Chapter 11 – Rushed Return
-.-.-.-.-.
Present Day
"Nuts," Phisto muttered, burying his nose deeper in the newspaper he had brought along specifically for the trip back home.
The mission had been a failure, he was the first to admit. A thorough search of the Swamp's cave network hadn't even turned up a single scale of Phisto's mystery monster. It had only left behind a puddle of blood in the spot where the Docks boy had left it writhing in pain. That meant it wasn't dead – although Phisto wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
So now, they were on the road back to Mezeporta.
"It's alright," Zald assured him, clapping an armored hand to his shoulder. "There was no guarantee that your monster would still be in the same spot after you left it. It has been several days since you met it, after all."
"Yes, but we didn't find any sign of it whatsoever, not even after checking the surrounding area," droned Dozer. He sounded bored, probably because he was reading a thick, well-used botany book with scribbled notes and tabs sticking out of various places.
Mircon fidgeted, fishing a large insect out of his armor. "Is anyone else reminded of that Chameleos that up and vanished on us earlier this week?"
"The one who didn't even leave behind its tracking signal behind?" Zald replied, sarcastically. "Or are we referring to some other dragon?"
"Enough," muttered Caela, tossing her pink hair. "This long trek home has left us exhausted, and you're starting to squabble like children."
"But Mircon has a point," Phisto interrupted, then immediately turned red when Caela turned her questioning gaze toward him. "Um, sorry for speaking out of turn."
The young Wyverian shook her head. "No, no, you have as much a right to speak your mind as any of us. Go ahead."
He flashed her a grateful and somewhat giddy smile, one that his friend Catry rolled his eyes at. "It's just that we didn't even find footprints," he said, a bit worriedly. "And there weren't any drag marks to indicate if another monster found its body and carried it away. Don't you find that a little weird?"
"A bit," agreed Catry. "But I wouldn't be too concerned if I were you. Just look on the bright side – at least we know it isn't dead, right?"
"Is that really a bright side?" interjected Zald. "I mean, we all know about the Hero and the Vengeful Gobul."
Phisto shuddered. As much as he liked hearing stories about the legendary Hero that brought an end to the Human-Monster War, he hated hearing about the Gobul that supposedly pursued him tirelessly to seek vengeance for what he did to its eye. As the stories went, this 'Vengeful Gobul' was so persistent that there wasn't a place it wouldn't travel to find and kill its nemesis. Now that the Hero was gone – no one knew if he was alive or dead – the Vengeful Gobul seemed to have vanished as well. But there were unconfirmed sightings all over the Great Continent.
"Yeah," Zald continued, nodding agreeably as if someone else had brought up that fact. "If your monster is still alive, Phisto, it might try and seek revenge."
"Come on," snorted Catry. "The Vengeful Gobul is just an old ghost story that hunters told around their campfires. It's ridiculous to believe that a monster could be so obsessed with its own hate and anger that it would chase one person to Hell and back just to pay him back for a stupid eye injury."
"You're right," agreed Caela. "It's quite far-fetched. And there's no real evidence to prove any of the sightings. A Gobul can't survive for long without plentiful water, so they stay in the Flooded Forest where the conditions are best for their lifestyle."
There was the sound of the Guild-Master clearing his throat, and everyone fell silent so they could hear him speak.
"Now that's enough going on about old stories that may or may not be true," he rasped, coughing lightly. "I assure you, I've never heard of a confirmed sighting of a Gobul outside its natural habitat – and anyway, Gobuls are typically quite peaceful unless you disturb them. Admittedly, that's easy to do because they camouflage themselves in the ground most of the time, but enough about that. Phisto, I forgot to mention that I have a special mission for you that I would like you to undertake immediately when we get back to town."
A special mission from the Guild-Master on top of an invitation to join him and these distinguished researchers to the Sky Corridor? Would the day's surprises never end for poor Phisto?
"Wh-What kind of mission, sir?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice steady. Truth be told, he was rapidly being overwhelmed by this strange favoritism that the Guild-Master was treating him to.
Caela noticed, and gave her grandfather a frown. But it appeared that he didn't notice it, his full attention currently on the teenager.
"It's that time of year again," the elder informed him, sighing. "The Hermitaurs have underwent a population boom in the region of the Desert. As you know, carapaceons often lay thousands of eggs at one time, so if these eggs go largely untouched, the damage done by the newborns can be catastrophic. I know monster hunting is a part of the war none of us want to go back to, but can you please slay as many Hermitaurs as you can?"
Phisto hesitated. He never wanted to back to monster hunting, as it was a grim reminder of his activities in Loc Lac City before he and Catry had been banished, and some of his worst injuries prior to coming to Mezeporta had been acquired as a consequence of monster hunting. But the Guild-Master was right – Hermitaurs could be dangerous in large numbers, and if this group was as large as the old Wyverian suggested, it could throw the Desert into chaos.
"Alright then," the Docks boy affirmed. He placed a hand on his Great Sword, the Carmine Blade, which sat beside him in the cart. "I'll prepare to journey to the Desert once we arrive."
"Good," the Guild-Master said, a smile spreading across his wrinkly face.
The group soon fell back into silence, no one uttering a word as the Burukku-drawn cart bounced and jostled slightly as it was pulled along the uneven terrain. They had left the caves and mudflats behind, and were now traveling through the more forested areas. All around them, skeletal trees rose up to scratch at the cloudy sky, while wet grass covered the ground below them. The occasional cluster of weeds or mushrooms rose up from the soil, providing little splashes of color to brighten up the otherwise plain grey carpet of grass.
"Uh-oh," Phisto suddenly piped up, blinking at his newspaper.
"What's up?" Catry asked. He yawned and sat up a bit straighter.
Rustling the pages of his newspaper, Phisto said ominously, "You're not going to like this, Catry. Apparently there have been Deviljho sightings here in the Frontier."
"WHAT?!"
Instantly, the Bones boy was fully awake. Phisto could understand his reaction perfectly – for the two Mogan natives, no monster was as recognizable or infamous as the dreaded Deviljho.
"Understandable," Mircon said. "Deviljho are nomads, after all. I'm sure it was only a matter of time before some of them let their hunger guide them farther away from the Moga region than usual."
"Farther than usual?" demanded Catry. "Moga is on the other side of the continent! Part of the reason I was glad to move to the Frontier was because it meant no more living in fear of encountering a Deviljho on our wanderings!"
Very exasperated, Phisto threw his newspaper to the floor of the cart and gave his friend a withering look. "Catry, please. We're not going to encounter one now. We never met up with one at all since we were banished, remember? They are very rare brute wyverns. The odds are just too –"
"DRRAAAAAAARRRGGGHH!"
The roar that exploded from somewhere in the near distance cut Phisto's words off abruptly. All at once, everyone was alert, reaching for their weapons in case the unknown monster was closer than they thought.
It was indeed.
Two seconds later, the trees in front of them were knocked down, and they found themselves staring at a huge saurian that looked kind of like a giant pickle with too many teeth to fit in its muzzle.
"You and your big mouth!" Catry shouted at Phisto, who blanched.
The Deviljho roared again, long ropes of saliva flying from its jaws. Their Burukku reared onto its hind legs and bellowed with panic, threatening to tip the cart. The researchers all hung on for dear life as the startled herbivore bolted, running for its life while dragging its passengers along for the ride. Automatically, the Deviljho rushed after them, gaining ground ridiculously fast due to its long, powerful strides.
"Get control of the Burukku and hide!" Zald told the two Wyverians. "We've got weapons – we'll buy you time to escape by confronting this menace."
"Are we even skilled enough to take on a Deviljho?" Phisto asked uncertainly.
"Don't worry!" assured Dozer. "We'll all work together to keep each other alive until the Guild-Master and Caela can get to safety."
Keep each other alive, Phisto repeated the words in his head. Mm, not comforting.
"On three!" Mircon shouted, never taking his eyes off the advancing Deviljho – now so close to them that they could see the whites of its beady little eyes. "One… two… three…!"
In unison, the five of them leapt out of the cart and unsheathed their weapons. Phisto looked around at his allies – aside from his Carmine Blade, there was Catry's Great Sword, Mircon's Longsword, Zald's Gunlance, and Dozer's Hammer. Traditional monster hunts were carried out in groups of four or less, but this was no mere hunt, it was a fight for survival.
"Eat this, you big meaty vegetable!" yelled Dozer, getting the Deviljho's attention. He charged forward with his Hammer held high – its design was recognizable as a Huracan Hammer, made from Rathalos scales. He let fly with a mighty backswing, smacking the brute wyvern right in its chin.
Another roar tore through the air as the Deviljho reeled from the painful blow, its head soaring high into the air thanks to the power behind Dozer's swing. Stumbling a bit, its muscles began to swell under its skin, adding hints of angry red to the usual dull green of its scales.
"Now it knows we mean business!" Dozer grinned.
"I-Is that a good thing?!" squeaked Phisto.
Without warning, the Deviljho pounced, its entire body leaving the ground for a split second before it crashed into the party of five. They scattered so that they wouldn't be crushed and immediately began their counterattack, knowing that the Deviljho could only focus on one of them at a time. Zald stabbed at the dinosaur's tough hide with her Gunlance, although she only managed to give it minor scratches thanks to its muscles being so hard to pierce. Dozer kept distracting the Deviljho by staying near its head, ducking out of the way of its jaws every time it tried to make a mouthful of him. Phisto, Catry, and Mircon all kept near the legs, trying to catch it off balance.
All the Deviljho could feel were their sharp weapons slicing through its scales and delivering stinging blows to the skin underneath. Yet another roar tore out of its maw as it stood tall and gathered draconic energy inside of its mouth.
"Dragon breath!" yelled Zald, raising her sturdy shield.
The enraged brute wyvern lowered its head and let fly with a massive burst of reddish-black energy. This was a form of elemental attack called "Dragon element", and it was largely unknown how it occurred in nature. There were berries that could be picked from Dragonfell plants that contained Dragon element, and most monsters hated them. Dragon element was also associated with elder dragons and powerful wyverns – whether they used the element or were repelled by it. Other than that, though, the origins and true nature of the Dragon element was unknown.
All Phisto knew was that getting hit with concentrated Dragon element would not be healthy.
Sticking the blade of his Great Sword into the ground and propping it up, the Docks boy used it as a makeshift shield as the Deviljho's dragon breath swept across the Swamp. When the blast touched his weapon, he grimaced and braced himself as the impact rattled him. Red-and-black sparks danced over his giant sword and even his arms, which caused unpleasant tingling sensations as the energy was partially absorbed by his Jaggi-skin armor.
None of the researchers had been harmed by the Deviljho's breath. They all peeked out from behind their weapons, shields, or whatever cover they had otherwise found. Immediately, they noticed that the Deviljho had settled down somewhat, its muscles no longer prominent, its nasty saliva leaking from its mouth onto the ground. The sudden burst of rage had clearly tired it out.
"Mircon, Flash Bomb!" ordered Dozer.
Without hesitation, Mircon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sphere. It was a tool intended for defensive purposes – such as when a monster attacked unexpectedly and the researcher needed an opening to retreat. Mircon threw it at the Deviljho, where it exploded with a blinding burst of light that flooded everyone's vision with white.
Phisto blinked rapidly for several seconds, trying to wipe the spots from his eyes. When he came to, the Deviljho was rocking back and forth in a daze, growling lowly and shaking its head in an attempt to clear its vision. Now, while it was helpless, was the time to make the critical decision – would it be better to flee, or finish it off?
"Run!" prompted Zald, clipping her Gunlance onto her back. "It'll be occupied for a few seconds, so we can make our escape now!"
"I agree!" added Catry. "Every second we spend in this thing's presence is a second more than I'd like to experience!"
"But if we run, it'll sniff us out and pursue!" Mircon retorted. "And who knows how much of the Swamp it'll destroy in the process! We should end its life right here!"
"He's right!" snapped Dozer, hefting his Huracan Hammer. "It's too dangerous to be kept alive!"
"NO!" Phisto screamed over all of them. "We're not hunters anymore! The war is over! We defended ourselves when the Deviljho attacked, and now we have the opportunity to get away! Wouldn't continuing the fight be exactly the kind of thing that would start another war?"
Silence descended amongst the researchers as they digested his words.
But they didn't have the opportunity to act on them, because at that moment, the effects of the Flash Bomb wore off and the Deviljho's vision came back to it. Drooling even more thickly now, the brute wyvern took a heavy step forward and bore down on Zald, the least defended and nearest to it. She yelled with fear and hastened to grab her Gunlance, but fumbled for the handle.
"BRRAAAAAAAYYYY!"
The bushes exploded as something huge and green burst forth. In the blink of an eye, it had crossed the distance between it and the Deviljho and smashed into it with a powerful tackle. Caught off guard, the Deviljho toppled to the ground as the newcomer raised its head and unleashed its braying roar.
"Abiorugu!" gasped Dozer.
"It must have been attracted by the Flash Bomb!" Catry realized.
The Abiorugu was like a dinosaurian crocodile, with thick green scales and long jaws filled with gleaming teeth. Diamond-shaped plates lined its backbone, while a pair of threatening crests protruded from its head. Its most telling feature was the bright orange blade set on the end of its tail. Although the species only stood half as tall as the Deviljho, Abiorugus were still a frightening sight to any who came across them on their wanderings throughout the Frontier.
A deeper roar tore apart the sound barrier as the Deviljho rolled onto its feet and entered its enraged state again, red sparks crackling around its mouth and muscles threatening to burst through its skin. It snapped at the Abiorugu, but the smaller brute wyvern agilely sidestepped and swung its tail, cutting its ravenous enemy across the muzzle. Blood rained onto the grass.
"You still want to stick around, guys?" Zald asked, sarcastically. Despite her tone, she was trembling from her close brush with death.
"Nope, we've had our fill of action!" Mircon replied.
Sheathing his weapon, Phisto decided, "Let's catch up with the Guild-Master and get out of here as fast –"
And then the Abiorugu landed in their path, hissing with pain as it tried to right itself. Several of its teeth were missing, probably having been smacked out of its jaw from the Deviljho's thick tail. The bigger wyvern pounced with its powerful legs, landing on top of the helpless Abiorugu. Its feet pinned its victim to the ground as its jaws reached down to clamp onto its head, ignoring the struggles.
"Now's our chance!" shouted Catry.
"But the Abiorugu…!" Phisto protested, weakly.
"Better it than us!" his friend told him, grabbing his hand and pulling him after the other researchers. "Now let's move!"
His shout came just as the sounds of the Abiorugu's futile attempts at escape ceased. The Deviljho heard loud and clear, and raised its bloodstained muzzle to peer after them. Reacting to their movement, it unleashed its sky-shattering roar and charged after them. It was obvious that acquiring an appetizer was its priority before starting on the main course.
Phisto turned around and saw the monster nearly on top of him and Catry. He gasped, then squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms up over his face in anticipation of the bone-crushing bite that was surely only moments away.
But he didn't count on a second Abiorugu, which had heard its partner's cries for help, suddenly appearing and sinking its teeth into the Deviljho's neck.
Bellowing in pain, the larger wyvern was thrown into a nearby stand of trees from the force of the Abiorugu's attack. Its claws slipped on the slick grass, and the Abiorugu drove it to the ground with its specially-designed fangs piercing deeply into its tough flesh. However, the Deviljho tore itself free before long and swatted its attacker away with its tail, blood flowing freely from its numerous wounds.
At this point, even Catry had stopped running, instead standing there beside Phisto with shock and awe colliding on his face. The second Abiorugu was larger and more majestic than the first, with bright red horns sticking out from the ends of its crests and jutting out from its lower jaw. More brilliant spikes stuck out from the sides of its tail, which was shaped like an axe instead of a sword. It was then that Phisto and Catry realized that they were observing a "Hardcore" monster – a powerful and experienced creature of the kind the Frontier region was infamous for.
The Deviljho got to its feet and stumbled, fatigue and blood loss beginning to have an effect on it. It lunged, jaws open wide, only to receive a stunning slap from the Abiorugu's deadly tail. The hooked spines tore across the Deviljho's scales, leaving ugly wounds behind. The Hardcore monster followed up its attack by turning back around and belching crimson flames that engulfed the Deviljho's muzzle.
While the Deviljho waved its tiny arms in a useless attempt to rid itself of the flames burning its eyes and snout, the Hardcore Abiorugu raised its tail high into the air, the tip of which glinted brightly when a random ray of sunlight illuminated it. The axe-shaped blade was brought down with enough power to sever the other monster's head if it connected.
Fortunately for the Deviljho, it twisted out of the way to get away from its attacker's fire, successfully dodging the tail. Now able to see without getting its eyes boiled, the Deviljho exhaled its dragon breath, which exploded with a burst of sparks on the Hardcore Abiorugu's flank. It stumbled and howled, its mouth already glowing red with heat as it readied another blast of fire. The Deviljho rampaged forward, more than ready to finish its weakened enemy off.
That was when the first Abiorugu, loping into the fray with its head and neck heavily scarred from the previous attack, struck from behind. Its relatively small yet powerful jaws bit down on the larger brute wyvern's neck, prompting a searing roar of agony. The Hardcore Abiorugu let fly with another fire blast, the flames washing over the Deviljho's head and entering its open mouth to scorch its throat.
Its roar petering down to a drawn-out moan, the Deviljho toppled onto its side, driven to exhaustion from pain and exertion. The Hardcore Abiorugu snapped its mouth closed, cutting off the stream of fire, and then almost casually stomped hard on the Deviljho's skull.
There was a sickening crunch.
"BRRAAAAAAYYY!" the two Abiorugus let out their triumphant roars.
On the sidelines, Phisto winced. I didn't really want to stick around long enough to see that.
Catry suddenly unfroze. "Come on!" he said in a forceful whisper. "Let's leave before those things decide they want dessert."
Nodding, the Docks boy and his friend dashed off in the direction their fellow researchers had gone, deeper into the Swamp.
-.-.-.-.-.
The researchers got back to Mezeporta that evening. Stars were already breaking out in the darkening sky when the Burukku-drawn cart stopped to let its passengers enter the Guild Hall. Phisto and Catry didn't join the Guild-Master and Council, though – their home was Mezeporta Square, and they had their own duties. It was best to let the Council focus on preparing for the eventual expedition to Sky Corridor, and for them to focus on their own work for the Guild.
When Phisto finally entered his house, the first thing he did was strike a match and light the various lamps that hung from the walls. Grunting with effort, he took off his armor piece by piece and let them rest on a shelf, revealing the ordinary clothes he wore underneath. He let his Carmine Blade rest against the wall, then threw his item pouch across the room to land neatly in the armchair at the back of the room. Athena the Ice Halk was relaxing on her perch near his supply box, and she chirped a greeting before putting her head back under her wing.
"Bath…" Phisto muttered to himself. "Then dinner… then I have to prepare for tomorrow's mission. I'm going to the Desert, so… Cool Drinks and lots of water."
He'd also need the usual monster-repelling items in case he was attacked – Flash Bombs, Dung Bombs, and the like. Lots of terrible monsters inhabited the Desert, which appeared to be barren but was anything but that in reality. And if the Hermitaur outbreak that the Guild-Master had told him about was so bad, then the local wildlife would likely be agitated.
And once that was done… Phisto couldn't help but think ahead. He'd likely have time for several more research missions before it came time for the expedition. But once again, as it had so many times since he heard the news, the question surfaced in his mind – why him? Why was the Guild-Master inviting him along on such a tremendous undertaking? It was just too strange, and for some reason, it made Phisto uneasy.
He put down his things and went to the window, staring up at the open sky. There were no clouds to obstruct the expansive canvas of navy blue, or the glow of the moon as it became more visible with the sun's absence. As he watched, a black shape passed over the great white orb in the sky, probably a flying wyvern heading back to its nest.
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this…?" Phisto asked himself, uneasily.
-.-.-.-.-.
Obviously, that Deviljho is no Dissidia when it comes to manners. And the HC Abiorugu is awesome – looks like something out of some ancient civilization's mythology.
More of Phisto's perspective in this chapter, and some human-vs-monster action because this IS a Monster Hunter fanfic after all. Next time we see Phisto, he'll be hunting some Hermitaurs and waiting for the call to go investigate the Sky Corridor!
Send reviews, and check out the timeline/dictionary for "Metamorphosis: Seven Sins" if you're confused about anything! If that doesn't clear up your questions, PM me!