Chapter 35: The Tempest That Ended All Threats

Flames replaced the poisonous mist as the dominant force in the region. At some point, the Chameleos had silently slipped away, unnerved by the madness of the Rathalos horde.

For reasons even it could not explain, a flicker of regret crept into its heart.

The trees burned. Though it was only a portion of the forest near the Ancient Tree, the thick smoke from the blaze could be seen rising throughout the entire Ancient Forest.

After this unrestrained outburst, some Rathalos left immediately. Only a few, too exhausted to travel, returned to the Ancient Tree to rest.

Logan lay at the entrance of his nest, staring blankly at the burning edge of the forest. At that moment, he wished he possessed a weather-related trait—just a single sunlight trait would've been enough. Under intense sunlight and heat, the thick mist would have dissipated naturally.

Moreover, high temperatures would interfere with the Chameleos's camouflage, forcing it to reveal itself.

But he didn't have it.

The last time he drew the Flash Fire trait had been a year ago, and the progress bar for his current extraction was barely halfway.

Besides, with the vast number of traits in the Pokémon world, what were the chances he'd just happen to draw a weather trait?

This blaze had once again managed to halt the Chameleos's advance into the Ancient Tree, but Logan knew—there would be no next time.

This time, two-thirds of the Rathalos had left. Even if Logan managed to locate the Chameleos again, there wouldn't be enough wyverns left to assist him.

He, too, had to leave.

Inside the nest, the Grimalkynes were hard at work, weaving a massive basket out of gathered vines. In the corner, one such basket was already filled with their supplies.

After witnessing their loyalty during the last battle and spending time with them these past days, Logan had to admit—he had formed a bond with these adorable feline companions.

These two baskets had been crafted specifically to carry the Grimalkynes safely during the migration.

At dawn tomorrow, he and Aki would each carry one basket, with the Grimalkynes tucked securely inside for the journey.

The sun slowly dipped below the horizon. The still-blazing fire glowed even more intensely in the darkness of night.

...

At the border between the Wildspire Waste and the Ancient Forest, on a hidden cliff, the Field Master was vigorously waving her Scoutfly Lantern.

"Hey! It's safe up here—you can come up now!"

The members of the Research Commission climbed up the cliff using the vines. At the top, they found a concealed cave, where the Field Master was moving about, shining the makeshift Scoutfly Lantern as she searched around the area.

"Judging by these claw marks and the remnants nearby, this must have once been a Rathalos nest. But it's been abandoned for quite some time."

She ran her hand along the marks on the cave wall, then stepped over to the nest made of branches and sifted through it. With firm certainty in her voice, she turned to the group climbing up behind her.

"A Rathalos's abandoned nest, huh? Tch. That's a bit of a headache. I was just thinking this place might make a good camp site," the Admiral muttered as he glanced around, clearly satisfied with the terrain.

"Hey, look—what's this?"

The Field Master, focused intently on her search, suddenly held up two shimmering scales in her hand. Carefully wiping away the grime, she let out a cry of surprise.

That even someone as experienced as the Field Master would react like that immediately drew the attention of the others.

They quickly gathered around her.

In her hand, two scales—one large and one small—glistened under the light.

The larger one was clearly a Rathian scale, but under the glow of the lantern, it revealed an orange-yellow shimmer, making the usual forest-green hue seem almost muted.

The smaller red scale, from a Rathalos, had edges that glimmered like polished silver, and that silvery sheen even seemed to be spreading toward the center of the scale.

"Could... could this be the legendary—?"

The Admiral's breath grew noticeably heavier, his eyes fixed on the scales in the Field Master's hand as though beholding a priceless treasure.

"Yes! Silver Sunlight, Golden Moon... these are likely the shed scales of those extremely rare subspecies—Silver Rathalos and Gold Rathian! Although it looks like both are still mid-metamorphosis."

The moment she spoke, everyone's breathing grew heavy.

To hunters, rare subspecies like these were no less enticing than Elder Dragons themselves.

If they could find the owners of these scales—even if not to observe them up close—just watching their behavior from afar would be an incredible opportunity!

"I—"

"I'll go! Move aside!"

The Research Commission members grew excited all at once, eyes turning toward the Admiral, each one hoping to be assigned the mission.

"Hmph! What are you dreaming about? A dangerous mission like this? Of course I'm going personally!"

The Admiral confidently reached out to take the scales from the Field Master, but she nimbly dodged with an agile step.

"Admiral, you can't just jump at anything shiny. Besides, don't you already have a target? This mission should be shelved for now. Once everyone's recovered and rested, then we can decide who should take it on."

The Field Master's teasing made the Admiral let out an awkward laugh—but he understood what she meant.

The legendary pair, the Silver Rathalos and the Gold Rathian, each possessed combat strength on par with Elder Dragons. What's more, they usually moved together. Even when briefly apart, they were never far from each other.

That meant any hunter assigned to investigate might end up facing two Elder Dragon–class threats simultaneously. This was not a task just anyone could accept.

Moreover, the Research Commission was currently in no position to handle such a mission. Everything they'd experienced here in the Wildspire Waste had made it clear: in the New World, they were still too weak. Now was not the time to overreach.

Besides, they only had two scales. The abandoned state of the nest already proved that the pair had long since left the area. Even if they wanted to investigate, they had no direction to go.

Thus, preserving the two scales as a memento and a source of inspiration for the team was their true value.

One day, when the Commission had gained the strength, someone would surely be chosen—scale in hand—to venture into the unknown reaches of the New World in search of those two rare, legendary creatures.

...

The next day, the sky was overcast. Thick clouds still hadn't dispersed.

Logan and Aki each lifted a basket filled with Grimalkynes and took flight from the nest.

He cast a reluctant glance at the Ancient Tree. Such an ideal habitat—and yet, they had no choice but to abandon it. The feeling left a deep sense of frustration.

As he flapped his wings and ascended into the sky, Logan caught sight of a familiar sight: dense white mist rising again from another part of the Ancient Tree. The Chameleos hadn't given up—its plan was still underway.

But this time, no one remained to stop it. Its efforts were now completely unnecessary.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a figure suddenly burst from the canopy of the Ancient Tree.

In that instant, the wind howled. Clouds churned. A piercing dragon roar echoed across the sky, startling every remaining Rathalos out of the forest. They gazed in fear at the quadrupedal, metallic Elder Dragon that radiated sheer presence.

Staring at the fog-drenched part of the forest, thick with poison, the Kushala Daora finally understood why it had been summoned to this place—this temporary refuge it had once visited long ago.

Its metallic wings beat once, stirring a fierce whirlwind.

In the blink of an eye, Kushala Daora soared above the toxic mist.

A surge of vibrant life energy coursed through its body. The storm bent to its will. Rain followed in its wake.

With just a single pass, the vast cloud of miasma was blown away. With each beat of its wings, the winds intensified.

Towering trees rooted deep in the ground snapped apart. Saplings were torn free and hurled into the sky. Sand, stone, and broken branches spiraled upward, swept far into the distance by the tempest.

The Chameleos, still within the area, hadn't even reacted before it was swept up by the storm.

This overwhelming, irrationally wide-reaching tempest completely transformed the surrounding environment. With the landscape changing constantly and unpredictably, its tail—normally used to analyze environmental data—could no longer make accurate assessments.

At that moment, the Chameleos resembled a broken slide projector, its body flickering wildly through an array of colors. Its camouflage ability had completely failed, and instead of blending in, it had become the most conspicuous thing in the entire storm.

Left with no choice, the Chameleos reluctantly abandoned its mimicry and decided to retreat, though clearly unwilling to accept defeat.

Unfortunately, the Kushala Daora had no intention of letting it escape.

Now stripped of its camouflage, and still a juvenile with relatively weak combat capabilities, the Chameleos stood no chance of escaping in front of such an opponent.

The Elder Dragon took a deep breath. Wind-aligned elemental energy surged and swirled in its maw.

In that instant—the wind stopped.

Sensing something terribly wrong, the Chameleos widened its eyes in shock, instantly realizing Kushala Daora's intent. By now, it was too late to flee. Its only option was to meet the attack head-on.

While the Chameleos was among the weakest Elder Dragons in terms of combat ability, that didn't mean it had no chance of victory against Kushala Daora.

Poison could interfere with Kushala Daora's control over wind—that was the one potential edge the Chameleos had.

It gathered strength—Toxic Breath Beam!

But from Kushala Daora's mouth came a hurricane so intense it was visible to the naked eye.

The focused wind attack burst forth with terrifying force. Not far ahead, it expanded and detonated outward, forming a horizontal twister that tore through the forest, consuming everything in its path as it roared toward the Chameleos.

In comparison, despite its own charge-up, the Chameleos's toxic breath was pitiful. It couldn't even stand against the turbulent currents of the storm—instead, it was scattered instantly by the violent airflow.

The storm engulfed the Chameleos entirely. There was no sound. In Logan's eyes, the Chameleos was simply swept up and carried off by the horizontal cyclone, vanishing into the distant reaches of the forest.

He didn't know if the Chameleos could survive a storm like that.

But he did know one thing: the Chameleos would never again set its sights on the Ancient Tree.

Who would've thought—right as they were preparing to migrate, the problem simply resolved itself?

Logan was genuinely curious: when had the Kushala Daora arrived? Was yesterday's storm its doing? Why hadn't he sensed its presence?

As for whether Kushala Daora would stay behind after defeating the Chameleos—perhaps also looking to claim the Ancient Tree as its territory—Logan was quite certain.

It wouldn't.

And the reason was simple.

Kushala Daora fed on minerals. And the Ancient Forest didn't have nearly enough ore to sustain it.

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