Nature's capacity for recovery was far more robust than Asterion had anticipated.
He had initially thought the devastation caused by the locust plague would last for years, but he had underestimated the sheer wonder of life energy.
The life here was far more resilient than that on Earth, whether plant or animal.
Far from being disappointed, Asterion felt fortunate that reality hadn't followed his grim expectations. He wasn't some psychopathic dragon; if he could live a comfortable life, he wasn't going to insist on a miserable one. It was a good thing the bottom of the ecosystem was recovering so quickly.
The bustling Wildspire Waste of his memories was a thing of the past. Whenever he stepped outside his territory, the things Asterion saw most were various large skeletons—Flying Wyverns, Brute Wyverns, Fanged Wyverns... all predators that had once occupied high positions in the ecological niche.
Now, all that remained of them in this world was a field of bleached bones. Some monsters had even starved to death rather than dying in battle—and the Diablos was perhaps the most innocent of them all.
Despite the Diablos's extreme territoriality and violent nature—charging down anyone who dared pass by—they were actually herbivores. Their true love was the desert cactus. However, the desert cacti had been picked clean during the plague. One could only imagine how frustrated those Diablos felt as they starved to death.
Not even a shred of dried meat remained on these skeletons. Large chunks of meat might have been scavenged by lucky monsters, but the locusts had performed the final cleanup. If one looked closely at the bones, perhaps they could see tiny, microscopic tooth marks?
His formidable strength had ensured that Asterion survived this disaster to the very end. Though he lacked "gourmet" meals, he could always keep his belly full. In his idle time, he even had the inclination to draft an ecological observation report of the Wildspire Waste.
The kind only he could understand.
He observed the impact of the locust plague, how the life of the Wildspire Waste faced the disaster and famine, how it all ended... and even the rebirth of life.
Asterion often wondered: Was this how Elder Dragons viewed the world?
The hunters were also subjects of Asterion's observation. He finally discovered how they had endured the plague and the subsequent famine.
A small pier had appeared on the coast near Astera. Beside the pier, Asterion saw a ship—not a large one, but big enough to carry a dozen hunters out to sea.
It certainly wasn't a ship from the Old World; it was too small, and the number of hunters in the base hadn't increased. Most importantly, he saw the hunters unloading thick logs from the ship. They were heavy, requiring five or six hunters working together to lift them. Shipping wood from the Old World to the New World would be a waste of space when people and supplies were the priority.
Along with the logs, wooden crates of all sizes were carried down. Asterion's sharp eyes spotted a hunter pulling a massive hunk of meat from one of the crates.
Case closed.
The hunters were surviving the famine by "bleeding" the Ancient Forest!
Just because the Wildspire Waste suffered a plague didn't mean the Ancient Forest did. Those massive, steep rock formations jutting high out of the ground blocked the overland path for monsters and hunters to reach the forest. Their altitude was so high it even blocked the migrating locusts.
In any case, the hunters who built the boat had found a way to survive. They landed on the beaches at the edge of the Ancient Forest. Lacking combat power, they didn't venture deep, instead hunting harmless and delicious Aptonoth on the outskirts. They also felled trees at the forest's edge, transporting the timber back to the wood-scarce Wildspire Waste to build Astera.
While the monsters of the Wildspire Waste lived through a brutal "Battle Royale" and saw their numbers plummet, the clever "Ape-Wyverns" (humans) had carved out a path for themselves. Far from starving, they were growing fat and strong.
Simultaneously, the decrease in monster numbers made it safer for hunters to go out for investigations or gathering. Consequently, over the past year, the hunters' lives had been getting better and better.
Asterion... wasn't jealous. Truly.
However, he had begun to consider whether he should "eat" a path to the Ancient Forest himself. After all, the problem with hunting in the Wildspire Waste now wasn't whether he could win a fight, but whether he could find prey at all.
For other monsters, this was an impossible, unimaginable task. But for Asterion, it seemed feasible. He had done similar work before, literally eating a "highway" through the Rotten Vale with his own mouth—even eating a new path from the Rotten Vale to the Wildspire Waste.
Even Asterion didn't know how many tons of rock he had consumed during that massive engineering project. It was surely an astronomical number. The rock wall between the Waste and the Forest was indeed high and steep, but if it was just about eating a path through, it wouldn't be a problem.
When the thought of eating a path arises, the world suddenly feels wide.
What started as a random thought now felt like a serious plan.
"What is Boss thinking about, meow? Can we help, meow?"
The Old Shaman, noticing that Asterion had been lying motionless on the ground with his dragon eyes wide open since returning to the nest, approached to ask. Having spent so much time together, he was becoming familiar with Asterion's micro-expressions.
"Roar?" (Have you guys ever thought about leaving this place?) Asterion asked suddenly.
"Leaving, meow?" the Old Shaman asked. "Where to, meow?"
"Roar, roar." (To a place with plenty of food.)
"Glavenus Boss is leaving, meow?!!" The Palico's eyes went completely round. The Old Shaman cried out in agitation, "I knew it, meow! It's because we eat too much, meow!! We can eat less, meow! Don't abandon us, meow!!!"
The Grimalkynes were not isolated. To make life easier, even though they knew there wasn't much to gather outside, they still sent out gathering teams for seasonings. In the process, they learned of the situation outside.
Monsters were scarce; food was depleted. Hearing Asterion's words, the Old Shaman's first reaction was that the Glavenus Boss felt there wasn't enough food and wanted to leave them behind.
"Roar!!"(Quiet! I said I wouldn't abandon you!)
Asterion had to let out a loud roar to barely calm the excited Shaman and intimidate the surrounding Grimalkynes who were becoming restless from the shouting.
"Roar." (Just leaving the Waste. To the Forest over there. You can come with me.)
"Re-really, meow?" The Old Shaman sniffled; he had been quite frightened. "What is a 'Forest,' meow?"
He repeated the unfamiliar word exactly as Asterion said it. For the Protectors of the Waste, their world consisted of yellow monoliths, dark caves, and perhaps the beach. A vast expanse of green, trees as massive as hills, dense and layered—a "forest" was entirely beyond their imagination.
"Roar." (A forest is... a lot of trees together.)
There were trees in the Wildspire Waste, of course, but their leaves were a dusty yellow-green, much like the shrubs. The Old Shaman tried to imagine many trees together...
"If there are many trees, will there be a lot of food, meow?" The Old Shaman scratched his cat head. "No wonder we were so short on food before, meow."
"Roar." (You could put it that way.) Asterion didn't bother correcting the Shaman's somewhat flawed logic.
If these Grimalkynes followed him to the Ancient Forest in the future, they would understand what a forest meant without any explanation.
"Roar?" (Announce it to your tribe. Those who want to stay may stay; those who want to leave can go with me when the time comes.)
He had been hesitating, but after a few words, Asterion's resolve hardened—this plan actually seemed viable.
Asterion didn't know what changes a new tunnel between the Wildspire Waste and the Ancient Forest would bring to the two regions. He just wanted to live more comfortably. As for potential invasive species issues or ecological extinctions, he didn't care.
Even if the ecosystem of the Waste was recovering, this period of food scarcity would surely last a long time. Asterion wanted to go somewhere with more food, more monsters, and more plants that could serve as seasoning.
In a sense, even if he couldn't call down storms or change the world at will like a true Elder Dragon, Asterion's ability to alter the environment just by "eating dirt" could be considered a form of Elder Dragon power. It was just a bit... low-end. Even he wouldn't admit to it.
Asterion had made his decision. Whether he liked it or not, the Old Shaman could only announce the Glavenus Boss's will to all the Grimalkynes.
Asterion planned to find the point on the edge of the Wildspire Waste closest to the Ancient Forest area in a straight line to start biting. It would save time and effort. This was definitely going to be a massive project.
In the Wildspire Waste, every living thing had its own business to attend to. Asterion was busy with his "prison break," but the hunters who had already successfully "escaped" were much more relaxed. Since they no longer had to worry about food, they could devote all their energy to investigation and base construction.
There were no slackers in the Research Commission, but hard work didn't always yield rewards. As of now, the questions the Commission had arrived with remained unanswered; instead, they had only found more mysteries in the New World.
For example, the monster "Glintmirror Blade." Scholars had received information from the Commander's team, but no matter how excited they were or how much effort they put into getting close to the monster, they never succeeded.
They were desperate to verify the creature's intelligence, but unfortunately, Asterion had no interest in being studied. The Grimalkynes carried out Asterion's will, driving away every "Ape-Wyvern" that tried to show friendliness. But the more this happened, the more the scholars' curiosity grew... it was bordering on an obsession.
Whether excessive obsession would turn one into a pervert was unknown, but for the hunters, there was another joyous occasion to celebrate.
The Commander was getting married.
His partner was no stranger to the other hunters—a female hunter from the Research Commission. It wasn't surprising; there were only so many people in the New World. Seeing each other every day, hunting together, working together, and striving for the same goal—it was natural for couples to emerge.
The Commander wasn't even the first to marry in the Commission. In the past few years, three other couples had wed in the New World, and two of them already had children. Though not the first case, for old friends like the Leader and the Sword Master, this was a grand event worth a good drink.
"Come on, everyone! Raise your glasses once more!!" Standing up with his mug, the Leader shouted to the crowd.
"Ooh!!" The hunters cheered in unison, draining their drinks. They had no intention of staying sober today.
"Happy wedding, Commander!" "Be happy forever!" "Go for it!!"
The Commander constantly clinked glasses with the hunters surrounding him, thanking them for their blessings. After a good deal of rowdiness, he finally found a moment to rest.
A hunter's wedding had no complex rituals. In the end, it turned into something indistinguishable from a regular banquet. People sat in groups of twos and threes, sharing interesting stories from their recent travels and laughing heartily.
"You guys sure ran off fast, didn't you?" Holding his glass, the Commander approached the Leader and the Sword Master, speaking with a look of helplessness.
"Haha, you're the star of the show today! We don't want to stand next to you," the Leader laughed even louder.
"That's right, meow," Sparky said, taking a huge bite of a steak and speaking with a full mouth. "Is it really okay for you to come over here, meow?"
"Of course it's okay." The Commander looked back toward his wife. "She has her own friends to look after."
"Oh! Then let's have another round! To our busy Commander!" The Leader's eyes lit up.
"Accepted." The Sword Master didn't say much, simply raising his glass.
"You guys..." The Commander was already feeling a bit woozy, but seeing his friends raise their glasses, he could only down another one with a helpless smile.
"Actually, I wanted to keep it low-key. Everyone has been so tired," the Commander said, smelling of alcohol as he sat by the bonfire. "I didn't expect..."
"That's where you're wrong." Poking at a sizzling steak on his plate, the Leader said easily, "It's because everyone is so tired that they need an excuse to let loose. See?"
Following the Leader's gesture, the Commander saw bright smiles on every face. Everyone was sitting together for the first time in a long while, talking and laughing. It was a sense of spiritual peace.
"You're right." He suddenly laughed. "Typical of you—always noticing the things I miss."
————
Supporting me on Pa-treon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .c-om/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Pa-treon normally.)