The high-rank Hunters pressed Altaïr and the Nomad Elder for a few more details, including the exact location of the Tigrex's corpse and whether there had been any other anomalies around the Great Horn Flats.
Though somewhat dejected, Altaïr shared everything he had discovered, along with every conclusion and connection he had pieced together, in as much detail as possible.
Worried they might miss something, he finally tore the pages of notes from his notebook and handed them to Marydan and the others to take with them.
Marydan patted Altaïr on the shoulder and led the high-rank Hunters out of the meeting room.
The mustachioed Guild Master twirled his whiskers. Only after the Hunters had left did he ask Altaïr with a narrow-eyed smile, "You don't want to go with them?"
Altaïr looked at the shrewd old man and answered truthfully, "I do."
"Then why not fight for the chance? Who knows, I might just agree."
Altaïr simply stared at him in silence, letting the look serve as his answer.
Whenever Isis said something outrageous, three to five seconds of that stare was enough to make her awkwardly avert her gaze. The old man's thick skin, however, was clearly in a league beyond Isis's.
Altaïr stared for more than ten seconds, and the old man maintained that same frozen smile the entire time.
Altaïr suspected that even if he stared for half an hour, the old man's expression would not change in the slightest. He let out a weary sigh.
"Because there is nothing I can contribute. Whether in combat ability, Monster-tracking skills, scouting experience, or even familiarity with the Great Desert, I fall short of the seniors.
Bringing me along would do nothing but satisfy my own emotional needs. It would be pointless and might even reduce the mission's chances of success.
From that perspective, even if you permitted me to go, I would refuse."
"Tch. You're obviously sentimental, yet you insist on burying it beneath all that reason. Not cute at all."
The diminutive Guild Master hopped onto the meeting table, slid across it in a flash until he was right in front of Altaïr, and sat down cross-legged as if he wanted a closer look at him.
Altaïr couldn't help but lean back slightly.
"That said..."
The capricious, free-spirited old man abruptly changed tack. "Not that you're cute, but I do have a soft spot for serious, obedient kids.
How about this? I'll share some unconfirmed information with you. Or perhaps I should call it a theory?"
Altaïr froze for a moment before asking instinctively, "What theory?"
"The attack on your Nomad tribe... how many years ago was it?" the old man suddenly asked.
After two seconds of silence, Altaïr answered quietly, "Twelve years ago."
"All right, then let me tell you a few more things. Eighteen years ago, a Hunter squad here in Loc Lac accepted a quest to Hunt a Tigrex. The entire elite squad of three 5★ Hunters was wiped out. Their bodies were torn to pieces.
Six years ago, in the rocky desert a dozen or so kilometers northwest of Loc Lac, travelers spotted an unusually large Tigrex that had bitten a Black Diablos to death during breeding season."
Altaïr's eyes slowly widened. "You mean–"
The mustachioed Guild Master raised a hand, cutting him off. "I said it's only a theory. After all, Tigrex are not known to migrate on a regular schedule.
And including this incident, only four suspected Grimclaw Tigrex sightings have been recorded near Loc Lac. That's far too few to establish a 'pattern.'"
But Altaïr acted as if he hadn't heard that, muttering to himself, "Once every six years… six years…"
"If you insist on interpreting it that way, I can't stop you." The mustachioed Guild Master spread his hands with a chuckle. "But honestly, I think you'd stand a better chance if you set your sights on twelve or eighteen years from now."
"Thank you for the information." Altaïr rose from his seat, gave the old man a deep bow, and strode briskly out of the meeting room.
Once he had left, Lady Aisha approached the Guild Master, her face clouded with worry. "Guild Master, was it truly wise to give him information so vague and unverified? Even if all of it were correct, there's no guarantee the Grimclaw Tigrex would actually follow this 'pattern,' is there?
Furthermore, if the Grimclaw Tigrex did have a relatively stable migration route, Madam Marydan's scouting expedition should uncover more evidence, which would certainly be reported to the Hunter's Guild headquarters.
Given how dangerous a Deviant like the Grimclaw Tigrex is, if its migration route could be confirmed in advance, wouldn't the Guild most likely dispatch high-rank Hunters for a targeted Hunt?"
"That's right." The Guild Master's whiskers twitched as he smiled. "That boy is quite sharp. He'll figure out what you've just said soon enough.
Twelve years? Eighteen? He doesn't have that long. The Guild cannot allow a dangerous Deviant with a confirmed migration route to keep circling the continent unchecked again and again.
If he still wants to exact revenge personally, he has at most six years."
—--
"I plan to reach 8★ within six years," Altaïr told his companions, his expression serious.
"Are you running a fever?" Isis reached out and felt his forehead. "Doesn't feel hot. Six years to go from 4★ to 8★? You're dreaming."
"No, wait. Maybe 8★ isn't necessary. 7★ would be enough." Altaïr swatted Isis's grease-smeared hand away and lowered his head in thought. "A 7★ Hunter is qualified to join an 8★ threat-level quest. I could contribute. I could help…"
He didn't think of himself as someone obsessed with revenge. The experiences of the past few days had, in fact, helped him make some peace with the powerless child he had been twelve years ago.
Even so, he still very much wanted to sever that thing's head and hang it from those great horns as a trophy. Nymera furrowed her brow slightly. "7★ at twenty-six… that remains a goal nearly unattainable for most, though not entirely without precedent."
"Just think of it as a goal to work toward." Altaïr exhaled softly, his earlier fervor gradually settling. "Six years, from 5★ to 7★. It will be very difficult, but not impossible."
"Wait a minute." Isis looked at him strangely. "5★? Sure, we're preparing for the promotion exam, but isn't it a bit presumptuous to say it like that?"
"Ah, well…" A hint of embarrassment crept across Altaïr's face. "How should I put this… It's a bit sudden, but I've already been promoted to 5★."
Isis froze with food halfway to her mouth, her expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, then hurt.
"Y-you went ahead without me again?!"
They had long since grown used to Altaïr racing ahead of them during Hunts, but Isis clearly meant a different kind of going ahead now.
"No, this time really was an accident. I went out without accepting any quests," Altaïr hurriedly explained. "I just happened to take down a rampaging Tigrex, and the Guild Master promoted me."
"Really?" Isis was skeptical, but in the end, she chose to believe him.
"An accidental promotion… as expected of Senior Altaïr."
Lambert, who hadn't slept for two days and was sinking into a food coma, had her cheek plastered against the tabletop, her complexion ghastly. "I thought I could finally catch up with you guys a little, but Senior Altaïr has already earned his promotion… You move so fast…"
Ignoring the nearly lifeless Lambert, Altaïr pulled out his Hunter's Notes, intending to prove he wasn't lying by showing them there was no record of such a quest inside.
Then a quest form drifted out of the notes.
Clearly having forgotten that detail, Altaïr's expression changed drastically. He bent down to pick it up, but Isis's hand was faster. Swish! She snatched up the form.
She checked the issue date printed at the bottom of the form. It was dated several days earlier. "You not only went ahead without me, you lied to my face and made a fool of me…" Feeling deeply betrayed, Isis's voice quivered on the verge of tears.
"…No, listen. I can explain."
(Translated by yourtl.app)