Asterion had no idea that he had already beco the legendary "Sapphire Star" in the hearts of the Research Commission's hunters.
Soaring into the sky with such an overwhelmingly magnificent posture, he actually had troubles of his own—a pain that the hunters and scholars, who viewed him as a perfect Forbidden Monster, could never truly comprehend.
He... couldn't see very well.
It was an old issue, and frankly, a bit embarrassing to admit. A dragon that bent its mind on aligning itself with the Forbidden Monsters, a beast that had kicked every opponent from Xeno'jiiva to Nergigante, was ultimately left severely hindered by poor eyesight, just like so ancient, elderly dragon.
Cough. That was a slight exaggeration. The bla couldn't be entirely placed on Asterion; after all, his flight speed was far too fast compared to ordinary monsters. Back when he relied solely on fire-gas propulsion to push his body forward, he already suffered from this annoyance, though the thrust from the fire-gas was never quite enough anyway.
Furthermore, Asterion's physical form was truly massive and incredibly heavy. In a relatively slow flight state, he could still manage to get a rough glimpse of what was happening on the ground—that is, until he began utilizing Xeno-energy propulsion for flight.
Static vision and dynamic vision were entirely different beasts, and even within dynamic vision, there were tiers. Once his speed picked up, even the eyes of monsters like Seregios and Azure Rathalos—creatures exceptionally adept at aerial combat—couldn't possibly keep pace with Asterion's current supersonic flight speeds.
It was just too fast.
It was high-tier energy, after all. Once you mixed in that signature Capcom-esque taphysics, it naturally proved far superior to conventional physical propulsion; that was an indisputable fact.
Whether a dragon possessed Xeno-elent energy or not practically made them two completely different species. By comparison, the fire-gas system he had previously exhausted so much effort and energy to craft was painfully obsolete, severely lacking in raw power. The more he tried to force it through sheer brute strength, the harder it beca to lift off.
The price of extre speed was that the sheer wind pressure and turbulent airflows completely blurred his field of vision into a hazy ss. It felt as though soone had subrged Asterion's eyes directly in water—everything was wavering, distorted, and so devoid of sharp boundaries that he occasionally questioned whether he was even flying in the correct direction.
Consequently, when flying casually, Asterion found it difficult to clearly spot prey on the surface. He certainly couldn't be like Valstrax, which could pinpoint the exact location of marine monsters in the ocean with the naked eye even while soaring over a thousand ters in the air, let alone when he was flying at full throttle.
Whenever this happened, Asterion felt an intense desire to et a Valstrax just once. After all, that kind of transcendent dynamic and high-altitude vision was impossible to acquire from ordinary monsters; it was practically a supernatural ability. It could easily be categorized alongside Xeno'jiiva's specialized organ for locating bioenergy veins as an elite auxiliary trait.
As for deliberately searching for a Valstrax... uh, Elder Dragons like Valstrax were notoriously fond of long-distance wandering. No one knew where they might touch down, or how long they would take to return to their nests.
Hunting for one was no different from searching for a needle in a haystack. Who could casually stumble upon a street-strolling wanderer in a world so vast?
It was deeply irritating.
---
Fortunately, Asterion's target this ti was massive enough, and the mariti scenery was appropriately monotonous. The boundless azure sea, the rolling waves, and the occasional flying fish leaping from the water were so tedious they almost felt hypnotic to Asterion. On the bright side, a monotonous backdrop ant that any anomaly would stand out instantly.
Asterion had already caught sight of Zorah Magdaros. Right in the middle of the endless, erald-blue ocean sat a dark, perpetually steaming black island.
That was Zorah Magdaros's back, passively exposed above the water as it marched forward.
With its four legs treading upon the seabed and its lower body subrged in the ocean, it still managed to keep the volcano riding on its back exposed above the surface. Unlike other monsters capable of flight, over the past several centuries, Zorah Magdaros had navigated the oceans, traversing between the Old World and the New World, through this exact thod.
It was a walking geological catastrophe, a mountain range blessed with a heartbeat. Ocean straits and deep trenches were entirely trivial to it. Zorah Magdaros even possessed webbed feet, aning that when the water grew deep enough, the water pressure intense enough, and the buoyancy sufficient, it could actually swim through the deepest abysses of the sea.
To be honest, that image was rather difficult to visualize. A literal mountain paddling its feet along the ocean floor, swimming across trenches to reach another seabed... it was actually kind of cute?
Zorah Magdaros was currently advancing in response to a mysterious calling. Though it had never visited the place from which the voice originated, it always felt that it would be a wonderful place—peaceful, harmonious, and beautiful. A perfect final resting place.
It could even sense that it was drawing closer and closer to the source of that calling. Furthermore, that source appeared to be... moving?
Zorah Magdaros took a heavy step forward, crushing a massive reef on the seabed and kicking up a plu of silt the size of half an island. Yet, such a trivial matter failed to register in its mind; it was utterly impatient to reach the origin of that voice.
As a result, Zorah Magdaros's pace quickened, turning more resolute as it beca deeply ensnared by a profound sense of destiny.
With its head buried deep beneath the waves, Zorah Magdaros was naturally oblivious to the fact that along its path of advancent, a brilliant blue streak had suddenly carved through the sky, cleanly severing the thick layers of clouds.
---
As Asterion dialed back the intensity of his Xeno-energy propulsion and gradually lost altitude, he could even discern lifeforms moving across Zorah Magdaros's back—it could honestly be classified as a miniature ecosystem.
Not only were there plants, but animals thrived there as well. From bacteria and fungi to insects, the hardened rock and mineral crystals offered a reliable foothold for nurous species. Certain Wingdrakes had even established their nests right next to the volcanic vents on Zorah Magdaros's back, utilizing the radiant heat to keep their eggs warm.
If they were fortunate, they might even absorb a fraction of Elder Dragon energy, rendering their offspring far more robust. Consequently, no matter how bizarre this island beneath their feet truly was, and despite the periodic bouts of inexplicable terror they felt, these creatures refused to leave.
However, these organisms were entirely inconsequential to Zorah Magdaros, so it couldn't be deed a symbiotic relationship—it was purely parasitic. This parasitic dynamic had persisted for an untold number of generations. These Wingdrakes were noticeably larger than common variants, yet their flight wasn't the least bit clumsy; instead, they were remarkably agile.
Perhaps sensing the danger rapidly hurtling down from the heavens, a few Wingdrakes had already taken flight. They circled the exposed volcanic peak of Zorah Magdaros, emitting a relentless barrage of alarm cries.
Sharp and urgent, the warning shrieks pierced the water, reaching Zorah Magdaros even with its head subrged. It was well-acquainted with the habits of the tiny residents on its back.
Casting a glance at the noisy Wingdrakes, Asterion paid the small creatures no mind, rely making a minor adjustnt to his dive angle.
A falling teor!!!
Swoosh—Splash!!!
Plunging straight from the heavens into the ocean, Asterion struck the water with a deafening crash. The wall of water he displaced soared just as high as the exposed portion of Zorah Magdaros. A few low-flying Wingdrakes were instantly swamped by the massive column of water and dragged down into the sea, squawking and flailing in confusion before desperately scrambling back into the air.
Slicing through the water almost vertically like a swordfish, Asterion reached a depth of roughly one hundred ters in the blink of an eye. His massive wing-bones proved incredibly dexterous even underwater, and with a few brief bursts of propulsion, he quickly stabilized his posture.
Xeno-energy was entirely different from fire-gas; it didn't generate the kind of intense thermal energy that would cause the seawater to boil and flash into steam. Aside from the initial cascade of pure white bubbles whipped up around his body during his violent entry, the steady stream of Xeno-energy venting from the tips of his wing-bones acted like a beacon ignited in the dark depths. It not only illuminated his surroundings but also bathed the adjacent seawater in a luminous, ghostly blue aura.
It was serene and breathtaking, standing in stark contrast to the chaotic waves and churning froth still raging on the surface above.
By now, Asterion no longer feared that his imnse weight would cause him to sink straight to the ocean floor, never to climb out again. The surging Xeno-energy provided more than enough lift to keep him suspended underwater. Furthermore, with the ocean's natural buoyancy cradling him, Asterion found that moving beneath the waves was actually far more fluid.
His overall physical agility was a few degrees better than it was in midair. When the expelled Xeno-energy pushed against a dense dium like water, it actually granted his Xeno-propulsion an added layer of efficiency.
Who could possibly refuse the ocean?
To be perfectly honest, spanning across both his past and present lives, this was the first ti Asterion had ever plunged into such deep waters. It was completely distinct from both land and sky; even his own weight seed to have vanished. Every movent felt as though he were wearing a tight bodysuit—unnatural, yet simultaneously carrying a comforting serenity that put a dragon's mind at ease.
Quite a paradox, wasn't it?
---
The vast marine realm possessed an ecosystem infinitely richer than that of dry land. With a re casual sweep of his gaze, Asterion witnessed countless schools of fish fleeing toward the distance at maximum speed. Glittering silver-white scales left afterimages that flickered within the hazy, ghostly blue luminescence, mimicking a brief display of fireworks.
There were also larger fish that elected to press themselves flat against the seabed, remaining motionless and relying on camouflage to conquer their terror. Unfortunately for them, Asterion's attention wasn't fixed on their hiding spots. What he was currently staring at was an entirely different entity—that unignorable, colossal shadow.
There was a mountain subrged beneath the sea.
Aided by the ghostly blue radiance continuously emanating from his own body, Asterion could clearly make out the volcano positioned to his left. Looming from the deepest abysses of the ocean floor all the way up to the gradually brightening surface, this gargantuan shadow was practically omnipresent. It felt like a monolithic wall erected at the bottom of the sea; even a creature of Asterion's massive proportions felt minuscule by comparison.
Drifting through the water while actively fighting the ocean currents warped by the sheer mass of this mountain range, Asterion searched for the location of Zorah Magdaros's head.
A ga, after all, was rely a ga, and the text embedded in background lore was nothing more than pale strings of words. Words always lacked substance.
Asterion had considered himself well-acquainted with various colossal monsters and had experienced Zorah Magdaros's scale firsthand in the ga. Yet, standing personally in front of the beast, he realized that the word "colossal" had ceased to be a re descriptor—it was the very essence of Zorah Magdaros itself.
——It gave a dragon the distinct impression that rely swimming around it would consu half a day, like an endless cliff face blocking the path forward.
This was an active volcano that would never burn out. Even if the freshly spewed magma rapidly crystallized into pitch-black stone under the cooling embrace of the seawater, the mountain seed to possess an inexhaustible supply of molten rock. It bled endlessly from the crests of the ridge, showering down into the remoter stretches of the seabed.
Yet, truth be told, this sector of the ocean was far from dark. The countless rivers of crimson magma leaking from the volcano's surface collided directly with the seawater. Incalculable white bubbles clustered tightly together like blooming floral thickets, trailing a long, diagonal white wake through the water as the mountain range forged ahead.
Indeed, a moving, active volcano.
The brilliant golden-red glare stained the surrounding seawater an eerie shade of orange-red, blending seamlessly with the ghostly blue luminescence radiating from Asterion. Together, they painted the underwater realm into an otherworldly, breathtakingly spectacular vista.
It was hot.
The closer he drew to Zorah Magdaros's back, the more scalding the ambient seawater beca. The interplay of ghostly blue and orange-red lights illuminated the marine world with absolute clarity. Asterion had already locked eyes with Zorah Magdaros's ferocious head—those dull crimson eyes buried deep behind layers of tumor-like, hardened rock formations.
Zorah Magdaros's tar-black hide appeared even darker and more profound within the depths of the ocean.
If its head didn't still retain the faint silhouette of a dragon—particularly the hardened, whisker-like protrusions dangling from its chin—no one would ever link this mountain range, which nearly bifurcated the entire water column, to a living dragon.
This situation was completely different from the few tis he had crossed paths with Zorah Magdaros previously. Back then, even if Zorah Magdaros noticed Asterion's presence, it maintained an attitude of utterly refusing to care. Even when Nergigante, Teostra, or Kushala Daora were tearing each other apart on its back or skull, the ancient dragon simply kept its head down and kept walking, treating them as if they didn't exist.
But things had changed. Zorah Magdaros could no longer afford to ignore Asterion's presence.
It was an incredible feeling.
Asterion wasn't certain whether it was due to the seawater or so other factor, but inside this subrged world where even sound felt heavily muffled, beholding such an awe-inspiring titan suddenly caused his... heart to swell with intense emotion.
It wasn't sha, fear, excitent, or any typical sentint. The complex knot of emotions that used to grip him whenever he recalled Zorah Magdaros had completely dissolved. If Asterion had to put it into words—it was like a quiet, internal burning.
Zorah Magdaros had brought its thunderous footsteps to a halt. Asterion could distinctly see those dark red dragon eyes boring through the seawater, locked onto him. Yes, yes! Zorah Magdaros had sensed it too!
The calling it had desperately pursued for so long was right in front of it, emanating directly from this never-before-seen monster!!
Nearly a century! Do you have any idea how it has managed to survive these past hundred years?! Huh?!!
Ti and again, a calling would resonate. Tracing the sound would lead to nothing but absolute bewildernt, unable to find a doorway or path, forcing it to turn back. Yet, shortly after returning to its routine, the voice would echo once more!
So it was never the calling of a specific territory?
It turned out that the final resting place it so deeply yearned for was actually just an unknown dragon?!!
The earth began to tremble.
No, was it the seawater itself that was vibrating?!
The entire ocean at this exact mont felt as though it were being compressed into a singular, solid entity. It was as if soone had plunged a hand into a tub of yogurt to scoop out a massive portion, and with the upward motion of their hand, the entire contents of the tub were being violently hoisted out along with it!!
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