The legends of the Guild Knights had not grown thin just because the New World was far from the Old.
On the contrary, precisely because the Old World was so distant—making it difficult for the Kingdom and the Guild to exercise direct management—the terrifying tales of the Guild Knights flourished even more.
This was especially true for someone like the Field Team Leader, who was born and raised in the New World. To him, the Kingdom, the Guild, and the Old World were merely entities represented by people who arrived at irregular intervals, or the recipients of periodic intelligence reports and letters requesting instructions.
Of course, the most important aspect remained the various supplies shipped regularly from the Old World. It was these vital, indispensable resources—coupled with the solemn teachings of the Commander and others—that instilled in the Field Team Leader a sense of mysterious awe toward the Kingdom and the Guild.
It went without saying that a hunter like Alain, who grew up in the Old World, felt this even more keenly.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can't just throw words like that around, Leader!" Alain, who had been leaning relaxedly against Mirrorblade's relatively flat flank, suddenly sat bolt upright as if struck by lightning. His face was a mask of tension. He quickly scanned the distant crowd to ensure no Fifth Fleet rookies could overhear before letting out a sigh of relief.
"What you just said didn't sound like a joke. The Guild Knights are extremely protective of the Kingdom's dignity. Those guys have ears sharper than a Pilot Hare," Alain said in a lowered voice. "With so many people arriving at once in the Fifth Fleet, the Guild will definitely step up its oversight to prevent over-hunting. Who knows if there are any among them..."
After just a brief mention, Alain quickly steered the conversation away.
"Anyway, the fact that our investigation is proceeding so smoothly is thanks to the Kingdom and the Guild constantly sending supplies, isn't it?" Alain scratched his head. "I heard they plan to turn Astera into the first true city in the New World. If not for that, we probably wouldn't even be able to set foot outside the Wildspire Waste right now."
"I get it, don't be so nervous, Alain," the Field Team Leader said with a helpless look at Alain's cautious behavior. "It's not that I have anything against the Kingdom or the Guild. After all, without their support, this base wouldn't be what it is today... It's just that I've never actually met a King, so I don't know what they're like."
"Just like you, partner," the Field Team Leader said, turning his head to pat Mirrorblade's scales. "I was raised in the New World. This place is my home."
Although the Field Team Leader's tone was light, as if he were making a casual joke, his eyes were exceptionally serious. Mirrorblade could sense that sincerity, even if he didn't quite understand why his partner had suddenly brought this up.
"So, regardless of what those people from the Old World think or do, and no matter what Astera becomes in the future, I will always stand by your side."
Standing up directly from his chair, the Field Team Leader reached out his arms to embrace Mirrorblade's head. With his wingspan, it was naturally impossible to wrap his arms around such a massive dragon's head, but as he pressed his cheek against Mirrorblade's snout, the Field Team Leader's vow was incredibly earnest and solemn.
And Mirrorblade... he understood.
The warmth of a human against his snout, and the sense of trust flowing through those sturdy arms—he truly understood.
"Eh? Wait, what are you guys talking about? Don't leave me out, hey!" Alain, on the other hand, was left scratching his head at the sudden shift into a serious atmosphere. Since he didn't hold a fixed position in Astera and didn't have the Commander as a grandfather, he had no idea what was happening. He could only look left and right in confusion.
"It's a bit complicated, and I don't know where to start... Sorry, Alain, I didn't mean to keep you in the dark," the Field Team Leader explained, rubbing his brow with a bit of distress after pulling his arms back. "In short, it's about the people from the Old World. Our partner is a little worried about us—or rather, he's worried about whether humans might hurt him in the future."
"That is absolutely impossible!!" Hearing this, Alain became instantly agitated. He said with a look of indignation, "The Little Boss is our comrade! He's saved my life more times than I can count. Anyone who wants to hurt the Little Boss has to step over my dead body!!"
"Roar."
Mirrorblade responded with a low growl.
"The Little Boss says don't shout so loud, meow. The people over there are all looking this way, meow... Hmm, let's not talk about things so far off. Little Boss wants to eat some more meat, meow." After a mug and a half of Astera Special Brew, Canny was a bit tipsy. The cat was sprawled limply on the ground, leaning against Mirrorblade just as Alain had done moments before.
"Haha! Finally got an appetite, partner?" Hearing this, the Field Team Leader brightened up. His previously tense and serious face softened considerably. In his eyes, this was a sign that his comfort had worked and his partner had stepped out of the shadows. "As long as you're willing to eat, it's easy. I'll go grab some meat right now. Do you want roasted Aptonoth legs or stewed Apceros steaks? Never mind, I'll just bring a bit of everything. There's plenty of meat to go around today!"
"Then I'll go to the storage room and bring another barrel of ale!" Alain volunteered. "Just eating roast meat won't do. With the Little Boss's capacity, this barrel is just the start—"
"Roar."
Mirrorblade nodded slightly in agreement, his amber eyes quietly watching his two most cherished partners hurry away and disappear into the noisy crowd. It was only after their silhouettes vanished that Mirrorblade rested his chin back onto the cold ground.
Although he was willing to eat, only Mirrorblade knew that he was actually just using it as an excuse to change the subject. The idea that he had "stepped out of the shadows" or that his "mood had improved" was merely the kind, simple-minded assumption of his two companions.
It was undeniable that the resolute words from the Field Team Leader and Alain had flowed into Mirrorblade's heart like a silent, warm current. Especially that willingness to stand against the Kingdom and the Guild for his sake—Mirrorblade believed in this friendship, a bond that transcended race and power.
He had no doubt that if a day came where a choice had to be made, these two would unhesitatingly fulfill their vows, standing firmly by his side against other humans, even declaring that anyone wishing to harm him would have to cross their corpses first—but wasn't that exactly the problem?
Closing his eyes, the scene that had just unfolded flashed repeatedly in Mirrorblade's mind. Why was Alain's first reaction to the possibility of him being harmed the claim that "someone would have to step over his corpse"?
Why was even Alain's subconscious premise for solving the problem "someone must kill him first"? Why didn't he fundamentally question the logic of "humans wanting to harm an intelligent creature that poses no threat to them"?
Alain's instinctive reaction was a tacit admission of a fact: that among the human population, there truly existed individuals who desired slaughter and wished to harm him. Therefore, a "corpse" was needed as a shield.
The words Asterion had once spoken were now echoing through Mirrorblade's mind like a haunting melody. He found it difficult not to dwell on it... Yes, there are many humans, and different people have different views on the same thing. Not everyone can be trusted, and not everyone is a partner.
There is good and bad, and it is hard to distinguish.
Thinking about such profound issues involving sociology and racial divides was truly too difficult for the current Mirrorblade. Wisdom does not depend entirely on age; it depends more on lived experience and the breadth of one's encounters... And Mirrorblade, having grown up in the forest, had actually experienced very little. He possessed little knowledge and lacked the channels to increase his perspective.
In this regard, there was actually no difference between Mirrorblade and the Field Team Leader. Both were simple youths born in the New World, accustomed to straightforward grievances and ignorant of the complexity of the human heart... Well, at least they were "youths" within their respective species; the Field Team Leader could already be classified as a man in his prime.
Since he couldn't figure it out, he could only continue to observe. He would start with these Fifth Fleet members crawling all over the base.
Mirrorblade didn't have to wait long. Accompanied by a flurry of footsteps, the Field Team Leader and Alain returned to Mirrorblade's nest, panting for breath. One carried a massive platter of meat, while the other rolled a large barrel of ale along the ground. Unlike when they left, the two were now accompanied by four strangers.
Two men and two women. The two men were brawny hunters, wrapped tightly in heavy metal and hide armor. Together, they used a thick iron bar to carry a massive iron pot that was bubbling with steam. The two women followed behind, each carrying a plate of fruit. Judging by their attire, they looked like scholars from the base.
A sea breeze blew toward him, carrying the scent of these strangers to Mirrorblade's nose. He shifted his forebody slightly in displeasure without making a sound. He didn't much care for this feeling of uninvited guests. His amber dragon eyes looked down coldly at the four people.
It felt as though his territory was being invaded. To be honest, Mirrorblade rarely felt this way, as he had lived among humans for a long time... but who could blame him? He was currently in a phase of questioning his place in the world, perhaps even undergoing a bit of an existential crisis.
It was clear that the two hunters carrying the iron pot were also a bit panicked. This was especially true after Mirrorblade slightly lifted his heavy Sword Tail, which had been resting on the ground behind him. The sharp blade of the tail was bright even in the dark of night, radiating a sense of threat. No wonder their pace slowed the closer they got to Mirrorblade, looking as if they might drop the pot and bolt at any second.
It wasn't surprising. In the eyes of these hunters who had just survived a soul-stirring voyage from the Old World, no matter how calm a monster appeared, a monster was still a monster. They were walking natural disasters, creatures that could easily destroy towns or slaughter ordinary people.
Between the two sides, there was no communication, let alone friendship. The idea of treating a monster as a partner hadn't even crossed their minds.
The Guild certainly didn't keep information a secret from the hunters who signed up for the Elder Dragon Observation Framework. To prevent these battle-hardened Fifth Fleet elites from instinctively drawing their blades upon seeing Mirrorblade or a Kulu-Ya-Ku—which would lead to a bad ending—scholars on the ships had explained the unique aspects of Astera, emphasizing the "Monster Partners."
But even so, the "Monster Partners" these hunters imagined were more akin to domesticated Popos or small monsters. You'd feed them meat and try not to provoke them, otherwise, you might lose a hand.
When it comes to the unknown, people always fill the gaps with their own fantasies, no matter what others say.
"Yo, uh, that—hello?"
With a heavy metallic thud, the iron pot filled with large chunks of stewed meat and thick broth was carefully placed on the ground by the two hunters. At the same time, they didn't approach Mirrorblade further. Instead, they stood to the left and right behind the iron pot, as if using it as a shield while facing Mirrorblade across the vessel.
The one speaking was a hunter with a somewhat pointed head and thin hair. He looked very young, with the sides of his head shaved clean, leaving only a tuft of orange hair on top. He seemed very cheerful; in fact, he was still smiling even now, his face full of wonder.
(The invincible Sunlight Brother—the Excitable A-Lister.)
"So cool... Is this the 'Mirrorblade'?"
Mirrorblade... did not answer. He simply let his Sword Tail rest back on the ground, his gaze still fixed on these individuals. Unlike this fellow who greeted him with such casual familiarity, the hunter beside him was far more composed.
With a stoic expression, he stood there like a statue cast from pig iron, arms crossed over his chest, brows slightly furrowed. His skeletal frame was exceptionally broad, and the bulging muscles on his arms were as hard as rock—if he were any burlier, he'd rival the Admiral.
It wasn't just his physique; the lines of his face were as rugged as if carved by a chisel. His jawline was tight, and his gaze was sharp, yet without obvious hostility. What was the word for it?
Ah, right. A "hard-boiled" guy.
Mirrorblade pulled an appropriate descriptor from his mind.
(The "Sapphire Star" from the official concept art—the game protagonist.)
Mirrorblade's cold reaction made the two strange hunters even more nervous. It was only natural; the sheer difference in size was a natural source of pressure. Even though Mirrorblade was currently lying down, given his height, the two hunters still had to look up to see the top of his head even from several paces away.
The pressure of facing such a behemoth at close range was simply too intense. Most importantly, to show their goodwill, neither hunter had brought their weapons. This feeling of being empty-handed further magnified their sense of unease.
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