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MHD Chapter 144: The Night of Maturity
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 21:32:38 +0000 UTCAfter a week of recovery, the Ancient Tree had at last returned to order, the ecosystem settling once again onto its proper track. Yet after finishing their work each day, the cats would often gather in groups, holding mysterious meetings of their own. What they were planning was anyone’s guess.
The hunting grounds of the Ancient Forest were no different from before, save that the Aptonoth population had not yet fully recovered. But with such flourishing vegetation, it was only a matter of time before they not only reached their peak again, but perhaps grew even stronger.
The tempered Azure Rathalos had survived, though it still lacked the strength to fly. For now, it relied entirely on its mate, the Pink Rathian, who stood watch over it without fail.
That night, the sky glittered with stars as a new moon rose quietly into the heavens.
The Fire Wyverns all returned to their nests, enjoying the calm of night. The cats, apart from the essential outer patrol squads, had all gone back to their little tents in their former home to rest.
On the upper levels of the Ancient Tree, near the middle cliffs, in a vine-woven hollow—unlike usual, the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne warriors were not on patrol. The normally ever-present Fire Wyvern guard squad that never strayed from the nest was nowhere to be seen.
Moonlight streamed softly into the new lair. One gold, one silver, one red, one green—two figures drew close beneath that pale light.
Inside the freshly laid nest, Logan’s body was tense. The affectionate gestures that usually came so easily to him, fluid and natural, now felt impossible. His mind was utterly blank.
Breathing in Aki’s scent, he instinctively leaned toward her. Yet when his scales brushed hers, the heat radiating from her body made him freeze up all over again.
Aki tilted her head, gazing at Logan as he lifted his own. She took in the sharp lines of his head, the short spines jutting from a jaw no longer slender, the sculpted muscles beneath his silver-and-red scales, the massive frame, and the wide, dependable wings that put even her own to shame.
Tonight, her Fire Wyvern had finally come of age. He had grown into the form she loved most.
“Wuu~”
A soft, lilting hum flowed from Aki’s nostrils. Logan’s body trembled; his head, raised high, instinctively lowered. Meeting Aki’s gentle eyes—eyes like a pool of spring water—his heart quivered. Almost without realizing it, he stretched his head toward her.
Just like when they were young, he rested his jaw upon the crown of her head, the keratin of his chin rubbing gently against her scales.
The only difference was that back then, Logan had been the smaller one.
Aki closed her eyes, feeling the warmth seeping through the scales on her head. Slowly, her heart settled.
Her hatchling had grown. From now on, he would be her strength to lean on.
Little by little, Logan’s body relaxed. A flame began to burn in his chest—unlike the fire that spewed from his flame sac. Even with his tremendous resistance to heat, he could feel the searing temperature of this inner blaze with ease.
Scalding wyvern blood surged through every vein.
Logan bit down on the thick carapace at Aki’s neck. As she bowed her head slightly, his wings pressed down with force, toppling her with ease. His tail coiled tightly around hers, which had been swinging idly moments before.
With wings spread, he covered Aki in a commanding embrace, locking their shared heat within.
Gold and silver intertwined, red and green overlapped—scales shimmered under the reflected moonlight. The scene was so beautiful, so perfectly harmonious.
On the cliff beside the Ancient Tree, a golden bud slowly unfurled in the silver-white glow of the moon.
The next day, the Rathian, her scales gleaming with golden radiance under the sun, flew out of the nest with boundless vigor. Her strong yet graceful figure danced through the sky, her light posture seeming to proclaim the joy in her heart.
Logan stepped from the nest, wings folded, feeling the warmth of sunlight spread across his scales. It was comforting, as though it could chase away the faint chill lurking in the depths of his body.
A passing Rathalos noticed Logan’s dulled scales and unsteady gait. At once, it understood. After a brief, sympathetic glance, it turned back and retraced its path.
“Meow, Boss Fire Wyvern, meow? Are you alright, meow?”
Tonkotsu sensed that something was off. Outwardly, Logan seemed unchanged. But in spirit, their Boss carried a strange serenity, as though he had seen through all things and now bore an open, untroubled heart.
Logan gave no reply. Instead, he drew in a deep breath, facing the rising sun.
The emptiness after indulgence was something even the fire within his heart could not ignite.
Last night had taught him a lesson. A Rathian who, after coming of age, had restrained herself for five long years—a creature of overwhelming strength, astonishing physique, and rare talent, now on the verge of evolving into a Gold Rathian—once she gently completed the first act and then fully unleashed herself, the result was utterly terrifying!
Gazing up at the clear blue sky, peace filled Logan’s heart. Today is not a day for killing.
...
At Astera Base, the aged Wyverian scholar adjusted his spectacles. His hands trembled slightly as he returned the notebook to the eager female compiler. Do not mistake him—his hands did not shake from age, nor from weakness. Rather, it was sheer disbelief that his temper had grown too soft. Beyond that thick-headed brute of a human beast, the Admiral, now here was someone else bringing him such “peculiar” records to archive.
“Girl… may I ask whether your mind is truly in a sober state?”
“Clear-headed? Of course I’m clear-headed.” The female compiler scratched her head, glanced at her small notebook, and couldn’t quite understand what the Wyverian scholar meant.
“If you’re clear-headed, then why are you fabricating nonsense? Don’t you know that ecological investigation and speculation demand the utmost rigor? Just look at what you’ve written! Such bizarre claims—if you had written them about another monster, I might have let it slide, but you just had to choose a Fire Wyvern! Can’t you use your head for once? Do you really think a Fire Wyvern could possess such traits?”
The old Wyverian scholar was nearly laughing from anger, beard bristling as he adjusted his glasses, his voice stern.
The female compiler was still very young, and he hoped she would recognize her mistakes before straying too far down the wrong path at such an early stage. His words had come out harsher than intended, but otherwise, given the odd temperament common to Wyverian scholars, he wouldn’t have bothered to say so much.
But he was wrong. The young compiler clutched her notebook, eyes wide.
She wasn’t stupid. The Wyverian scholar had made himself perfectly clear—of course she understood what he meant.
And that was exactly why she was furious!
As a compiler, you could call her a burden, say she couldn’t grasp the situation, or even that she was a fool courting death.
But what you absolutely could not say—was that her records were fake!
Even if her notes contained some subjective descriptions, that was no reason to deny them outright!
So, even though the Wyverian scholar was highly respected within the Research Commission, the female compiler broke down and grabbed hold of him, flipping open her notebook and demanding an explanation.
In the end, once the other staff at the Ecological Research Center in Astera began to be disrupted, the Wyverian scholar finally had no choice. He took the notebook, determined to make this seemingly muddle-headed compiler fully aware of her mistakes.
“First, let’s look at your description of the Fire Wyvern group. It’s true that the Fire Wyvern packs in the New World differ from those in the Old World—there are signs of a faintly emerging social structure. But look at what you wrote: The shadow of the Fire Wyvern King appeared upon the cliff. Endless Pressure descended upon the land. All the Fire Wyverns of the Wildspire Waste lowered their proud heads, offering their loyalty to the supreme Fire Wyvern King!
“Really now—are you sure you’re even describing Fire Wyverns? Even Elder Dragons aren’t written about in such exaggerated terms.”
His tone was calm, but his voice carried an undeniable authority. In that moment, he resembled a strict teacher correcting a student’s mistakes with a red pen.
Under such scrutiny, the young compiler calmed down as well, murmuring timidly, “It was embellishment, just phrasing. But those Fire Wyverns really did fall silent when the Fire Wyvern King appeared. And that Pressure was real—my fellow hunter companions and I all felt it. It was terrifying!”
The Wyverian scholar held her gaze for a long time. As a senior scholar of the Hunter’s Guild, he had contributed greatly to ecological research and taught many students. Once he was sure she wasn’t lying, he opened the book at his side, lifted his pen, and began recording.
