, would be spared.
When members of the Research Commission first witnessed this horrific carnage, they were shocked to the core, experiencing a deep, visceral revulsion. In their eyes, these warring beast-folk tribes had already crossed the threshold into sapience.
While conflict and killing between intelligent species was one thing, the sight of a speaking, sapient race butchering and consuming another sapient race was far too macabre. It was pure psychological horror.
A few slower-witted hunters initially failed to see why it was such a big deal. However, after the scholars laid out the implications for them, these hunters' faces turned pale one by one. This was the equivalent of humans eating Wyverians, or Felynes preying on humans. Just thinking about it made their skin crawl.
It had transcended into the realm of a living nightmare. The curdling screeches of cubs being eaten alive were enough to wring tears from even the most iron-hearted veterans.
There were plenty of young, idealistic hunters who, consumed by righteous fury, drew their blades to intervene. Yet, when they discovered that a "gentle" tribe they had saved just yesterday went on to massacre an even weaker tribe today, those hunters fell into a grim silence.
Such incidents occurred in overwhelming numbers—so many that the hunters could no longer distinguish right from wrong. Eventually, their minds sank into a state of profound numbness.
But the deterioration of the situation did not stop there. When well-meaning hunters approached certain newly evolved beast-folk tribes with gestures of goodwill—hoping to teach them civility and manners to help them move past their savage, blood-drinking ways—the tribes interpreted this kindness as weakness. Instead, they laid a trap that nearly wiped out the hunter squad, planning to pick their bones clean.
Only then did the hunters and scholars suddenly realize that to these new beast-folk, humans were just another rival tribe—and one whose flesh looked remarkably tender and delicious.
This was an immense psychological blow. When the hunter squad managed to escape and make it back alive, the entire Commission was thrown into an uproar. The savior complex and messianic notions that many had harbored vanished in an instant.
It was an impossible situation.
Caught entirely between a rock and a hard place.
Although the Ancient Forest was currently filled with breathtaking, wonderland-like scenery, beneath this beautiful facade lay a uniquely bloody and savage living hell.
The entire Ancient Forest had dissolved into utter chaos. Although limited manpower and safety concerns prevented the Research Commission from expanding outward on a large scale or reaching every corner of the New World, the scholars could easily deduce from their models that this brutal, primitive competition—triggered by a complete disruption of the food chain—was currently playing out across the entire continent.
The members of the Research Commission had never expected that they would one day have to handle such a thorny dilemma. After all, throughout the long history of the Old World, the coexistence between humans and beast-folk had already been established into a stable template.
Though the beast-folk of the Old World bore the word "beast" in their designation, after thousands of years of evolution, they had developed highly mature social systems and advanced intellects. Human sub-species and Lynians like the Wyverians and Felynes were widely accepted into human society, regarded as invaluable partners.
They actively participated in agriculture, industry, and even scientific research and combat. Both sides enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship, and systemic discrimination was virtually nonexistent.
Furthermore, the vast majority of Old World beast-folk were inherently peaceful and friendly. Compared to humans with their complex motives and fickle hearts, the beast-folk enjoyed a sterling reputation for being pure-minded, loyal, and kind.
Even the Melynxes—who had a generally poor public reputation due to their thieving habits—mostly confined their mischief to harmless pranks. They would never inflict irreversible harm on humans, let alone commit murder.
As a result, humans at most found Melynxes annoying and would simply chase them away; they would never cry for their systematic extermination. In fact, even the Gajalaka—notorious for being the most reclusive and fiercely territorial of tribes—were never on humanity's "kill on sight" list.
Even though these Gajalaka would aggressively attack any humans entering their domain and were highly unfriendly, one could still achieve a limited degree of communication with them once they mastered Gajalaka body language.
When necessary, humans could even trade resources that the Gajalaka lacked—such as mushrooms or ore—to establish cooperation and fight off common enemies together.
Guided by these successful and peaceful historical precedents in the Old World, and following the strict long-standing regulations imposed by the Guild on its hunters and scholars, a comprehensive protocol existed whenever an unknown indigenous beast-folk tribe was discovered during field surveys or missions.
Maintain a safe distance, sheathe weapons to show goodwill, and attempt contact in an extremely friendly manner. They would offer dried rations or shiny ores as gifts, or perhaps practical tools depending on the situation—essentially, things no primitive tribe could resist.
Hunters would also assist these primitive tribes by handling monsters that threatened their safety, gradually building a rapport of mutual trust over time.
The ultimate goal of the Kingdom and the Guild was to gradually civilize and integrate these widespread beast-folk into human society—much like they did with the Felynes—to achieve co-prosperity and peaceful coexistence.
Efforts like helping them raise their standard of living or teaching them advanced techniques were noble endeavors that required immense patience and resources.
Because of this, the Guild's Hunter Code explicitly prohibited any hunter from launching a preemptive strike on an unknown local beast-folk tribe for any reason, even if the hunters were attacked first due to language barriers or misunderstandings during their initial meeting.
Hunters were required to strictly defend or retreat, all while continuously demonstrating friendliness through various means to diffuse the hostility. The rules were numerous, and the hunters strictly adhered to them; after all, they weren't bloodthirsty outlaws bent on destruction.
This approach worked perfectly well in the Old World, but in the New World—more accurately, after Asterion unleashed the great evolutionary wave—this style of operation completely failed.
Even though the Guild had established a specialized set of regulations for the Research Commission before their departure—granting them the flexibility to bypass the rigid frameworks of the Old World due to their isolation and the unpredictable nature of their expedition—given the current state of affairs in the New World, even these highly lenient rules proved to be woefully inadequate.
It was like throwing a group of sheltered scholars onto a battlefield and telling them to fight a Nergigante barehanded; the intensity was simply too high. Some beast-folk had even learned to feign helplessness to elicit sympathy from the hunters, only to launch a vicious ambush the moment the hunters let their guard down, all to get a taste of that tender human flesh.
Confronted with daily skyrocketing casualty reports and a demoralized Research Commission, the Commander was utterly overwhelmed. He immediately dispatched the fastest available scout ship to the Guild Headquarters in the Old World, carrying a report spanning over a hundred pages.
He hoped to receive guidance from the Guild and the Kingdom's high officials as soon as possible. Beyond requesting additional personnel for the New World, he pleaded for the Guild to grant the Research Commission the authority to take extraordinary measures under these exceptional circumstances.
After all, the newly evolved beast-folk of the New World were less like sapient societies and more like wild beasts that had only just broken free from pure instinct. They explored their surroundings with raw curiosity, still in the nascent stages of shaping their worldview.
Concepts like morality or shame did not exist to them, nor did they harbor any aversion to slaughter. In fact, the majority of these new beast-folk actively relished killing. Back when they were ordinary beasts, they would cease activity once their bellies were full; now, however, they would fight indiscriminately purely for entertainment and self-gratification.
A suffocating sense of urgency hung in the air!
Even the oldest and most knowledgeable Wyverian scholars were at a loss as to whether the Research Commission should intervene in these tribal conflicts. The scholars bickered day in and day out, with opposing factions coming to blows on more than one occasion.
Reason dictated that they should step in to prevent these nascent beast-folk from slaughtering one another or facing complete extinction. The disappearance of every new species broke the scholars' hearts, as each represented an entirely new possibility for life.
But if they were to interfere, the hunters had no idea how to go about it or what they could even accomplish. More importantly, there were some beast-folk tribes that the hunters genuinely felt were better off left to their fates.
Take a certain species of mosquito-folk, for example... While they were being systematically hunted and brought to the brink of extinction by a bird-folk tribe, an observing hunter squad couldn't bear to watch and stepped in to save them. The hunters had hoped both sides could find peace, stop fighting, and perhaps learn some advanced knowledge from the Commission.
Unfortunately, the hunter squad received no gratitude. Not only did the bird-folk tribe turn their fury upon them, but even the mosquito-folk tribe they had just saved launched a treacherous ambush. In the end, one hunter was killed on the spot, and the rest were forced to make a humiliating retreat.
The passionate desire to halt wars, protect peace, and foster the safe growth of these young, emerging species cooled instantly once paid for in blood. Furthermore, some scholars began to argue that the Research Commission had no business meddling in this massive explosion of life triggered by Asterion.
It was no different from when the ancestors of humans and the known beast-folk first emerged countless millennia ago; those ancestors had survived by conquering rivals in fierce, relentless competition, ultimately paving the way for modern civilization.
Stifling these conflicts would only stifle the potential of these new beast-folk, turning them into greenhouse flowers incapable of withstanding the test of time.
This school of thought gained considerable traction among the demoralized hunters. Unlike the scholars, hunters didn't need to ponder the abstract possibilities of life or the scientific value of a new species; they relied on their instincts—and in the eyes of a hunter, certain bloodthirsty beast-folk were simply better off dead.
Suffice it to say, things were chaotic—incredibly chaotic.
Amidst this pervasive chaos, the Glavenus Tribe finally lifted the blockade on their territory, granting the Admiral's request for an audience with Asterion.
"Will anything actually come of this?" Aiden asked, looking at the Admiral as the group stood ready at the gates of the Frontline Research Base. "Asterion wouldn't care about this kind of thing, right?"
"Yeah, I think so too," the Admiral replied, scratching his chin. "Evolution is always accompanied by death. New species rise, old ones die—it's nature. The only reason it looks so horrific right now is because Asterion forced this evolution to happen all at once. Eons of natural selection have been compressed into a mere six months, so of course it's going to be brutal."
"Then why are we going to see Asterion?" Erin asked, a look of distress on her face. "Things have already reached this point. Even if we convince Asterion, there's no way he can just stop it, right?"
"Actually, even if he could stop it, I doubt he would..." Before the Admiral could answer, Erin muttered quietly to herself, "After all, he's hardly a benevolent dragon."
"Well, I doubt the Admiral is meeting Asterion just to ask him to stop," Sophia said, giving Erin a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Besides, a creature like... Asterion can no longer be judged by simple concepts of good and evil."
"I know. I just find it... hard to accept," Erin said, letting out a deep sigh.
The words in textbooks were always cold and clinical. Given her intellect, Erin understood the theories perfectly well. Yet, after witnessing so many tragedies with her own eyes, she couldn't help but feel a profound pang of sorrow.