No matter what struggles and raging storms crashed within their hearts, the hunters ultimately bowed their heads and accepted the commission to build a giant city for the Azure Star Dragon.
To be more precise, it was the Research Commission acting as a bridge, representing the high-ranking officials of the Kingdom in the Old World and the Hunters Guild, that took on this unprecedentedly massive project.
The Admiral had already anticipated this outcome when he sent the emergency report. He understood the minds of the Kingdom's higher-ups all too well, so he never thought for a second that they would be foolish enough to reject this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Yes, an opportunity.
In the eyes of human leadership, halting the construction of humanity's first city in the New World to build one for a monster instead was not a humiliating compromise—it was a monumental opportunity.
To ordinary researchers like Irene and Sophia, who possessed deep compassion and dedicated themselves to uncovering the laws of nature, what they saw were the tragic casualties among countless lifeforms amidst the New World's evolutionary frenzy. They saw a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, a brutal struggle that would inevitably accompany the founding of this monster kingdom.
However, looking at it from a higher perspective—from the standpoint of the human ruling class—one would realize this was an exceptional, golden opportunity to openly establish a channel of friendly communication with a Forbidden Species.
In this perilous world, where an Elder Dragon's natural disaster could obliterate a city at any moment, if they could use this chance to secure a somewhat reliable, albeit eccentric, ally for humanity, it would become a trump card for the long-term survival of human civilization.
Compared to an opportunity like this, things like acquiring resources or building cities in the Old World lost their importance. As long as they could construct a city that satisfied the Azure Star Dragon and secure a corresponding status within this Forbidden Species' domain, that would be the most precious asset for all of humanity.
To this end, the human kingdoms would undoubtedly be willing to unite, mobilizing vast amounts of wealth and resources while conscripting countless master artisans. They would strive to build this city of dragons to absolute perfection, all to win the favor of the Azure Star Dragon.
However, none of this concerned the members of the Research Commission anymore. This was especially true for the Admiral; once he received word from the Guild to halt the development of Astera as an immigrant city, a portion of the heavy burden on his shoulders vanished.
The base of Astera would maintain its purity as a research outpost. Going forward, it would develop into a port, continuously expanding to prepare for the massive influx of ships arriving from the Old World.
Rather than those distant, high-level political matters, the members of the Research Commission cared far more about the final words Asterion had spoken back in his lair.
If they truly continued to live on this land, thoroughly saturated with underworld energy as the Azure Star Dragon had implied, would their own bodies eventually undergo incredible changes sooner or later?
Would they, without even realizing it, become fundamentally different on a biological level from their friends and family back in the Old World who had never undergone the baptism of this underworld energy?
When that time came, could they still be considered pure humans? Or would they transform into an entirely new human subspecies unique to the New World?
Just like the Wyverians and Lynians, would they grow scales or crystalline shells, or possess other traits completely distinct from normal humans?
But no matter what they turned into, a barrier would inevitably form between them and the humans of the Old World. Furthermore, this barrier would only continue to widen as their time in the New World grew longer and the distance felt farther.
Until one day in the future, the two groups would finally become two completely distinct races.
Whenever they thought of this, many veteran hunters couldn't help but feel conflicted. Even though they had decided long ago to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors and spend the rest of their days in the New World—fully prepared to die in a foreign land and never return home—dying abroad was a completely different matter from having one's very species identity altered. It was a tough pill to swallow calmly.
In stark contrast to these suddenly melancholy veteran hunters from abroad were the young people who had been born and raised right here in the New World over the past few decades.
They took things much more lightly, looking almost entirely carefree. After all, to them, the term "Old World" was nothing more than an ephemeral symbol from a bedtime story.
Their entire perception of the Old World came solely from the fading memories shared by their elders, mixed with the accented descriptions of newcomers who occasionally arrived in the New World aboard supply ships.
But honestly, human empathy has its limits.
If one hadn't personally crossed the treacherous oceans to live in the bustling cities or ancient villages of the Old World, then no matter how flowery the words used to describe it, or how many exquisite landscape paintings they looked at, it would only form a hazy, lifeless outline in their minds. There was absolutely no real sense of touch or belonging.
Since they felt no sense of belonging, it was even more impossible for them to harbor the slightest reverence for some distant kingdom or king.
For this new generation—or rather, these past few generations—who grew up running wild through the Ancient Forest and the Wildspire Waste, the vast, boundless New World and the base of Astera, built from the skeletons of ships, were their only true home.
King or no king, could his majesty even take down an Anjanath coming to wreck their camp?
If it weren't for their elders stubbornly clinging to old-fashioned notions, and the Guild rookies arriving regularly on ships who still held loyalty to the crown—and more importantly, if it weren't for the fact that the Kingdom and the Guild continuously provided a steady stream of supplies and aid to the Research Commission—these fiercely wild youths would have long since forgotten the Old World entirely.
What? Guild Knights, you say?
Speaking ill of the Kingdom and the King gets you arrested by Guild Knights?
Bah!
Knights, my foot. Let them come here and try it!
This is the New World!
—That was pretty much the general sentiment.
Because of these wildly different mentalities, while the humans arriving by ship from the Old World spent their days frowning over Asterion's cold words and the non-human future he had revealed, these New World natives had long since cast such worries to the back of their minds.
They had already happily joined the unprecedented Great Stomach Festival celebration hosted by the Glavenus Tribe. To celebrate the Dragon God taking up permanent residence in the tribe, the old shaman of the Glavenus Tribe had generously brought out all of the tribe's reserves to celebrate.
Every day was spent either competing in games against Grimalkynes to win prizes or gorging themselves on food. The Great Stomach Festival was, after all, a holiday dedicated to fine food. Anyone who spent the entire festival here without gaining at least five pounds had to be sick.
The New World's currently volatile environment brought about countless dangers, but it also birthed a wealth of novel foods. There were blue-tinted fruits radiating an eerie glow, the meat of blue-mutated animals, and more. The unfamiliar flavors left the hunters' mouths dripping with grease; whatever it was, as long as it was roasted, it was good to eat!
These young people didn't spend even a single second worrying about the unpredictable mutations their bodies might undergo after consuming so much high-energy food—and this wasn't just a matter of gaining or losing weight.
On the contrary, after witnessing those originally weak Grimalkynes freely control underworld energy at will simply by adapting to it and completing their evolution, this crowd had actually begun to grow envious.
They were even excitedly anticipating whether their own bodies could master this power once the underworld energy infiltration was complete, or what they could do with it—safely into the realm of daydreaming about the future.
However, amidst this crowd of completely fearless New World natives who harbored no deep attachment to the Old World, a rather conspicuous figure was mixed in—Karl.
This man possessed a nearly obsessive decisiveness; once he made up his mind, he would never hesitate or back down. Karl was even the very first person in the entire Research Commission to decide to fully embrace the underworld energy. To that end, he had even risked his life during a fierce battle to tear off his mask, resolutely allowing the underworld crystal powder to infiltrate his body.
But what Karl always regretted was that he had thought his blue mutation would arrive shortly after inhaling the underworld energy back then. Yet, even after waiting for so long, his physical body showed no signs of change, remaining that of an ordinary Old World human.
Since things had come to this, he might as well eat.
Karl stared at the blue meat sizzling on the grill before him, his gaze so resolute it looked as if he were about to take a sacred oath. Under Asterion's laissez-faire attitude, pure food completely free of underworld energy could no longer be found anywhere in the New World.
In the water, in the soil, in the air—it was filled with that omnipresent energy. He believed that as long as he persevered and ate enough, allowing the underworld energy to continuously accumulate in his body, a quantitative change would one day lead to a qualitative breakthrough, right?
That was exactly how Karl thought, and that was exactly what he did.
Accumulation phase in progress.
Eat, sleep, train, eat, accumulate... Finally, after consuming an untold amount of blue-mutated animal flesh, the sun pierced through the morning mist one day, shining once more over the base of Astera. Karl stepped outside to wash up, just like any other day.
But as he lowered his head and scooped up a handful of water to splash on his face, his entire body froze instantly. He stared blankly at his own reflection in the basin.
His originally black hair had now turned a brilliant, crystalline blue that shone like glass. But what was even more shocking were his eyes—the once clearly defined black-and-white eyes now featured dragon-like slitted pupils, as if a fire had been lit inside them, radiating an eerie blue light.
A smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
"I made it."
Time flew by, and a full five years had passed since the Azure Star Dragon issued his commission to the Research Commission.
Five years was nothing more than the blink of an eye for long-lived Elder Dragons, but for the New World's ecosystem and the humans living here, it brought about earth-shattering transformations.
The continent-wide evolutionary frenzy triggered by the Azure Star Dragon had gradually lost its initial frantic momentum—where countless lives were born and perished every single day—over these five long years of settling. Instead, it had slowed down, entering a relatively stable period of natural selection.
By now, it was rare to spot entirely new mutant creatures out in the wild. In particular, the number of humanoid races that had awakened higher intelligence and formed specific social structures had stopped increasing. At the very least, venturing out now meant seeing many familiar faces, rather than making entirely new discoveries that would fill up rolls of parchment every single time.
This relatively stable state of affairs finally allowed the once-worried scholars to breathe a sigh of relief.
According to the deductions made by the scholars at the Ecological Research team through extensive field surveys, this deceleration followed its own natural laws. Certain creatures with limited physical potential who progressed slowly along the evolutionary path might find their journey permanently halted at this preliminary stage.
This meant that while the underworld energy made their bodies stronger and far more dangerous, and their brain capacities had expanded to some degree—significantly enhancing their survival instincts and hunting cunning—this improvement was ultimately capped.
They simply could not cross that most critical threshold, falling short of developing complex writing systems or languages, let alone establishing a unique civilization for their own species.
They were considered a rather difficult breed of beast to hunt, possessing intense vengefulness, yet they remained trapped in the endless loop of hunting and reproduction. This vengeful trait, in particular, was something hunters noticed was shared by almost all creatures still classified as beasts.
As a result, the current survival habit of intelligent life across the New World was to pull up weeds by their roots—never letting an opponent escape, or else the entire tribe would face the risk of severe retaliation.
In short, it was quite dangerous. However, for the Research Commission and the engineering teams later dispatched from the Old World by the Kingdom, this danger didn't affect them much—because they had the backing of the most dangerous being in the entire New World.
Over these past five years, the Azure Star Dragon hadn't engaged in any overly drastic activities. Much like the other known Forbidden Species, he spent most of his time hidden away in his lair, enjoying the offerings brought by the Grimalkynes and humans.
From time to time, he would accompany the Zephyr Dragon on flights through the sky. Oh, right—the title of "Zephyr Dragon" now belonged to Asterion's second child. In any case, whenever the mood struck him, he would track down Mirrorblade to test his swordsmanship against him. Could this be considered a family activity?
Some scholars believed it did, even citing it as proof of the Azure Star Dragon's lingering humanity. However, Mirrorblade likely held a different opinion, given that he got brutally beaten every single time.
Because of this, the relationship between Mirrorblade and the Zephyr Dragon had also soured. After all, Asterion always took the Zephyr Dragon out for fun flights, while his time with Mirrorblade consisted entirely of a sound thrashing, which felt incredibly unfair.
The two dragons would often pick a fight the moment they crossed paths, always ending with the flightless Mirrorblade stomping his feet in fury on the ground, completely powerless. It truly moved the observing scholars to pity.