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MHD Chapter 128: The Tempest over the Wildspire Waste
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 03:01:44 +0000 UTCWhat happened with the Scholars of the Old World could only be described as one of the most unique incidents of erroneous records in this wo
What happened with the Scholars of the Old World could only be described as one of the most unique incidents of erroneous records in this world.
Ever since the disappearance of the Ancient Civilization—when the city of Schrade was wiped out overnight by the Black Dragon—the Monster Hunter world’s technology had remained trapped in a state of archaeology. As a result, countless records of monsters had been filled with mistakes.
On top of that, the lack of reliable channels of communication meant most information depended on the subjective reports of eyewitnesses. Errors in documentation or wildly contradictory accounts became something entirely normal.
This was true even for ordinary monsters, let alone the Elder Dragons or rare species that were nearly impossible to encounter. To most humans, those creatures were nothing more than legends.
...
New World, Wildspire Waste.
As time went by, the weather grew steadily colder.
The cats bundled themselves up in the fluffy coats they had traded for from the Research Commission, each Grimalkyne wrapped into a round, fuzzy ball.
The changes in the Fire Wyvern Grimalkynes had mostly stabilized. Only a few among them managed to acquire the ability to wield fire-elemental energy. Because the newly grown organs for storing energy were still too underdeveloped, they could usually use that power only once a day. But for cats that had always lacked fighting strength, even that counted as a tremendous improvement.
Every one of these cats with the potential to become Palicoes was sent to the Research Commission, costing an enormous training fee that nearly drained the Commission’s reserves.
After all, Tonkotsu was an exception. He represented the goodwill extended to the Fire Wyvern Grimalkynes and was the very symbol of their alliance. The ones that came after, however, required actual resources to raise.
Training and cultivating a Palico consumed a staggering amount of resources.
Logan didn’t pay much attention to the matter; the cats would handle things themselves.
But once, when speaking with the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne leader, he learned that the ones sent off this time weren’t particularly impressive in Palico training. Instead, they showed remarkable talent in preparing Felyne Meals.
It was said that Chef Sita had even taken in the Grimalkyne called Eggroll as an apprentice, personally teaching it the techniques of Fire Wyvern cooking.
Sita even claimed that Eggroll was certain to walk far on the path of Felyne Meals, becoming an outstanding chef. The others, though not as gifted as Eggroll, also possessed notable culinary aptitude. As long as they studied diligently, they could even serve one day as head chefs of Felyne Meals in smaller villages across the Old World.
Truth be told, this twist caught Logan completely off guard. That mutated cats would develop such talent in cooking—could it be that, once they returned from their training, even the Fire Wyverns would have their own Felyne Meals?
Speaking of Fire Wyverns, perhaps due to having lived in the Ancient Forest for too long, the Rathalos weren’t very well adapted to the daily shifts of temperature in the Waste. By contrast, the Rathian seemed utterly unfazed.
Thus, the warming of the nests and the care of the hatchlings all fell to the Rathians, while the Rathalos preferred to head out together for extended hunts.
The rise in body temperature during the chase made them feel more comfortable.
Life had continued on in such calm routine. Food was somewhat difficult to obtain, yet not a single Fire Wyvern chose to abandon their habitat. The Rathalos even began to grow accustomed to this style of cooperative hunting, their sense of kinship gradually surfacing in every group chase.
But unexpectedly, in the middle of the Wastes, a sudden torrential downpour began—and it lasted for three whole days.
Even the drainage channels the cats had dug, knowing full well the Wastes could never match the Ancient Tree in drainage capacity, soon failed. The floodwaters overflowed, forcing several Fire Wyvern families to abandon and relocate their nests.
This harsh weather left the Fire Wyverns restless and irritable, while Logan sensed that something was wrong.
This was the Wildspire Waste—and it was winter. Even if it rained, it should never have lasted this long. For something like this to happen, Logan could think of no cause other than an Elder Dragon.
And just as Logan suspected, the three-day storm was indeed caused by Elder Dragons—ones he recognized.
On the outer edges of the Wildspire Waste and the Ancient Forest, water levels had risen significantly, submerging the lower grounds. Still, it wasn’t as severe as thirteen years ago—perhaps because the ones responsible this time had deliberately held back.
Above a reef island not far from the New World, three enormous figures clashed amidst lightning, thunder, raging winds, and pounding rain.
Tornadoes, surging currents, and sheets of rain painted the battlefield in chaos.
And there, like some abyssal demon clad in jagged black thorns, the Nergigante seemed utterly unfazed, relying solely on brute force and its Regeneration to tear through the storm. It crashed headlong into Kushala Daora and Namielle, forcing close-quarters combat right in their faces.
For Kushala Daora and Namielle, it was nothing short of exasperating. Neither of them excelled in melee combat, and now, on top of fighting each other, they had to deal with this equally powerful interloper. Even for them, the struggle was draining.
Besides, the battle had already dragged on for three days. With no clear outcome in sight, both began to feel the urge to withdraw.
Namielle, at least, could let it go. Its fight with Kushala Daora had started simply because of Kushala’s provocation. They had already exchanged blows; there was no need to keep dragging it out.
But Kushala Daora was far less willing. More than ten years ago, its Elder Crossing had been disrupted by this very Namielle. Nursing a grudge, it had retreated to the frozen tundra near the New World, spending years recovering, even completing a molt to harden its carapace, all in preparation to settle that old score.
And yet here was this meddling Nergigante, barging in, refusing to let go, and forcing itself into the fight.
If not for the fact that Nergigante was simply impossible to handle, Kushala would have gladly dealt with it first.
Once the thought of retreat took hold, the battle didn’t last much longer. After one final clash of wind and water, Namielle seized an opening, slipped away, and vanished into the sea.
This left Nergigante furious. The ocean was far too vast; it had no way of tracking Namielle down.
And so, with Namielle gone, it locked onto Kushala Daora even harder.
Thus, on the path toward the New World, Kushala Daora found itself reenacting the same chase-and-flee spectacle Teostra had once endured—hounded relentlessly by Nergigante.
The battle among the Elder Dragons had ended, but the effects lingered still.
The torrential rains over the Waste had yet to stop. Though it seemed to be easing somewhat, the sky remained thick with dark clouds. The Fire Wyverns’ nesting grounds lay in ruin, and even Logan was reaching his limit of patience.
Staring up at the dark clouds, heavy raindrops struck against his scales with a constant splattering sound.
Logan turned toward the Flame Rathalos flying toward him through the storm. After roaring once at both him and Aki, the three dragons spread their wings and climbed into the clouds under the watchful gaze of the Fire Wyvern Grimalkyne leader.
Soon, as they climbed higher, the air grew colder.
With a roar, the Flame Rathalos and Aki unleashed the breaths they had been charging straight at Logan.
The moment Logan pierced into the thick cloudbank, searing blue-violet flames erupted from his body.
Billowing mist rose with them, breaking through the clouds amidst flashes of lightning and peals of thunder.
Looking down at the roiling black mass below, Logan drew in a deep breath and ignited his flames at full force.
A massive fireball, blazing like a blue-violet sun, shattered the cloud layer beneath him. Light and heat pierced through the storm, raining down on the land below.
The wild, domineering fire-element energy expanded without restraint. As Logan dove, it smashed open a vast gap in the storm clouds.
From that opening, the dark clouds began to collapse, the rain vanished, and sunlight once again bathed the Fire Wyvern nesting grounds.
Thus, a silver-white sun blazed high above the sky. Only after ensuring the clouds had shifted away did Logan extinguish his flames and dive back down.
...
Far above the Wildspire Waste, Nergigante—who had been chasing Kushala Daora—suddenly sensed once more the aura of that new Elder Dragon it had felt earlier. For a moment, it faltered.
That brief hesitation gave Kushala Daora the opening it needed. With a violent surge, it expelled a roaring breath of wind, blasting the unguarded Nergigante far into the distance.
By the time Nergigante tore free of the storm’s grip, the sky was already empty of Kushala Daora’s figure. Only the remnants of the clouds lingered.
Three days and nights of battle, immense energy spent—and in the end, nothing to show for it.
Unable to accept such an outcome, Nergigante raised its head and let out a furious roar, its voice filled with rage and frustration.
