Although Altaïr and the others kept calling the creature before them a "small Flying Wyvern" or "Small Monster," size was relative.
Compared with a "Large Flying Wyvern," which could measure over ten or even twenty meters long, it truly was pitifully small.
But to an ordinary human, a mysterious creature over four meters in both body length and wingspan, armed with sharp fangs and claws, capable of flight, and even able to breathe fire was an absolute monster by any measure.
"Everyone get back! Get far away!" The command rang through the hall just as Isis, charging like a wild boar, bowled over the mysterious monster that had just broken free of its ropes.
The mustachioed Guild Master had roared the warning. Waving his arms, he urged the stunned scholars and staff to retreat quickly.
Ordinary fabric clothing offered no more protection than fragile paper against the creature's hooked, razor-sharp claws. Even a casual swipe during its struggles could disembowel someone.
Its breath attack went without saying. Isis's timely reaction and block moments earlier had saved the scholars' lives, sparing them from taking the dragon flame head-on.
Even the scattered sparks and blast of heat had been enough to ignite their clothes and hair. They had to pat themselves down as they fled with their heads covered, looking utterly wretched.
The one saving grace was that the members of the Royal Paleontology Scriveners were not civilians in the strictest sense. Most were field researchers with expedition experience, so they did not lose all reason when faced with a Monster threat or scatter blindly in panic.
Lambert deserved some credit for that too.
With Isis locked in a close-quarters brawl with the monster, Lambert certainly could not unleash an Echo Wave at it. Playing melodies to boost morale and enhance everyone's abilities, however, was perfectly safe.
The melodies greatly eased the crowd's panic.
Without the sturdy ropes, Isis's hand-to-hand struggle with the small Flying Wyvern was not going smoothly. She had to throw her full weight onto it, wrapping both arms tightly around the creature's throat and wrenching its head back with all her strength.
With its head forced back at such an extreme angle, the small Flying Wyvern struggled to keep its balance. Being indoors also kept it from taking off.
Yet Isis, perched on its back, was not heavy enough to pin it down completely either.
The Flying Wyvern thrashed its wings and kicked its hind legs, bucking and leaping like a mad bull as it instantly plunged the research institute's main hall into chaos.
"Do we have to capture it alive?!" Altaïr gripped his sword with both hands and called toward Lamarck, his gaze fixed on the tangled brawl between his companion and the monster.
Displaying surprisingly quick reflexes, Lamarck helped drag away a young scholar who had fallen in panic. He shouted back, "Kill it! This is a research institute. There are too many documents and books!"
Altaïr immediately understood what he meant.
Moments earlier, Isis's swift reaction in raising her shield to block the column of flame had saved them. Otherwise, even if the scholars had escaped disaster, the dragon flame would have swept across the massive bookshelves and set the precious archives and research materials alight, leaving the scholars to weep on the spot.
Seeing flames flicker once more in the Small Monster's mouth and nostrils, Altaïr no longer hesitated. He sheathed his weapon and entered the Iai stance.
A second later, just as Isis wrenched the Small Monster's head aside, Altaïr drew his blade in a flash.
In a glint of cold steel, he slit the Small Monster's throat, sending its searing dragon blood spraying three or four meters.
The strike also severed the Small Monster's windpipe. Amid its ragged, wheezing breaths, its severed throat could no longer draw in air, and bloody froth flooded its lungs, hastening its death.
Within seconds, it collapsed to the ground with its limbs twitching, clearly unable to resist any further.
Remembering what had just happened, Isis vaulted to the Small Monster's head and pinned it down firmly, eliminating any chance of a dying retaliation.
The scholars and research institute staff remained hidden at a distance, not daring to approach yet.
Lamarck, however, sprinted over to the corpse with another Wyverian scholar, a woman who appeared just over thirty.
Working together seamlessly, they used clean glass bottles to collect several vials of fresh dragon blood from the wounds of the Monster, which was not yet fully dead.
"Good, good. These blood samples are virtually indistinguishable from ones drawn directly from a living specimen. They can provide a wealth of information," the Wyverian scholar said, her voice tinged with excitement.
Lamarck let out a long breath and straightened his crooked glasses. "At least this didn't turn into a major disaster. The corpse is sufficiently intact too. The neck wound is clean enough to disregard."
"The strike didn't happen to cut open the flame organ, did it?" the scholar asked uneasily, staring at the wound that was still oozing blood.
"Probably not. Otherwise, this fellow's throat would have exploded outright."
The two continued their discussion as though no one else were present.
Covered in dust, her armor in disarray, Isis crouched beside the Small Monster's corpse with a sorrowful expression, as though mourning a shattered dream.
Lambert shook her head while strumming the strings of her Hunting Horn with a metallic clang. Whether she was playing a dirge for the Small Monster or doing something else was impossible to tell.
Looking from these eccentric individuals to the devastated research institute, Altaïr finally called out, "Mr. Lamarck, shouldn't we deal with the aftermath somehow?"
Lamarck had been arguing with the other scholar about how such a small Flying Wyvern could compress its flames into a concentrated pillar for its breath attack. Startled by the question, he nodded.
"You're right. Bevis, you're the director, so organize the cleanup. I'll handle the dissection.
Altaïr, Isis, help me get this corpse onto the dissection table. We need to dissect it quickly while it's still fresh and the internal organs remain highly active!"
The Wyverian scholar, whose masculine-sounding name might have caused some confusion, glared at him. "What do you mean, you'll handle it? You led the dissection of the last 'intact corpse.' This one's mine!
Luga! Find someone to clean up outside. Nothing else matters, but be careful with those books and materials!"
With that, the two rushed into the dissection room, neither willing to yield to the other.
Her face a mask of misery, Isis dragged the Small Flying Wyvern's corpse toward the dissection room one step at a time, even though it would normally take several scholars to move it.
A horrifying trail of blood smeared across the floor.
Her perfectly good flying transport had been reduced to 5000z, and she could not even feel happy about it. No, after all the chaos just now, whether that 5000z would end up in her hands was debatable. Surely they would not make her pay for the damage to the research institute too?
The thought left her even more dejected. Knowing Isis could get the corpse onto the dissection table by herself, Altaïr did not follow her and headed straight for the mustachioed Guild Master instead.
The Guild Master eyed him sideways. "Relax. Whether it's the 4000z for the first one or the 5000z for this one, I won't go back on my word."
"No, that's not why I'm here." Altaïr rubbed his temple, pained. "We're 5★ Hunters, after all. We wouldn't chase you down over a few thousand z."
"...Why do I feel like you're trying to box me in with your words?" the Guild Master huffed, his mustache bristling.
"Guild Master, something's wrong." Altaïr's grave expression dispelled the elder Wyverian's lingering sense that he had been swindled.
"What do you mean?"
"The first sighting of this unknown small Flying Wyvern was roughly twenty kilometers northwest of Loc Lac. The oasis where Lambert and I encountered one lies less than ten kilometers northwest of Loc Lac as the crow flies. Isis was on a Rank-Up Quest to hunt a Tigerstripe Zamtrios. Her hunting grounds should have been northeast of Loc Lac, yet she brought back the same kind of Monster. The distances and directions are all different. That means these small Flying Wyverns have likely spread across the area surrounding Loc Lac without us realizing it."
The Guild Master's expression turned grim. "I already told the receptionists at the Quest Counter to gather the locations of similar Monster sightings. We should have received some reports by now. I'm heading to the Guild Hall immediately."
(Translated by yourtl.app)