The discovery of traces left by a Kushala Daora attacking the Gore Magala filled the Hunters with joy, but it also set their nerves even more on edge.
The saying "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" did not necessarily hold true for Monsters.
To an Elder Dragon, a filthy rat entering its home was reason enough to kill it. What happened to the stray cat that chased the rat inside depended entirely on the Elder Dragon's mood.
Altaïr therefore planned to avoid contact with the Kushala Daora as much as possible. Their small squad was strong enough to deal with a single Gore Magala without much difficulty, so there was no reason to take any additional risks.
Their next task was to find and hunt down the Gore Magala as quickly as possible.
"Boss, need an aerial scout, meow?" Sajji could barely contain his eagerness.
Altaïr was a Blademaster and, unlike Isis, was not fully outfitted with heavy gear, so his Palamute still had plenty of spare carrying capacity. With Hibiki and Hakucho also willing to help, Sajji had dismantled the Rathalos cannon cart's chassis and distributed the pieces among the three, planning to reassemble it before the battle.
At last, he was going to serve as the team's heavy firepower again!
Altaïr glanced at Sajji and Hakucho, both raring to go, then considered the idea briefly and shook his head. "If the two of you go up together, you'll be too conspicuous and might alert the target. Let Mochi go instead. Have Mochi conduct a wide-area search centered on our position."
Nymera nodded and whispered a few words to Mochi, perched on her shoulder. With a series of cheerful coos, Mochi spread both wings and fluttered into the sky.
"Let's get started too."
Altaïr was fairly confident that they would find the target.
His tracking skills in forest terrain might not have been exceptional, but the team had numerous hunting partners and reconnaissance specialists from the Meowcenaries. Unless the Gore Magala could vanish into thin air, they would eventually pick up its trail and follow it.
"Spread out. Look for traces, and stay alert."
At Altaïr's order, the Hunters and their hunting partners split up and began searching.
Skill and experience certainly mattered when searching for traces, but luck mattered even more. The first to find one was neither Altaïr nor any of the other Hunters, nor even one of the reconnaissance specialists from the Meowcenaries.
It was Clawdia...
While wandering around, she happened upon a smear of purplish-black blood on a broken tree stump.
Ordinary Monster blood certainly did not come in that color.
The Hunters gathered again. Altaïr had Lichens carefully sniff the bloodstain. As one of the Meowcenaries' squad leaders, Lichens had a keener sense of smell than the average Felyne.
The result, however, was not encouraging.
Lichens gave a shake of the head. "The scent is very faint now, meow. It's the rainy season, and we've had quite a bit of rain these past two days, meow. Tracking it by scent will be difficult, meow."
Altaïr was not disappointed. From the direction of the fallen trees nearby and the shape of the blood smear, he could roughly determine which way the target had gone.
"We'll keep searching in that direction."
As the group continued searching and analyzing each clue, the route the target had taken through the forest grew increasingly clear.
Nymera also used whistles to direct the Cohoot circling overhead, focusing the aerial search on the direction in which the target had fled.
Step by step, the group pressed onward.
—--
Several hours passed. Daylight faded into darkness. The group found several more traces, but still could not confirm the target's whereabouts.
Altaïr was not surprised. After the recent Kushala Daora attack, the Gore Magala was bound to change its territory. The frequent rain in the Flooded Forest also made tracks difficult to find, so he had already warned his companions to expect a long pursuit.
The clues remained sporadic, but with so many searchers and the Meowcenaries coordinating their efforts, the group never lost the trail completely.
—--
After two full days of relentless tracking, they finally found a relatively fresh trace.
It was a patch of scale dust rubbed onto the trunk of a large tree.
Altaïr and Lichens exchanged a glance, each seeing the same surprise in the other's eyes.
A heavy downpour had fallen only the night before and would easily have washed away the scale dust. Since it still clung to the trunk, the target must have passed through the area after the rain!
"It can't have left long ago. Can you track it by scent?" Altaïr asked Lichens.
"I'll try, meow." Lichens leaned close to the scale dust and sniffed carefully. A little drifted into the Felyne's nose and caused a sneeze.
They could only be grateful that small creatures such as Felynes were almost immune to the Frenzy Virus. Otherwise, that single sniff might have been enough to cause an infection.
Lichens rubbed the powder-stung nose, then spent some time carefully sniffing around the area. The Felyne's ears suddenly perked up. "Found it, meow! It's this way, meow!"
Lichens was about to dash forward in excitement when Altaïr called out, "Wait."
Facing his companions' puzzled looks, Altaïr explained, "Our large group of Hunters, Felynes, and Palamutes is too conspicuous. We'd be easy to spot and might scare the target off. Everyone's stamina is also running low. Fall back to the nearby camp and rest. Lichens and I will sneak ahead and mark the target with Paintballs, then we'll decide our next move."
"All right. Be careful, and signal us immediately if anything happens." After warning Altaïr, Isis led the others back toward the camp.
Since stealth was essential in the forest, Altaïr secured Tyrant Blade [Heaven Swallower] to his Palamute's harness and took down Rosenzahn, the Dual Blades he had rarely used since they were forged.
"Let's go." With the Dual Blades on his back, Altaïr followed Lichens with light, quiet steps.
Altaïr had no reason to worry about Lichens. As an elite member of the Meowcenaries, the Felyne was certainly better at covert operations than Altaïr.
With the party reduced to two, their pace improved dramatically.
—--
Just over half an hour later, Lichens, who was leading the way, stopped. "The scent is very clear now. We're close, meow."
Altaïr donned the Ghillie Mantle and loaded several Paintballs into his Slinger. Once all preparations were complete, he continued forward with Lichens.
At last, they found their target.
Much like the area where they had discovered the wing membrane, this stretch of forest was exceptionally lush, with giant trees growing close together. The overlapping layers of canopy resembled enormous umbrellas and blotted out the sun.
Only a few rays of sunlight filtered through gaps in the branches and leaves, forming pillars of light.
In the dim forest, a strange dragon, jet black from head to toe, trudged forward with an unsteady gait.
Hidden in the underbrush, the Hunter watched in silence.
The creature was quite large. A rough visual estimate put it at around eighteen meters long, larger than most Rathalos.
It was difficult to imagine a parasite larger than its host tearing its way out of the host's body. Unless Altaïr was mistaken, the creature had not been this large at birth.
It must have grown for some time before reaching its current size.
Its size, however, was not the main concern. What truly unsettled him was its skeletal structure.
It moved on four legs and had a pair of powerful Wingtalons sprouting from its shoulder blades, a frame typical of Elder Dragons.
Although scholars did not biologically classify an incompletely evolved Gore Magala as an Elder Dragon, Altaïr felt this creature warranted the same degree of caution.
It had not yet developed visual organs, but its sense of smell was acute. The bones between its wings had not fully hardened, so it could fly only with great difficulty and little skill. Its powerful Wingtalons worked in concert with its limbs, giving it remarkable agility...
All this information came from materials provided by the Frenzy Virus Research Institute. Altaïr mentally matched each point to the corresponding part of the target's body as he analyzed the adversary's likely movement patterns.
Its vast wing membranes lacked the strength to fold completely against its sides and could only trail behind like the hem of a long skirt. Was that why it walked with such an unsteady gait?
No. There seemed to be more to it than that.
Altaïr narrowed his eyes. The creature's movements were unnatural. Was it injured?
That would hardly be surprising. As an incomplete form that had failed to achieve its final evolution, the Gore Magala should have been weaker than an Elder Dragon such as Kushala Daora.
An attack like that was bound to leave injuries.
The question was... where was the wound? The creature was jet black, and its wing membranes covered much of its body, so he could not immediately locate the injury.
That was critical combat intelligence.
Altaïr took out his binoculars and studied the creature more closely.
Suddenly, he lowered the binoculars and looked around in confusion at the light filtering through the forest, then immediately raised them again.
Was the sunlight simply reflecting off the scales? Why did the scales along its back seem faintly tinged with gold?