Monster Hunter:Volume3

Novel Illustrations

• 
  Front Cover
• 
  Chapter 1
• 
  Chapter 2
• 
  Chapter 3
• 
  Chapter 4
• 
  Chapter 5

Chapter 1 - Irritation

Here, there was no soothing feel of fresh grass brushing one's cheeks, only the discomfort of insect fangs piercing through the gaps in one's armor.

The jungle's temperature was stifling. Cool breezes from the nearby river provided some relief, but the air remained oppressively hot.

While technically on the same level, the jungle's heat differed from the desert's dry swelter, feeling like an additional layer of soaked clothing clinging to the skin.

Zeeg Grandest found it curious that armor crafted from fire wyvern shells, while excellent at blocking external heat, also efficiently dispersed internal warmth. If it weren't for this feature, he wouldn't have been able to stay hidden in the bushes for the past hour, awaiting his prey.

An entire day had passed since the hunt began. According to the Hunter's Guild contract, less than an hour remained before the carriage would arrive to collect them.

If that happened, the hunt would be deemed a failure - a prospect the party was determined to avoid. Losing the quest's contract fee was disappointing, but their reputation was of greater concern. Consecutive failures would mean fewer quality hunting requests.

Moreover, the wyvern population was sparse. A request to hunt a wyvern was made only in dire circumstances, so naturally, the Guild assigned such quests to the most capable hunters.

While a hunter's rank played a role, recent achievements were given priority. Prolonged absences from hunting led to rusty skills. Even a high rank meant little if it had been years since the hunter last faced a wyvern.

Zeeg currently belonged to a party renowned for its prestigious achievements. They had hunted a wide variety of wyverns, and at just eighteen, Zeeg owned a rare armor set crafted from the scales and shells of the formidable fire wyvern Rathalos.

He knew, of course, that this was not a feat achieved by his strength alone, but through the combined efforts of his comrades.

Without moving any other part of his body, Zeeg shifted his gaze to the left, toward the base of the cliff.

From the bushes, a pair of sand-colored horns jutted upwards, as if to pierce the sky.

These horns adorned the shoulder pads of the Diablo Mail, a piece of armor crafted from the horns and shells of the desert-dwelling wyvern Diablos.

The large man wearing this armor had fortified his entire upper body with it, while his lower body was protected by armor made from the shells of the Gravios, also known as the armor wyvern.

Despite being encased in heavy armor, he was far from a coward - that much was evident from the Field Horn hanging at his waist.

Manufactured with unique engineering techniques, the horn emitted a sound that drew the attention of monsters.

Only those who had faced wyverns before could truly appreciate the courage required to blow the horn in the presence of such beasts.

That large man, still active in his hunting career at the age of sixty, was Gannon Denon. Though his originally black hair was now streaked with white, his physical strength remained undiminished.

Gannon's Diablo Spear might not possess special attributes like the Hellfire Lance, which could emit flames and scorch its targets, but its superior sharpness allowed it to pierce through tougher wyvern scales.

Beyond the shoulder pads, a pair of small horns shook - a feature of Gannon's helmet. Though Zeeg could not see the man's face, he felt the weight of an intimidating stare directed at him; he quickly turned his gaze back to the front.

Their prey this time would descend from the sky, but the threats they faced were not confined to that alone.

In addition to the sky, there were three entrances to their current position: a log bridge across the river, a large opening in the cliff, and a narrow path between the river and the cliff.

Fortunately, the giant insect monsters like Vespoids and Hornetaurs, which seemed to multiply endlessly no matter how many were slain, were absent today.

Zeeg couldn't decide if this was due to a change in the climate or an omen of things to come, but it certainly made their task easier.

Normally, they would have to contend with these giant bugs, each the size of large dogs, with carapaces as sharp as knives and needles that injected paralyzing toxins.

Hearing a faint rustling, Zeeg turned his gaze toward the river. "Think of the Neopterons and they doth appear" - something like that had happened before.

However, this time, the movement in the patch of damp grass was not caused by a bug.

A giant flower seemed to bloom among the lush greenery, its spike-shaped petals gleaming with a metallic silver sheen.

No, that was no flower.

In the jungle, there were giant flowers that emitted the scent of rotten flesh, but just as Gannon's armor was not a monster, this was no flower. It was the waistpiece of an armor set designed to resemble one.

This piece was crafted from materials obtained from the female fire wyvern Rathian, fashioned to look like an elegant evening dress made of steel. Although the waist armor worn by this girl was weaker in terms of defense compared to her previous gear, it offered the advantage of reduced weight.

Still, Zeeg suspected there was another reason why this girl, Elmeria Franport, a year younger than him, had switched to armor with lower defense.

The timing of her change to the Rathian set had coincided with Zeeg's switch to his newly acquired Rathalos set. It was clear she didn't want to wear the same armor as him.

In fact, one of their comrades, Fradio Heart, had already joked about it, saying,

"Hehehe... Matching armor sets, I see..."

Even if he meant no harm, it had left both Zeeg and Elmeria feeling embarrassed and awkward. Still, Zeeg couldn't fathom that being enough reason to change armor, especially when it was a matter of life and death.

("...Seriously, does she dislike it that much?")

Zeeg often found himself irked when he saw that armor. It wasn't just because of its appearance, but also because of the girl wearing it.

In Elmeria's hands was a unique hunk of metal - a hammer, which seemed too heavy for her slender arms.

The hammer was a difficult weapon to master, focusing on powerful, pulverizing swings while completely neglecting defense. Despite this, Elmeria chose to forego some parts of her armor for better mobility; even a single hit from a monster could prove fatal.

The only reason she could adopt such a risky, attack-focused style was because she hunted in a party, with Gannon drawing the monsters' attacks away from her.

("...Isn't she becoming more of a coward lately?") Zeeg thought as he furtively observed her profile and her long blonde hair, tied at the nape of her neck.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Elmeria's recent decisions had been overly cautious. While it was a leader's duty to ensure the safety of their comrades and know when to retreat - for only then would they be considered a proper hunter - there was a fine line between prudence and cowardice.

During this hunt, they had seen many opportunities to strike. Yet, Elmeria had always opted for the safest route, avoiding any risks.

Even when Zeeg insisted things would go well, she dismissed his suggestions. She would insist on using medicine for the slightest wounds, ones that could almost be ignored.

("...I'm not just some little brat, dammit...")

From Elmeria's perspective, she probably didn't consider him even halfway experienced enough to make such calls. But Zeeg knew his own body and capabilities well.

Suppressing the urge to click his tongue in annoyance, he redirected his focus ahead.

If he continued dwelling on such thoughts, he wouldn't be able to act effectively at the crucial moment - a moment that could decide between life and death.

Suddenly, a faint sound of grass being stepped on reached his ears, and Zeeg held his breath.

As faint as it was, he knew Gannon and Elmeria had also heard it.

He strained his eyes, peering into the darkness beyond the large opening in the cliff. Having just adjusted to the brightness, it took a moment for his vision to focus.

Gradually, he discerned the orange hue of a rotting fruit emerging from the shadows.

Of course, the darkness itself wasn't literally rotting.

A short gasp escaped Zeeg's throat, and he felt the damp sweat forming under his red armor.

The color took shape, revealing a crested head protruding from the darkness.

("It just has to be Ioprey...") Zeeg groaned from the depths of his abdomen.

These creatures were the most troublesome among small carnivores. Their throats housed Poison Sacs, and they hunted by repeatedly spitting poison at their prey, weakening them before swarming with numbers.

And the one that had just appeared wasn't alone.

One crested head after another emerged from the opening in the cliff, each one sniffing the air for the scent of prey.

Five in total - under normal circumstances, this number wouldn't be worrisome.

But now was a very bad time. The plan was for Fradio to lure their real target here. If a melee broke out in this location, even an Iodrome would pose a significant threat.

Zeeg lifted his waist slightly and reached for the handle of his greatsword, the Lacerator Blade+, but stopped when he felt a piercing glare from behind.

Turning carefully to avoid detection by the Iopreys, Zeeg's eyes met Elmeria's unsparing blue-green gaze. Her message was clear: "Don't make a move."

Zeeg responded with some gestures, suggesting, "It would be better for us to take them down first." Even Gannon's formidable Diablo armor wouldn't protect against poison, and handling the Iopreys while fighting their real target would be too much.

Elmeria replied, to his astonishment - she raised a finger and pointed to the riverbank.

("Step aside!?")

As if reading his mind, Elmeria nodded. She wanted them to withdraw and wait for the Iopreys to leave.

She wasn't joking, apparently.

Right now, Fradio should be in the process of luring the real target from its nest to this location. The distant sounds of his heavy bowgun echoed through the jungle, and the trained noses of hunters could detect the distinct scent of Paint Bullets he had fired.

Any second now, it would be here.

This was undoubtedly their last chance for this hunt. If it fell apart at the last moment because of some Iopreys, the frustration would be unbearable.

Zeeg, averting his gaze from Elmeria, moved silently and reached for his Lacerator Blade+ with his gauntleted hand. He heard a reproachful hiss from behind. Elmeria was clearly exhaling through her teeth in a menacing manner as a warning, but he pretended not to notice.

At that moment, the Iopreys broke into a commotion, their cries filling the air.

Zeeg thought they had been discovered, but that wasn't the case. Observing the Ioprey pack splitting left and right as if to make way for something, he peered curiously into the darkness once more.

A prominent violet crest, dense with poison, emerged from the shadows, towering about two heads higher than the Iopreys. Beneath its head, a large swollen throat sac swelled. From the other side of the small hill, it glared menacingly at the Ioprey pack with eyes that gleamed like drops of golden ink.

("So there's an Iodrome as well...") Zeeg thought, feeling impatience burning in his chest.

Iopreys usually acted in independent groups, but sometimes they followed a certain creature as their leader - an Iodrome. While its size wasn't as formidable as other wyverns, its toughness was on par with Yian Kut-Kus.

Iopreys primarily preyed on giant bugs, but any creature that disturbed their territory would face their resistance. This area, unquestionably, was one of their prime feeding grounds.

Even if the group decided to retreat, they wouldn't escape unnoticed. The sharp-sighted Iodrome ensured that staying hidden was not an option, either.

They could let their real target, expected to appear soon, engage the Iopreys, but that strategy was fraught with uncertainty.

Besides, if they leaped into the ensuing chaos, all the monsters would inevitably turn their attention to them instead.

("Gotta get rid of them now,") Zeeg decided.

While Elmeria led the group, none of the other hunters were beneath her. They had all contributed to the contract fee and the hunt itself. If the request went unfulfilled, Zeeg would lose his share of the fee and damage his reputation. He couldn't afford to let that happen.

Gripping the handle of his Lacerator Blade+, Zeeg rose to his feet. "No!" Elmeria's sharp cry mingled with the river's flow, but he paid it no mind.

Now no decision was needed; with her outburst, Elmeria had unwittingly given away her location.

Zeeg surged forward, the wind brushing the grassy-scented sweat from his skin. Once in range, he stopped, twisted his waist to unhinge the sword from his back, gripped and pulled the handle, then brought the blade down in an overhead slash.

Retractable blades sprang from the sword's body like wyvern fangs, embedding themselves in the head of an Ioprey and pinning it to the damp earth.

He yanked his weapon up and spun in a sweeping arc, splitting the Ioprey's skull. The blade cleaved through another Ioprey's legs, tearing flesh and bone.

With a shriek, the Ioprey collapsed.

The remaining Iopreys screamed in unison. Zeeg listened to their high-pitched cries as he raised his sword for another overhead slash, decapitating another Ioprey.

Amidst the gushing body fluids, Zeeg took advantage of his sword's recoil to execute a sideways evasive roll.

Where Zeeg had stood moments ago, the ground was now stained with blood and bluish-purple toxin. The once vibrant greenery wilted and discolored before his eyes.

Springing up, he swiftly sliced through the neck of another Ioprey. The creature fell, its crested head spinning in the air before landing at his feet. Noticing the neck swell, Zeeg leaped aside as a mix of toxin and saliva sprayed a nearby tree, causing it to smolder and emit white smoke.

So far, so good, he thought, but then the clear sky suddenly darkened.

A fierce gust of wind blew in from the front, followed by a thunderous roar that shook the hot, damp atmosphere, sending ripples across the river's surface.

("It's here!")

Zeeg gripped his sword tightly and peered through his helmet's visor.

The creature spread its wings, a powerful gust dispersing the poisonous mists and swaying the branches of the trees.

The Iodrome raised its head and cried out, a declaration of its claim to this territory.

But then, a head on a long neck descended from the sky, clamping down on the Iodrome's neck and silencing it in an instant.

The Iodrome's neck swelled and then exploded. As toxin splattered everywhere, some of the larger creature's scales appeared burnt, with violet fluid dripping from its mouth, yet it seemed unscathed.

The Iopreys scattered, attempting escape as the large, jungle-green creature descended with a mighty swoop. Zeeg had already managed to get out of the way.

One of the Iopreys was crushed underfoot, its amber eyes popping out, its internal organs spilling from its mouth.

Another Ioprey was struck by the creature's tail and knocked into the river, never to resurface.

As if to drown out the rushing water, the creature's roar reverberated through the area - it was Rathian, a female fire wyvern, often hailed as the queen of the jungle.

Zeeg's body stiffened, awe-struck by her menacing presence. Though he had hunted Rathian many times before, he always felt the same paralyzing fear in moments like this.

Such fear was fundamental to every person.

A certain saying circulated among hunters: if one no longer felt that fear, it was time to retire, for those without fear of the hunt were without fear of death.

True or not, Zeeg could never shake the uneasiness that froze his movements against his will.

Zeeg clicked his tongue in frustration as the Rathian turned her gaze toward him. Her golden eyes locked onto Zeeg's as the latter crouched on one knee behind the bushes.

From her gaping maw, the remnants of the crushed Iodrome head fell to the ground, blood and toxin pooling beneath. It was as if she was telling him he would be next.

With another deafening roar, the wyvern's voice knocked Zeeg onto his buttocks.

The giant maw opened wide before him, revealing the pitch-black abyss of her throat. Beyond was a faint flicker of light, like a fireplace being kindled.

The stench of blood permeated the air - the same scent of death that clung to him and the Iodrome alike.

Living or dead, felt all the same in this moment.

While he remained frozen, wondering if he would be devoured, the sound of a Field Horn echoed through the jungle. That sound was a beacon of courage for hunters, and a trigger of fear and rage for their prey.

The Rathian immediately reacted, her attention diverted toward the cliff.

Gannon dropped the Field Horn, then readied his lance and shield, both forged from the unyielding shells of Diablos.

The Rathian roared again and charged forward. Earth and debris sprayed from the damp ground, creating ripples as they splashed into the river. The spike jutting from the monster's lower jaw, rumored to be used for nurturing her young, clashed with Gannon's shield, scattering sparks. Relentless, the Rathian drove Gannon towards the cliff.

"You started this, so don't just sit there!!"

Hearing the angry shout, Zeeg turned to see Elmeria slipping past the Rathian's thrashing tail, aiming to reach the other side.

With a powerful swing, she brought down her hammer - a seemingly half-broken weapon - striking the Rathian's leg.

The hammer's exposed core glowed, and the impact sent a shockwave through the Rathian's body, causing her scales to bristle and some to eject, followed by spurts of blood.

The wyvern shrieked in pain, raising her poisonous barbed tail.

The tail bent and lashed like a whip; Zeeg knew instantly it was dangerous.

Elmeria, still caught in the follow-through of her swing, hadn't yet recovered her stance. The tail was undoubtedly aimed at her.

Sheathing his greatsword, Zeeg sprinted through the space between the wyvern's legs, his fear prickling his skin. One wrong move from those massive feet, and he would be crushed.

Elmeria's eyes widened in surprise, questioning his actions.

There was no time to explain. Out of the corner of his eye, Zeeg saw the Rathian's tail poised to strike Elmeria.

He lunged at her, intending to push her out of harm's way.

Beneath him, she let out a startled scream - and punched his head.

Zeeg felt the strike through his helmet, simultaneously with a crushing blow to his back from the tail he was shielding her from.

("Oh c'mon...!!")

Zeeg groaned, pain radiating through his neck. He had been struck from above and below at the same time. Considering Elmeria could wield a giant hammer with ease, her strength was formidable, akin to a wyvern's attack.

"S- Sorr-"

Before the apology was complete, Zeeg sprang to his feet and swung his greatsword at the Rathian, driven by frustration from his injuries incurred while saving someone.

But his blade met only air.

The Rathian soared, performing a powerful midair somersault. Zeeg raised his sword defensively as the tail gouged the ground, creating a small pond where river water pooled. Sparks flew as the barbs clashed against his sword.

Potent toxin, far stronger than that of Ioprey, sprayed from the wounds on the tail. It splattered on Zeeg's sword and armor, sending up hissing steam.

A muffled cry reached his ears.

Turning, Zeeg saw Gannon on his knees, clutching one eye. Smoke rose from his helmet around the injured area. He had been hit by the Rathian's poison.

Elmeria's face paled as she broke into a run.

"You idiot!" Zeeg shouted, but his voice likely failed to reach her.

At that moment, Zeeg caught the distinct scent of rotten eggs and looked skyward.

The Rathian landed on the opposite riverbank and took a deep breath, sucking in air through her nostrils.

"Elme-"

Zeeg knew he wouldn't make it in time, so he could only shout a warning.

The Rathian's throat glowed red, and a massive fireball erupted from her open maw. It exploded on impact, engulfing Gannon and Elmeria in a fiery vortex.

Zeeg covered his face, but the force of the explosion still hurled him to the ground. Hot wind blasted his body, the heat seeping through his armor, lightly burning his hair and skin.

He rolled into the river, hearing the sizzle of water evaporating on his armor, then scrambled to his feet.

A whirlwind swept through the area, dispersing smoke and quenching flames.

The once verdant earth now lay scorched and blackened, trees reduced to charcoal. The acrid scent of burnt wood hung heavy in the air, and even the water in the small pond left by the Rathian evaporated under the intense heat.

Yet amidst this devastation, Gannon and Elmeria remained unscathed.

The large man had shielded Elmeria instinctively, his shield now coated in soot from the blast. Relieved to find them safe, Zeeg exhaled deeply and turned his gaze once more.

Above them, the Rathian spread its wings and ascended higher, beyond the reach of his sword. Her injured leg dripped crimson blood across the terrain.

For a fleeting moment, Zeeg's sight locked with her golden eyes.

The wyvern, revered as the jungle's queen, let loose another roar as she adjusted its flight path with powerful wingbeats. Zeeg swiftly reached for the leather pouch at his waist, withdrawing a Flash Bomb, but seeing the Rathian no longer facing him, he reluctantly held back.

The queen departed silently, despite her bloodied, dangling right leg. All that remained was the gust from her wings and the lingering stench of charred aftermath.

Zeeg knew exactly why the team had failed to finish her off - it was Elmeria rushing to Gannon's aid.

That moment marked the breakdown of their teamwork.

Gannon had played his decoy role flawlessly, evident in how he deflected the fireball meant for him. It was Zeeg and Elmeria's task to capitalize on openings with focused attacks, but Elmeria had forsaken that strategy in her haste to assist Gannon.

And now they faced the consequences.

A seething frustration brewed in Zeeg's chest, akin to a Rathalos ready to unleash fireballs. But now was not the time for anger. They still had to see this through to the end.

Sealing his leather pouch, Zeeg turned toward Gannon.

"...You alright?"

"I am."

Despite all signs pointing to him being in pain, Gannon's voice remained resolute.

On the other side of Gannon's shield, Elmeria lifted her gaze.

Her complexion was even paler than usual.

The fireball had singed her blonde hair, and fear flickered in her eyes, though Zeeg found no fault in her response.

Even the most seasoned hunter could not completely banish fear.

But her actions just now were uncharacteristic.

"...Glad to hear that, Gannon."

With a courteous nod, Zeeg pivoted away and started walking across the dry, blackened earth.

"W-wait! Where do you think you're going!?"

At Elmeria's protest, Zeeg turned his head without breaking his stride.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going after it."

He could still smell the Paintberry juice on the Rathian.

Judging by its strength, the wyvern was likely headed beyond the opening in the cliff, where dense vegetation provided cover.

Though not an easy place for wielding his greatsword, the same hindrance applied to the Rathian.

While the wyvern's natural camouflage blended decently with the surroundings, making it an ideal hiding spot, Zeeg felt he held the upper hand - thick foliage would shield him from her fireballs and poisoned tail.

"N-no!"

Zeeg had anticipated her objection; he clicked his tongue as he halted.

What did she mean, no?

Elmeria's strike had clearly shattered the Rathian's knee joint. The manner of her retreat confirmed that.

If he pursued now, he might defeat her before the Guild staffer arrived to pick them up.

"Gannon needs treatment! You help too, Zeeg! We're taking him back to basecamp!"

"...Is it really that bad, Gannon?" Zeeg asked the man himself, not Elmeria.

Gannon leaned on his lance, thrust into the ground. Half of his face was inflamed and turning violet, his injured eyelid badly swollen.

Elmeria removed his helmet and used clean water from her canteen, not the river, to rinse his eye. Applying the antidote, vapor rose as the medicine kicked in, easing the swelling and discoloration.

"How are you feeling?"

"...Fine now," Gannon replied, attempting to stand, but Elmeria's firm grip on his shoulder held him down.

She turned to Zeeg, her eyes ablaze with frustration.

"Help me out here, Zeeg."

Her words were a request, but her tone bordered on command. Zeeg felt a thread snap in his mind - the thread that held his patience.

"...You've gotta be kidding," Zeeg spat.

Elmeria's expression hardened instantly. It was a mirror; Zeeg knew he was making the same face. Despite that, he couldn't stay silent. Opening his visor, he met Elmeria's gaze with a dark intensity.

"Don't you get it? If we let it escape now, this hunt is over."

This was their final opportunity. Yet, while they argued, the wyvern likely recovered, and their ride back was nearing. Zeeg couldn't fathom facing the pitying and disdainful gazes in the gathering hall should they fail.

"Gannon's eye can't be replaced!" Elmeria snapped, her resolve as unyielding as Machalite, leaving no room for debate.

But Zeeg couldn't simply comply.

Born and raised in the village of the legendary Hero of Kokoto, he faced relentless expectations. Success brought job offers; failure tarnished his village's honor.

Even asserting "I am who I am" wouldn't divert the community's scrutiny.

"Gannon said he's fine!"

"He'd say that even if he wasn't!"

He wouldn't - Zeeg thought, but he held his tongue. Nothing he said could sway Elmeria now. Gannon was a seasoned hunter to the core. While he'd go to great lengths to protect Elmeria, he wasn't the type to bluff in this kind of situation.

"...Okay, you do what you want."

Zeeg closed his visor, turned away from them, and strode off.

"And where do you think you're going!?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going after it. In its current state, I can handle it alone. I can't let this chance slip away."

"Stop right there!"

Light footsteps echoed as Elmeria ran after Zeeg, positioning herself between him and the opening in the cliff, the Breath Core strapped to her back. Zeeg admired her speed in carrying such a load, but it did nothing to quell his frustration.

"...Let me go."

"You are not doing this. We're heading back to camp, and you're coming with us."

"Enough already!"

Zeeg tore off his Rathalos Helm and flung it to the scorched ground. Elmeria remained undeterred, and Zeeg regretted his childish outburst. Retrieving his helmet now would only make things more awkward. He seethed at how Elmeria seemed to read his every thought.

"Why did we come here in the first place!? Wasn't it to hunt the Rathian!? And now you want to abandon everything we've worked for these past days!?"

"I never said that! But hunters must know when to stop! If Gannon loses his eye, could you bear the responsibility!?"

"Isn't that why I said I'll go alone!? You take Gannon back to camp!"

"Now without my approval, you're not!"

Her words struck like a slap. Zeeg felt dismissed, as if his ability to hunt the Rathian alone was in question.

While wyverns in Guild-designated hunting grounds were tougher than those near villages, Zeeg had proven himself capable by taking down the one-horned wyvern, Monoblos, solo. The wounded Rathian posed a challenge, but not an insurmountable one.

"...Out of my way!"

Admitting his earlier outburst was regrettable, Zeeg retrieved his helmet and held it under his arm. He tried to lightly push past Elmeria with his free arm, but her imposing stance, weighted by the Breath Core, made his effort futile.

A defiant glint flashed in her eyes. "You think those skinny arms can push me aside, when I face wyverns head-on without fear?" Zeeg imagined her thoughts.

"You..."

"Your attitude doesn't scare me. Who do you think I am? Since you joined us, your life has been my responsibility. If you go and get yourself killed, it's my problem. Do you really think you're a top-tier hunter now? Hunting a Monoblos doesn't make you special - not in my party."

Zeeg realized arguing was futile. He wondered when she had become so hard-headed, but he couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. Perhaps the change had been gradual, like being slowly poisoned by Ioprey venom.

People rarely noticed the slow changes in their long-time companions, and when they finally did, it took them by complete surprise - Zeeg recalled hearing something like that once.

"Are you sure you want to keep arguing? This is hardly the time and place," came a calm voice tinged with coldness.

Zeeg turned to see a man approaching along the riverbank.

He wore an ashen grey helmet with curled horns pointing back, giving the impression of a demon. The rest of his body was clad in similar gear made from the hides of the poison bird wyvern Gypceros, except for his bare torso, which gave him the look of an executioner. His appearance was unforgettable, even at a glance.

Holstered on his back was the Tankmage, a type of heavy bowgun with parts also crafted from Gypceros's Rubbery Hides.

"It's not a big deal. We're heading back to camp for a while," Elmeria said.

"Oh? So we're giving up on the Rathian?" Under the Gypceros hide mask, Fradio's eyes narrowed.

"I never said that. We need to check Gannon's injuries first, then-"

"We don't have time for this," Zeeg interrupted. "If we retreat now, its wounds will heal while we're gone. It's now or never if we want to finish the hunt. If you're taking Gannon back to camp, go ahead. But I'm going after the Rathian."

"Didn't I already tell you that you can't!?" Elmeria snapped.

Zeeg turned back to her. "Why not!? No one put you in charge of me! This isn't like back when the Guild had you to babysit me when we first met! If you have a brilliant plan to finish the hunt after we all go back to camp, then let's hear it!"

"That's..." Elmeria bit her lip, her face betraying the absence of any plan. Her insistence on retreat was solely driven by her desire to get Gannon back to camp.

Zeeg understood the bond between them went beyond mere comradeship. But that didn't change the task at hand.

Their mission was to complete the hunt.

Returning alive was what ultimately mattered, of course, but obsessing over it at every turn only hindered their chances of success. Hunters couldn't endure the disgrace of being labeled cowards.

"...What do you say, Fradio?" Zeeg asked, casting a sharp glance at Elmeria, who had lowered her eyes.

Even while turned away, he sensed Fradio's movements. Perhaps he was crossing his arms or scratching his chin beneath the mask - a chin whose shape was a mystery, under a face no one had ever seen.

"Well... if you're asking whether or not to abandon the hunt, I'd say we have no choice but to abandon."

Elmeria's expression brightened, her eyes clearly conveying an "I told you so."

Zeeg found himself irritated. In a way, his expectations had been met - it made sense for Fradio to side with her at the end of the day. After all, they had both hunted under Elmeria's leadership for a long time, making her judgment naturally more influential. However, Zeeg remained steadfast in his belief that her decision this time was wrong.

What Fradio said next, however, was unexpected:

"We're already out of time - look."

Fradio pointed upward. At that precise moment, as if summoned by his words, a signal flare's white smoke ascended from the base camp into the clear blue sky. The escort carriage had arrived. They had wasted more time here than they realized.

Another failure.

No reward money, no precious materials they could have earned.

It was a hard blow, especially since Zeeg had been saving for a new weapon. Moreover, it had been a long time since they'd received a request for such a high-difficulty wyvern hunt.

This chance was one they couldn't afford to miss.

The feeling of irritation wouldn't dissipate. All the time spent arguing could have been used to finish the hunt.

"...Damn it all!"

Zeeg's foot struck the parched, scorched earth, sending blackened soil cascading into the river, where it stirred countless ripples.

In the distance, the Rathian's roar echoed, mocking the shallow-mindedness of its tiny hunters.

Chapter 2 - Setting off Alone

"Excuse me..."

Becky's reverie shattered at the distant call, dragging her back from the brink of sleep. She straightened, her consciousness knitting itself back together.

She had been on the verge of relishing a hearty meal - a giant Rathian egg roll, snatched away in an instant.

The registration book fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Through half-closed eyes, she watched as it flipped open.

How many times now?

Its edges bore the scars of numerous tumbles. It could have been a simple catch, even in her sleep, yet the prospect of someone making a fuss over her "ninja power" was too annoying for her to bother.

"Um..."

Yawning, she picked up the book, only to hear the voice once more.

She turned to see a young man standing at the counter.

He appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, a new face with a restless demeanor.

His youthful countenance, coupled with his above-average height and robust build, hinted at a respectable upbringing. Yet his slightly hunched posture unmistakably betrayed his lack of experience.

In this environment, such signs of innocence were dangerous. It was akin to hanging a board that read "novice," from his neck. Forming companions might prove challenging, and worse still, he risked falling prey to tasks surpassing his skill level, jeopardizing his very life.

Adjusting her hat, part of her standard uniform, Becky stood and faced the counter. Habitually, she wiped its surface, tarnished black by years of spilled drinks.

It was before sundown; few hunters visited at this hour, though some idled from dawn till dusk, forgoing hunts to drink away their days in the hall's perpetual miasma of alcohol and smoke - a potent blend capable of intoxicating patrons through mere ambiance.

The atmosphere heightened the boy's nerves, flushing his face red. His demeanor suggested an urban origin. Lately, an increasing influx of urban youth had arrived, captivated by the hunting trade and monster specimens displayed safely within city confines.

It was a matter of freedom. They possessed the autonomy to chart their own course in life, pursuing a future of their design, one they deemed worthy of risking everything for.

The Guild was willing to extend aid where possible.

Among them, hidden talents might yet emerge, becoming invaluable assets to the Guild. Thus, urban origins were never grounds for rejection.

"Welcome," Becky greeted warmly, her smile deepening the boy's blush - a good first impression.

His gaze briefly wandered to her chest, an expected, harmless innocence of youth. She harbored no offense, his swift correction endearing.

All things considered, he was a sight for sore eyes - among hunters, rowdy and unhinged types were more commonplace. Though she wouldn't lose to anyone in a fistfight, the constant vigilance required to maintain order in the hall posed a challenge.

"So, what business do you have in this city?"

"Ah, um... I'd like to register as a hunter, please..."

His words were barely audible, blending in with the drunken laughter and chatter, but it was better this way.

Among those who lingered without venturing into the wilds, Becky knew, was the sort who relished lecturing newcomers.

Most were harmless storytellers and unhelpful advice givers, while others peddled goods with dubious value - the latter would be promptly punted out by the staff.

The Guild Master had said to disregard them, yet Becky harbored a persistent desire to purge the Guild of such individuals herself.

Many also indulged in drinks on credit, evading payment until forced to face the consequences - a nice round of Becky's ass-kicking before she sent them away to work. Not all returned, a harsh reality of hunter life that darkened Becky's spirits with each occurrence.

From beneath the counter, Becky retrieved another registration book, opened it to the latest page, and slid it toward the boy.

"Take a moment to read through the terms and sign if you agree. Do you have an introduction letter?"

"No... Um... Was I supposed to bring one...?"

"No, it's not necessary - Just read everything carefully, alright?"

"Y-yes, ma'am..."

The boy obediently lowered his gaze to the registration book, absorbing its contents as instructed.

Observing his Velociprey armor, distinguished by its subdued blue tones, Becky contemplated his skill level - not a complete beginner, most likely. Yet caution advised against assumptions; the possibility remained that his gear was not crafted from materials he had personally gathered.

At his waist, the Bonespike one-handed sword, fashioned from monster bones, was lightweight and easy to wield, though it lacked the durability of metal counterparts. It held potential for enhancement, capable of manifesting the might of a fire wyvern if properly honed.

Shortly after, the boy nodded firmly, raised his gaze, and began looking around for something.

Becky passed him a quill and an ink bottle from the countertop. A faint, bashful smile played on the boy's lips as he accepted them and signed his name.

Brass Lagoon.

"Alright, Brass, now fill this in."

Becky retrieved yet another registration book and placed it before him.

Normally, the Guild Master personally processed new recruits, but today the job had fallen to Becky. The Guild Master, recovering from a night of heavy drinking, remained asleep in his quarters.

Brass confidently filled in the required information: age, gender, preferred weapon, prior hunting experience, miscellaneous - a standard profile.

The Guild tasked hunters with missions based on this information. While falsifying details posed no immediate problem, the consequences could prove deadly in the field.

"...Done."

"Alright, thanks."

Becky scanned the registration book. Brass, it turned out, was younger than she had assumed - only sixteen. Yet age posed no obstacle in this competitive realm. On the contrary, youth offered potential: time to develop skills and, should the want arise, the opportunity to pursue other paths in life.

On the prior hunting experience column, he had noted hunts of several Yian Kut-Kus in his home region.

"Ever been on a Rathalos hunt?" Becky asked, to which Brass anxiously shook his head.

"Um... Do I...?"

"Oh, no, no need."

Confirmed as a novice, his success would hinge on careful selection of hunting partners. In the miscellaneous column, he had indicated proficiency in support roles and possession of three Books of Combos.

"...If you don't mind me asking, Brass, why did you choose to become a hunter?" Becky inquired, her finger poised to close the registration book.

Motivations for seeking registration varied greatly among individuals. Most simply looked to earn their keep, but she sensed something unique about this boy.

"Um... I... I want to prove myself."

"Oh? In what way?"

"That I'm not a coward."

Despite his declaration, Brass still exuded the nervousness of a startled rabbit.

Indeed, this profession was no haven for the faint-hearted. It demanded courage to confront wyverns capable of swallowing a person whole in a single gulp.

Fear drained strength from limbs and immobilized the body. This phenomenon plagued hunters regardless of their mastery; an involuntary response of the flesh rather than a reflection of their resolve.

Facing a Rathalos would undoubtedly dispel any notions of cowardice - if he returned alive.

"Well, that's quite admirable."

Becky shut the registration book, a smile gracing her lips. Recognizing one's fears signaled promise in a hunter. Self-awareness was crucial; each survival in the field added to one's expertise. Yet, excessive caution risked stagnation and the damning label of cowardice.

"...Alright, your registration is complete. Your Hunter Rank may start at Ranger - the lowest level - but give it your best out there."

"Y-yes!"

This time, his flushed face likely stemmed not from shyness but rather a mix of anxiety, anticipation, and excitement.

Handing him his guild card, Becky directed him to the guest houses. It would be a modest surprise; accommodations for new hunters were hardly luxurious, akin to pigsties.

If Brass couldn't endure such conditions, he would struggle in a profession where camping out and going days without bathing were routine.

The boy clutched his guild card to his chest, bowed in gratitude, and gathered his belongings before making his way to the exit of the gathering hall.

As he left, four hunters entered, drawing Becky's attention and knitting her brows into a faint frown. The air grew heavy with unease.

Brass attempted to sidestep the group, but his luggage bumped into one of them. He quickly bowed in apology, though the hunters seemed oblivious to his presence.

Leading the group was a girl with a stern expression, a massive hammer - the rare Breath Core - slung across her back.

They were the party led by Elmeria Franport.

Behind her was veteran hunter Gannon Denon, clad in armor adorned with giant horns on the shoulder pads. Following him was Fradio Heart, distinguished by his perpetually worn Gypceros Cap; he had recently turned thirty according to the records. The last to enter was Zeeg Grandest, carrying his helmet in his arms, his face set in an ill-tempered scowl.

("I wonder what happened?")

Normally, those four didn't display such attitudes.

The other hunters, attuned to shifts in atmosphere, reacted to the tension. However, the ever-present commotions in the gathering hall somewhat mitigated the sense of unease.

The silent hostility between Elmeria and Zeeg was especially palpable, like iron bars melting in a furnace.

With expressions of discouragement, the quartet approached the counter, stopping directly before Becky. Dust clung to their armor, and a sour body odor mixed with the stench of alcohol, indicating they had come straight from the field.

"...Sorry, we failed," Elmeria said, as if casting off a burden.

Becky immediately understood she was referring to the Rathian hunting contract they had taken on.

Had they succeeded, their expressions would have been far more merry. Even Fradio, whose face remained hidden under his cap, had a noticeable change in the look of his eyes. Though he seemed amused by the group's dynamics, satisfaction was clearly absent.

"I see," Becky murmured, scanning under the counter for the quest registration book.

Such failures weren't uncommon. It might have felt unusual for the likes of Elmeria, but wyvern hunts rarely ended in success. They were perilous undertakings by nature.

A Rathian caring for its young was especially brutal, almost untouchable. And in this case, it was a Rathian that had just retired from motherhood, likely retaining its extra ferocity. Becky considered this but also recalled that this wasn't the first time Elmeria's party had failed to fulfill their requests.

If memory served her right, they had failed their previous quest and the one before that as well.

Becky opened the registration book and reviewed the quest details. One mission was to hunt two Basarios, the other to gather Powderstone. The Basarios quest had been abandoned halfway because Elmeria was injured, and during the Powderstone quest, they had run out of time, having spent too long fending off a Rathalos.

Setting the registration book down, Becky observed Elmeria and her team. The precise events were unclear, but the tension among them was palpable. Zeeg and Elmeria avoided each other's gaze, while Fradio appeared quite exasperated by the situation.

"Thanks for your hard work... But unfortunately, the contract fee can't be refunded. Better luck next time."

Elmeria nodded, her enthusiasm drained. She resembled an undefeated hunter suddenly trapped in a bottomless swamp of repeated defeats and disappointments.

Onlookers might assume all would be well with the veteran hunter Gannon Denon among them, but reality proved otherwise.

"Want something to drink?" Becky asked.

Elmeria barely glanced over her shoulder, ordering food and beer before heading to a table. Gannon and Fradio followed in silence. Watching them go, Zeeg clicked his tongue in annoyance but joined them, seating himself diagonally opposite Elmeria.

Becky passed the order for Aptonoth-Bullfango Ground Meat Sausage and Pickled Vegetables to the kitchen, then consulted the party's savings in an account book.

Hunters generally didn't carry their cash. Leaving it at the guesthouse risked theft, and losing it in the hunting grounds was a disaster they couldn't simply cry off.

To address this, the Guild offered to safekeep their money.

If hunters received their rewards directly, they tended to spend it all on food and drink immediately, which, while profitable for the gathering hall, left little for upgrading weapons and armor.

This increased the number of hunters unprepared for bigger challenges - an undesirable outcome for the Hunter's Guild.

Thus, to prevent unnecessary troubles and theft, the Guild offered to manage the hunters' payments in their stead.

Becky quickly flipped through the account book and checked Elmeria's balance.

She had spent a considerable amount restoring the Breath Core, leaving her savings below the average rookies' for a time. But now, her funds were back to a typical level.

The same was true for the other three.

Zeeg, in particular, seemed to have a goal in mind, evident from his accumulating savings and minimal spending. He was likely gathering what he needed directly from the hunting grounds.

A female Guild employee, clad in the Maiden set uniform, entered through the back door and placed a stack of report documents on the counter.

The report detailed the hunt from which Elmeria's team had just returned.

Showing little interest, Becky picked it up and skimmed through. According to the document, the cause of failure was excessive caution. The Rathian had escaped three times, and the party was unable to finish it off.

Surveying the details, Becky suspected Gannon's injury might have been another factor.

Under his helmet, his face was wrapped in bandages over his left eye. The report indicated he had been struck by Rathian poison. Though he had likely received prompt treatment, a long-term injury remained a possibility as the poison had affected his eye.

"Food's ready!" A voice called from the kitchen.

Becky closed the account book, stood up, and pushed open the hinged door to retrieve the food platter. It was brimming with grilled sausages, their aroma tantalizing. The slightest movement would cause the sausages' casings to burst, releasing savory juices and a sweet, meaty scent.

With one hand holding the platter, Becky deftly grabbed four mugs with the other, using one rim to knock off the beer barrel stopper and fill the mugs with frothy ale.

Once the mugs were full, she used one of their rims to replace the stopper, then pushed open the door between the counter and the hall with her hip, heading to the table where Zeeg and the others sat.

Everyone except Fradio had removed their helmets, but they apparently had yet to say a word to one another.

Despite the uneasy atmosphere, this was a common occurrence for parties returning from a failed quest.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I've got some good stuff here to fill you up," Becky said, setting the platter on the glossy black table.

No matter how nauseatingly grim the mood, hunger always prevailed. Especially after nearly a week on the hunting grounds, where proper meals were out of the question.

Out there, the diet had consisted of little more than salt-cured meat or foraged mushrooms and honey.

These sausages, enhanced with a variety of spices, were a far cry from their meager rations.

And, of course, the beer was the crowning touch - moderately chilled and impossible to surpass.

As if on cue, the four hunters momentarily set aside their troubles and grabbed their mugs. They gulped down the golden nectar, frothy and bittersweet, with appreciative sighs.

"Kuhaah-!"

Elmeria let out a contented exhale, her mug slamming down on the table with little regard for any spilled beer.

Even Zeeg, who usually abstained from beer, drank with surprising gusto.

Becky, noting their mood, excused herself from their table and returned to the counter, pulling out a large teddy bear and cradling it in her arms.

It seemed, however, that Zeeg and the others were too absorbed in their thoughts to notice.

With forks in hand, they eagerly tackled the sausages, the sound of metal piercing the sizzling casings ringing clearly amid the lively din of the gathering hall.

A touch of color returned to Elmeria's otherwise somber face, her cheeks now flushed with a vivid rose.

Yet the silence lingered, an unfamiliar stillness that stood in stark contrast to the usual clamor following their quests.

When faced with failure, it's only natural to retreat into contemplation. Yet, something about today's silence felt different. It was simply... heavy.

Becky rested her chin on the teddy bear's head, her eyes drifting around. She noticed that most of the other hunters were watching Elmeria and her crew.

Here in Minegarde, these four were well-known, after all.

Elmeria, despite her youth, had earned a high Hunter Rank, and the Breath Core - an artifact so rare that it bordered on legend - was in her possession. No one had managed to recreate it with current technology. As for Zeeg, his defeat of a Monoblos alone was still talked about with awe, especially considering he had only started his career a year and a half ago.

Though young hunters were becoming more common, few had risen as quickly as these two had. Most didn't make it past the dangerous early years. Some fell in battle, others returned to their villages, and a few played it safe, taking their time to grow into the job.

But Elmeria and Zeeg - they were touched by luck. Natural talent played a part, yes, but it was the guidance of experienced hunters that had brought them to where they stood now.

And now, their recent failures had become the talk of the town.

The Guild, too, was watching them closely.

Points earned through quest completions contributed to each hunter's rank, but if a senior like Gannon did most of the work, the ranking system became less a reflection of individual skills and more a product of the team's effort. Yet, Becky didn't doubt Elmeria and Zeeg's abilities. If asked to write a report, she'd defend their competence. Her words would stand as proof, at least in part.

This time, they had been so close to finishing off the Rathian. The issue wasn't a lack of skill - it was the inability to take that final step.

Becky's gaze lingered on them, watching the silence stretch on, when a drunk hunter staggered from his seat, swaying toward the group.

The young man, his face flushed from drink, came closer. Becky recognized him as the one who had once tried to court Elmeria, only to be met with her cold indifference. He wore the Vespoid armor, crafted from the shells of giant bug monsters, and carried a lance and shield on his back.

Becky didn't intervene immediately. If things escalated to the point of weapons being drawn, she'd step in, of course - but hunters were used to brawling almost as much as they were to exchanging pleasantries.

"Ya guys~ Failed 'nother quest, eh~~?" the young man slurred, brushing his forelock out of his eyes.

Elmeria and Zeeg paused, their hands frozen mid-action, but he rambled on, oblivious to the tension.

"Like ay~e saiddd~ you should just join up with us~~ And then I- wiuugh-!?"

Two forks, both still skewering sausages, flew toward him with the precision of bowgunshots. Elmeria and Zeeg had thrown them in perfect unison, and if the sausages hadn't been on the tines, the forks might well have pierced his mouth. Realizing this, the young man's face drained of color. He tumbled backward, landing on his buttocks, his once-red complexion now ashen as he scrambled away from the table.

Elmeria and Zeeg both heaved a sigh, their hands reaching for the platter at the same moment, only to stop when their fingers brushed against each other. The pause was not borne of shyness - the way they glared at each other, eyes sharp and unwavering, gave the moment the air of a standoff between bitter adversaries.

"...So, you given any thought to what happened?" Zeeg broke the silence first, the words spilling out as if from a long-suppressed flood.

"Thought?" Elmeria's response was laced with contempt, a sharp snort escaping her nose. She licked the remnants of meat juice from her fingers, then casually wiped her hand on the table. "I don't have anything to reflect on."

"You seriously saying that?"

Zeeg's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white against the wood of the table.

"What, you haven't figured it out? We end up like this because you decided to go off on your own!"

"When did I ever do that!?"

"When did you ever not!?"

Zeeg's fist struck the table with a thud, and as though to retaliate, Elmeria's mug hit the tray with a resounding clang, sending the platter of sausages into the air.

The others at the table - the two adults - kept eating and drinking in silence, knowing better than to interfere unless things escalated further. Now, though, was not the time.

Ignoring the adults' entire presence, Elmeria and Zeeg locked eyes, leaning toward each other.

"What exactly did I do, huh?" Zeeg demanded, his voice sharp.

"You always jump in on your own!" Elmeria shot back. "Like with the Basarios hunt - didn't you just ignore what we said and keep swinging that damn sword? You completely wrecked our teamwork, and I ended up getting hurt because of it!!"

"That's because you didn't make things clear enough! Sure, taking them one by one is important, but do you think it's normal for us to not be able to finish even one after half a day? We had less time than usual on that quest! If you weren't happy with it, why didn't you step up and make a decision!?"

"Minimizing risk and maximizing the reward - that's what matters!" Elmeria's mug slammed down on the table again, her irritation spilling over. "Look, what's most important to hunters is coming back alive! And to keep everyone safe - it's obvious that takes time!"

"Yeah, well - there's a difference between prioritizing survival and being a coward!"

Elmeria stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "...So now you're calling me a coward?"

"Th-that's exactly what I'm saying!" Zeeg's voice faltered for a moment, as if he realized he'd gone too far, but his pride kept him from retreating.

Once the words were out, the floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping him now.

"You've been too damn careful lately!" His voice grew more heated. "You overthink everything, but you don't get it - there are things you can't plan for in the safety of the camp, things you can only learn when you're out there in the thick of it! Strategies are important, sure, but if the prey runs away, what good are all those plans? What's the point of being a hunter if you're not even hunting!?"

Elmeria's face reddened, but not from the alcohol. Her lips trembled, her teeth biting down hard as the flush spread across her cheeks, a deep, furious red, like ripened strawberries.

Zeeg averted his gaze from Elmeria and downed the rest of his beer in one swift motion. He grimaced, likely from the bitter taste still lingering on his tongue.

"...Tch, that's - I didn't even need you to say it," Elmeria muttered, her voice shaky.

Becky could tell it stemmed from something deeper than mere anger - she'd seen it before. The words Zeeg had spoken had struck a raw nerve.

Everything he'd said lined up too perfectly with the reports. Elmeria had been excessively cautious of late, a far cry from the bold, daring hunter she used to be.

Her role in the party had always been that of the fearless attacker, with Gannon backing her up to absorb the danger. If the main force hesitated, failure was inevitable.

"But-!!" Elmeria's voice wavered as her eyes began to glisten with the faintest sheen of tears. At first, it might have seemed like drunkenness, but a closer look revealed the vulnerability creeping in, threatening to spill over.

"The leader of this party is me! I decide how we hunt! Don't you dare try to take control! This isn't your party! It's mine!!"

This time, Zeeg's expression shifted, his jaw tightening. He looked ready to spring from his seat and strike her at any moment.

Becky caught sight of Gannon, who, despite his apparent indifference, was keeping a close ear on the confrontation. His body was still, but the tension in his muscles spoke of readiness - a readiness to break some bones the moment things went too far.

Zeeg, perhaps sensing the threat from the large man, eventually sank back into his seat. He stared up at the ceiling, his breath deep and measured in an attempt to steady himself.

Reaching for the platter, he picked up a sausage and popped it into his mouth. He drained the last of his beer in one go, grimaced again, then stood up without a word.

"Wh-where do you think you're going?" Elmeria's voice wavered again, her confusion and frustration bubbling up.

"...Back to my room. I need a bath."

With that, Zeeg grabbed his Rathalos Helm and the luggage at his feet, turning away from the table. The Lacerator Blade+ on his back, caked with dirt, clinked as it swayed with his movement.

Elmeria didn't try to stop him.

Zeeg walked away without looking back, his face lost in thought. He didn't even acknowledge Becky as he passed - another rare occurrence. His focus seemed fixed on something far beyond the here and now.

"What the... what's gotten into him?"

Elmeria's confusion still lingered as she drained her beer in one gulp, wiping away the foam around her lips. She glanced at Gannon and Fradio, seeking confirmation - and perhaps the reassurance that she hadn't been in the wrong.

As expected, Gannon gave a subtle nod, as if to say that Elmeria's actions were justified. Her expression softened, but Becky couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at that attitude of theirs.

Gannon had always been lenient with Elmeria. He was her mentor, her protector, her loyal retainer - and while he was technically bound by duty to the aristocrats he had served, there was something more familial about their bond. Something that transcended mere obligation.

But he was getting too old for this - his years as a hunter were numbered. The day would come when Elmeria would need to stand on her own. Up until now, she'd been able to rely on Gannon's strength, but was she truly aware of that? Could she lead without him when the time came?

Listening to the leader was key to the success of a hunt. If each hunter acted alone, there would be no need for teams at all. But that didn't mean there was room for rigid rules or unquestioned authority. Hunters weren't bound by social status.

Even though the Guild had a ranking system, it wasn't meant to define one's worth. It simply ensured that each hunter took on tasks fitting their abilities. Lodgings and food were provided based on rank as well, not as a reflection of one's place in society, but rather as incentives - tokens of the Guild's faith in their members. A newcomer wouldn't even be able to afford the better rooms, anyway - keeping them out to begin with was a way of preventing unnecessary complaints.

Elmeria's attitude when speaking to Zeeg - her assertion of superiority - it was not at all subtle. It was no wonder Zeeg had grown angry. The problem wasn't just that Elmeria acted this way; it was that she didn't realize she was doing it. That was something Gannon should have kept in mind, though he remained silent, even nodding in approval of her actions. At this rate, Elmeria might never come to understand her own mistakes. And if she planned to continue as a hunter, that posed serious concerns for her future.

As for Fradio, he remained indifferent, seemingly untouched by the tension. He continued eating his sausages, slipping them beneath the rubber mask that hid his face from view.

The Guild had always respected its hunters' privacy, refusing to pry into their personal lives, which only deepened the mystery surrounding Fradio. Skill, above all, was what mattered. Becky, however, couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the mask.

"That guy just doesn't get it! Doesn't get it at all, does he!?" Elmeria's voice cut through the silence, her words aimed squarely at Gannon and Fradio, expecting agreement - but not response. "He's letting it go to his head! So he hunted a Monoblos, huh? So what!? If he can't even handle it after a year and a half with us, he should go back to the sticks! Right!? That stubborn little... stubborn... little...!!"

Her frown deepened, her forehead wrinkling as she slammed her mug down on the table with a force that made the wood creak. She lifted it high and waved it around.

"-Becky, more beer!"

"Coming right up."

Becky tucked her Sleepy Bear behind the counter and moved to collect the empty mugs.

"Anyone else want a refill?" she called, and several hands at other tables were raised in answer.

Turning back to the counter, she signaled to the other waitresses to gather the mugs. Their skirts, a bit shorter than hers, swished as they moved between tables, confirming orders. Becky made her way back to Elmeria's table and took the empty mug from her hand with a smile.

"Beer refill, right? ...Want some food to go with it?"

"Damn it all!" Zeeg's voice cracked through the room as he hurled his luggage at the wall.

The leather bag hit with a blunt thud, its contents rattling inside before it collapsed to the floor. Potion bottles rattled, some of them likely broken, but Zeeg paid no mind to the mess. His frustration was all-consuming, and the need to release his anger overrode any thought of consequence.

But throwing a bag did little to ease the rage within him. It continued to burn like molten rock, rising in waves that were impossible to quell.

His eyes locked onto the bed before him, its neat, well-made surface mocking him. A flicker of temptation stirred - he reached for the handle of his greatsword, fingers curling around the hilt as he glared at the bed, imagining how it would feel to cleave it in two. A single blow would be equal to a wyvern's bite, sending shards of wood flying, and the feathers from the mattress would scatter through the air. The thought of watching such destruction might have soothed him - if only for a moment.

But the thought passed just as quickly. Cleaning up the aftermath would only add to the weight on his shoulders.

The room he rented, the Bishop Room, was filled with fine furniture and high-quality appliances. It would be easy to destroy it all, but given the mounting expenses he already faced, adding to them would be nothing short of reckless.

With a resigned sigh, Zeeg set his greatsword aside and hung it carefully on the wall before sinking into the chair.

Though lighter than metal armor, the Rathalos set, made from wyvern shells, still carried a weight that tugged at his body. The chair creaked under his shift, as if it might break at any moment. Zeeg had little patience for discomfort, but he didn't want to lie down on the bed still wearing his dusty armor.

"Damn it..." he muttered, dropping his helmet onto the round table and pulling off the leather strap that held his hair in place. His dark hair fell free, thick with the scent of sweat and dust. It felt greasy and clung uncomfortably to his skin.

He noticed how long it had grown, the strands brushing against his cheeks, reminding him of his earlier days.

The strap, still in his hand, was the same one he had used since leaving his village. A damaged scale from the first Yian Kut-Ku he had slain decorated it - a token of his earlier triumphs.

When he thought back to those days, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and embarrassment. He had been so immature then, so full of ambition, so eager to prove himself. But now, with the weight of experience behind him, how did he feel about who he had become?

What did he think of himself?

To be able to hunt a Monoblos on his own had been a mark of progress. He wasn't one to boast, but the wyvern's remains were proof enough of his skills. And yet, the recognition he had earned didn't bring the satisfaction it once might have. Occasionally, he even received requests from clients who specifically sought him out. But those jobs felt... hollow.

Now that he'd hunted almost every known monster at least once, each hunt was beginning to blur together.

The Plesioth, with its gargantuan size. The armor-plated Gravios. He had taken down many Basarios and Rathians, though the latter hunts had proven less successful of late. Even his transport of Wyvern Eggs had grown repetitive - the same tasks over and over again.

("Yeah... It's getting boring,") Zeeg thought to himself, swaying slightly in his chair, the creaks growing louder.

He glanced out the window, where a small black speck moved across the wide expanse of blue sky. From the size, he could tell it was a Yian Kut-Ku, probably driven away from the hunting grounds by other hunters. It wouldn't come anywhere near the city, of course.

Suddenly, Zeeg's thoughts shifted to Freda.

Freda Esgrand, a girl from his village, was a solitary hunter who had earned the recognition of Kokoto's legendary Hero. She had been entrusted with his sword, a symbol of her worth.

Adorned in armor crafted from the pale white hides of the Khezu, she had become an icon, a symbol of perseverance to many hunters, her unwavering determination sparking hope within them.

Yet, that same determination made her unsuited for hunting alongside others. Her refusal to yield, her resolve to never give up, was a double-edged sword. It could lead her comrades to their deaths, or worse, her own.

Despite this, she clung to her dream of becoming a hero. Even after the people hailed her as a new champion, she did not rest. She continued to hone her skills, to swing her sword, driven by a desire to help those in need.

Once, Freda had told Zeeg that it was harder for a hunter to keep being just a hunter. Those words, also spoken by the Hero of Kokoto, had stuck with him.

Now, Zeeg understood their weight.

Though he had achieved some measure of success in hunting, he found little satisfaction in it. The gratification that once came so easily now felt distant, as if he had grown numb to his victories. The risks remained, of course - one slip-up, one moment of carelessness, could end his life - but he had begun to grow accustomed to them.

("And that's no good at all.")

Zeeg recognized that his respect for the monsters he hunted was beginning to fade.

Lately, he had been hunting for little more than money and materials for his weapon.

This, he realized, was a betrayal of the hunter's original philosophy: to take lives only in the service of humanity's survival. That was the commandment he had embraced.

The thought crossed his mind then - maybe it was time to stop hunting, to find another way to live. But as soon as the notion settled in his mind, it was as if the ground beneath him had opened into an endless chasm.

A cold sweat broke out across his skin.

It was a different kind of fear from facing a wyvern, but it gripped him just the same.

It reminded him that there was no escaping his path. No other life he could possibly choose.

To stop being a hunter would mean the end of everything. His life would crumble into an empty shell. It was far too soon for that. As long as his body could keep moving, he would press on, dying only when his strength failed him on the hunting grounds.

That, he realized, was his ideal life as a hunter.

("Damn it, I'm too damn young to be having a mid-life crisis!") He scolded himself, embarrassed at the thought of an eighteen-year-old brat complaining about the mundanity of life as though he knew everything.

He gathered his thoughts, determined to uncover the source of his discontent.

It didn't take long to trace it back - there was no need to search far into the past.

Half a year ago, after he had hunted the Monoblos alone, he had been genuinely content with his life. The thrill of that victory had filled him with a rush that still made his heart race just to remember.

That was the moment when life had felt the most full.

And so, Zeeg traced the change. It was after that point - when the hunts with his team started to go wrong. The failures had been gradual at first, but recently, they had escalated.

He also remembered when he first started to feel frustrated with Elmeria's strategies. Her cautiousness, her unwillingness to take risks, had begun to bother him.

Normally, he and Elmeria would argue often, but recently, their disputes had become less playful and more serious, touching on matters that required real consideration.

Yet, no matter how much he argued, Elmeria would never listen. Gannon, as always, sided with her, and Fradio seemed to take no side at all.

All Fradio cared about was playing around with Gypceros, so much so that he seemed indifferent to the need for new weapons or armor - unless, of course, they were made from Gypceros's unique Rubbery Hides. In a way, his lack of concern for the team's failures made sense.

But Zeeg was different.

What frustrated him the most was the sting of rejection - like being struck by Ioprey poison - his suggestions dismissed even though he was certain they would improve things.

It was then that Zeeg remembered Elmeria's words back at the gathering hall, and a thought struck him with sudden clarity.

"This isn't your party! It's mine!!"

That was what she had said.

Indeed, this was her party. She was the one in charge.

Elmeria decided what requests they would take and which ones they wouldn't, though she did, in theory, welcome input from others. But ultimately, the final decision always rested with her.

And Zeeg, joining her party, had technically been the Guild Master's doing. It only made sense that Elmeria called the shots when it came to their strategies.

("Oh, come on, how could I have missed something so simple?")

Zeeg felt the fog in his mind lift as the realization hit him. It was like a ghost that had been possessing him down had finally slipped away.

It was simple, really. If he didn't like the way things were going, there was nothing stopping him from leaving. No contracts, no binding agreements.

And then, he could form his own party - one where he was the leader, hunting on his own terms.

The thought thrilled him. He stood up, unable to contain the surge of excitement that he hadn't felt in quite a while.

His own party. The idea was irresistible.

He imagined it - his party, with a distinct hunting philosophy. He could create something as iconic as the Crimson Avian Wings, renowned for their mastery over Yian Kut-Ku, or the Giant Spiders, who only hunted neopterons. There were others too, those who dedicated themselves to hunting particular wyverns like Khezu or Gypceros.

For Zeeg, the wyvern he considered his true rival was Rathalos. The Rathalos - the wyvern of wyverns.

To Zeeg, it was the ultimate challenge, the one adversary that would always test him, no matter how many times he faced it. Even the smallest lapse in concentration could cost him a limb or his life. Only in battle with such a foe did his blood truly boil with excitement.

If he wanted to build a party that would challenge such a mighty opponent, it wouldn't be enough to focus only on individual strength. His team would need to be trained together, learning to work as one unit. That, too, was part of the thrill.

Perhaps Elmeria was after something similar for her own party - though, in the end, they had each been striving for something different. Or perhaps they had simply drifted apart along the way.

It was unfortunate, but it was the way things had turned out.

And that was why Zeeg no longer felt at home.

("Alright! I'll form a party of my own! One that's truly mine - on my own terms!")

The future looked bright - but Zeeg knew that assembling a new team in this city would not be easy.

Elmeria's party was renowned here, and skilled hunters would be hesitant to join a boy who had just left her ranks.

It was painful to admit, but it made sense. Who wouldn't want to be part of Elmeria's party over his?

Though this realization annoyed him, Zeeg found himself remarkably calm. Could this be the kind of clarity that comes with becoming more seasoned as a hunter?

He bent down and retrieved the leather bag he'd thrown against the wall, inspecting its contents. Fortunately, none of the bottles had broken. The only other items inside were a change of clothes and some equipment maintenance tools.

The materials from his last hunt were being sent separately, and there was no immediate need for them. A delayed delivery wasn't a problem.

He pulled out the necessary items from his item box and packed them carefully into the bag. Then, opening the Guild Handbook, Zeeg began searching for information on other cities.

The closer to Minegarde, the better.

The area surrounding Minegarde was known for its excellent hunting grounds. Though not necessarily the same ones managed by the local Guild, they lay within fertile lands, rich with opportunity.

He paused, wondering if Elmeria would be disappointed in him for leaving. But the thought didn't linger long. He was convinced she wouldn't be.

Zeeg shook his head, brushing the thoughts aside, and sat cross-legged on the floor, diving back into the handbook with renewed focus.

Elmeria groaned as the morning light cut through her eyelids, piercing her skull like needles.

She tried to lift her arm, feeling as though it were weighed down by the hands of ten people, struggling to shield her eyes from the blinding daylight.

A long exhale escaped her lips, but it did nothing to banish the overwhelming stench of alcohol that assaulted her senses.

It was as if she'd been dunked into a barrel of beer, her blood turned to fermented liquid gold.

"Young Mistress, I believe it is time for you to wake up."

Even Gannon's normally soothing voice now felt like a hammer striking a metal basin. The sound rang from her head, down into her stomach, sending waves of nausea through her.

She knew exactly how she had ended up in this miserable state.

Too much to drink. Far too much.

She had stayed in the gathering hall well past dinner, neglecting to bathe, drinking until the line between memory and oblivion blurred.

She couldn't even remember how much she had consumed - or what she had done or said during that time.

As she slowly got up, she realized her armor had been removed, though her undershirt remained, stained and unkempt. Even Gannon wouldn't have dared to remove her clothes.

And Elmeria, of course, would never have allowed herself to be seen in such a state - not even by a foster parent. Especially not by a foster parent.

In any case, at that moment, Elmeria was a complete wreck.

Her undershirt was stained and reeked of beer, likely from spills she had caused herself. That was probably why, when she first awoke, she felt as if she had been trapped inside a barrel of the stuff.

There were also dark red stains, probably blood, though it was unclear whether it was her own or someone else's. From the quantity, it was clear it hadn't come from a monster.

As she attempted to gather her hair, something caught her fingers.

Her hair was matted with dirt, dried alcohol, and something else she couldn't quite identify. The thought of trying to fix it made her feel an intense sense of dread. It would take far too much effort - far more than she cared to deal with at the moment.

She turned her swollen eyes toward the window, and there was Gannon in his usual dress suit, opening the curtains and tying them up neatly with strings. His face was wrapped in fresh bandages, the neatness of the wrapping stark against the sloppy way she had tended to him before. She winced at the thought.

"Would you like me to prepare breakfast?" he asked.

The mere thought of food made her stomach churn. She wanted to throw up the remnants of last night, but strangely, nothing came up. It seemed her body had already processed whatever it had taken in.

"No... just... water," Elmeria croaked, her voice hoarse and unrecognizable.

She was startled by the sound of it. Her mouth felt sticky, as though it hadn't seen moisture in far too long. Gannon placed a pitcher and a small cup on the table, pouring the water and handing it to her. She drank greedily, feeling the coolness spread throughout her mouth, though there was still that faint, strange taste lingering in her throat.

"What's wrong with me...?" she muttered, almost to herself, as Gannon poured another cup of water.

"A slight overconsumption of beer, I would presume," he replied, his tone dry but gentle. "Your behavior was... less than admirable."

"...Sorry," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Normally, she was meticulous about her drinking. She had always known her limits, sipping moderately even during large gatherings. But last night... last night had been different. She couldn't seem to stop, not with Zeeg's attitude constantly nagging at her thoughts.

It wasn't that Elmeria didn't care about the team's recent failures - she did. But she saw things differently than Zeeg. To him, perhaps her caution seemed like cowardice, but to her, nothing was worse than the idea of ending a hunt with someone injured, or worse, dead.

If Zeeg had slain that Rathian but lost an arm in the process, what would that victory even mean? It might be worth it if such hunts were rare, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, but for hunters like them, whose lives depended on the next hunt, that kind of price wasn't worth paying.

If it meant losing a part of her body just to succeed, she would rather choose failure.

That was the way she saw it. It was her duty.

But why didn't he understand that? The frustration churned inside her, and before she realized it, she had ordered herself another drink to try to wash it down.

She passed the empty cup to Gannon with a long, tired sigh.

She would have to talk to Zeeg. If she didn't - if she didn't make him understand that she wasn't just being a coward, she was certain he would get hurt, and badly. She made up her mind. She would do it, but first...

She needed to take a bath.

There was no way she was going anywhere, especially not to confront Zeeg, while smelling like this. The boy would never let her live it down - he'd probably make some mocking comment, or worse. It would be unbearable.

"Gannon, could you prepare the bath?"

"At once."

Gannon bowed and exited the room, making his way to the guest house manager. The Queen Rooms offered a private bathroom for tenants, should they wish to use it.

Elmeria sighed deeply once more. Then, as she turned, the sound of laughter reached her ears from the direction of the window.

Fradio was perched there, his usual gear lending him the air of an executioner about to swing an axe, crouched on the window frame like a mischievous primate.

"Late to rise today, aren't we?" he teased.

"Yeah. Got a bit too carried away last night," Elmeria admitted, rubbing her temples. "I didn't even manage to bathe... It's dreadful."

"Quite the state you're in," Fradio observed dryly.

"I know, I know... You don't need to rub it in."

Elmeria pouted in irritation. The last hunt had offered no chance to cleanse herself properly. Had it been in the Forest and Hills, she might have managed, but the Jungle was another story entirely. The air had been thick and muggy, the temperature sweltering, and the river water - far from clear.

"You doing alright, Fradio?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Me? Of course. I didn't drink much, and I had a proper breakfast - scrambled eggs, sliced sausages, and plenty of cheese-"

"W-wait, stop!" Elmeria interjected, holding up her hands in a panic. The mere description made her stomach churn.

She searched her mind for any recollection of Fradio's drinking habits the previous night, but came up blank. He could be suffering from a hangover still, though with that helmet of his, she couldn't read his expression.

The nausea eased a bit, and Elmeria licked her lips, trying to shake off the unease.

"Oh, by the way... Where's that guy?"

"Who?" Fradio blinked, his head tilting slightly beneath his helmet, the sharp, goat-like horns making his posture even more curious.

Elmeria felt irritation surge again. He was playing dumb, acting as though he didn't know exactly who she meant. Fradio always positioned himself between her and the others, mediating, though his true enjoyment often came from the reactions he stirred with his teasing.

"...Zeeg. Where is he? He hasn't shown his face, and if he's just too embarrassed to come because of his attitude, well, I suppose I'll forgive him."

"Ah, him..." Fradio's red eyes seemed to glimmer behind his mask as he answered casually, "I'm afraid he already left town."

Elmeria froze, her mind struggling to catch up with the words.

Left town? Was he out for a walk or something? No, that wasn't right - Fradio wouldn't have phrased it that way...

"Wh-what do you mean, left?" Elmeria's voice tightened in disbelief as she found herself standing by the window.

Fradio's eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "He caught the first carriage out this morning. It wasn't one from the Hunter's Guild, so he might've gone back to his village..."

Reaching beneath his mask, Fradio scratched his chin, as if the whole situation were some kind of puzzle he was savoring.

When the words finally sank in - he actually left - Elmeria's fury ignited like wildfire. Without a second thought, she bolted from her room, as though she might outrun the storm inside her.

"That... that Goddamned idiot-!"

Her anger coiled around her chest like a wyvern's tail, tight and seething.

"Young Mistress!?"

Gannon's voice reached her, but she didn't pause. She didn't have time for pleasantries or explanations. Elmeria dashed down the corridor, her footsteps heavy, each stride sounding like a hunter stamping dirt off the soles of their boots. She reached the Bishop Room where Zeeg had been staying and, without hesitation, slammed her fist against the door.

She knew, of course, that he was gone - but something compelled her to check anyway. Perhaps, against all odds, he had returned. Perhaps there would be some sign he hadn't run off entirely.

But as expected, no answer came.

But maybe - just maybe - he had rushed back in a hurry and had fallen asleep again. Elmeria raised her hand to knock once more, but the sound of approaching footsteps stopped her. The manager of the guest house appeared, his eyes wide with concern from the racket she had caused.

"If you're looking for the hunter who stayed in that room," he said quickly, "he left this morning!"

"Tell me where he went!" Elmeria demanded, grabbing the manager by his collar. His face flushed a deep red, as though the desert heat had suddenly struck him. Elmeria wasn't sure why she was so angry, only that she couldn't seem to control it.

"I-I don't know! Wouldn't it be better to ask Becky!? She's the one who handles the comings and goings of the hunters, not me!"

Elmeria's teeth clenched. With a sharp click of her tongue, she shoved the manager aside, though she did so with more force than she had intended. He staggered back, slamming against the door, and let out a small groan of pain as he crumpled to the floor.

Ignoring him entirely, Elmeria turned on her heel and descended another flight of stairs. Lower-ranked hunters peeked out of their rooms, curious about the disturbance, but quickly averted their gazes when they met her fiery stare. She stormed past them, out of the guest house and into the bright midday light.

The clear sky above seemed to mock her with the reminder that it was already past noon. As if in response to the rising tide of frustration, Elmeria's head throbbed painfully, a sharp pain pulsing as though there was a heart beating inside her skull. Normally, the commotion of the marketplace would have been a welcome distraction, but today, it only grated against her ears. She pushed through it, each step a battle against her own senses.

Her mind was consumed by one thing: Zeeg had left, and she had no idea why.

With determination fueling her, Elmeria flung open the door to the gathering hall, only to be immediately assaulted by the stench of tobacco and stale alcohol. It was a sickening smell, and her stomach turned, threatening to rebel. The day drinkers all turned their eyes toward her, no doubt shocked by her appearance. She hadn't looked in a mirror, but the expressions she met told her everything she needed to know - she must have looked like a corpse.

She limped to the counter, clinging to it for support as she locked eyes with Becky - whose carefree demeanor was like a slap in the face today.

"I'm guessing you're looking for Zeeg," Becky said, her tone knowing, almost too calm. "But sorry, but I can't tell you where he went."

"Why not!?" Elmeria shouted, slamming her fist on the countertop. The impact made the entire hall fall silent, as if it was turned into a wyvern's lair.

Becky merely shrugged, her indifference infuriating.

"Did Zeeg ask you not to say anything...?" Elmeria's voice faltered for a moment - for reasons she couldn't explain, she asked it almost fearfully, her anger momentarily giving way to uncertainty.

Becky paused, her expression unreadable, before she nodded.

A sudden weakness swept over Elmeria, draining the strength from her knees. She felt the urge to sink to the floor, yet, somehow, she remained standing - propped up only by her hands clutching the countertop. A swirl of emotions, none of them anger or frustration, sapped what little energy she had left. She felt humiliated.

"I knew something was off when he left without a word," Becky said as she grasped Elmeria's arm to steady her. "But I'm sure he thought it through. It would have been hard for him to part ways with you all, don't you think?"

"Then why did he leave in the first place!?" Elmeria's voice trembled with confusion. "Doesn't that seem strange to you!?"

She still couldn't make sense of it. Sure, they'd fought - a big argument, at that - but it wasn't as though that was anything new. Leaving the party without a word, just walking away from everything... it didn't sit right with her.

"Without us, he'd have been torn apart by some monster by now! I can't believe he's repaid us by doing this! What a disgrace to the hunters' code of loyalty!"

Becky let out a long, slow sigh. "I'm not saying I don't get where you're coming from, but Zeeg didn't break any Guild rules. You know how it goes - hunters team up for the hunt, but once the quest ends, the party is dissolved. It's by the book. After that, each hunter is free to choose their next team, or if they're not interested, to go their own way."

Elmeria shot her a sharp look, her eyes narrowing as she barely contained her frustration.

She knew that. Of course she knew that. It was the same technicality they'd all heard a thousand times. She wasn't angry at Becky, but at the situation, at the senselessness of it all.

"Elmeria," Becky said, her tone turning serious, "do you really not know why he did it?"

"No, I... I don't."

It wasn't out of stubbornness. She was admitting she truly didn't know. The arguments - those were part of the daily routine. Yesterday's fight wasn't the reason. It couldn't be. After all, there had been worse. Like the time they had both thrown hands, and it had taken Gannon to break them up.

Becky leaned forward on the counter, glancing around, ensuring no one else could hear. She lowered her voice to a near whisper.

"Yesterday, you said something to him, didn't you? Something like, This isn't your party, it's mine."

A knot tightened in Elmeria's stomach. She did remember saying that.

But it felt like such an obvious statement - a fact, nothing more. What was the issue?

Becky's troubled expression only deepened. "That's exactly it," she grumbled. "Zeeg must have realized he wouldn't be able to hunt the way he wanted to if he stayed with your party. That's what the fight yesterday was about, wasn't it?"

The pieces fell into place.

Lately, Elmeria had been growing increasingly frustrated with Zeeg's tendency to act on his own whims. But now, she realized he was just as irritated with her.

"...That idiot just doesn't get it," Elmeria muttered, the words sharp, as if she were spitting them out.

Of course, he didn't understand - not the way she did. Not what it truly meant to lead a party.

It wasn't just about giving orders or taking the lead on a hunt. It was about shouldering the responsibility for others' lives.

Hunters, by nature, were individuals. They were ultimately responsible for their own survival. But when they teamed up for a hunt, the decisions of the leader held weight beyond their own life - they could mean life or death for everyone involved.

A leader wasn't obligated to carry the burden of every injury or death, but the wound would remain, buried deep within. Zeeg, naïve as he was, had no idea how heavy that burden could be.

"I know what you're thinking, Elmeria. But you also know you can't control how Zeeg feels, right? Every hunter wants their own party eventually. It's just his time, that's all. And honestly, for now, I think it's probably for the best."

"...What do you mean?" Elmeria asked, her voice trailing off.

"Well... aren't your recent failures a result of being too careful? Trying too hard to protect Zeeg from danger?"

Elmeria's skin prickled at the words.

She had never considered it that way before. She tried to laugh it off, but the tension in her neck and the stiffness of her posture betrayed her. Her face may have said otherwise, but her body had already confirmed Becky's words.

Becky gently rested her hand on Elmeria's, her touch soft and sympathetic.

"It's not like you won't see him again. But right now, things are a little too awkward, don't you think? I'd suggest giving him some space for a while. This time apart might be important for him too, to figure things out on his own."

Elmeria could feel the weight of Becky's advice settle into her chest.

What she meant was, if Zeeg truly wanted a party of his own, Elmeria couldn't stand in the way. If she did, he might act out of spite, out of frustration with her.

She understood that, fully.

But understanding didn't make the ache in her heart any less raw. She didn't feel any more at peace. So, without a word, Elmeria ordered a beer, then another. She drank in silence, pushing the thoughts aside, letting the alcohol blur the edges of her mind until the sun set.

Chapter 3 - Interviews

Zeeg stepped down from the carriage and found himself honestly disappointed by the scenery. It had not changed for the better - in fact, it hadn't changed much if at all.

Two days had passed, jostled about on the road from Minegarde. Now, with his backside aching, he finally laid eyes on the city of Nusti - and it looked so much like Minegarde that it gave him the strange, unsettling feeling of having traveled in a wide circle, only to arrive back where he had started.

Passing through a crowded marketplace bathed in the blood-red light of sunset, he found the same familiar layout: the workshop and gathering hall lined up along the edge of a cliff, a narrow road leading off to what looked like a guest house beyond.

For a hunter's first job in a new city, guild registration was a must. Pushing open the gathering hall door, Zeeg was immediately assaulted by the thick, heady air - a stench of alcohol and the body heat of too many people packed together. Even someone like Zeeg, who usually didn't flinch at much, felt lightheaded from it.

If all the dew of the jungle were made from liquor, he thought, it might smell like this.

No one stopped their drinking, but he could feel their eyes on him. Judging him, measuring him up by the look of his armor and weapons.

The gathering hall was dim even during the day, but the flickering candlelight caught on the crimson carapace of Zeeg's Rathalos armor, setting it aglow. The Lacerator Blade+ slung across his back, its blade stained a dark, bloodlike red, threw back the light in a way that made a few of the hunters squint against the glare.

He headed straight for the counter. As he approached, a woman seated behind it abruptly rose to her feet, surprising him.

She stood at least a head taller than him.

Her face was sharply beautiful, her nose a clean, straight line - but one of her eyes was a dull, lifeless orb. A prosthetic, he realized at once. Her body was solidly built, sturdy enough that the maid uniform she wore seemed almost comical on her. Zeeg wisely kept that opinion to himself.

"Nice gear," she said bluntly, not even bothering to properly look at him. "First time in a city guild?"

"No," Zeeg replied shortly.

He dug into his bag and pulled out the résumé Becky had prepared for him, sliding it across the counter. It bore the guild's official seal; with this, his Hunter Rank would carry over without the need to re-earn it from scratch.

The woman took the document, scanned it with barely a flicker of expression, and handed it back without so much as a nod.

It was a résumé that listed no small number of accomplishments - or so Zeeg thought. But judging from the woman's indifferent expression, it might as well have been a list of trash.

She scribbled something into the guild ledger, closed it with a snap, and dashed off a few strokes onto a small card before tossing it carelessly onto the counter. His guild registration card. Without it, he wouldn't be able to accept even a single quest.

"...Thanks," Zeeg muttered, giving a slight bow as he stepped away from the counter.

The woman didn't respond. She had already opened her book again, utterly uninterested.

What a cold-hearted woman, Zeeg thought with a grimace.

For a moment, Becky's warm smile flashed in his mind, and a wave of homesickness for Minegarde washed over him. Zeeg shook his head fiercely. He couldn't afford to get sentimental - not when he was about to form his own hunting party.

Steeling himself, he made his way to the bulletin board set up next to the counter. It held two types of postings: available quests, and notices recruiting companions for already accepted ones.

The system was exactly the same as back in Minegarde.

Zeeg scanned the list of quests. There were plenty to choose from - likely because Nusti was still a relatively new city, and the hunting grounds under its jurisdiction hadn't yet been thoroughly tamed.

("Guess I'll take this one.")

He chose a Basarios hunt and tore the quest sheet from the board.

Basarios, the Rock Wyvern, was a juvenile form of the Gravios. Though its shell could be carved into tough armor and hammers, it didn't have much practical use for those uninterested. Still, Basarios were known to cause trouble by mimicking rocks, lying in wait along trade routes.

This time was no different. A merchant caravan had reported a Basarios nesting along a volcanic pass.

It would be a good test of any potential party members.

Zeeg judged Basarios to be about the next level of threat after a Yian Kut-Ku - tough, sure, but not overwhelmingly dangerous. Its movements were sluggish, and as long as they avoided a direct hit from its fiery attacks, it wasn't anything to fear.

If a hunter struggled against a Basarios, they weren't someone Zeeg wanted in his party.

("Last time we fought two at once. One should be easy.")

Clutching the quest slip, Zeeg returned to the counter and slapped it down - loudly enough to make sure he was noticed.

The woman sighed heavily, clearly irritated, and shut her book with a thump before turning to him. Curious, Zeeg caught a glimpse of the book's cover: Bestiary of the Hunt, embossed in gold lettering.

"What is it?"

"I want to recruit partners for this quest," Zeeg said, "and I need a guest house room, too."

The woman skimmed the quest sheet, gave him a brief, disinterested look, and stamped it with the guild's official seal before shoving it back at him. Without a word, she flipped open the ledger again, checked something, and muttered,

"...Bishop Thirty-Five."

Then, without another glance, she returned to her book.

Zeeg knew the procedure well enough, but it still grated on him. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he stomped back to the bulletin board, pinned the quest sheet to the recruitment section, and scribbled underneath his room's number and a message:

"Seeking long-term hunting partners! From Kokoto Village!"

Mentioning Kokoto Village - and by extension its legendary village chief - was a gamble.

It might attract opportunists looking to ride his coattails, but just maybe, it would draw serious, skilled hunters worthy of the name.

"...Alright," Zeeg muttered.

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he left the gathering hall behind.

By the time he was making his way toward the guest house, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what kind of people might answer his call, the rude woman at the counter was already a forgotten annoyance.

"So, what now?" Fradio asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Elmeria, clearly in a foul mood, said nothing. Neither did Gannon, still wrapped in bandages. The noise of the gathering hall, thick with the clatter of utensils and lively conversation, wasn't enough to drown out their voices, but neither companion seemed inclined to speak.

It had been a week since Zeeg had left their party, and still Elmeria showed no sign of taking on a new quest. Fradio understood the reason well enough - she was holding out hope that Zeeg might return - but even so, his arms were beginning to itch for action.

If this standoff dragged on much longer, he thought, he might as well head out alone and enjoy a date with a Gypceros.

"We're not exactly hurting for money, but Sir Gannon's injuries are healing nicely," Fradio continued, trying to coax some response. "I'd say it's about time we got back to the hunt, wouldn't you?"

Gannon turned his unbandaged eye toward Elmeria. She, however, only stared into the blood-dark surface of the wine pooled in her goblet, unmoving.

She looked thinner than before, the soft curve of her cheeks having hollowed out slightly. Fradio hoped she hadn't started losing muscle mass. Lifting the edge of his mask just enough to drink, he sipped his own wine, savoring the rich flavor of the fruit sharpened by a pleasant astringency. He waited, but Elmeria said nothing.

It wasn't sorrow he saw in her. No, the emotion simmering just beneath the surface was anger - anger directed at herself for misspeaking, and at Zeeg for leaving without a word.

Zeeg's departure had been clumsy, to say the least. If they had been nothing more than a temporary hunting party assembled for a single mission, a silent farewell over a mug of beer might have sufficed.

But they had been together since Zeeg had first arrived in Minegarde. After so much time, he owed them at least a proper goodbye, no matter how awkward.

"Still sulking, Ellie?"

The teasing voice floated down along with a clatter of dishes. Fradio turned to see Becky standing there, smiling mischievously.

"I'm not sulking," Elmeria snapped.

She reached out, grabbed a freshly-served skewer of grilled Aptonoth meat, and bit into it savagely. Juices dripped from the seared flesh, and she hissed a quick "Hot!" as she licked the sizzling fat from her lips.

Fradio helped himself to a skewer as well, stripping the meat from the stick and neatly cutting it into small pieces with his knife and fork before slipping a bite beneath his mask. The meat was rich, the spice blend mingling perfectly with the sweet, fatty edge of the skin.

The slight toughness betrayed the fact that it had come from a wild Aptonoth, but that only added to its flavor.

"C'mon, no need to act tough," Becky said, her voice light with mockery.

Elmeria shot her a glare, her eyes faintly glassy from the wine. Her appetite had dwindled, but her drinking had certainly increased.

"Shut up," Elmeria muttered. "I'm not pretending. If anything, I'm glad he's gone. It's thanks to him we've been screwing up so much lately."

"So you're still planning to keep hunting?" Becky pressed.

"Of course I am!"

Snatching up her goblet, Elmeria drained it in one go and refilled it without hesitation.

"I'm just saying, none of the current quests look worth taking. I'm not going to waste my time hunting Yian Kut-Ku or gathering Special Mushrooms. And as for a Khezu-"

Fradio shook his head.

He had once been swallowed whole by one of those grotesque, sightless wyverns, and the memory still made his skin crawl. Compared to the vibrant, delicate beauty of a Gypceros, a Khezu - with its pallid skin and preference for damp, shadowy places - was nothing but an abomination.

"Yeah. He's in no shape for it," Elmeria continued, "And besides, maybe it's not a bad thing to take it easy once in a while. Unless you have something interesting lined up?"

"Well..." Becky said, placing a single sheet of paper onto the table, "maybe I do."

Fradio leaned in alongside Elmeria to read it.

"...Meat Grill Festival?" Elmeria echoed incredulously.

Sure enough, the paper read, "Calling All Hunters! Grand Opening! The 18th Annual Meat Grill Festival!!"

Elmeria gave Becky an exasperated look.

"What the hell is this?"

"Exactly what it says," Becky replied brightly. "It's a competition to see who can grill the most Well-Done Steaks. Raw meat must be gathered on-site, of course. The winner gets a special prize: a piece of King Meat! Doesn't that sound perfect for you, Ellie?"

"King Meat, huh..."

Elmeria frowned, considering.

It was, admittedly, a tempting prize - for a hammer user. King Meat was a key material used to craft the Enormous Ham, a weapon both whimsical and sought-after.

Elmeria already possessed a Breath Core and didn't need the Enormous Ham, and the crafting costs were steep - but King Meat was rare enough that simply having it would be worth bragging about.

Besides, Fradio could always meet up with his beloved Gypceros later.

The Meat Grill Festival, on the other hand, wouldn't come around again until next year.

"It does sound like fun," Fradio said, earning Elmeria's groan. "Come now, there's no other quest we're excited about anyway. Besides, grilling meat is one of a hunter's basic skills. Maybe it's a good time to go back to basics and sharpen our instincts. Sir Gannon's not fully recovered, either - we could use some easy targets like Aptonoth or Bullfango to ease back into things, yes?"

Elmeria turned to Gannon.

The large man, his face still heavily bandaged, gave her a solemn nod.

She might not realize it, but Fradio had noticed - Gannon had lost weight since being poisoned by the Rathian.

The poison itself shouldn't have lingered; Rathian toxins didn't stay in the body long.

No, this was a result of a deeper issue - a wound to the spirit.

Failing to dodge that poisonous tail strike had shaken him badly.

It was said that the moment one became conscious of their own aging, they truly began to grow old.

And Gannon, after all, was already sixty.

By rights, he should have retired to a peaceful village, regaling the local children with tales of his exploits.

Yet here he was, still fighting.

"You know what," Elmeria said at last. "Let's do it."

She grabbed the paper and waved it at Becky.

"As Fradio said, there's nothing else worth doing right now. I'll come kill some time. Besides, carrying around an Enormous Ham would be hilarious."

Becky's smile widened. Without missing a beat, she turned toward the bustling gathering hall, raised her voice, and declared,

"Attention, everyone! Elmeria Franport - pride and joy of Minegarde - will be participating in the Meat Grill Festival! Who else wants to join? Especially hammer users - you won't want to miss out on the fabulous prize: the King Meat, perfect for crafting your very own Enormous Ham!"

Realizing she had just been used for promotional purposes, Elmeria's eyes widened.

Becky shot her a mischievous grin before turning back toward the counter, ready to register the flood of eager participants now waving their arms.

"...Now that is stage presence," Fradio muttered.

He took a deep drink of wine and speared another piece of juicy Aptonoth meat with his fork, chuckling as the hot juices burst free.

Zeeg watched the departing hunter's back disappear beyond the door, then slumped heavily into a chair with a long, exhausted sigh.

That made fifteen now. Fifteen interviews, and not a single one had resulted in a new comrade. There had been a few who looked capable enough, but not one he could truly call a partner.

The trip to the Volcano was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. If he couldn't find anyone by then, he would have no choice but to set out alone.

Against a Basarios, he could probably manage if he fought cautiously. But that wasn't the point - he hadn't come all the way to this town just to do everything by himself.

Still, Zeeg found himself surprised by just how draining these interviews had been.

He could get a rough sense of a hunter's skill from their equipment, sure, but so far not a single applicant had shown up wearing Rathalos or Rathian gear.

The best-equipped hunter he'd seen wore a full set of Cephalos armor, made from the scales of sand-dwelling monsters - but she'd made it quite clear she intended to lead the team herself. He had politely shown her the door.

Maybe it was my age after all, he thought with a wry grimace.

Most hunters with real ability were well into their late twenties or older.

Hunters like himself, Elmeria, or Freda - who had managed to earn wyvern gear while still in their teens - were rare.

Not that he was arrogant enough to think himself some prodigy.

Maybe once, in the past. But now he understood all too well - without the help of his comrades, he never would have made it this far.

Luck might let him take down one monster, maybe two. But to hunt enough for a full set of weapons and armor - that took something more tangible.

Even so, Zeeg didn't feel any desire to partner with hunters much older than himself. If they were like Gannon - silent and watchful - that would be fine. But if they started barking orders, well... he might as well stick with Elmeria.

Maybe trying to find someone around his own age, willing to take on a Basarios, had been setting the bar too high from the start.

It might be smarter to treat this hunt as a one-off. Afterward, he could lower the difficulty - take a quest for a Yian Kut-Ku or something - and try recruiting again.

A sharp pain twinged in his stomach, and he remembered he hadn't eaten all morning.

The first applicant had shown up before breakfast, and there had been no break since.

Rubbing his aching temple, Zeeg rose from his chair.

When he'd joined Elmeria's party, it had been by the Guild Master's recommendation - there had been no formal interview like this.

Still, she must have gone through something similar at some point. Was she still doing it even now? The thought brushed across his mind like a cold wind, but he shook it off.

In any case, he needed food. The guest house would prepare a special meal if he asked, but it came at a steep price.

With most of his money earmarked for a new weapon, he couldn't afford luxuries right now.

It would be cheaper to roast some raw meat himself.

He fished his BBQ Spit out of his pack and turned toward the balcony to set it up...

"Excuse me!"

...Only to freeze as a voice spoke from beyond the door, startlingly close.

Zeeg almost dropped the spit on his foot.

Usually, he could sense when someone approached, even before they knocked - but this time, he had noticed nothing.

As he hesitated, the voice came again.

"Forgive the intrusion! Might this be the room of Sir Zeeg Grandest? I saw the notice on the board and wished to speak with you."

The speaker's voice was low, distinctly male, and oddly formal - but Zeeg managed to catch the gist.

Another applicant, apparently.

"Ah - yeah!"

Setting the BBQ Spit hurriedly on the table, Zeeg checked his gear.

Something about the man's voice demanded it.

He always conducted interviews in full armor, and expected the same of his applicants.

It was the quickest way to judge a hunter's ability outside the field.

His Lacerator Blade+ was hanging on the wall nearby.

Usually, hunters carried their weapons too.

Someone who skimped on weaponry in favor of flashy armor tended to be overly cautious. And the reverse - Zeeg winced, remembering his younger self - suggested reckless impatience.

"So - uh, yeah. Come in!"

He deliberately used a slightly rough tone.

Better to establish from the outset who would be leading the party.

If someone couldn't handle a little bluntness, they wouldn't survive working with him.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated - and the door swung open.

The man who entered was tall, with dark skin and a lithe build, moving without so much as a whisper of footsteps.

Even a wyvern would struggle to notice someone like that.

He stopped a good distance inside the room, standing casually - but there was not a single gap in his stance.

His hair, a muted gray, was slicked back and tied behind him, much like Zeeg's own.

His one open eye was blue and ringed with strange concentric lines rather than a vertical slit - and the other was closed, perhaps the mark of an old wound.

His armor... if it could even be called that, was strange.

He wore plain white clothes, reinforced only in vulnerable spots like the shoulders, elbows, throat, and waist, with thin plates that looked more decorative than functional.

His loose, ballooning trousers were tucked into black boots, and strange patterns were painted along the hems.

But what truly drew the eye was the weapon on his back.

It resembled a wyvern's talon - a pair of talons, in fact.

They looked almost like twin one-handed swords, but distinct from any weapon Zeeg knew.

"You've noticed my blades," the man said smoothly, a thin sprig of some herb clamped between his lips.

He smiled faintly, his expression calm and easygoing, and Zeeg guessed he was in his mid-twenties.

"Those aren't... sword-and-shield, are they?" Zeeg asked cautiously.

"Indeed not," the man replied, nodding as if approving the question. "These are my beloved blades - Zanki. I am a wielder of dual blades."

"Dual blades...?"

"Just so - Youth's ignorance blooms; no shame in the mind's pure soil; learning comes with time - as the saying goes."

The peculiar rhythm of the words made Zeeg blink.

Was he being insulted just now? It was hard to tell.

"That was a senryū," the man explained, his open eye narrowing.

Zeeg was even more confused.

Did he just say ryū - dragon?

Was this Zanki weapon crafted from some monster he'd never heard of?

The man seemed to catch his bewilderment and chuckled softly.

"Heh... Though I say ryū, I do not speak of wyverns. Senryū is a form of wordplay from my homeland."

"I... see?"

The man straightened and gave a formal, shallow bow.

"Forgive my late introduction. I am Entarō. If it pleases you, call me Enta."

"Huh... yeah, sure..."

Zeeg found himself a little overwhelmed.

Even Entarō's name had a unique ring to it.

Still, for all the man's flowery phrasing, his words were clear enough, and Zeeg had no trouble understanding him.

"Uh, well... why don't you have a seat?"

Zeeg, desperate to regain control of the conversation, gestured toward a chair. But Enta merely raised a hand.

"Nay, I shall decline."

At first, Zeeg thought he meant to remain standing, but instead, the man - who had introduced himself as Enta - sat cross-legged directly on the floor. Somehow, the way he settled there fit so naturally, he looked less like a man and more like a bronze statue that had stood there for years, untouched by time.

Feeling awkward about being the only one sitting properly, Zeeg followed suit, lowering himself to the floor as well. It was uncomfortable; whenever he took breaks out on a hunt, he always used a folding chair that came with his BBQ Spit kit. Sitting on the bare ground felt foreign.

"So, uh... you saw the notice on the board, right?" Zeeg asked.

"Indeed," Enta replied with a courteous nod.

"Getting right to it... what's your Hunter Rank?"

"My rank is Samurai. And yourself?"

For a moment, Zeeg thought he saw the gleam of a blade flash in Enta's open eye, and he swallowed hard. The sheer pressure coming off the man made it feel like a wrong answer might literally cost him his head.

"M-me? I'm a Strider..."

"Oh-ho!"

With a sudden spark of enthusiasm, Enta's lone eye widened. Startled, Zeeg nearly reached for his greatsword on the wall. Was the man trying to startle him, just to enjoy the reaction?

But Enta merely shook his head slowly and said,

"To think that one so young surpasses even I in rank! I am most impressed."

Still seated cross-legged, he bent low in a deep, skillful bow.

And he stayed there.

After a long, awkward silence, Zeeg began to wonder if the man had fallen asleep, but just as he was about to check, Enta finally lifted his head once more.

Trying to keep his balance in this strange conversation, Zeeg felt slightly dizzy.

"A-anyway," he tried, "you said 'young' - but do you even know how old I am?"

"I do not, but I venture to guess... eighteen years?"

Dead on.

Sure, nobody looking at him would mistake him for forty or fifty, but to peg his age exactly was still impressive. Maybe it was just a lucky guess... or maybe not.

"And you?" Zeeg asked. "How old are you?"

"This year, I have reached twenty-five," Enta declared. "Five years ago, I drifted to this land, learned of the way of hunters, and was immediately captivated. It is the perfect vocation for my training."

"Training?" Zeeg parroted.

"Indeed. I strive to hone my blade and become a peerless swordmaster. In these peaceful times, there are precious few places where one can engage in honest, life-or-death battle. Yet in the life of a hunter, that spirit endures. There is no better arena for perfecting one's skill."

"But then, why'd you want to form a party? Wouldn't solo hunting fit your training better?"

"An astute question," Enta said, folding his arms and nodding. He then leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Zeeg, caught by the sudden shift, leaned forward too.

"...In truth, I have another ambition. Forming a party is but a means to that end - I wish to spread the glory of dual blades far and wide."

Zeeg straightened up in surprise. That wasn't exactly something anyone needed to whisper about. If anything, he could have shouted it from the rooftops.

But Enta, oblivious to Zeeg's thoughts, nodded emphatically to himself.

"The best way is to show others firsthand the brilliance of the dual blades! Especially the younger hunters like yourself - once you witness their magnificence, you too will surely be tempted to wield them!"

Even with that passionate speech, Zeeg remained unconvinced. He had no intention of abandoning the greatsword he had wielded since before he officially became a hunter.

Besides, dual blades... weren't they just two small swords?

Worse, they had no shield. Greatswords and heavy bowguns could block with their massive frames, and even hammers could compensate for their lack of defense with overwhelming power.

But dual blades - their cutting edge didn't seem particularly impressive, nor did they offer any means of defense. Zeeg couldn't imagine they were easy to use at all.

As if reading his mind, Enta fixed him with a sharp gaze and chuckled.

"Heh... I know exactly what you are thinking - Two blades side by side; yet both are weak, unrefined; a pair, not the best - That is what every hunter thinks... Until they see my technique for themselves!"

With a loud slap to his knee, Enta beamed.

"Once you see me slicing through Basarios's rock-hard hide like it were sashimi, you'll be singing a different tune! You'll envy the dual blades, mark my words! Behold! Witness the blade dance of a demon!"

Suddenly, without rising from his cross-legged position, Enta drew both swords from the sheaths strapped to his back. Their polished blades gleamed menacingly under the light.

"H-hey! What the hell are you doing!?" Zeeg cried, jolting back.

Snapped from his theatrics, Enta blinked his lone eye, mumbled an apology, and hastily resheathed his weapons.

This was no laughing matter.

Had Zeeg not spoken up, he might have been the one carved into neat little slices, not Basarios. There was a dangerous aura about Enta, no doubt about it. A strange one, too.

"...Right. So, uh, your résumé?" Zeeg prompted, trying to regain focus.

"Here it is."

From within his robes, Enta produced a folded sheet of paper and handed it over.

It bore the official seal of the Hunter's Guild. Listed on it were records of all the quests Enta had undertaken - monster hunts, transport missions, and the like. The entries weren't arranged chronologically but by category: wyvern species and their respective numbers hunted, goods delivered for transport requests, and the tallies of successes and failures.

A quick scan was enough to tell Zeeg that Enta was no slouch. His record against wyverns in particular was impressive - far beyond what an average hunter could boast.

Still, something felt off.

Judging by the list, Enta had likely been bouncing between different parties, focusing almost exclusively on wyvern hunts.

That wasn't what Zeeg had in mind for his group. He had made that clear with the notice on the guild board.

But Enta had probably applied because this mission involved a wyvern - specifically, a Basarios.

Turning him away would be simple enough. But Zeeg hesitated. He had only just been thinking that maybe, this time, the group would be a one-shot team - handle the mission and disband.

Unlike when he had joined Elmeria's team, this group would be full of first-timers working together. No telling what their real skills were like.

Jumping straight into a wyvern hunt under those circumstances... maybe it was reckless after all.

Still, canceling the quest outright would leave a bad impression with the Guild. If word got around that he had pulled out without a good reason, future requests might dry up - especially important ones.

And Enta's résumé - it even showed prior hunts against Basarios. Five of them.

That wasn't a huge number compared to his other quarry, but it was enough to earn respect.

Zeeg steeled himself, folding the résumé and handing it back to Enta.

"Alright. I'll be counting on you," he said.

"Understood," Enta replied.

Taking the résumé, Enta tucked it away inside his robes. Zeeg then pulled out the contract for the Basarios hunt. Every member of the hunting party had to sign it before submitting it to the Guild - only then could they officially depart.

Producing a brush-like writing tool, Enta scrawled a strange set of characters beneath Zeeg's signature: 炎太郎.

"Is that your name?" Zeeg asked, tilting his head.

"It is written in a script not used in Schrade," Enta explained, stowing the brush once more. "The Guild has permitted us to use our own country's writing, so I choose to do so. 炎 for 'En,' 太 for 'Ta,' and 郎 for 'Rō'."

"Huh..." Zeeg muttered, staring intently at the signature. It looked more like a drawing than a name. He had heard stories that the world stretched far beyond the Kingdom of Schrade, but this was his first time encountering a piece of it with his own eyes.

"So then," Enta said, glancing about the room, "where are the other hunters?"

"Ah, well... there aren't any yet. You're the first," Zeeg admitted.

"Ah, I see. In that case, allow me to assist in selecting the others. It is a matter of life and death, after all."

"Uh, wait, that's-"

Zeeg faltered. Enta quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Was that unwelcome?" he asked, his voice calm but probing.

"No, it's not that," Zeeg said quickly, hesitated a moment, then added, "It's just... Well, I don't mean to ignore your opinion, but this is my party. I want to choose the members myself."

"I see... That is understandable. I shall leave the final decision to you."

"Yeah. I appreciate it."

Zeeg felt a relief far deeper than words could express. He had made his choice - he didn't want to have it overturned and be forced to start all over again. Now, just two more members to find.

The weight on his shoulders lessened a little. Part of it was simply having found one companion already, but more importantly, he had decided that this party was only for this hunt. If they got along, they could continue together. If not, no harm done.

Seeking a long-term team from the outset had been a mistake.

Thinking back, even when he had joined Elmeria's party, it had been intended as a one-time learning experience. After that hunt - where he had contributed almost nothing - and a morning of a strange incident, she had invited him to join her again. Their long association afterward had been the exception, not the rule.

Feeling clearer, Zeeg was about to fold up the contract when he sensed a presence outside the door. Unlike Enta's arrival, this was someone more... normal. The presence halted in front of the door - and stayed there. No knock came.

("What the...?") Zeeg tilted his head. At that instant, Enta, still seated cross-legged, drew something from his coat and flicked it over his shoulder without even turning around.

There was a dull thud, then a sharp cry from beyond the door. A small dagger, its blade oddly shaped to fit a keyhole, was now embedded in the lock.

If he had aimed for that, his skill was terrifying.

"Peeking is a shameful habit," Enta said, sounding for all the world like he was the master of the room.

Zeeg swallowed the complaint rising to his lips. If this was an applicant, it wouldn't do to start off with an argument - no hunter would want to join a party that looked like it was about to fall apart.

"...Come in," Zeeg called, sitting up straight.

Enta rose soundlessly to his feet, positioning himself behind Zeeg with his hands clasped behind his back. Zeeg caught a glimpse of the twin swords at Enta's back but chose to ignore them for now.

The door creaked open hesitantly.

The figure that entered was more boy than man, his face still round with youth. Yet he was tall - taller than Zeeg by the width of a fist, by his quick reckoning. His brown eyes were half-lidded, giving him a perpetually drowsy look, and his short brown hair stuck up wildly, as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

One glance at his equipment, and Zeeg pegged him for a rookie.

His armor was crafted entirely from Velociprey and Velocidrome materials - tough but basic blue-scaled gear, from helm to greaves. When Zeeg had first arrived in town, he had worn even shabbier armor - but he had at least splurged on a decent weapon.

This boy, however, had a plain bone sword at his waist - a one-handed blade that looked more like a jagged saw than a weapon. A Bone Pick, or perhaps a Bone Spike, if Zeeg remembered the name correctly.

The boy glanced at Zeeg, then at Enta looming behind him, and hunched his shoulders before giving a timid bow.

"Um... is this the place recruiting for the Basarios hunt...?" he asked, voice so faint it seemed ready to vanish.

"Yeah-"

"It is indeed," Enta said, cutting off Zeeg without a hint of shame.

Zeeg shot him a look over his shoulder. Enta met his gaze, and nodded as if to say "Ah, right," but offered no apology.

Suppressing a sigh, Zeeg turned back to the boy.

He was still standing awkwardly by the door, clearly reluctant to approach. Zeeg understood - he must have been intimidated by their gear. After all, the Rathalos set Zeeg wore was no easy prize.

"Come on. Have a seat," Zeeg said, patting the floor in front of him. There was no point dragging out a chair at this stage.

The boy approached as if expecting a Velociprey to lunge from the shadows at any moment. He settled where Enta had been sitting before, back stiff, eyes briefly meeting Zeeg's before darting down to the floor.

Behind him, Enta exhaled softly through his nose.

Zeeg felt much the same. This boy wasn't necessarily cowardly, but he lacked confidence. That hesitation, that self-doubt - it could prove fatal in the hunt, where a moment's indecision could mean death.

If this were a simple Velociprey cull or a mushroom gathering quest, it would be another matter.

But this was a wyvern hunt. A Basarios. And if one of them faltered, it could cost them all their lives.

Just as Zeeg opened his mouth to refuse, the boy pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pouch at his waist, placed it on the floor, and pushed it toward him.

("A résumé?") Zeeg thought, but on closer look, it didn't seem like one.

Curious, he picked it up, broke the wax seal, and unfolded it. A quick glance told him it was a letter of introduction, issued by the Guild itself, requesting that Zeeg take charge of training a new recruit.

He couldn't fathom why the request had come to him, of all people. He had yet to accomplish anything noteworthy. Puzzled, he took a closer look - and noticed the seal stamped at the bottom. It wasn't from this city. It belonged to the Hunter's Guild of Minegarde.

"...Um, Miss Becky told me to bring this to you," the boy said hesitantly. "She said... it would be a great learning experience."

"Becky?" Zeeg repeated, raising an eyebrow. He glanced back down at the letter.

The wording was stiff and formal, just what he'd expect from official Guild correspondence - but at the very end, almost like an afterthought, there was a single casual line: "Take good care of him, okay?" The handwriting was unmistakably Becky's.

Memories stirred within him: the day he first arrived in Minegarde. Had the Guild Master not vouched for him back then, he never would have joined Elmeria's party - and without that chance, he doubted he'd have grown strong enough to be clad in Rathalos armor so soon.

Thinking on it, refusing would be the easy path. But could he live with that? Becky had gone out of her way to support him more times than he could count. To turn away now - to betray the trust she was placing in him - felt wrong.

"...Got a résumé?" Zeeg asked, lifting his gaze from the letter. It was only fair to at least take a look.

One couldn't judge a hunter by their armor alone. Some made it a point of pride to hunt wyverns in mediocre gear. This boy hardly seemed the type, but there was always a chance he had some hidden skill.

The boy nodded and produced a second sheet of paper. Zeeg accepted it and unfolded it.

This time, it really was a résumé.

A quick scan was enough to see that the boy's record was nearly blank. He had taken down a few Yian Kut-Ku solo, but those were more bird wyverns than true wyverns. Dangerous if underestimated, yes - but hardly a match for the real heavyweights.

Still, thinking back to his own record when he first came to Minegarde, Zeeg couldn't say the boy was any worse. If he could handle a Yian Kut-Ku alone, he might not be much help against a Basarios, but at least he wouldn't get in the way.

He checked the boy's name: Brass Lagoon. Hailing from Piniq, one of the small frontier villages near Minegarde. Zeeg had never been there himself, but he'd heard it was founded by retired hunters.

His eyes drifted to the age listed beneath the name - and widened in surprise.

Sixteen.

He had pegged the boy for older at first glance, but now that he knew, Brass suddenly seemed much younger, his expressions more boyish.

There weren't many who came to the city at that age. Zeeg himself had, but it was rare. Elmeria, he recalled, had been registered with the Guild even younger, though she'd had Gannon, her retainer, at her side.

Coming alone at sixteen, with no one to back him up - that took guts.

And at least on the surface, Brass seemed like a good-natured kid.

Hunters tended to be a rough bunch. There were plenty of good men and women among them, but there were just as many who would think nothing of exploiting rookies - gathering up greenhorns to use as bait, feeding their fiery spirits into easy victories.

Such types were despised, of course, but there was another school of thought: that the Guild was no place for amateurs, and those too naïve to survive deserved what they got.

True, the Guild sometimes smoothed the path for beginners - as it had for Zeeg - but that protection ended quickly. After that, a hunter's life and death were their own responsibility.

Looking at Brass now, he resembled nothing so much as an Aptanoth wandering haplessly into a hungry hunter's path. No wonder Becky had chased Zeeg all the way to Nusti to hand him this task. She expected him to return the favor she'd once shown him.

If Brass could make it through this first trial, the Guild would gain another capable hunter - and Becky had always said they could never have too many.

("But...") Zeeg frowned inwardly, looking at the weapon he carried: a sword and shield.

Fast enough, sure - but against wyverns, not exactly reliable.

A Yian Kut-Ku was one thing; one could get by with a basic weapon. But anything tougher, and it became a question of whether the blade could even pierce the hide.

If it were the Master Blade from Kokoto Village, the one Freda carried, even Rathalos shell could be split. But with something like a Bone Spike... most likely, the blade would bounce harmlessly off.

As he glanced back down at the résumé, Zeeg noticed a small notation he had missed before. Under Special Skills, in faint letters: Combining (Advanced).

It was a skill often overlooked in hunts, but when used well, it could transform the entire field into an arsenal. Having someone adept at combining on a team was no small advantage.

Still, what to do...

Before he could make up his mind, a voice spoke from behind.

"I have no objection," Enta said.

Zeeg had planned to ask for his opinion, but being preempted like this left a sour taste. He gave a vague nod, folded up the résumé, and handed it back to Brass.

The boy accepted it carefully, almost reverently.

"Welcome aboard," Zeeg said, extending a hand.

Brass blinked, startled, then quickly grabbed Zeeg's gauntleted hand with his own, their armor clinking faintly.

"Th-thank you very much! I'll do my best!"

"No need to push yourself too hard," Zeeg said, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "The Basarios isn't an opponent you can afford to underestimate, but both its poison and sleep gases come with obvious tells before they spew. As long as you don't miss the signs, it's not something to fear. Handle it right, and it's easier than a Kut-Ku."

"R-really?"

Brass's wide-eyed disbelief was almost comical. Zeeg nodded firmly.

"It's tough, sure - but that's all. Just one thing... your Bone Pick might not cut through its hide. You're good at combining, right? I'll be counting on you for that too."

"Y-yes, sir!"

The boy's face lit up, cheeks flushing with excitement. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he nodded so hard it seemed his helmet might topple off.

How long that enthusiasm would last, Zeeg couldn't say. Basarios was no Rathalos - but it was still a wyvern, through and through.

Zeeg produced the contract and handed it over for a signature.

Brass - who, by all appearances, was no rugged or battle-hardened youth - was an unknown quantity when it came to facing a true wyvern, hatchling or not. He might well freeze up... or worse, take a charge straight to the chest.

Keeping a firm hold on the boy's hand, Zeeg rose to his feet and helped Brass to stand. With how Brass stood taller than him, the sword and shield strapped to his back looked almost comically small, more like a dagger than a proper weapon. With a frame like his, a greatsword or a lance would surely suit him better. Still, switching weapons now would only hinder their hunt, so Zeeg decided to leave well enough alone.

"That makes three of us, then," Enta said, arms crossed, sweeping his lone eye over the group. "A greatsword, a sword-and-shield, and dual blades. All close-range fighters... Will we be adding one more to our ranks?"

Zeeg nodded. With this setup, what they really needed was a bowgunner. They could, of course, simply charge in like a pack of Velociprey, relying on brute force - but having a gunner would expand their tactical options considerably. A skilled hunter covering their backs would allow the frontliners to focus solely on the target ahead.

"Let's head to the gathering hall," Zeeg said, jabbing a thumb at the door. "We'll need to update the posting. One more - Bowgun users only."

"A ranged fighter, hmm..." Enta narrowed his lone eye. "I don't much care for them, but if it's your decision, I shall abide - Though shame may arise; silence falls upon the heart; peace in quiet reigns."

"Bowgun... I'll do my best," Brass murmured vaguely, clenching his fist for reasons known only to himself.

Zeeg was tempted to ask what exactly he meant to "do his best" at - but decided against it as he grabbed his greatsword from against the wall. Better not to give the impression that every little thing had to be discussed and agreed upon. When the moment came, he didn't want Brass getting any ideas about second-guessing orders. They needed a bowgunner; if Brass had a problem with that, he was free to leave.

Completely unaware of Zeeg's silent calculus, Brass hurried after him and Enta.

They descended the stairs, passing a few hunters on the way down, but none of the faces were familiar. That wasn't surprising - both Zeeg and Brass were newcomers to town. Even Enta, it seemed, was not acquainted with anyone here, exchanging no greetings as they passed.

The moment they stepped out of the guest house, the unrelenting sun struck them with full force, searing their skin. The weather was too good - almost obnoxiously so.

As they made their way downhill toward the gathering hall, Zeeg caught sight of an odd figure loitering by the entrance. A girl, clad in a skirt flared wide in black and white, stood beneath a black parasol trimmed in white lace. At a glance, she might have passed for a tavern maid on an errand - if not for the battered, oversized travel case she carried in her free hand. The scuffed and dirty leather suggested a life spent constantly on the move.

Something about her tugged at Zeeg's memory. He slowed, frowning, trying to place the familiarity. That outfit... he had seen it somewhere before.

As he watched, the girl folded her parasol and disappeared into the gathering hall. He caught a glimpse of her profile - just a fleeting glance - but it was enough to notice the glint of glasses perched on her nose.

"Is something the matter?" Enta asked.

"Huh? No... it's nothing."

Zeeg shook his head. If he couldn't place it, it probably wasn't important. He brushed the thought aside and motioned for the others to move on. As they pushed open the gathering hall doors, the familiar crush of alcohol, smoke, and humanity washed over them. They waded through it, making for the bulletin board.

At the counter, Zeeg spotted the girl again, speaking with the guild receptionist - the one with the prosthetic eye. Maybe she was trying to get hired as a server.

At the board, Zeeg began searching for the notice he had posted earlier. It wasn't unusual for hunters to take down postings they were interested in, so it didn't surprise him that it wasn't exactly where he had left it.

"I think it was around here," Brass said, pointing.

Following his indication, Zeeg found the notice buried halfway down a thick stack of overlapping papers. It was barely visible - left untouched, surely no one else would show up today. Just retrieving it made the trip worthwhile.

Using the bulletin board itself as a writing surface, Zeeg crossed out the old posting and updated the notes section:

"Seeking one more! Bowgun users only!"

He pinned it back up, making sure to place it in the most prominent spot - right at the very top. There was just one day left before the deadline. If they didn't find a fourth by then, they would have to set out as a trio.

Against a Basarios, three hunters would still manage... probably.

Just as Zeeg secured the paper, something black flickered past. Before he could even register what had happened, the notice was plucked from the board and sent fluttering through the air - deftly caught by a gloved hand.

Neither Zeeg nor Enta had sensed the approach. Enta reacted instinctively, leaping back a full table's length, hands flashing toward his weapons. Brass, startled out of his wits, fell flat on his rear.

Zeeg turned sharply, just in time to see the fluttering paper land neatly in the left hand of the girl from outside. She balanced her black parasol on her right shoulder, moving with a fluid, almost dancer-like grace.

She read the notice, her blue eyes - magnified behind her glasses - scanning the words with a sharp, gleaming intensity. Her long black hair, curled into vertical rolls on either side of her head, swayed slightly as she read.

She looked to be around Zeeg's age. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak-

"...This posting - yours?" she asked, her voice hard and clear, like machalite struck against stone.

In that instant, it hit him: he remembered where he had seen her.

"You were at Kokoto-" he blurted.

At his words, her eyes flickered - a slight, unmistakable recognition.

So it was her.

Back when Zeeg had returned to Kokoto, bored while Elmeria was off mining for the Breath Core in the volcanic zones, he had seen this girl working at the village gathering hall. If he recalled correctly, the village chief had called her Vivi.

And she was a hunter, too.

He remembered now - when the Monoblos had reappeared near the village, there had been a frantic scramble among the hunters to claim the kill. Zeeg had gotten the mark, but it had simply been luck of patrol routes - not a matter of skill.

"Vivienne Sharon, at your service," the girl said, speaking both names like a formal introduction. "How fortunate - I was just looking for a quest I could join immediately. I don't know your companions, but you... I know you're someone I can serve without worry."

"S-serve...?" Zeeg stammered. "Listen, we're just looking for a Bowgun user-"

"Precisely why I am the perfect candidate," Vivi interrupted. "From the looks of you all, you're nothing but frontliners. Surely, the bowgunner you're seeking is someone meant to support the party - a light bowgun user, yes?"

"Well, yeah, that's true," Zeeg admitted, frowning. "But where's your bowgun, then?"

"Why, right here," Vivi said, as if the answer were obvious.

Without missing a beat, she extended the handle of her parasol. With a soft click, the tip opened up, revealing a gun barrel glinting from within. The frilled black parasol - ornate and delicate - was, astonishingly, a bowgun. Even Enta, witnessing it for the first time, let out a low hum of admiration.

"This is the Dark Parasol. It cannot use piercing or cluster shots, but in exchange, it can handle every type of support ammo."

As she spoke, she set down the battered travel case she had been carrying, unlatched it, and produced a folded piece of paper, which she offered to Zeeg. Taking it, he unfolded it to find a neatly written résumé - one that made her skill immediately clear.

Given the nature of the light bowgun, it was unlikely she'd worked many solo hunts, yet even so, the list was impressive: ten Rathalos, seven Plesioth, three Khezu - and, remarkably, two Monoblos.

The Monoblos, the One-Horned Wyvern, never appeared in guild-sanctioned hunting grounds where teams were permitted. In other words, these two were solo kills - taken down single-handedly, and with a light bowgun at that.

"Is there a problem?" Vivi asked.

There was none. Hunters of her caliber were not easy to come by, even if one went looking with a contract in hand. And even if their previous encounter had been brief, there was a certain comfort in having a familiar face from his home village.

"You're in," Zeeg said decisively, producing the contract and handing it to her.

Vivi collapsed the Dark Parasol with an elegant motion, accepted the document, and after scribbling her name at the bottom, pushed up the bridge of her glasses with two fingers. Her lips curved into a smile - so perfectly poised it seemed almost artificial - as she said,

"Pleased to serve you, Master."

Chapter 4 - Land of the Rock Wyvern

Standing at the mouth of the ravine that led from base camp into Area 2, Zeeg could only let out a silent groan as he looked up at the massive black boulder planted squarely in their path.

According to the guild cart driver who had brought them to this volcanic region, a minor eruption just a few days prior had triggered a landslide that collapsed part of the cliff and blocked off the direct route into Area 2.

From the map, their only remaining option was a roundabout detour through a lava-filled cave - far from ideal.

The Basarios were known to inhabit Areas 2 and 3, with the majority of sightings reported in Area 2. The job details even stated that the trade caravan had been attacked in that very spot - which made this a hassle.

If the path were open, they could have dashed back to camp for treatment if they were poisoned - but a detour would render that tactic useless. They had brought some antidotes, of course, but they'd planned under the assumption that camp would be within quick reach. Their supply wasn't bottomless.

The obvious solution was not to get poisoned at all - but unexpected things happened. Especially - Zeeg glanced at Brass - the problem was this boy.

From the outset, Brass had been lugging around a pack stuffed to bursting with all manner of tools. The most egregious offenders were three books - not novels or anything trivial, but Books of Combos. Zeeg himself had one, though he'd left it at the guest house. Brass claimed to have memorized the contents, yet insisted on bringing all three, calling them his lucky charms - said they made his mixing more successful just by being there.

Hunters were a superstitious bunch, to be fair. Zeeg still wore an ornament he'd made from a shard of the first Yian Kut-Ku scale he'd ever broken. He understood the sentiment. But three volumes were, in his view, plain excessive.

Brass hadn't forgotten anything else, either - he had pickaxes for mining, and even bug nets. Not just one of each, either - he'd brought as many as he could carry, and his pack bulged so much he was already out of breath after a short walk.

"Perhaps we could break open this path..." said Enta as he stepped forward and rapped the boulder with the back of his fist. The glossy black surface rang out with a clear note, echoing high into the cliffs above their camp. It was dense. Maybe a Large Barrel Bomb would do the trick... but using a precious item like that on a hunch didn't sit right with Zeeg.

"...Shall I give it a try?"

Enta's hands drifted to the dual blades at his waist.

Zeeg raised a hand. "Don't. If the blades chip, we'll be in trouble when the real fight starts. A slash won't even leave a scratch on rocks that color and tone."

"...Point taken," Enta replied, lips curving into a faint grin as he withdrew his hand in a fluid, almost theatrical motion.

Zeeg narrowed his eyes. He'd been tested.

Enta had known the rock wouldn't budge. The display had been for Zeeg's benefit - to see how he'd react. Within a hunting party, it made sense to size up one's allies' judgment. Rank and paperwork never told the whole story. Still, knowing didn't make it any less irritating.

Zeeg swallowed his annoyance and unrolled the map against the rough stone so everyone could see. He pointed to the area where the cliff had collapsed.

"...With the path to Area 2 blocked, we've got no choice but to go through the cave. Fortunately, we've got Cool Drinks in the supply box, so heatstroke shouldn't be a problem. First, though, let's check Area 3 - see if the Basarios wandered over there."

"A reasonable plan," Enta said with a nod, though his tone was so neutral Zeeg couldn't tell whether he meant it or was mocking him.

Zeeg kept his expression unreadable, but he caught himself thinking - No, that won't do. He was wound too tight. Too focused on making this work. Pressure like that could cloud his judgment - and in the field, that led to one outcome: death.

He folded the map and tucked it into the flap of his boot, then turned to Brass.

The boy straightened as Zeeg's gaze landed on him. Standing tall like that, he was actually a bit taller than Zeeg. His armor - a full set of the blue-scaled Velociprey gear - looked fragile for a fight against a flying wyvern. And with all those tools weighing him down...

Zeeg sighed softly, jerking his chin toward the overstuffed pack.

"Brass. You'll have to leave some of your stuff behind."

"H-huh!?" The boy's expression was a portrait of shock. Zeeg had to stifle a snort. It's not like he'd told him to leave his sword behind. "B-but, without my tools, how would I-"

"I didn't say everything. Ditch the pickaxes and bug nets - you won't have time for gathering. You'd be better off watching how we fight. I mean, you weren't supposed to even be on this quest, really - the only reason you're here is because the Guild in Minegarde put in a word for you. Don't waste the opportunity."

"Th-then! What about my Book of Combos!? I-I need those! Without them, I-I wouldn't know what to do!"

"Bring one."

"Just one!?"

"They're bulky. What's the point of hunting if you don't have space to carry anything you carve out? Would you be willing to trash the books then?"

Brass shook his head violently and hunched protectively over his pack, as if Zeeg might rip the books away by force. Zeeg didn't correct him. If fear got the boy to leave the extra volumes behind, then all the better.

"Go on. Drop it off."

With a resigned nod, Brass shuffled back toward the tent, slumping to his knees beside his pack and digging through it with exaggerated care.

Hunters came in all kinds. Most hunted to make a living, but some found meaning in collecting rare insects or discovering new species. Others became obsessed with acquiring every single piece of gear the world had to offer.

Brass would probably grow into one of those.

("Now, then...")

Zeeg used the lull to draw on his memory - trying to map out a plan for dealing with the Basarios. He'd previously faced the monster both solo and with a team - and now, the latter was far more relevant.

Back when he'd hunted with Elmeria's party, Gannon always acted as the decoy. Zeeg and Elmeria would slip through the opening he created, striking hard, while Fradio kept any other monsters from interfering. That had been their usual formation. Fradio's weapon, the Tankmage, couldn't fire support ammo like Antidote rounds, so it was vital for the team to read the Basarios' tells and avoid its poisonous attacks altogether.

But this time, there would be no decoy.

Zeeg's greatsword could be used like a shield in a pinch, but that wasn't its intended purpose. Enta's dual blades offered no defensive utility, and while Brass was the only one with a shield, pushing him straight into a flying wyvern's path was out of the question.

Vivi wielded a light bowgun - the Dark Parasol - capable of using support ammo Fradio couldn't, but in exchange, its attack power was relatively low. She couldn't be relied upon to deal with the smaller monsters that would inevitably scavenge the leftovers from a wounded Basarios.

In effect, it would be up to Zeeg and Enta to handle the hunt. Zeeg accepted that. He hadn't yet seen how Enta fought, but the way the man moved - swift, almost gliding - gave him a hunch. If he could rely on Enta for hit-and-run tactics, sweeping up stragglers and pulling the monster's focus, Zeeg could close in beneath the Basarios' legs, strike when the opening came, and retreat at the first sign of a windup. Once the poison had cleared, he'd go back in and repeat. A simple rhythm, but one that worked.

As for Vivi, she could stay back and provide recovery ammo to anyone injured. She might even help with crowd control, using paralysis, sleep, or poison rounds to tip the scales. Her weapon was high-spec, able to load nearly every type of ammo save for Water, Thunder, and Pierce rounds.

Before they departed, Zeeg had asked her to bring extra Antidote rounds. If she'd done as asked, it would make the hunt far more manageable. They wouldn't need to waste time dodging every poison cloud - he could just keep swinging.

"How many Antidote rounds do you have, Vivi?"

"I brought twenty, if that's enough," she replied.

More than enough. If they needed more than that, they had no business calling themselves hunters of their current rank - and the hunt would likely fail anyway.

Before long, Brass returned with slumped shoulders. Zeeg waited for him, then started forward without a word. Brass's pack was still bulging - he might've sneaked a second book in. Zeeg could have scolded him and made him leave it behind, but decided against it. Being too strict might snuff out what motivation Becky had instilled in the boy before entrusting him to them.

With Zeeg in the lead, they set out from the base camp, taking the right-hand path toward Area 1 with the river behind them. Their boots crunched over the gray soil as they moved, alert to their surroundings. The gravel near camp made too much noise - a frequent cause of unwanted attention - but at least there wasn't enough open ground for a wyvern to land nearby.

They filed down the narrow trail, emerging into a barren, ash-colored expanse. Legend had it this place had turned gray from years of volcanic ash raining down, seeping into the earth over countless generations.

A blot of red appeared in that colorless landscape - not lava, not flowers, but living muscle. Red-scaled, carnivorous Ioprey. Zeeg's brow twitched at the memory their appearance brought to mind: his last hunt with Elmeria's party.

"...Five of them," Enta murmured behind him, voice taut as a drawn bowstring. His tone made his message clear: We'll be coming back this way. Better to clear them out now.

That was understandable. If the Basarios was holed up in Area 3, this would be their fallback route. Trying to retreat through an Ioprey pack while wounded would be a death sentence. They weren't just fast and vicious - they leaped like hellspawn and spat poison to boot.

"Be on guard," Enta said with a glint in his eye, "Crimson swarm draws near; flames flow in the broken land; the first clash begins."

He turned to Brass. His look said - Ready?

Brass stiffened. His eyes widened, and for a moment, it seemed he would shake his head - then he stopped himself.

Strange kid, Zeeg thought. Coming on a hunt and trying to avoid a fight.

"No one said you'd be doing it alone," he said dryly.

He tore open the wrapping on one of their rations - a whole hunk of meat or a proper meal would've been ideal, but supply meals like these were far more efficient - and devoured it in one bite. The boost to stamina and fullness would carry him through the hunt. Enta and Vivi followed suit. Brass hesitated, then with trembling hands, unwrapped his own and forced it down, visibly struggling to swallow.

It would take a few seconds for the nutrients to kick in. Zeeg turned back to scan the Ioprey pack... and nearly choked.

Enta was already moving. No stealth. No caution. Just striding toward the Ioprey as if he hadn't a care in the world. Zeeg reached out instinctively - but it was too late.

One of the Ioprey noticed him and shrieked, its shrill cry tearing through the air.

("Seriously!?")

Zeeg cursed under his breath, dropped the visor on his Rathalos Helm, and burst from cover. As he ran, he called to Brass-

"Let's go!"

-And drew his Lacerator Blade+, gripping the handle tight.

Enta drew his dual blades from his hips and stepped forward, his speed unreal for a motion that still looked like a walk. Zeeg was running, yet couldn't catch up - a disorienting feeling.

Before he could reach him, Enta was surrounded. Five Ioprey, all teeth and claws. There was no escape. Zeeg would have to carve a path in - if he made it in time.

A crack rang out behind him - the pop of igniting gunpowder - and a breeze coiled past his ear.

One of the Ioprey jerked as a neat hole appeared in the ridge above its eye. Flesh ruptured, blood sprayed, and the creature crumpled as though struck by an invisible hammer. Zeeg didn't need to turn around - Vivi's cover fire, sharp and precise as expected.

But one down meant four remained - still more than enough to tear Enta apart. The man wore the Shinobi armor series - sleek and light, but offering almost no real protection. Against Ioprey fangs and claws, it might as well have been paper.

Vivi's next shot would take time to aim. It wouldn't come fast enough.

The remaining Ioprey hunched low - then sprang into the air. Vivi managed to drop one mid-leap - but the other three came crashing down as a single mass of red onto Enta, threatening to crush him beneath their weight.

Zeeg's skin prickled with goosebumps, the sensation sharp enough to make him want to say aloud - No way!

He's dead, was his first thought.

Anger came before grief.

What the hell's with the dual blades bravado? All that big talk - and he goes and dies on our first damn hunt together!?

A crushing weight pressed onto Zeeg's shoulders, though he knew full well he wasn't the one to blame. Enta had charged ahead without coordination. He told himself that, and repeated it in his mind. This isn't your fault. Enta brought it on himself.

But the guilt didn't dissipate. It felt as though Enta's ghost was hanging from his arm, dragging him down. Still, he couldn't stop now. If he hesitated, if he didn't lift his sword and keep fighting, more of his party might end up dead.

Bowgun users were vulnerable up close. Brass was not safe, either - maybe he'd fought Ioprey before, but the ones in a random field and the ones in the Guild's designated hunting zones were in a different league entirely.

Gritting his teeth, Zeeg raised his Lacerator Blade+... and froze.

The Ioprey that had landed on Enta weren't moving. Not a twitch. They weren't tearing into him, nor preparing to strike again. They lay piled atop one another as though they'd been doused in sleeping gas.

Then, with a wet, slipping sound, the topmost Ioprey slid off its kin and hit the ground.

The other two followed, slumping over lifelessly. From beneath the collapsed carcasses, Enta emerged - kneeling, his dual blades crossed before his chest. He rose to his feet as if nothing had happened. At a glance, he bore no visible injuries. With a single elegant motion, he swung his blades once and sheathed them behind his back, folding his arms.

Zeeg stared, momentarily awestruck.

But the moment passed. The awe gave way to a fresh surge of rage.

This bastard... After prompting Brass to get ready, he charges in without a damn word!?

In a party hunt, coordination was everything. Everyone's specialty had to be used in harmony. And Enta, with his light armor, was not built for headlong assaults.

"Hey!" Zeeg barked, slinging his greatsword back over his shoulder and striding toward Enta with long, furious steps.

Relief - cold and fleeting - washed away the weight on his shoulders the moment he realized Enta was alive. But if he let that reckless behavior slide, the same thing could happen again. Zeeg wasn't about to take responsibility for a man who threw his own life away on a whim. Even if he had to beat some sense into him. Age didn't matter. Rank didn't matter.

But as that thought settled, his fury began to ebb.

That's me, he realized. That was me.

No, he hadn't been that reckless. On his last hunt with Elmeria, he had followed her strategy. Well - until the end, when he'd challenged her plans and tried to act on his own.

Still... was it really so different?

If he had rushed in alone against that Rathian and died, Elmeria would've blamed herself. Even if she said otherwise, she would have regretted failing to stop him.

And maybe it wasn't just about sparing her that burden. Maybe it was about acknowledging that his own actions had put her in that position to begin with.

But that didn't mean Enta should get a free pass. Zeeg drew in a deep breath and steadied himself. Then, stepping over the Ioprey corpses, he came to a stop in front of Enta.

The man's single eye didn't smirk or shine with pride. There was no arrogance in the curve of his lips - no air of self-congratulation. He was short, lean, and composed. Zeeg stared into that single eye, feeling its weight.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Zeeg said, forcing the remnants of his anger into the words.

At his feet, the Ioprey he'd slain first had already begun to dissolve, its fluids bubbling up with the stench of rot.

Ioprey, Velociprey, Genprey - they all shared the same biological quirk. Upon death, their internal fluids reacted with air, hastening decomposition. Time was critical for carving materials, but if he stopped to scold Enta after harvesting, it would turn into a joke.

"You trying to get yourself killed? Just because they're Ioprey doesn't mean-"

"I had no such intention," Enta cut in flatly. "I acted because I was able. Nothing more. A mere five Ioprey are no threat to me. And... I wished to see your capabilities for myself."

"What?" Zeeg said, blinking.

"If you hadn't become angry at my actions, it would've meant you lacked the foresight to lead. But you did get angry - therefore, I trust you have the bigger picture in mind." Enta slowly uncrossed his arms. "One's true nature cannot be observed without hunting alongside them. Interviews and paperwork say next to nothing."

So it wasn't just Enta being judged - he had been testing Zeeg as well.

Obvious, in hindsight. Zeeg had thought he was the only one sizing others up, but that had never been the case.

He exhaled slowly. With the breath, the heat left his head, and clarity returned.

Did I do the same to Elmeria?

Was he constantly measuring her as a leader? Did she ever feel that?

Maybe.

If she had become cautious over time, that would've made sense - but that didn't excuse everything. Being too cautious was just as dangerous as being reckless. One couldn't avoid risk and expect to succeed in a hunt. What mattered was knowing where the line between life and death truly was.

"I get what you're saying," Zeeg said.

Enta's pupil contracted slightly, as if to say - Oh?

"But this doesn't happen again. If you go rogue like that, it throws the rest of us off. I get it - you're fast. But if we don't coordinate, we won't survive against a flying wyvern. Not even you can think you'll take one down solo in a Guild-assigned hunt, right?"

"If ordered, I would do it," Enta replied. His gaze didn't waver. He wasn't boasting. His eye said the same message: I can, and if I must, I will. "...But I understand. I will follow your lead - as long as I do not believe your strategy to be foolish."

"Well, you don't mince words, do you?"

"Politeness helps no one in the field - Lips sealed in shadow; what's buried rots in the dark; no one knows your truth - That is the way of things."

"...Yeah, sure."

At last, Zeeg found it in himself to smile - even if only a wry one.

Enta was right.

Nothing would ever be understood if left unsaid. Assuming others would understand without words was nothing more than wishful thinking - convenient fiction to ease one's own conscience. Some might insist otherwise, but that only meant they thought they'd been understood, not that they truly had.

In everyday life, such misunderstandings could sometimes smooth things over. But out in the field, in the hunt, assumptions only doubled the danger.

That, Zeeg thought, was the core of what Enta was trying to say... even if he could be wrong about that, too.

"...Still. That was some impressive marksmanship," Enta said suddenly, shifting the conversation without warning as he looked down at two of the fallen Ioprey.

Zeeg knew exactly who he meant. Vivi.

Her shot had been flawless - striking the skull, instantly killing the creatures. The Ioprey hadn't been stationary either; one had even been lunging straight for Enta when she'd fired, nailing it right between the eyes.

If Fradio's heavy bowgun was a spear, then Vivi's light bowgun was a needle. With her precision, she could shoot in the thick of battle without ever worrying about friendly fire, no matter how wild the melee.

"She's clearly had intensive training," Enta added, nodding slightly.

"You think so?" Zeeg replied.

"At that age, such skill doesn't come without discipline. I'd wager she had a bowgun in her hands before she could read - raised for it, like you, perhaps. What do they call that - gifted upbringing?"

Zeeg let out a dry breath. "If she was 'raised' for anything, I doubt it was a blessing. More likely she just didn't have a choice. Hunting was probably the only way forward."

Enta tilted his head. "The same goes for you?"

"Yeah," Zeeg said quietly. He looked down at the Ioprey as they crumbled completely, the wind scattering the remnants across the gray ash. "My village's whole livelihood revolves around hunting. Most people pick up a blade because they have to. There's no other path. I figure she's the same."

Elmeria, raised a hunter, was the weird one out, he thought - but even that, he wasn't so sure about anymore.

He'd always believed Elmeria was shaped by Gannon's guidance - what Enta might've called "gifted upbringing" - becoming a fearsome hunter at an age most were still swinging sticks at dummies. But the life of a hunter was harsh - perilous beyond measure. And Gannon had claimed to be indebted to her supposed father. If he had truly wanted to protect Elmeria, why had he led her into this life?

Sure, maybe Gannon had no other trade to pass on. But with his skill, he could've made enough to raise her safely without sending her into the jaws of death. He didn't have to turn her into a hunter.

"Compared to Lady Vivi, then, what do you make of that?"

Enta's voice trailed in with a faint chuckle, snapping Zeeg out of his thoughts. He shouldn't waste time mulling over Elmeria. It wasn't like they'd be crossing paths again anytime soon - nor did he plan to.

"Huh? Make of what?"

Enta pointed behind Zeeg.

Zeeg turned - and was greeted by the sight of a backside poking out from behind a boulder. Loose, dark pants, a long waist-cloth swaying slightly - that was the Velociprey Tassets. Of course it was. There wasn't anyone else it could be. That backside belonged to Brass. Resting just above it were his sword - the Bone Spike - and shield, both still strapped to his back, untouched.

("So he turned tail on the Ioprey? Unbelievable...")

Zeeg stared, dumbfounded.

They weren't the easiest foes, true, but compared to a Yian Kut-Ku or a real wyvern, they were fodder. For Brass to cower behind a rock like that - without even drawing his sword - was pathetic. Zeeg couldn't imagine how this boy had ever taken down a Kut-Ku. He doubted the Guild would've been fooled, but still - it made him wonder if that résumé had been polished a little too hard.

Nearby, Vivi calmly maintained her Dark Parasol, seemingly unconcerned by Brass's retreat. She offered no reprimand, no judgment - just silence. That, too, struck Zeeg as a bit of a problem.

Zeeg walked over to the boulder and called out, "Hey."

Brass jumped, his backside twitching before he scrambled upright and peeked around the rock.

"Ah... I-it's over already...?" he said meekly.

His complexion was pale, his voice sheepish. Zeeg could also see a faint trace of lingering tension in his posture. And then, he noticed something - Brass was holding something in his hand.

"What's that you've got there?"

"Oh, this...?" Brass opened his palm without protest.

A cluster of hard, round plants sat in his hand - Huskberries.

Zeeg's eyes narrowed. Seriously? This kid was gathering materials while Enta and Vivi were fighting?

"They're Huskberries," Brass said quickly, as if sensing the incoming scolding. "I... I thought I wouldn't be any help in the fight, so I figured I could at least collect some of these..."

Zeeg nearly dropped his jaw in disbelief.

Sure, Enta had stolen the spotlight with that display, leaving no room for interference - but still. To not even try drawing his blade and instead go gathering during combat? He'd never seen a hunter like this before.

"And what exactly were you planning to do with those?" Zeeg asked, still half in disbelief.

"Well... make ammo for Miss Vivi, of course," Brass said, blinking in confusion. "With some fluids from the fish near base camp, I can mix up Level 2 Pierce and Level 1 Crag shots..."

Zeeg had no idea. He knew what Huskberries were, of course, but he always discarded them the moment he picked them up. The only things he ever mixed were potions and bombs. He wasn't a gunner. Ammo synthesis had never even crossed his mind.

"Interesting," came Enta's voice, suddenly beside them - silent as a shadow. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So you assessed the situation, saw where you could contribute, and acted accordingly... In other words, not cowardice."

"Well... I was scared," Brass admitted, flashing a stiff, nervous grin.

Zeeg could tell what the boy had been trying to do, at least. In that moment, with those monsters bearing down on Enta, even if Brass had drawn his weapon, it wouldn't have made a difference. Zeeg himself hadn't made it in time, and he was far more experienced. Worst case, Brass might've just gotten in Vivi's line of fire.

"Mixing's fine and all," Zeeg said, "But save it for when there aren't monsters around. You never know when we'll need your hands. If someone calls for a potion and you're elbow-deep in gathering, that's no help to anyone."

"...I'm sorry," Brass mumbled, head drooping.

Zeeg wasn't one for lectures - never had been - but this was part of mentoring a rookie. They were risking their lives together. That meant facing the ugly parts too. If Brass were hunting solo, Zeeg wouldn't have cared if he paused to forage mid-battle or tried to fish while a wyvern circled overhead. But in a hunting party, one person's careless move could get someone else killed.

"You better mean it. We're counting on you."

He gave Brass a light pat on the shoulder, then turned to head down the path leading into Area 3. According to the map, the narrow canyon ahead would open into a wide basin - the likely nesting ground of the Basarios they were tracking.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Zeeg spotted Brass shuffling behind with his back hunched, scanning the area like he still hoped to spot something worth gathering. Enta walked beside him with a stiff, almost mechanical grace, hardly moving his upper body. Trailing behind them was Vivi, twirling her open Dark Parasol like an actual parasol, the frilled edges swaying gently with each step.

It looked like some bizarre field trip.

Zeeg fought the urge to clutch his temples and tilted his face toward the sulfur-tinged sky, that high expanse of pale blue hanging overhead. He let out a silent sigh, barely more than a breath.

"SO TASTY!"

The shout rang out beneath the high blue sky, and a judge hurried over to the hunter who had called. He scrutinized the massive hunk of spit-roasted meat - bone-in and dripping with juices - then poked it with a finger, gave it a sniff, and gave a decisive nod.

"SO TASTY!"

He echoed the words with ceremonial flair, raising his flag. An attendant came sprinting in with a large metal platter, received the perfectly grilled Well-Done Steak, and hurried back toward base camp. The judge, without missing a beat, stamped the card hanging from the hunter's neck.

"SO TASTY!"

Another call echoed from somewhere else, and the judge turned on his heel and made for the next participant.

The hunter who had just completed his delivery took another hunk of Raw Meat from a nearby stack and set it on the Gourmet BBQ Spit, sliding it onto the rotating rod. He fitted the handle into place and immediately began turning it with a serious expression.

"...Young Mistress."

"Huh? Ah-!"

By the time Gannon's voice reached Elmeria, it was already too late. She hastily lifted the handle, but the meat was charred black, belching out a thick plume of smoke. The outside had carbonized completely, and the burnt crust flaked off the moment she shook it.

Sighing in defeat, Elmeria laid the Burnt Meat onto the cloth spread beside her. It was not the first piece to meet such a fate. More than ten others already lay there, forming a small mountain of failure.

She had joined the Meat Grill Festival in hopes of lifting her spirits. But far from cheering her up, the activity only deepened the gloom in her heart. Every time she grilled meat, her mind unavoidably drifted back to Zeeg. Even now, she could remember it all too clearly.

It had been during a Rathalos hunt - something she'd reluctantly agreed to take him on at the request of the Minegarde Guild Master. With little else for him to do, she had told Zeeg to grill some meat. He had spun the handle of the spit while humming the BBQ Song - the very first tune every novice hunter learns.

Not that it had actual lyrics. The song was more of a rhythmic hum that trained a hunter's body to recognize the perfect moment to lift the meat from the fire. The catchy tune was popular in taverns, where hunters would sling arms over shoulders and belt out their own nonsense verses, but no one actually sang it on the field.

Or so Elmeria had thought - until she met Zeeg.

Years had passed since then, and yet he never stopped singing that off-key song. She had told him to drop it at first - after all, making noise during a hunt could alert monsters to their presence - but in time, she gave up. Odd as it was, his tuneless humming had a way of easing the tension in the air.

And now she would never hear it again.

The realization struck her more heavily than she had expected. How had she not noticed until now? That even at a simple festival, the absence of that ridiculous song could leave her so hollow?

Another sigh escaped her lips. She slumped forward, letting the breath drain the last of her willpower. There was no point in grilling meat in this mood - no way it would ever come out well done like this.

Beside her, Gannon had also stopped turning his spit. From the corner of her eye, she saw him remove a still-rare piece of meat from the rod.

"...Don't let me stop you," she said. "Go ahead and grill."

"No need. I was... not particularly eager to do it anyway."

"...Right."

Another sigh built up in her chest, and this time she didn't fight it. As the breath left her, so did her resolve. A strange lethargy took hold, and even the hammer strapped to her back felt unbearably heavy.

"...Hey, Gannon." She stared into the flames of the makeshift campfire, voice little more than a murmur. "Do you think I've become... cowardly?"

"Are you still troubled by what Zeeg said?"

"...Honestly, yeah. I knew I'd been making mistakes lately. I can understand why he was frustrated. But - was I wrong? Please. Be honest."

Gannon fiddled silently with the spit handle he'd removed from the bone. There had been a time when he would've scolded her for even asking. Lately, though, he hardly offered his opinions at all. She had once thought that meant he'd come to recognize her as a fully-fledged hunter.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Throughout her career, she had dismissed people from her party - but no one had ever cast her out.

"...You were not necessarily wrong, Young Mistress." His words were carefully measured. "However... your views and his have grown apart. That is all. Every hunter draws the line somewhere - how far to push, when to retreat. Zeeg had started to feel confident. After slaying a Monoblos and upgrading to Rathalos armor, he likely began to think he would not go down so easily. That outlook... clashed with your own. You believed in returning from a hunt unscathed. But Zeeg - he wanted to finish the job, even if it meant breaking a bone."

"...That's inefficient. Break a bone and you're out for months. Muscle loss, less training - it's no different from that Khezu girl with her hero complex."

"It is something many greenhorns go through."

"Wait. Are you saying Zeeg is still one, after all this time?"

Gannon, his fingers clasped together, his neck thick as a log, gave a slow nod. His face was still partially wrapped in bandages. The Rathian poison had reached his optic nerves and still hadn't completely left his system. According to the Guild's in-house doctors, full recovery was uncertain.

"But... he took down a Monoblos."

"Hunters are not judged by the size or species of the monsters they have hunted. The Guild's Hunter Rank might reflect skill level - but it does not define whether someone is truly seasoned or not. Are you familiar with the party called Crimson Avian Wings?"

Of course she was. Four men, all close to fifty, known for hunting practically nothing but Yian Kut-Ku.

They'd been in the trade a long time, yet still wore full Kut-Ku armor - a production line without a helmet. None of them ever substituted helmets from other wyvern sets, either.

Their weapons told a similar story. The two greatsword users wielded the Iron Gospel katana. The lance wielder used a Babel Spear. The bowgunner carried a Grenade Launcher. All weapons crafted without a single flying wyvern part.

Many hunters mocked them for going after nothing but Kut-Ku.

Elmeria understood the sentiment - after all, she'd spent years hunting alongside Fradio, who was much the same. He always went after Gypceros when hunting solo. She didn't see it as something to deride; it was simply another way of doing things. That said, Fradio could take on other flying wyverns when he chose to. Which made him a different case entirely.

But Gannon - he saw things differently. He recognized their worth.

"...There are hunters who call them cowards, but they are not. They chose Yian Kut-Ku after long years of hunting. It is not that they can not hunt other wyverns. They simply would not. Very few know this, but it is the truth - those men were instrumental in repelling the Lao-Shan Lung time and time again. Even during the chaos in Minegarde, they fought valiantly, though few noticed. They are, in every sense of the word, seasoned hunters. It is not enough to just slay wyverns and chase a higher Hunter Rank. That sort of mindset leads to a short life. You, Young Mistress, may not be fully aware of it - but I believe you have sensed that truth, and that is why you have grown more cautious lately, yes?"

Had she? She wasn't sure. It was her own heart she was talking about, and yet she couldn't quite grasp it.

There was no doubt, however, that she didn't want Zeeg getting hurt.

She remembered shouting at him once, when he'd brushed off a fractured bone like it was a mere scrape. It angered her - because it felt like he truly believed that. Like he saw broken bones as no more than splinters.

Maybe that was why she'd pulled on the reins whenever he acted recklessly. Maybe. But it wasn't the whole picture - surely not. She just didn't want to look too closely at what else might be there.

"...So," Elmeria said quietly, "you don't think I've gone soft? That I've stopped being a real hunter?"

"Not at all, Young Mistress," Gannon replied. "Zeeg still has a long way to go, but he too is a hunter. His life - or death - is his own to choose. You are not responsible for that. On the contrary, as a fellow hunter, you should respect his decisions."

A nearby hunter's cheerful voice rang out: "SO TASTY!"

Elmeria sighed as the smell of meat drifted over.

"...I know that. I know, logically. But still - if someone dies because I made the wrong call, I do feel responsible."

It wasn't as though no one had ever died on a hunt with her. True, Gannon had assured her she'd never lost someone due to a clear mistake in judgment. But even so - when death came, it came. And Elmeria had never forgotten any of them.

"At least when it comes to me, you don't need to worry."

She turned at the sound of Fradio's voice. He stood nearby, shoulders burdened with a mountain of raw meat. The scent of blood and gunpowder clung to him, strong and acrid. Judging by the thickness of the bones jutting from the slabs, it was raw Aptonoth meat. Their supplies must've run dry, and he'd gone out hunting to replenish them.

"If things really go south, I'll be the first to run," he said casually. "Well, unless it's a Gypceros. In that case, I'll die happily at her feet..."

Ugh, not me, Elmeria thought, though she didn't say it aloud. People had different tastes, sure, but she couldn't, for the life of her, see that thing as beautiful. The idea of being crushed beneath its feet or dying in agony from its poison made her stomach turn.

Whether Fradio failed to notice her revulsion or simply didn't care, he casually mounted a slab of meat on a Gourmet BBQ Spit, fitted the handle, and began turning it slowly over the flame.

"If words aren't enough to ease your worry, there's a simple solution," he said. "Go on a hunt. Bring someone else along if you like. Or go as the three of us used to. That'll show you how you truly feel - ah, SO TASTY!"

Fradio raised the perfectly grilled meat, crisped and golden, and waved for the appraiser.

A moment later, the judge flew in to examine it, throat audibly gulping.

"P-PERFECT!!"

The shout was met with cheers and murmurs from the hunters nearby. "Perfect, huh?" someone echoed with a laugh. A perfectly grilled slab of meat was fittingly called Gourmet Steak - and folks had taken to giving it the PERFECT! call as an honorary mark of excellence when the cook hit it just right.

Fradio handed over the steak for delivery and received five stamps on the card that hung against his bare chest, then grabbed another cut of raw meat.

"If you want my opinion," he said, "you should go hunt a wyvern. There's no better way to see if you've lost your nerve. They're terrifying even on a normal day - if you're still sharp, you'll know it the moment you face one."

He was right.

Brooding wouldn't bring her answers, and no one else could hand her one on a platter. It was her issue. If she really had turned into a coward... she'd know the moment she stood before a wyvern.

("That's all it is,") she told herself. ("Just getting back to the way things were.")

That was all.

There was no need to think about Zeeg doing something reckless and dying. He had a clever streak, and he wasn't one to get swept up in some misguided sense of justice. If things got truly dangerous, he'd fall back. Just like Gannon had said - their standards were simply different. She didn't even want to imagine him dying.

Elmeria picked up a cut of raw meat, mounted it on the spit, and locked it into place. She pumped the bellows with her foot, fanning the flames into a steady roar.

As the fire licked at the surface of the meat, searing it to perfection, she slowly turned the handle - and, for the first time in what felt like ages, she softly began to hum the BBQ Song.

Having passed through the sweltering cavern, Zeeg and the party emerged once more beneath the blue sky and into the gray, sun-baked expanse beyond.

They were struck speechless by the sight before them.

Just as they'd suspected, the Basarios was nowhere to be found in Area 3. Instead, a horde of Bullfango greeted them.

These boar-like monsters, each armed with massive tusks, were no threat alone - but en masse, they became dangerous. Dodge one charge, and another would blindside them. Before one could rise or even draw their weapon, they'd be trampled into the dirt.

If a wyvern showed up in the middle of that, it was practically a death sentence. Which was why every seasoned hunter knew to take the boars out first.

Zeeg and his comrades followed that logic.

Even Brass unsheathed his sword this time and managed to take one down. But it was Zeeg and Enta who did the bulk of the work.

Afterward, the party began inspecting each of the jagged rocks jutting from the ground, one by one.

Basarios, the monster they sought, was also known as the Invisible Wyvern. The name came from its habit of hiding beneath the earth, its basalt-like shell mimicking the volcanic stones that littered the area.

Though Basarios was hardly agile, it used this camouflage to ambush prey. When something approached, it would sense the vibrations and erupt from the ground in a sudden, violent assault. To draw one out, all a hunter needed was to toss a rock or sprint nearby - either would suffice to provoke a reaction.

Fortunately, the area was strewn with loose stones, so they could conserve their energy. Unfortunately, every outcropping they examined turned out to be nothing more than ordinary rock.

Reluctantly, they dragged Brass - who was still distracted by his desire to dig for ore - away from the spot and made their way through a lava-flooded cave. If not for that obstructive boulder, they would've reached Area 2 without issue.

What they found there stopped them cold.

"...What the hell is this...?"

It was the first thing Zeeg managed to say after the shock had passed.

There, sprawled across the ashen earth, was the massive corpse of a Basarios. It wasn't asleep. Its tiny eyes were lifeless, and its thick tongue lolled out of its mouth, discolored to a blackened crimson. The ground surrounding its body had been soaked not in the usual dull gray, but in dark red tinged with a venomous purple.

Blood - no doubt. And judging by the smell and the discoloration, fluids from the ruptured poison sacs in its body as well.

"It's dead, that much is clear," Enta said, stating the obvious. Anyone could see that. The real question was - who had killed it?

None of the local monsters - be they Ioprey or the herbivorous, turtle-like Apceros - could've done this. Neither species attacked flying wyverns to begin with. Ioprey venom had no effect on Basarios, and neither their fangs nor claws could pierce its thick shell. Apceros had powerful tails, akin to sledgehammers, but not powerful enough to bring down a beast like this.

Zeeg cautiously approached the corpse, wary of any lingering toxins. When he smelled no more, he circled the body, inspecting it closely - and then noticed something strange.

Part of the shell had been deliberately stripped away. The edges were clean, as though someone had slipped a sharp tool between the plates and peeled them away with precision.

No - he didn't want to believe it, but there was no other explanation.

Someone had carved this monster.

And it wasn't the work of Ioprey or Apceros. No beast could perform such delicate work. Only humans - no, only hunters - could do this. But as far as Zeeg knew, their team was the only one dispatched here from the Hunter's Guild out of Nusti.

("...A drifter?")

Some hunters operated independently of the Guild, taking contracts without oversight. His hometown, Kokoto Village, was like that - though the Guild knew of it, the village itself wasn't under Guild control.

Still, few would risk hunting unsupervised in Guild-sanctioned territories. Doing so could provoke the Guild into sending Guild Knights.

Those private enforcers were surrounded by dark rumors. Hunters were sworn never to raise weapons against humans. But the Guild Knights - they were said to hunt people.

Even if those were just rumors, what hunter would willingly risk becoming their target?

And yet, here the Basarios lay - dead, its body mutilated, its shell harvested.

"These are hammer strikes," Enta muttered, brushing a hand along one of the crushed wing membranes. The film had been thoroughly pulped, torn apart - not with blades like greatswords or sword-and-shield, but with sheer blunt force.

"This wound here was caused by a Crag round," Vivi said from where she crouched near the beast's massive head. She brought her nose close and sniffed with precision. "A direct hit to the eye socket. The shell fractured from the inside out - the explosive must've detonated after penetration. I can smell blood, charred flesh, and gunpowder. No mistake."

There was no longer any doubt. Hunters had done this.

Brass, apparently unaware of the seriousness of the situation, circled the corpse with childlike fascination, gawking at the immense body of the juvenile Gravios.

"Well now - We arrived quite late; the wyvern lies still, cold stone; its breath had long gone, eh?" Enta quipped.

"Now's not the time for jokes," Zeeg snapped.

"What do you mean? The contract is fulfilled. There's no issue."

"Are you serious?" Zeeg turned to him, astonished, but Enta's face betrayed nothing. "We didn't hunt this thing."

"But the client only requested that the Basarios be culled, yes? They didn't specify who had to do the culling." With that, Enta unsheathed his carving knife and slid it smoothly between two of the beast's remaining shells, popping a piece free with ease. "This is proof enough. Sadly, it seems the rare ores were taken already. Such is life."

"Wait - are you really planning to take credit for this!?"

"Wasn't our kill stolen? Whoever they were, this Basarios was our quarry. They stole the carve - and now you would have us give up the reward as well?"

Zeeg had no answer. Enta was right. They had been robbed - of the materials and possibly the payout. If this was deemed a failed hunt, they'd get neither reward nor even their upfront fee. That was hard to swallow.

However-

"I get your point. I really do. But if we report this as our kill, we'd be lying to the Guild. That's dangerous."

No amount of Zenny was worth ending up on the Guild Knights' hit list.

"Then what do you suggest?"

"We report exactly what we found. We take the Basarios shell as evidence, submit our findings, and leave the decision to the Guild. If they refuse to pay, I'll cover the reward myself."

"...You're admirably straightforward," Enta chuckled, handing him the carved shell.

Zeeg accepted it without a word. Though he didn't show it on his face, a deep breath of relief stirred quietly in his chest. A fight breaking out here would've been disastrous - especially with the long trek back to base camp still ahead of them.

Only now, as they turned to leave, did Zeeg recall that moment in the jungle - the bitter words exchanged with Elmeria, and the unease she'd worn so clearly on her face...

("What the hell was I even paying attention to then...?")

With a sigh, Zeeg tucked the shell under his arm and turned back toward the cave entrance, where molten lava cast an ominous glow. His feet felt heavier than they should have.

Chapter 5 - Blossoming Pink, Blazing Azure

"How goes the explanations?" Enta spoke before Zeeg even reached the table.

Zeeg's brow twitched slightly as he resumed his action, placing four hefty coin pouches down in front of the party. The clinking of Zenny should have stirred excitement in any typical hunter, but the others seated at the table showed little reaction.

Enta looked straight at Zeeg, not the money. Vivi sat upright, reading from a book without so much as glancing up. Brass, preoccupied with mixing ingredients, merely shot a disapproving glare at the vibration caused by the pouches hitting the table.

Zeeg took a seat. A server promptly arrived, placing mugs of beer before the four of them. He wasn't sure if Brass drank, but it was tradition to share a drink after returning from a hunt.

Before raising his mug, Zeeg distributed the pouches. He kept the bulging one for himself - it held the refund of the contract fee. The rest of the reward was split evenly.

The group proceeded to offer a half-hearted toast and each took a drink. Enta drained his mug in one go. Vivi didn't seem to mind the taste either. Brass took a tentative lick, like he was sampling medicine.

Wiping foam from his lip, Enta leaned forward. "Well?"

"They're looking into it," Zeeg replied, gesturing toward the counter with a tilt of his chin.

The Guild's one-eyed receptionist had said only that in response to his report. If they knew anything more, they weren't sharing. In the end, all Zeeg had learned was that the Guild was just as in the dark.

He'd expected some argument over the reward. But, just as Enta had interpreted, the client's request had been exactly as written: the Basarios needed to be eliminated. It didn't matter who delivered the finishing blow. The Guild had paid out without protest.

And more than that - they'd offered a little something extra.

Zeeg slid a sheet of paper onto the table.

"And what's this?" Enta asked.

"A quest form." Zeeg waited for them to lean in before elaborating. "It's the Guild's way of apologizing for the mess. We're being given priority on this one. Only thing is... the targets are no joke."

Enta narrowed his single eye, studying the paper with suspicion. Vivi's expression remained unreadable. Brass, however, widened his eyes in shock and looked around helplessly. Of course he was rattled. This wasn't a quest someone of his rank was ever meant to touch.

The targets were a mated pair: Rathalos and Rathian.

"They've nested near a ranch..." Enta observed.

"Yeah." Zeeg picked up the quest form again, skimming it once more. "A couple weeks ago, a Rathalos was sighted near a ranch situated between Nusti and Minegarde. Not long after, a Rathian was spotted in the nearby forest. Looks like they're nesting. Normally, the Guild wouldn't authorize a hunt during the mating period - but livestock are being killed, and if they run out of prey, there's a good chance they'll move into the city. That's why the Guild's making an exception."

"A Rathalos and a Rathian..." Enta said with a grin. "A tempting challenge."

"...You can't be serious..." Brass's large frame quivered like a soaked puppy. "Even just one of them is terrifying... but both, at once? A mated pair? There's no way we stand a chance..."

"It's not impossible."

Zeeg waited until the server had quietly laid out their meal before continuing. All at once, forks reached forward, spearing through thick slices of grilled Aptonoth meat layered with root vegetables and melting cheese.

He paused to eat, letting the sizzling juices and creamy cheese fill his mouth, wiping his fingers clean on a napkin before catching Brass's expectant gaze.

"Well, sure. Neither Rathalos nor Rathian are your average wyverns. If it's sheer size you're talking, Plesioth is bigger. For toughness, Gravios can't be topped. But when it comes to aggression, cunning, and the sheer instinct to kill... nothing beats a Rathalos. It's the flagship of the flying wyverns for a reason. Rathian's slightly weaker, but her venomous tail makes her even more of a headache. And they both get nastier during mating season."

Brass gave a helpless look, as if to say - See? I told you so.

"But they can be hunted," Zeeg said firmly. "Taking them on together would be suicidal. So what do we do? Easy. We split them up. Mated pairs usually leave defense to the Rathalos. We exploit that instinct - bait him out alone and take him down first."

"Divide and conquer," Enta said, nodding as he popped a roasted yam into his mouth without even peeling it. "If we chip away at him bit by bit, just like carving meat off a bone, even the fiercest monsters are no worse than a herd of Aptonoth. Nothing to fear. I have no objection to accepting this quest. What say you, Lady Vivi?"

"I shall do as the Master wishes," she spoke without lifting her gaze, swallowing a neatly sliced piece of meat with ladylike grace behind her glasses.

No matter how many times he heard it, Zeeg still wasn't used to being addressed as Master. He'd asked her to stop, once. Her reply had been curt, unequivocal - I must decline.

Enta nodded once, then turned to Zeeg.

"What say you, Sir Zeeg?"

The idea had appeal. He wanted to try. But sending Brass up against the likes of a Rathalos and Rathian pair right from the start - that was far too much. Zeeg wouldn't have the luxury of watching over him. The answer, then, was obvious. He turned to the boy.

"...Brass, I'm sorry, but you'll have to-"

"I-I want to go too!" Brass interrupted, his voice ringing loud across the table. He must have known what was coming.

It wasn't what Zeeg had expected, but then again, the boy had never seen a Rathalos up close. That had to be it. He was only speaking out of ignorance. Once he laid eyes on one, heard that thunderous roar, saw the beast charge - he'd freeze up. Just like Zeeg had, his first time. He hadn't run, but he'd been paralyzed by fear, unable to do a thing.

"I won't get in the way! Please, just take me with you!"

"Look, this isn't-"

"Why not let him come?"

At Enta's words, Brass lit up with hope, while Zeeg furrowed his brow. But the one-eyed hunter remained unbothered, gesturing with a root vegetable soaked through with meat juices.

"If he's to be a hunter, he must face such foes eventually. It's a path no one can avoid. And it's our duty, as those ahead of him, to lead by example. The three of us should be more than enough. They don't appear to be anything more than a standard pair."

That was true. Some monsters were classified as Master Rank, a designation for those who had grown stronger through surviving countless hunts - learning traps, adapting to tactics, and passing that knowledge to their offspring. Such monsters were far more dangerous, even among the same species. But this particular Rathalos and Rathian weren't noted as Master Rank in the quest listing.

Zeeg looked back at Brass.

The boy's eyes trembled, but there was no sign of retreat. He wouldn't back down. If that was a decision made as a hunter, then it deserved respect. After all, it was only because Elmeria had once taken Zeeg along for a special Rathalos hunt that he was here now.

"Alright, fine."

Brass's face lit up - but Zeeg wasn't about to let the matter drop just yet.

"However! Don't get in our way. Don't expect us to protect you, either - we won't have the time. You're responsible for your own life. If you can handle that, you can come."

"Yes, sir!" Brass replied with such spirit that he seemed to think the matter was settled. He immediately dove into his meal, biting into it with gusto.

Watching him, Zeeg felt his own appetite shrivel. He set down his fork and forced himself to drink his beer - never a favorite of his - hoping it would help settle the weight growing in his gut.

This thing was good for one thing only - getting a laugh. Elmeria stared down at the freshly - forged hammer, the Enormous Ham, and let out a sigh.

She hadn't won any awards at the Meat Grill Festival, in the end. But Fradio, who had taken a prize, was generous enough to hand over his winnings - a slab of King Meat. With that and a few spare BBQ Tickets left in her stash, she figured, why not? The result, however... wasn't exactly practical.

Theoretically, the sheer weight of the smoked meat attached to the handle might be enough to cave in a Mosswine's skull. But against a wyvern, she'd be lucky not to have it eaten out of her hands. Maybe, just maybe, it could work as a distraction in a tight spot. But, realistically, it was more suited for drawing a laugh - or for a weapon collector with a sense of humor.

Sure enough, the moment she stepped into the gathering hall, all eyes turned her way.

"Oi, what in the world is that!?" someone shouted, laughter erupting.

Well, of course they laughed. The Enormous Ham looked exactly like a giant bone-in ham. She shot a grin in the direction of the voice and called back, "Mind your business!" Laughing as she did, her mood lightened just a little. Maybe making the thing wasn't such a waste after all.

She approached the counter, where Becky looked up from her ledger. Her usual smile was there, but Elmeria could see the fatigue etched around her eyes. With the Guild Master still away, it was clear she'd been handling everything herself.

"What's the occasion?" Elmeria asked, bracing herself against the counter.

Becky glanced at the Enormous Ham on Elmeria's back, but said nothing. Normally, she would've made some quip by now, but there wasn't much room for humor on her face today.

"I've got a request," she said quietly, sliding a piece of paper across the counter. The red stamp on it read: URGENT.

Emergency quests like this gave little time to prepare. They were risky, demanding, and usually the kind that others had already turned down. Elmeria picked up the paper, and soon Fradio and Gannon were peering over her shoulders to read.

"Eliminate a pair of Rathalos and Rathian..." Elmeria murmured.

The request detailed sightings of the wyvern pair attempting to nest in the forest near the ranchlands. Livestock had already begun to vanish. If nothing was done, the damage could easily spread to the city.

When a mated pair prepared to breed, their territory often expanded. If they chose to nest, the nearby settlement would fall squarely within range.

It was likely the Guild had tried to drive them off first. But once a wyvern picked a nesting ground, it rarely gave it up easily. This emergency quest was their last resort.

It was a fitting challenge - and, Elmeria realized, the perfect opportunity to prove whether she was still afraid or not.

She turned to Fradio and Gannon, lifting the quest paper. "I'm thinking of taking it. What do you two say?"

"No objections here," Fradio replied, chuckling deep in his throat. "Rathalos and Rathian - excellent. Not the same one, but I still owe that queen a favor."

Elmeria looked to Gannon. "You?"

"...Should we bring a fourth? Or go as three?"

"Huh, now that you mention it..."

They'd been running as a four-hunter team lately - filling the vacancy could make coordination easier. But bringing someone unfamiliar into a fight like this, against a pair of powerful wyverns, was just asking for disaster. They might hinder more than help.

"Actually, no," Elmeria decided. "The three of us will handle it. We'll split them up and take them down one at a time. That should be enough." With that, she turned back to Becky and slapped the request down onto the counter. "Quest's ours."

"Alright. Your name here," Becky said, offering a fountain pen.

Elmeria signed, then passed the paper to Gannon and Fradio to do the same. Once all three signatures were on the page, Becky nodded.

"You're all set. Departure's in an hour. Oh, and... are you actually using that?"

She pointed to the Enormous Ham, and Elmeria promptly shrugged and shook her head.

"Are you kidding? Of course not! I just brought it along to show it off. I mean, I went through the trouble of making it - it'd be a waste not to give it a debut. You know what, how about you buy it off me? Imagine that - Local Ninja Brains Hunter With Hunk'a Ham! Everyone's gonna retell that story for years!"

"Hmm..."

Becky tapped a finger to her chin, head tilted. She looked like she was actually considering it.

"Well, if you want it, let me know. I'll give you priority."

"Sure thing," Becky said with her usual smile.

Elmeria gave her a wave then turned on her heel. No need to eat - no time, either. For once, she'd had a full breakfast and wasn't hungry in the slightest.

("Since we're up against Rathalos and Rathian, we'd better pack as many Flash Bombs as we can...")

Weaving through the crowd of day-drunk hunters, Elmeria could feel her instincts waking up. She was thinking like a hunter again, and it made her feel alive.

Yes! This was who she really was - not the mopey shell she'd been since Zeeg's departure.

And this quest... this was her chance to make up for her earlier failures. To show Becky, who still believed in them, that her trust hadn't been misplaced.

("...Alright. Time to hunt!")

She drew a length of cord from her pouch, reached behind her, and tied up her long hair at the nape of her neck - tight. Very tight.

Zeeg drew a deep breath as he watched the Guild boat disappear from the dock. The acrid stench of something burnt still lingered in the air. The base camp, hastily erected by the Guild in a secluded grove ringed by cliffs, now lay half-collapsed - its canvas tents scorched and crumbling.

The scent told him everything. This wasn't the aftermath of some ordinary fire - it had taken a direct hit from a fireball. The Guild burned repellents around the perimeter to keep flying wyverns away, but when they were agitated, those deterrents sometimes failed. Camps being attacked was practically unheard of - but it was said that wyverns grew especially volatile while nesting, and now Zeeg had seen the proof with his own eyes.

He placed their supplies where the fire hadn't reached and dropped to one knee, spreading the provided map on the ground in the center of the group. Wyvern nesting sites always shared certain topographical traits - so much so that they all started to feel carbon-copied. As with many times before, the likely den this time was a cave carved into the mountainside.

Area 1, just beyond the camp, and Area 8, known for its steep cliffs and vertical terrain, were unlikely to harbor the creatures. That left Areas 2 through 6, and Area 9 as probable hunting grounds. But before they could make any decisions, they needed to locate the targets first.

"...We search for Rathalos first," Zeeg said, sweeping his gaze across the team. "If we go after Rathian first, there's a chance he'll come looking for her - but the opposite doesn't happen."

The statement was basic knowledge for any seasoned hunter - but Zeeg hadn't said it for the veterans' sake. His eyes drifted to Brass, the youngest among them, and saw the boy nod solemnly. He understood.

"If we run into Rathian first, we back off. Focus on finding Rathalos. No lone wolf stunts - we move as a team. Once we find him, Vivi, hit him with a Paint shot."

Vivi adjusted her glasses and nodded, the black maid uniform she always wore fluttering slightly as she moved. Paint shots and Paintballs worked by tagging the wyvern with scent, but using them on multiple targets could scatter the scent trail, making it hard to track any one of them effectively.

"I'll draw his attention," Zeeg continued. "Enta, use that opening to strike. Vivi, you'll-"

"Hold," came Enta's voice - quiet, but impossible to ignore. Zeeg turned toward him. "Would it not be wiser to reverse our roles? Your armor is heavy. Add the weight of a greatsword and you're hardly built for evasion. It would be more efficient if I were the one to draw the wyvern's attention."

"Maybe, but if it taps you even once, you're done. That's too risky."

"This Shinobi armor I wear is not as fragile as it appears," Enta countered. "Light yet durable. Excellent fire resistance. I was made for disruption. Let me do my part. You stay ready to strike when the opening comes."

"Wait, no, listen." Zeeg raised a hand to stop him. "The most effective way to use a greatsword against a flying wyvern is to get under its belly and hit it hard. That kind of attack doesn't suit a skirmisher."

"Ah..." Enta stroked his chin. "...I hadn't considered that. Then we shall decide based on how the battle unfolds. The target is a living thing, after all. We must adapt to its movements, and to each other's. We both act as decoys and skirmishers - that is the best course."

Zeeg stifled a groan. Enta was clearly satisfied with his own reasoning. There was no time to argue further - if they were both set on playing bait, then so be it.

Turning to Brass, Zeeg found the boy pale with tension. No doubt the state of the ruined camp had rattled him.

"Hey, Brass," Zeeg called. The boy jolted, his broad shoulders trembling as he looked up. "...Don't engage. Not under any circumstances. I'm not trying to scare you - but if you charge a wyvern in that gear, you won't make it back. Whether it's Rathalos or Rathian, their fireballs are no joke. You've seen what one can do."

He gestured toward the charred remains of the tent, and Brass nodded silently. In a way, the attack had done them a favor - Zeeg no longer had to waste words convincing the boy to stay out of the fight. Then again, knowing Brass's personality, maybe it wouldn't have been necessary anyway.

"Back to the strategy - what do I do, Master?"

"Ah - right." Zeeg turned, sheepish. Enta's interruption had made him forget. He gave Vivi an apologetic glance.

"Vivi, you'll focus on support over offense. With your aim, I trust you can tag us with Recovery and Antidote shots even while we're dodging like hell."

Vivi nodded, and Zeeg folded up the map. Enta reached into his pack for the standard-issue rations, prompting Brass to scramble for his own. Zeeg tore into the bland, dry pack and forced it down with indifference.

Once everyone had eaten, Zeeg stood and licked the leftover grease from his lips.

"...Alright. Time to hunt!"

Not our lucky day today - that was all Elmeria could think.

The forest-and-hills region supposedly claimed by the Rathian and Rathalos pair was a newly opened hunting ground. No proper camp had been established yet. As a result, the ranch that had filed the request served as a temporary base, and getting to the hunting grounds meant crossing the river by boat.

She had declined the ranch's offered meal - something about a warm welcome - and instead wasted no time departing, boarding the waiting vessel. But something was off.

"...Gannon. You feel it too, don't you?"

The horned helm turned, and Gannon nodded silently.

I knew it, Elmeria mused, sweeping her eyes over the surroundings. She had sensed something was wrong even before crossing the river: there wasn't a single Aptonoth in sight.

The riverbank, usually lush with tender grass, made for an ideal feeding ground. It should have been teeming with the gentle herbivores. That there was none, was cause for concern.

And then there was the smell - Paintberry. Faint, but unmistakable.

They were supposed to be the only hunters assigned to this quest. So why the scent of a tracking item? Had a drifter slipped in to poach? If so, that was no small matter. If this rogue was working independently, that was one thing - but if the ranchers had hired them on the side, things could turn messy fast.

("But... if that were true, could they really have acted so naturally?")

The ranchers had greeted them with open arms, every bit the picture of a family eager for their arrival. If they'd been lying, they were masters of it - and Elmeria didn't think they were.

"Tch. What a nuisance..." she muttered, clicking her tongue.

Paintballs or Paint shots were only used when a wyvern had been spotted - someone had already made contact. And if worse came to worst, this could escalate into a clash between hunters.

Officially, raising a weapon against another hunter was forbidden. But that didn't mean they were about to stand there and watch someone steal your quarry. The proper response was to report the incident to the Guild and let them resolve it - but no one out in the field had the luxury of waiting for bureaucracy to catch up.

They reached the opposite shore. As Fradio disembarked and began tying off the boat, Elmeria inhaled deeply once more. That Paintberry scent was definitely coming from nearby.

Whether the local Aptonoth had been slaughtered by those trespassers or devoured by the wyverns themselves, the result was the same - no fresh meat to be gathered. They'd have to rely on what rations they'd brought and supplement the rest with fish.

Unfastening the pack at her waist, which swayed against the steel bustle of her armor like a blooming flower of iron, Elmeria pulled out the map and spread it open. From the markings, it seemed they were in what was referred to as Area 1.

Hunting grounds always looked the same after a while. Still, the scents riding the wind were coming from the right - opposite the forest. That was where the trail lay.

"It's awfully quiet, hmm?" Fradio spoke in a breezy tone, but the slitted eyes of his helmet narrowed as he scanned the horizon.

Indeed. Quiet. Far too quiet.

"...Let's go," Elmeria said.

A faint, smoldering sensation lit up deep in her chest. She slung her Breath Core over her back, then stepped onto the grassy slope - like a carpet rolled out by nature itself - and began ascending the path that led toward the hills.

Pushing through the lush forest where Felynes often wandered near a tranquil spring, Zeeg's party emerged onto a grassy plain atop a sheer cliff - only to stop dead in their tracks at the sudden boom that echoed across the air.

Then, a trailing arc of firelight blazed skyward. The scent of scorched air crept over them, acrid and familiar. Either a Rathalos or Rathian had unleashed a fireball.

But something didn't add up. The sound they'd heard just before - without question, that had been a bowgun. Which meant...

There were other hunters out here.

("Again!?")

Immediately before this, they'd run into a similar situation with that Basarios. What was Nusti's Guild even doing? Their party had secured the contract for this hunt fair and square. To be scooped like this - it was intolerable.

Zeeg glanced at Enta. The man's expression was rigid, jaw clenched. For all his easy words and measured calm, he clearly wasn't taking this theft-of-prey well. Vivi, too, had gone quiet, absently stroking the canopy of her Dark Parasol, a sharp glint simmering behind her glasses.

The fireball had risen from Area 4 - just beyond the presumed nesting ground.

Zeeg led the party up a slope between gouged cliffs, emerging into a wide clearing. Nothing was immediately visible. The path ahead twisted through Area 3 toward Area 4, but an enormous rock formation split the terrain like a trident, obstructing their view almost entirely.

The silence was unnatural.

After the gunshot and that fireball, there should've been chaos. But the forest was deathly still. Tensing, lowering their bodies, Zeeg and his comrades crept toward the rock and rounded it in silence, suppressing every hint of presence. They heard nothing - but the smell was there. The acrid sting of gunpowder. The scorched bite of burning grass. And... the stench of charred flesh.

There was no doubt. A wyvern was nearby.

Peering past the stone into the grove beyond, Zeeg felt the hairs on his arms rise. For a second, he thought his eyes had failed him. But no - he could feel it from the others, too. They were all seeing the same thing.

Two flying wyverns. A Rathalos and a Rathian.

And yet - they were wrong. Not just in the way light fell across their scales, but in the very nature of their appearance.

The Rathalos was sheathed in blue plates, like the depths of an ocean, gleaming like cut jewels in the sunlight - nothing like the familiar crimson shell of the species. Beside it, the Rathian's verdant green was gone, replaced by a delicate pink that bloomed across her body like a field of cherry blossoms before spring's full flush.

The term that leaped to Zeeg's mind: subspecies.

Occasionally, such mutations appeared in the wild. Though he'd never seen one himself, blue-scaled Yian Kut-Kus had been spotted in recent months. That was enough to make the rumors credible.

The two wyverns nuzzled each other's snouts, brushing together in a manner almost affectionate.

But when Zeeg lowered his eyes, his gut twisted into a cold, hard knot.

Hunters lay sprawled beneath the beasts, collapsed in tangled ruin.

He couldn't tell how many. Severed arms and legs lay strewn across the ground. Some bodies had been charred black. Nearby, a heavy bowgun - the Titan Launcher - was half-buried in the dirt. That must've been the source of the final shot.

A few paces off, he saw a shattered greatsword - likely an Iron Grace katana. Two hunters had died here. Perhaps more.

"Ahh!" A gasp - sharp, high-pitched - escaped someone behind him.

Zeeg clicked his tongue.

Brass.

The boy had never seen a corpse before.

("That idiot...!")

The wyverns reacted instantly. Twin gazes - pink and azure - snapped toward them.

Their cover had been blown.

Zeeg's hand flew to the handle of his Lacerator Blade+, and he charged from the undergrowth.

If either wyvern attacked first, Brass wouldn't survive the first blow.

The wyverns stared. A second later, a crack of igniting powder split the air - and a crimson splash erupted across Azure Rathalos' face. The stench of Paintberry spread.

The hunters who'd come before must've marked him, but the effect had long since faded.

A roar shook the very air. Zeeg felt his muscles lock up with primal fear - something no amount of training could ever dull.

With a quake of the earth, the Azure Rathalos surged forward.

Zeeg raised Lacerator Blade+ as a shield just in time. The impact tore through his arms and down his spine like a thunderbolt. The wyvern's momentum sent it sliding along the greatsword, glancing off and crashing over his head.

His arms were numb, but Zeeg forced life back into them, swinging upward.

The line of jagged blades caught the Rathalos' tail - only to bounce off, harmless.

("Damn it - it's tough!")

It wasn't his blade. He'd sharpened it just this morning, and it had cut through countless Rathalos hides. This subspecies... its shell was different. Unnaturally hard.

Another roar behind.

Zeeg whirled - and saw the Pink Rathian charging.

No time to guard.

He dove, rolling sideways as the pink blur thundered past.

With no sign of slowing, she slammed side-first into the Rathalos beside her. Sparks flew where the thorny protrusions of her jaw scraped against his blue-scaled hide.

The Azure Rathalos reared up on his hind legs and bellowed - rage incarnate.

His chest swelled, and blue scales around his throat began to shimmer.

The next instant, the world drew inward.

A moment of vacuum. Then a blinding glow behind the scales.

And then - flame.

The fireball streaked past, missing by inches. A tree was ripped from the ground and blown apart mid-air, its splinters burning as they fell.

Wind howled, a shockwave billowing through the clearing.

A cherry-pink shadow flew overhead. Dust and ash scattered.

Thud.

She landed behind the party, kicking up soil.

"Sir Zeeg!" Enta's voice rang out as he rushed to his side.

They stood back to back. Enta had already drawn his dual blades - the so-called Zanki - and held them in a cross-guard stance as he faced the Pink Rathian.

"We're in trouble..." Zeeg couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't amusement. The laugh just came, unbidden. "This is the worst possible situation. We should fall back... but you think they're going to let us?"

"Not likely," Enta replied, grinning faintly. "If I may describe the stage on which we stand - Fierce petals of pink; spill from spring's hand, brightening; fields of waking green."

"Ehh, not as good as your other ones," Zeeg muttered.

He wasn't angry at the inappropriately-timed poetry. His heart thundered so hard it hurt. His throat was ready to scream. His knees nearly gave out.

But still - he didn't want to run. Even knowing there was no winning this fight, his mind already churned with possibilities, plans. How to take them down.

Zeeg licked his dry lips slowly, watching the warning lash of the wyverns' tails.

"This way!"

At the sound of gunfire followed by two distinctly different roars, Elmeria and her comrades sprinted across the clifftop meadow of Area 3. The once-fading scent of Paintberry grew sharp again - someone had fired a Paint shot. Whoever it was, stealing another hunter's prey was unacceptable.

Charging up the slope between cliffs, Elmeria burst into the clearing marked on the map as an open plain - and froze. Crouching behind a rock was... a maid?

Why a maid!?

A girl was dressed in a black maid outfit, complete with a parasol trimmed in black frills. This was no picnic outing.

Nearby, a tall boy knelt, tending to something on the ground. Judging by his gear, he was a hunter, at least.

"Young Mistress - look," Gannon said, voice tense as he gripped her arm and pointed.

There, beyond a ridge of grass, was the sweeping tail of a wyvern. But not green, like a Rathian basking in dappled sunlight - this tail shimmered with the blush-pink hue of cherry blossoms.

"What an interesting discovery - here as well," Fradio called from the opposite path.

Glancing that way, Elmeria spotted another tail swaying back and forth - this one unmistakably Rathalos. But it gleamed in a deep blue.

What in the world...?

Neither Rathalos nor Rathian were supposed to come in those colors. Was this a sign of the mating season - temporary color shifts brought on by some biological state? Or were these entirely new subspecies?

"-Who are you people?"

The voice came from behind. Spinning around, Elmeria saw the black-clad maid standing tall, gazing straight at her. That parasol - no, now that she looked closely, it wasn't just that. It was a light bowgun.

She was a hunter too!

"I should be asking you that!" Elmeria snapped, keeping an eye on the unusually colored wyverns as she responded. "We're here on official assignment from the Hunter's Guild in Minegarde! Stand down and clear the area!"

But the maid shook her head.

"I'm afraid that won't do. We're here under a formal contract from the Hunter's Guild in Nusti. You're the ones who should retreat."

What?

Elmeria could make no sense of it. The girl's strange attire was baffling enough, but this - this was beyond reason.

A single hunting ground had always been the domain of a single Guild. She had never once heard of two Guilds being dispatched to the same site under separate contracts.

A roar shattered the moment. The Pink Rathian cried out, and a gust of wind tore through the narrow path.

"Whoaaa-!"

Amid the clamor, a voice reached her ears - one she couldn't ignore.

("Zeeg!?")

No... but she couldn't have misheard him. Elmeria's stomach twisted. She dashed over to the black maid and seized her puffy shoulder sleeve.

"...Is there a Zeeg Grandest among you!?"

The girl's black eyes narrowed behind her spectacles, studying her with intensity.

"There is. He's the one leading our hunting party."

Of course he is...

Another roar came, and a high-pitched metallic screech echoed across the plains. Then came the sound of rupturing air, and a wave of scorching heat filled the clearing. Flames surged, turning the skies crimson.

"Unhand me."

The maid yanked her arm free, flipped a grip affixed to the parasol's shaft, and pressed the butt of it to her shoulder. The moment she pulled the trigger, fire burst from the tip. She hadn't even aimed properly-

"Impressive," Fradio murmured. "You managed to make a light bowgun like the Dark Parasol hit so cleanly with such little preparation..."

So Zeeg's got himself a new team...

Seeing it with her own eyes - him, hunting with other comrades - it hit Elmeria harder than she'd expected. Even in the middle of a hunt, her resolve wavered.

Was it resentment? Betrayal? Maybe because, in some deep corner of her heart, she still thought of herself as the one who'd raised him.

"...Young Mistress." Gannon's voice was calm, grounded - as if he understood it all.

Elmeria blinked herself back to the moment.

Right.

This wasn't the time for feelings. She had to focus. Why were two Guilds given the same contract? They wouldn't find that answer here, bickering in the field.

There was only one thing a hunter should do now.

"Gannon! Fradio! Let's go! We're not letting them hog the quarry!"

Hand on the hilt of her Breath Core, Elmeria charged down the path to the left - where she glimpsed the Rathian's cherry-pink tail lashing through the air.

In midair, the Pink Rathian coiled like a whip and lashed out with her venomous tail. Zeeg took the hit on the flat of his Lacerator Blade+ and clicked his tongue.

She's strong.

Venom scattered like mist, shriveling the surrounding grass within seconds. The fumes alone stung his throat. Then, once the Pink Rathian landed, three fireballs came hurtling toward him. He deflected them with his broad blade, sending flames spraying out around him.

No room to strike back.

Behind him, Enta was faring no better.

The Azure Rathalos paralyzed its hunters' muscles with a roar, then rained fireballs from the sky. Any attempt to close the distance was met with a powerful tail sweep meant to keep them at bay.

Zeeg had never heard of Rathalos and Rathian hunting in concert, but there was no mistaking it now.

The Azure Rathalos wasn't going for the kill just yet - he was holding back, likely due to Vivi's precise suppressing fire. But Zeeg could feel it coming. The moment the pair rushed in from both flanks, even the Rathalos armor wouldn't hold up.

A roar tore through the air once more, paralyzing Zeeg where he stood.

Even in the grip of fear, sweat still clung to his skin. He fought to move, to wrench his body free of the unnatural stillness. The Pink Rathian crouched low, her frame tensed - her hind legs seemed thicker, swollen with power.

She was going to charge - no doubt the Rathalos from the rear would, as well.

A gunshot rang out - his one hope. But then came Enta's groan, and Zeeg understood. The shot hadn't stopped either monter. This was it.

He was going to die.

There was no bitterness in that thought. No despair. They had faced a monster of this caliber - such things were part of the life they'd chosen as hunters.

If he regretted anything, it was that he might never reconcile with Elmeria. They had parted on a fight.

("Seriously? That's the last thing I'm thinking about?")

A self-deprecating smile flickered on Zeeg's lips. And in that instant, as though the smirk had been some strange trigger, the earth behind the Azure Rathalos erupted in a spray of dirt. He could already picture how the spear-like tip of that extended jaw would pierce through him.

But then-!

"!?"

The Pink Rathian stumbled suddenly. She toppled onto her side, skidding across the ground as though shoved by an invisible force. The impact carved a deep scar in the earth before her body slammed into the cliffside. Her head snapped back in a violent jerk, and a shriek - not quite a roar - escaped her throat.

Behind him, Zeeg heard a deafening crack - but no gunfire. The explosion must have come from something else. The Azure Rathalos let out a pained, ragged roar.

Finally, Zeeg understood - Crag ammo. Of course. Vivi had fired a Crag shot. It didn't hit hard on impact - but after a brief delay, it exploded, tearing the target apart from within.

"Zeeg!"

He turned at the sound of that familiar voice, startled. A flash of metal and verdant green surged past him, charging straight toward the Pink Rathian. It was-

("Elmeria!?")

There was no mistaking her. A young Hunter clad in Rathian armor with the unmistakable Breath Core hammer on her back - there wasn't any other like her in the world.

And just beyond, he spotted another form: massive, horned, pushing the Pink Rathian's flank against the cliff to keep her pinned. That was Gannon!

"Talk later!" Elmeria shouted, holding her hammer at her side in a ready stance. "You go that way! We split the pay fifty-fifty!"

"Got it!"

The words came out naturally. Zeeg turned on his heel just in time to see Elmeria raise her Breath Core, aiming a vicious swing at the Pink Rathian's thrashing head.

"Enta!" He called out as he ran.

The Azure Rathalos was floundering, one wing shredded and struggling to take flight. It was a perfect opportunity.

Enta slipped into step beside him, his movements fluid as running water. He glanced briefly over his shoulder.

"...Who was that?"

"A friend! Leave the other one to them!"

"Understood."

With a sharp sidestep, Enta surged forward, swift as a river in flood. In the blink of an eye, he had outpaced Zeeg, slipping into the Rathalos's blind spot.

"Now is the time... to unleash the true power of dual blades!"

Shring - steel hissed as the twin blades scraped together. Enta opened his eyes wide, both of them - he wasn't one-eyed at all!

"Witness the swordplay of a demon!"

He danced.

No - he raged. The word dance barely captured it. His blades whirled like twin tempests, tearing into the Azure Rathalos's armored scales.

A wing talon came loose, severed, and crashed into the scorched earth. Blood gushed in violent bursts, staining the grass crimson - but not a drop touched Enta's white garb.

His swordsmanship was astonishing.

The Azure Rathalos bellowed and swung its tail in a blind frenzy. Enta leaped back, narrowly avoiding the blow. His breathing was ragged now, one eye closed once more. After all that motion, the fatigue was only natural.

("Now it's my turn!")

Zeeg charged straight for the Azure Rathalos' leg as it tried to rise. He swung his Lacerator Blade+ in a wide arc, the fang-like blades biting deep into the tender meat behind the knee.

This time, the wyvern screamed.

"O-over here!"

The cry was faint amid the roar, but Zeeg turned to see Brass at the end of a narrow path, pale-faced and half-hidden behind Vivi, motioning frantically for them to run.

For a heartbeat, Zeeg hesitated - but then the reason struck him, and he bolted.

"Enta!" He called out, and Enta seemed to grasp the plan immediately.

They sprinted together, the thundering footfalls of the enraged Azure Rathalos pursuing them.

That was exactly what they wanted. It had taken the bait.

A moment later, the roar of a collapsing pit filled the air, shaking the ground. Zeeg glanced back. The Azure Rathalos had fallen into a Pitfall Trap and was now thrashing helplessly.

Brass must've set it.

"Well done!" Zeeg called to the boy.

Without breaking stride, he and Enta charged back in. Lacerator Blade+ and Zanki struck in unison, tearing the trapped wyvern's scales to shreds!

"And now... the finálé," the calm, composed voice cut through the chaos.

A gunshot rang out. In the same instant, one of the Azure Rathalos' eyes burst - blood spraying as its head jerked back violently.

A beat later, its skull bulged grotesquely from within before rupturing in a thunderous explosion!

The Azure Rathalos wavered - then collapsed, its head slamming into the earth with a seismic thud. Blood poured from its nose and mouth, the Crag shot having detonated within its brain.

Off to the side, another death cry rang out - this one from the Pink Rathian. Elmeria's team had finished the job.

Zeeg let out a long breath and slid Lacerator Blade+ back onto his back. They'd made it.

If Elmeria and her group hadn't shown up, he would have died for sure. He had enough clarity to admit that.

But reflection could wait. For now-

Zeeg pulled a carving knife from his belt. Azure Rathalos. There would no doubt be rare materials to harvest - scales, shells, wing - his heart beat faster at the thought.

Enta, Vivi, and Brass all held their own carving knives, looking to Zeeg for the signal. Their eyes gleamed with expectation.

Zeeg gave a nod, and they knelt beside the slain wyvern, careful and deliberate with each stroke, wasting nothing.

"We hunt, and are prey; life turns on the endless wheel; a world without end..."

Enta's soft voice, like a eulogy, accompanied the rhythm of their blades as they carved into the Azure Rathalos' flesh.

Epilogue

"Sorry, everyone."

With her hands pressed together in apology, Becky gave a slight bow to the two groups of hunters in the Minegarde gathering hall - Zeeg's party of four and Elmeria's party of three.

"The Guild really messed up this time. It turned into a double - no, triple booking."

"What do you mean?" Elmeria asked, frowning.

Zeeg and Gannon looked equally interested, but the rest of their comrades were too busy digging into the extravagant dishes they'd ordered - courtesy of the Guild's tab - to pay much attention.

"Well," Becky began, "that hunting ground and the volcanic region to the west were being claimed by two other Guilds besides Minegarde. All of them wanted the rights to manage it. Our Guild Master had gone off to a coordination meeting to sort it all out, but in the middle of that, an emergency quest came through. By the time it reached me, I just assumed we'd been granted jurisdiction, so I went ahead and asked you to take the job..."

"So the other cities thought the same thing," Elmeria cut in, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "Becky, you didn't know we'd run into another hunting party on the job, did you?"

"Of course not!" Becky waved both hands frantically. "That would've been a disaster - I know that! I'd never... But honestly, I'm really glad it was Zeeg who took the quest from Nusti."

"...Thanks." Zeeg gave a small nod, then risked a glance at Elmeria.

They still hadn't exchanged a proper word since the hunt. The chance had come up more than once, yet every time they were face-to-face, nothing came out.

He knew what he needed to say. Now that he had a party of his own, he finally understood how much Elmeria had carried, how harsh his words had been when he hadn't known any better.

He should just say it - put his feelings into words and apologize. But it wasn't that easy. Embarrassment, guilt, awkwardness - all of it choked the words in his throat.

"But it's all settled now," Becky continued, flashing them a smile. "Those hunting grounds are officially under Minegarde jurisdiction. I guarantee nothing like that will happen again."

"You'd better," Elmeria muttered as she pulled a pouch toward her, its contents clinking faintly.

Becky gave a confident "Of course!" before stepping away to the counter, where a hunter had flagged her down - likely for a registration or quest contract. The pouch contained hush money, more or less - compensation to keep things quiet.

With Becky gone, the lively conversation at the table evaporated. Elmeria turned back to her food, not once looking Zeeg's way. Not that she wanted to. And that, more than anything, made it worse.

With nothing else to do, Zeeg focused on his meal. The food, at least, was excellent - Guild-grade apologies came with premium flavor - but he couldn't enjoy it.

To be honest, he wanted to team up with Elmeria's group again. But after what he'd said - and how he'd left, without a word - how could he possibly ask that now?

("No. I can't leave it like this.")

Zeeg clenched his fork. He owed her an apology, no matter what came after. If he couldn't even do that, he'd be no better than a child.

"E-Elmeria!"

The name came out louder than he'd intended. Every head at the table turned. He nearly said "Never mind," but he knew if he backed out now, it really would be over. He swallowed hard, along with his pride.

"I... I wanna say... sorry."

"For what?" she asked without looking up.

"For... leaving like that. Without saying anything."

"Hmph. I wasn't that bothered. But... I'll listen, since you're offering."

For a moment, Zeeg thought ("That's all?") But then he caught Fradio stifling a grin. That attitude - brushing it off like it was nothing - that was just Elmeria's way of covering up.

Zeeg felt a quiet relief settle over him.

"Yeah... I really am sorry."

He reached for a piece of grilled fish, forked off a tender bite slick with sauce, and tossed it into his mouth. There were things he'd learned from leading a party of his own - things he'd need to talk to her about. Whether or not they ever teamed up again, at least now they could talk.

"Well then..."

The first to rise was Enta.

They'd already introduced their new comrade earlier. It was clear from the carriage ride back to town that Elmeria's group had never seen dual blades in action before. They'd bombarded Enta with questions all the way, fascinated by his unusual form.

Enta, it turned out, kept one eye closed at all times - not out of habit, but as part of his training. It was a way to conserve strength, to build up for the Demonic Transformation, the technique that unleashed his full potential.

Of course, that didn't mean anyone could just copy him and expect the same results. Trying to fight with one eye closed would only wreck one's depth perception - and get them taken out before they even landed a hit.

"...I shall take my leave," Enta said with a polite bow and his usual formal tone.

Zeeg paused, his hand halfway to another bite. He hadn't expected that. They hadn't discussed what came next, exactly, but after two hunts together, he'd assumed they'd keep teaming up for a while.

"Intensive training awaits - for I have a student now."

"A student!?"

When Enta turned to his side, Brass offered a faint, sheepish smile in return. So that was it. Zeeg understood - he couldn't fault the feeling. Dual blades were, after all, a more advanced offshoot of the sword-and-shield. Anyone who had seen skill like that up close would feel inspired to try it themselves.

"Well, it's much sooner than expected, but I guess this is where we part ways, Brass."

"Uh... I'm sorry."

Brass bowed his head apologetically. Elmeria gave a casual wave with her fork.

"No need to be sorry," she said. "Unlike certain people, at least you're saying goodbye properly. Right?"

"...Tch."

Zeeg had no choice but to offer a wry smile. Still, with Brass leaving, they would need to recruit again. He hadn't yet asked what Vivi intended to do, but if she stayed, her skills would be a great help.

That said, he had no plans to return to Nusti to look for new companions. He much preferred Minegarde - the city he was already familiar with.

Ultimately, he wanted to form a party with Elmeria again, but that would make five. By long-standing tradition, a hunting party was capped at four members. A shame, but there was no way around it. He couldn't bring himself to push Vivi out just because he wanted to go back.

"Ah, this makes perfect timing..." Fradio suddenly commented.

Everyone turned to see his face partially hidden beneath the executioner-like visage of his Gypceros Cap.

"What do you mean?" Elmeria tilted her head.

"Well," Fradio began, "due to some rather stupid business, I'll be heading to the capital for a while. During my absence, I was wondering what to do about the empty slot in our group. Zeeg and the young lady - if you two are willing to step in, that would be most helpful."

"W-wait just a second! You didn't tell me any of this!"

"Indeed. I'm announcing this now - for the first time."

Elmeria faltered, letting out an exasperated sigh. "...Why are boys always like this?"

"Hehehe... So, what do you say? Zeeg? And you, young lady?"

"I'm fine with it... if Elmeria is," Zeeg replied, glancing toward her.

Vivi, seated beside him, dabbed the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief and looked at Elmeria through the glint of her glasses.

"I don't mind either. So, then, shall we say... she's my new Master?"

"P-please don't call me that - I mean, Master? Seriously!?"

"Don't mind me. It's merely a personal quirk."

"A... quirk?"

Elmeria gave her a bewildered look, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Hehehe..." Fradio chuckled. "Hunters truly are a strange breed."

"Like you're one to talk!"

Elmeria's lightning-quick retort left Zeeg in stitches. Brass chuckled as well, and even Gannon's rocky features cracked the faintest hint of a smile. Vivi, unsure what was so amusing, simply wore her usual impassive - or perhaps mildly annoyed - expression. A very Vivi reaction.

Wiping away a tear that had welled up despite himself, Zeeg felt his heart already leaping toward the next hunt. It was a shame to see Fradio go, but there were no hard feelings. No broken ties.

The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, he was simply glad to run the hunt again - side by side with Elmeria.

Enta crossed his arms and turned to Zeeg. And for the first time, he cracked a genuine smile.

"Parting winds may blow; yet every path once broken; curves back home again."

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