Chapter 30: A Song of Fire and Pickle (Part 1)
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LazyAutumnMoon
We all need Sundancer in our life.
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A soft boom rang out behind Jaune, followed by the hissing sound of an object shooting upward. Seconds later, the sky behind him bloomed bright.
A signal flare?
Not important. He ran on, eyes trained upward. The forest canopy was growing denser, making it difficult to catch more than fleeting glimpses of red scales and widespread wings. Unlike him, the Rathalos bypassed the need to traverse the uneven ground, and so pulled ahead with every passing moment. It would take him one wrong move to lose the pursuit.
Tattletale had begun screaming, which was very helpful in keeping him on course.
Also, very worrying.
He activated his League Stepper boots—max settings, no gradual climb—and jumped above the trees. That granted him an unobstructed view of the monster a distance ahead, and of a screaming Tattletale aiming a handgun at the monster's talons. She pulled the trigger.
Accompanied by a loud bang, an angry screech shook the sky.
Tattletale continued firing, angling the gun so the bullets would ricochet away from her. Shot after shot struck the Rathalos, yet they failed to do much that Jaune could tell other than angering it further.
Feeling his balance slipping, Jaune released the triggers for the rockets, allowing himself to drop back down. He landed on one of the large tree roots and forged onward, barely paying attention to where he stepped while leaping from one traversable root tendril to the next. Light rocket blasts covered for the occasional slip-ups, and [Third Arm] helped him clear the larger gaps, gradually bringing him lower and lower until once more he raced along the forest floor.
Rapid gunshots prompted him to jump high again. Tattletale was unloading the whole clip in quick succession now, desperate to get free. He missed what happened next, already falling below the treeline, but he spotted the Rathalos pulling into a steep dive.
Not a minute afterward, Jaune broke into a clearing, finding both of them there.
Tattletale—mud-splattered, leaves stuck in her hair, but alive!—was scampering across the rough ground. No longer screaming now, the desire to avoid being turned into lunch kept her focused on running. Behind her, the Rathalos gave chase, far less graceful on its two legs than when it was flying.
Compared to the Hellkite Drake, the wyvern boasted a sleeker form, its red scales vivid and the spikes along the back less pronounced, less aggressive. More… natural?
Licks of flames flickered between its teeth, growing brighter in intensity.
Jaune did not waste a moment. "Hey, ugly! Over here!"
He aimed with his empty hands. From thin air, a machine gun materialized in them, and he held down the trigger. A stream of bullets slammed into the side of the wyvern, chipping the spiky scales.
Uh…
"It's not dying. Tattletale, why isn't it dying ahhhh—!" He dove out of the way in the nick of time, and the fireball flashed on by, the searing heat lingering on his skin to let him know how close it had been.
The smoke cleared to reveal the Rathalos in flight. Banking hard, the monster looped around a tree, emerging on a direct course for Jaune.
In its movements, he saw brutish aggression. Blind animal impulse. It's a beast, not a man. Predictable.
"Okay, I got this," Jaune said, psyching himself up. "Come get me, you overgrown lizard. I'm ready. So ready!"
In answer, a mouth filled with sharp fangs opened wide.
It snapped down on empty air.
Above the wyvern, Jaune soared with boots trailing fire. The gun returned to his Pocket, and he drew Crocea Mors. Sunlight glinted off steel. The blade flipped to point downward.
Wham!
Jaune saw stars as his head met the thick, unyielding trunk of the tree branch above him. Unaccustomed to using the rocket boots in combat, he had neglected to keep track of his position and where the momentum was taking him. Power to the boots cut out, and he dropped out of the sky to land in the dirt with an "Oof!"
And by the time he pushed off the ground, the Rathalos was already way too close.
Its eyes, a gemlike blue, peered down at him with a spark of cunning. The monster possessed enough of an intelligence to know the meaning of victory. Fire bubbled within its throat.
Note to self: flight tactics require full 3-dimensional awareness. If alive tomorrow, practice.
…Extra note to self: if not alive tomorrow, don't worry about it.
An inferno burst forth. Jaune hunkered behind his shield in a futile bid for survival.
Just before the fireball hit him, Logy the monster Hunter slid into the space between Jaune and the Rathalos. It was his shield, not Jaune's, which caught the brunt of the attack, the flames splashing onto the near-fireproof Anjanath hide. Biting teeth slammed against the shield in the next instant, stopped by the metal beneath and a body that refused to buckle under the tyrannical weight of the monster.
Jaune blinked to clear his vision. No, he had not seen it wrongly. Somehow, the Hunter endured the collision with an object measuring in the tons. In fact, he was beginning to push it back.
They didn't have Aura here, right? Right?
"Don't worry. Everyone will be here soon!" Logy said.
Who, he wanted to ask, but his voice trailed off as he watched Logy reach for the contraption strapped to his back. A smooth flick of the wrist, and the segments snapped into place. Bone and metal formed one continuous whole.
Oh. That was a lance he's carrying around.
Boom!
And, oh. It's also a gun.
Driven by the explosive shell that had crashed against its jaw, the head of the Rathalos jerked to the side. Jaune and Logy darted away during that opening.
"Space ourselves apart, divide its attention," Logy called out.
With a nod, Jaune heeded the suggestion, and spared a moment glancing behind him to check on Tattletale.
She had stayed within the clearing, and was in the midst of deploying her camouflage cloak. It worked by her first taking it off.
…Again, limitations defined Academy City tech.
Invisibility cloaks did not work as imagined by science fiction movies. Shaken out like a sheet, the cloak stiffened to a flat, rigid shape. Flexible rods hidden along the bottom edge were manually extended to function as anchors, then impaled into the ground to create something resembling an outdoor cinema screen.
A bit more than a mere resemblance, really, since the concept started from that same place. Lights, and the manipulation of it, laid at the core of this technology. Once activated, the white, almost translucent fabric began a gradual process to adopt the colors and shapes of the area behind it, refracting light through embedded optical amplifiers to create the vividness of reality.
The transformation was taking too long. The Rathalos, recovered, flicked its gaze between the Huntsman/Hunter pair and Tattletale. One registered as a threat, the other as easy picking. It made a choice.
Leathery wings unfurled. The Rathalos took flight.
"We have to get it down!" Jaune shouted. He summoned a rifle, popping off another burst of unimpressive gunfire. It was like shooting at a Deathstalker Grimm. The bullets drew flecks of blood at most despite him aiming low at the scaleless underbelly.
Logy called back, "Way ahead of you. Flashpod, cover your eyes!"
Flashpod?
Flashbang! Jaune recalled the earlier lesson and squeezed his eyes shut, turning away. The resulting flare paled in intensity compared to the modern explosive, but was effective enough against naked vision. The ground shook with the impact of the wyvern's fall.
Jaune reopened his eyes to a Rathalos roaring while trying to climb to its feet. The massive head, nostrils spewing flames, swung every which way without seeing. It passed right across the camouflage cloak, now activated in full with Tattletale ensconced behind the screen in a safe position to observe the battlefield.
Without having to worry about her, he could focus on the Rathalos, and this seemed the perfect opportunity to bring it low. Jaune rushed in, drawing his sword… only to screech to a halt at the frantic signals coming from Logy.
"What?"
"Be careful," the Hunter said as the Rathalos swept its spiked tail through the space Jaune would have occupied. "Blind doesn't mean helpless. The big guy's enraged!"
The monster knew it was in a vulnerable state, and lashed out in a storm of talons, tail, and flames to deter would-be attackers. Against that, Logy advanced in cautious steps, and hovered just a bit outside the range of the Rathalos to harry it with quick swipes of the lance, adding in an explosive shell here and there.
Jaune stuck a little closer, sometimes within clawing distance, for better reach. The first hit he managed got the Rathalos on the snout, and failed to even break the scales. All it did was alert the monster of his position, forcing him to take a dive as sharp talons scythed through the air. Rolling under the Rathalos, he then tried an upward swing to scour a line across the chest. It left a cut to mark his most effective attack thus far—too shallow by half.
To his consternation, the blood dripping from the wound stemmed in seconds, scabbing over. Before he could wonder about it, the Rathalos took a hop, intent on trampling him underfoot. Another dive moved him out of danger.
Glancing over to Logy's side of the fight, he noted that the man seemed to have met greater success. Jaune's efforts, at the least, were serving as a decent distraction to keep the Rathalos facing the wrong direction, and the openings allowed Logy to strike with impunity. Each blow of his lance drew out a grunt from the monster, and sometimes fragments of the scales.
Still, nobody could mistake that the battle was going anywhere close to their way.
"Logy, this isn't working. We're scratching it."
"All according to plan, don't lose heart. Rathalos are just tough fellas."
Jaune leveled an incredulous stare at him. "I think this goes a little beyond 'tough.' The thing's as hard as a rock!"
"Are you kidding? The hide of a Rathalos is waaay stronger than that."
"Not helping…" Jaune whimpered.
Logy laughed at his morose expression. "Steady on. Our backup should be here any second now!"
"I hope so, because it's back in action."
With a final headshake, the Rathalos regained its faculties, and turned its baleful glare directly at them. A slight contraction of the neck warned Jaune of what was coming. The jaws unhinged.
A projectile smashed into the open mouth, bursting to release a pocket of water. A second and third shot followed to douse the impending fireball. The remaining flames flew towards Jaune in a weak stream that fizzled out before the halfway mark.
The shooter emerged from the woods, clad in dark leather and a cowboy hat. He held what looked like a portable ballista cobbled together from monster parts. (Why did it have horns sticking out?)
The blond man, who seemed too skinny and underweight to hold his weapon, called over to them. "Startin' the fun without me, Logy? For shame." He then directed a curious gaze at Jaune, but did not comment.
"Reyfer, good timing!" Logy replied. "Where's Linca and Escha?"
"Right here."
Horns must be in vogue, because the woman that crashed through the underbrush wore the skull of a beast with two great, curving horns pointed to the sky. The rest of the skeleton went into her armor, panels of strung-together bones protecting sections of her body. The midriff was left bare. She had better abs than him.
On her shoulder rested a hammer that was really a giant chunk of bone attached to an iron haft. The size of it looked rather comical on her short height, and an eyeball estimate suggested the thing weigh more than her.
Then, after her there arrived a… a cat? In armor? With a knife?
As the newcomers formed up with them, Jaune stared agog at the fluffy, white, long-haired cat wielding a tiny sword. The thing was adorable.
The cat turned to look up at him, and waved.
He nearly died then and there.
"Jaune, my team. Team, Jaune. Ready to show the big guy what for?" Logy asked.
Cat, he thought, dearly wishing someone would explain to him the why's and how's of it. Aloud, he shouted an enthusiastic "Yeah!" along with the rest of them.
The Rathalos beheld the line of enemies arrayed before it, and weighed the risk. By all evidence, it found the odds favorable as, rearing back on its two legs, the wyvern gave a mighty roar.
Logy and the hammer girl named Linca rushed in to meet it head on, while the guy with the ballista—Reyfer—hung back. Seeing the cat, Escha, flanking the monster on one side, Jaune decided to head for the other side, filling the empty spot in the formation.
Midway there, the phone in his pants pocket rang. Picking up the call, he looped the attached strap around his neck so he could talk hands-free.
"Jaune, can you hear me?"
Sliding into position, he summoned a gun with a fresh clip. "Loud and clear. Looks like the Handy Antenna tech works anywhere, not just in the apartment."
The Rathalos flapped its wings, blowing Logy and Linca off their feet. Immediately, Jaune fired off a few bursts around the monster's eyes. None were a direct hit on target, as after the first few shots the Rathalos turned to avoid the barrage, but it had to abandon pursuing the off-balanced Hunters in order to do so. That gave them the chance to resume their offensive before the wyvern could chase him. Linca smacked it upside the head with her hammer as it tried to breath fire.
Using the free moment, he addressed Tattletale, "Hey, do you have an idea of what's wrong with these guns? And my sword? Like, I'm tickling the Rathalos right now."
"It's not a fault on your end. Forget bulletproof jackets, those scales are the equivalent of inches-thick steel. Not just that, but the muscles underneath, the bones, they all have to be in comparable range to shrug off those attacks. The strength of that monster in relation to its size is disproportionate to a ridiculous degree."
And it already looked big to begin with. Great.
"Don't even think about engaging it head on."
"Wasn't going to."
"Uh-huh." Skepticism dripped from her voice. "Your best bet is to continue playing the distraction. Support the Hunters, and study what they do before you commit to anything rash. They're the pros, not you."
That was actually good advice, and in between bursts of gunfire, he observed his allies for hints to the finer points of monster hunting.
Despite their heavy armaments, the two main melee fighters on the team stayed light on their feet. They didn't plant themselves in one spot and go to town on the monster, even though Logy likely could have with his shield and fire-resistant gear.
At first, Jaune thought it a mirror to conventional Huntsmen combat styles. As the minutes wore on, he revised that opinion.
After ducking a swing of the tail, Logy had the perfect opportunity to lay into the Rathalos. He forwent it, and skipped back. His partner, Linca, could have gone for a truly skull-shaking overhead swing. That was given up, too.
The Hunters were not displaying the aggression typical in Huntsmen. Offensive undertakings rarely lasted for longer than three or four attacks before they broke off from the Rathalos. Oftentimes, Logy or Linca would settle for a single glancing blow.
Was it borne of caution? Fear? Not quite.
Reyfer, safer from his spot at the back, shared the mannerism. His ballista fired at an uneven rate—a three-shot burst here, a lone one there. He took frequent pauses, picking and choosing projectile bolts that bore a variety of effects, from a purple cloud to sparks to sharp spikes that attempted to pierce the scales. Every once in a while, he relocated to a new spot. Always near cover. Always at a set distance.
The strange ease to their movements spoke of practice. Experience taught them to fight this way.
Tattletale's voice came over the line. "They're conserving stamina. Targeting weakpoints. Jaune, slow down. You're out of step with their goal here."
Because a Rathalos was not a Grimm, and Hunters were not Huntsmen. A creature of flesh and blood, it can tire; lacking Aura, they can die. The flowing dance of offense and evasion ensured a constant barrage to wear the monster down, while minimizing the risk of a Hunter taking a debilitating injury. Considering the ludicrous level of toughness possessed by the Rathalos, decisive blows were off the table. He compared it earlier to a Deathstalker Grimm, which was not so far off the mark. Unlike Beowolves and Ursas, where one untrained but powerful slash can kill the creatures, whaling on this armored body accomplished not much of note. Striking a weakpoint achieved better outcomes for the effort expended.
Jaune began spacing out his shots, taking the time to put them where he saw the Hunters aiming. The ankles, to weaken its balance. The wings, to strain the smaller, more delicate bones, and tear at the wing membranes. The head he left to Linca, the hammer wielder. Her method to use a giant lump of monster bone to rattle another monster's bones seemed to be going well, whereas his bullets were useless on that skull.
His plan, uh, his plan worked a little too well.
Jaune gulped as the Rathalos, thoroughly annoyed by the gnat that won't stop buzzing about, focused on him. An angry blast of fire exploded from its throat.
[Third Arm] yanked him one long step to the left. Another fireball was there, because it wanted him dead, with a side of deader. With no time to think, he activated his boots and threw out another shadowy hand. A little voice in his head was screaming that either would be too late.
A shelling round struck him first. It hurt like hell. It hurt like fuck.
But it also launched him out of the path of the fireball.
He hit the ground on his back a short distance away, arms curled around his chest and a chunk of his Aura missing. It was better than being set alight, he tried to tell himself. Strangely, that did not at all make him feel better. Woozy eyes found the person responsible.
Logy sent him a thumbs-up, smiling.
"I got you, Jaune!"
You sure did.
"Tattletale, our ally just shot me. Maybe you were right about him."
"Ehhh." She sounded hesitant. "I think—no, it's definitely something normal for them. His teammates didn't even flinch when they saw that." Her speech shifted, becoming faster. "He's done it before. To them. He fired on them and they're still friends. The maneuver is part of their playbook. Their physiology allows for that kind of strategy. That girl's hammer is three hundred pounds on a stick, and he's swinging a lance with one hand. They should be breathing hard—they're not. This is the human baseline, and it's comparable to a person with Aura. Big insects—big trees—big everything. This is a worldwide effect."
They say you were what you ate. Perhaps this was that old adage in action. Whatever super nutrients giving the monsters their strength found its way into people's diet, and imparted to them the same unbelievable vitality. In a world like that, tanking a shell fired by one of their own may well count as a valid strategy to rescue a teammate, the damage recoverable with a draught of healing potion.
It sounded insane.
And made so much sense! Why hadn't he ever thought of that sort of strategy back in Beacon? Aura can mimic the requirements, as proven with him!
(He later realized why, upon recalling that Nora's weapon was a grenade launcher.)
"Sooo, how does that explain the cat?"
"…I'm working on it."
"Oi. What's takin' so long over there?" asked Reyfer in a rough drawl, hurrying over.
Climbing to his feet, Jaune said, "Oh, sorry—"
"Did that darn Rathalos get you, after all?" Reyfer scrambled for his belt. "Here, I have a potion. A mega potion, too, if you need—actually, drink it anyway, just in case. Come on, if you're hurt bad, I'll carry you from the fight while that thing's distracted."
"Omigod they're all like that." Tattletale sounded ill.
Arms full of medicine jars and herb pouches, Jaune rapidly shook his head. "No, no, no, no, I'm good. Completely fine. Logy took me by surprise, that's all." He tried to return the items to no avail, with Reyfer waving him off and rushing back to the battle now that he was assured of Jaune's health. Reluctantly, he deposited them in his Pocket.
A second flashpod stymied another attempt by the Rathalos to fly. This time, though, it landed on its feet and quickly set into a wild, thrashing frenzy.
A ballista bolt alerted it of Reyfer's presence, and it charged in his direction, forcing him to abandon his position with a long roll that covered quite a distance. The Rathalos skirted on by the escaping prey to slam against a tree, snapping the thick trunk almost in half with how hard it struck, afterward dropping to the ground in a stunned daze.
All of a sudden, a flip switched, and the monster Hunters sprinted for the downed foe.
Now they went all out. Logy unloaded shell after shell, reloading and doing it all over again. Reyfer changed to bladed projectile bolts, and directed them at the tail; those saw great effect, leaving grooves that refused to heal. Meanwhile, right in front of the Rathalos, the hammer rose and fell, each blow stronger than the last as its wielder found her rhythm.
Jaune heard a distinctive cracking sound after one of the hammer strikes landed. His heart swelled with anticipation. The monster was not invincible.
Once his current gun ran out of bullets, Jaune traded it for his sword, and dashed forward into melee range.
Logy greeted him with a grin. "Jaune, Reyfer's softened up the tail! Finish the job!"
He didn't have to say it twice. Jaune hacked at the open wound with abandon. Crocea Mors felt more akin a dull knife against the tough flesh of the monster, but he kept at it to do his part, sawing through the tail inch by agonizing inch.
Even the cat pitched in, sitting on the back of the Rathalos with a hammer and a chisel in its paws. One, two, three, four scales were pried away in succession.
Everyone paused as a roar that did not belong to the Rathalos rang across the forest. There was a desperate pitch to it, a whine of want so stark that it bordered on madness.
"What was that?" Jaune asked once it faded.
Logy furrowed his brow, lance never ceasing in its movement, "I don't know, but it sounded like Linca when she's hungry." Nods all around, even from Linca. Logy bit his cheek, looking a tad anxious. "It's far off. We should be fine."
They resumed their onslaught against the Rathalos. It had begun stirring, but a glance at the others told Jaune that they were committing to this until the very last possible second.
Good. He had no intention of stopping at this point. That tail was a sliver from being down to the bone now. Feverishly, he chopped at it, putting his whole body into the motion.
The Rathalos jerked awake, screaming, the moment he sawed into the bone of the tail.
The forest answered with another roar.
It sounded closer now. Like, a lot closer. Jaune might be imagining things, but the rousing Rathalos seemed very aware, and very hostile about that development, attempting to disengage from the Hunters to move in that direction.
Which was great, because the monster probably would have gone for him first otherwise.
"This is bad."
No, it's great. "Tattletale, the monster making that noise…"
"Is coming straight for us."
Trees started falling. Further away in the beginning, patches of the canopy vanishing as tremors ran through the earth. Then whole sections went down. In the murky depths of the jungle, they saw thee trunks shoved aside with ease, and the shape of something…massive.
Reyfer the gunner was the first to call it quits, folding his ballista into a more compact form. "Pack it up. Everybody, pack it up! Turf war incoming!"
Linca tch'ed, but heeded the advice. Logy fired one last potshot with his lance, then retreated. At the edge of the clearing, Tattletale was pulling up the cloak from the ground, clipping it back on her.
Jaune held no notion of defiantly pushing onward, not when the Huntsman equivalents of this world was running. He turned to follow, making it two steps before he snapped around again.
The cat. Where was it?
He spotted it still atop the Rathalos, paws clamped around a loosening red scale. It was yanking on the piece with all its might.
Logy had noticed the same scene. "Escha!" he yelled. "We need to get outta here!"
Everyone (except Tattletale) had stopped in their tracks. The whole team (except Tattletale) turned back. Decisions were being made, Jaune could read it on their faces. Weapons appeared in hands. They were going to go back for the cat.
Too late.
The second monster arrived, and the Rathalos shot into the air with Escha clinging to the loose scale. It started blasting fireballs, one after the other. All Jaune saw was a flash of green and too many teeth, before smokes obscured the newcomer. The Rathalos refused to relent in the onslaught until only faint sparks remained within its mouth.
That's when a huge maw erupted out of the inferno. It swallowed the final fireball, continued on, and would have clamped shut hard on the Rathalos had it not twisted its neck out of the way, losing a chunk of flesh rather than the entire throat. Batting its wings, the Rathalos gained altitude at speed.
Emerging in full, the monster—the T-Rex—glared at the wyvern through crimson eyes.
Jaune thought the Rathalos was big. This creature measured thrice the size, colored green from tip to tail. Slobber poured out in long trails from a mouth overfilled with teeth, to the point that the teeth left the mouth to grow on the chin and snout.
The stubby forearms almost looked comical on the monster. Then it unhinged its jaw, and any idea of laughing at it went out the window. The monster could swallow a car in one gulp. Or half a dozen people along with their gear.
In a breathless murmur, Linca said one word. A name. "Deviljho."
The two monsters crashed together, and from then on, the humans ceased to matter. Forces of nature clashed in a struggle that broke the land.
Trees uprooted. The ground tore up. Spewing flames with wild abandon, the Rathalos engulfed the clearing in fire, avoiding the hungry, snapping jaws as its talons carved deep gouges in the sides and back of the Deviljho. In turn, the Deviljho swung its head, toothy snout bashing into the Rathalos with the power of a freight train. It would leapt high after the wyvern, each landing followed by an earthquake. Twin roars drowned out the forest for miles around.
The Hunters ran pell-mell with never a single moment to swing their weapons. Mere ants beneath the feet of giants, this wasn't their world anymore.
Throughout it all, a cat jumped from the back of one monster to the other, its throat locked in terror. Time and again, it tried to escape the battle altogether, stymied in whichever avenue it took by the biting, slashing, and wrestling titans that got in the way. Simple luck kept it from missing a footing thus far.
As it once more scampered along the spine of Rathalos, that luck ran out. The Deviljho caught its foe by the neck, and twisted to throw the Rathalos end over end. The sudden rotation flicked the cat through the sky.
Jaune judged the direction, the distance, and then he latched [Third Arm] onto a branch to slingshot him past the tree into the air. Rockets took over, accelerating him further. A twist of his body puts him facing his target, and he flung out both arms to catch the cat.
He had never seen a cat smile before. It was adorable.
"Thank you!" Escha cried, hugging him.
She can speak!
Jaune nearly faceplanted in the dirt upon landing, too taken aback by the talking cat. Higher-pitched than a human, her voice carried the slight rasp of a cat's meows. (He couldn't believe that the voice carried anything except a cat's meows!)
"Jaune, did I hear someone else talking? I thought everyone was accounted for."
"Did you include the cat?" he asked weakly.
"...Excuse me?"
The cat was now staring at the phone hanging from Jaune's neck, jaw dropped open in awe. "How are you doing that?"
"Uhhh, interdimensional whimmy whammy stuff. It's—" Jaune looked past the feline, and paled. "Not the time. We need to go!"
Man and cat fled before they could be squashed flat by the struggling Rathalos that the Deviljho swung around like a flail. Spotting their allies waving to them at the edge of the clearing, they headed thataway, chasing after the group as they found shelter among some bushes set far inside the treeline, with Tattletale already there. Escha outran him, dropping to the ground to speed ahead on her four limbs, and she dove into an embrace comprising all the Hunters.
Jaune arrived to much rejoicing, and hearty slaps on the back that registered against his Aura. Since he had apparently put his life on the line to get one of their own out of danger, that seemed to have made him their new best friend.
It's a pretty nice feeling.
A weight settled on his back, squishy paws clinging onto his head. Escha's face swung into view a moment later, upside-down in front of him. "Hey, hey, how did you fly? And what did you mean, interdi-meow-sional whatsit? Who are you!?" Her face grew closer and closer with each question, eyes practically sparkling
The rest of the Hunters also voiced their curiosity. Logy was the sole local person to have seen his rocket boots in action before, and everyone now wanted to hear about it, along with the guns (they had gunlances and bowguns, but not gun-guns), his mechashifting shield (they, unlike many, understood the appeal of a portable weapon form), and his clothes (Hunters were somewhat fashion-minded, it seemed). He fielded them as best he could, which consisted for the most part of him attributing to interdimensional shenanigans all the minor details he was not quite sure about.
Once he extricated himself from the slew of questions, aided by the awe-inspiring sight that was the ongoing battle between two monsters, Jaune sidled over to Tattletale.
"Hey, did you get out of that mess okay?" he said.
"Yeah…" Her reply lacked spirit, and with a closer look, Jaune soon noticed the usual signs of a budding headache on her. Squinted eyes, a clench to her jaw, peace and quiet in her immediate vicinity, and so on.
Frowning, he said, "If you need to, why not shut your power off for a while? You're overdoing it."
"Actually, can I get a Remedy?" she asked hopefully. Before he could answer, she continued in a rush. "You know what, nevermind. I'm totally A-okay right now."
The one twitching eye suggested otherwise. Reading his micro tics to deduce the (very valid in his opinion) concerns about her growing reliance on the Remedies would only serve to exacerbate the headache she suffered, but warning the girl of things like that tended to never go far with her. He hesitated on whether to bring out a vial for the pain anyway, in the end deciding that she had already made known her resolve to not use one, which was ultimately a development he should encourage.
Their conversation tapered off after that, the pair returning their attention to the scene in the clearing.
The Deviljho had the Rathalos gripped in its mouth, but the Rathalos had in turn dug its talons deep into the base of the Deviljho's neck and was doing its best to pull in opposite directions, the two monsters engaged in a bout of mutually attempting to rip the other's head off. It locked them in a stalemate, a green tower pointed to the sky capped by a red roof. The creaking of bones, and the sound of gnawing teeth, could be heard loud and clear in this corner of the jungle now depopulated of wildlife.
Then, the balance shifted. The Deviljho, uncaring of its wounds, jerked to the side. Talons tore ribbons of flesh as they were pulled out by force, and the Rathalos scrabbled for new purchase.
With a whole-body twist, the Deviljho swung the other monster high above its head, and slammed it down. The ground cratered beneath the Rathalos, the moment of impact more akin to a missile strike. One of the legs landed wrong with a break that pierced the skin, leaving the monster lying collapsed, unable to climb upright. The mouth fell open, gasping for air as the winner of the bout released the grip on its neck.
The victorious cry of the Deviljho, shouted to the heaven, proclaimed to all and sundry its might.
That was its mistake, because in a flash, the Rathalos pulled a last gambit. The wings had survived intact, the flying wyvern protecting them by wrapping the appendages tight to its frame. They unfurled in a snap to bat the Deviljho in the jaw. Driving the broken leg into the ground, the Rathalos forced itself to stand. Frantic beats of the wings lifted it in the air, narrowly avoiding a bite from below as it withdrew out of range.
It circled once, and wailed its anger towards the winner in a keening cry. Then it flew away.
That might have been the worst outcome of all, to the Deviljho. It screamed, and screamed, and screamed at the Rathalos. A tantrum followed, the monster battering down trees and—for whatever reason that made sense only to it—bit huge mouthfuls of dirt out of the ground and spat them back out.
The fit continued for a good few minutes, but upon realizing that the other monster wasn't coming back, it… well, it didn't calm down, but it stopped flipping out and began to focus on searching the ground in agitation.
"What is it doing?" Jaune asked in a murmur. The group had ducked low ever since the battle ended, hiding deeper in the bushes. They peered out through the leaves at the monster.
Linca answered, "I've heard of this species. They are supposed to be always hungry. And angry. A carnivore that kills and eats whatever living thing is in sight—"
The monster passed its gaze over their hiding place, and on instinct they fell still, stifling their breaths.
The gaze moved on, completing a full circuit of the clearing. Once that was done, the Deviljho shouted another roar full of rage, before stalking off to seek new prey.
Linca resumed talking. "It's said something went wrong inside them long ago, that they were never able to recover from. They would eat their own tail if there is nothing else available. Eat until they kill themselves." She pulled a face, though the skull helmet that covered the upper half of it made the expression difficult to read. "We should hunt it," she concluded.
Jaune ran the conversation back in his head, wondering if he had missed a detail. Nope.
"Aaaand why would you want to do that?" he asked.
Tattletale cut in before Linca could answer. "These Deviljho guys eat too much, right? I bet that would wreck the local populations of whatever area they settle in. And if they self-cannibalize, it's probably hard to find remains of an intact specimen out in the wild to study."
"Pretty much," Logy spoke up, nodding. "Deviljho is incompatible with all known environments, and our researchers would love to get their hands on that treasure trove, especially since this is the first Deviljho I've ever heard of in the New World." He rubbed his chin, mulling on matters.
Escha hopped onto Logy, gathering everyone's attention. "Hey, hey, so does that mean we're letting the Rathalos go?" she asked innocently.
The Hunters halted at those words, staring at the cat as if it hadstarted talking grown two heads.
"You mean, drop the hunt?" Logy lowered his voice to a whisper at the end. An instinctive, visceral reaction to an alien concept. Linca mirrored the expression, yet Reyfer looked to be giving serious thought to the suggestion, working through it slowly to grasp the nuances of this novel approach.
"You've got the Rathalos on its last leg." Tattletale pointed out in agreement, then switched sides. "On the other hand, that Deviljho is valuable. One belongs to a species that will be plentiful in the future, but the other's a tough customer that you may not have the resources and energy to fight." She crossed her arms, shaking her head in sympathy. "It's a toughie."
The Hunters looked at her, looked at each other, and broke into fierce arguments.
Jaune slapped a hand over his face. He muttered out the corner of his mouth, "You meant for that to happen."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Tattletale smiled impishly. "So, which monster would you want to go after, Jaune? If the Rathalos wasn't what we're here for, I mean."
"Both."
She quirked a delicate eyebrow. "Bold of you." Stupid of you, she probably intended. "Any reason?"
Jaune gave a shrug.
"I dunno. Two monsters translate to twice the reward, I guess."
As one, the Hunters spun towards him, fingers pointing.
"""You're a genius!"""
Tattletale's smile grew stiff.
Author's Notes: Early chapter. One left to round out this world.
Tattletale—Oh, Jaune~ I've been captured by a big, wicked dragon~
Jaune—*arrives late*
Cat—*stuck in a high place*
Jaune—*locks in*
A signal flare?
Not important. He ran on, eyes trained upward. The forest canopy was growing denser, making it difficult to catch more than fleeting glimpses of red scales and widespread wings. Unlike him, the Rathalos bypassed the need to traverse the uneven ground, and so pulled ahead with every passing moment. It would take him one wrong move to lose the pursuit.
Tattletale had begun screaming, which was very helpful in keeping him on course.
Also, very worrying.
He activated his League Stepper boots—max settings, no gradual climb—and jumped above the trees. That granted him an unobstructed view of the monster a distance ahead, and of a screaming Tattletale aiming a handgun at the monster's talons. She pulled the trigger.
Accompanied by a loud bang, an angry screech shook the sky.
Tattletale continued firing, angling the gun so the bullets would ricochet away from her. Shot after shot struck the Rathalos, yet they failed to do much that Jaune could tell other than angering it further.
Feeling his balance slipping, Jaune released the triggers for the rockets, allowing himself to drop back down. He landed on one of the large tree roots and forged onward, barely paying attention to where he stepped while leaping from one traversable root tendril to the next. Light rocket blasts covered for the occasional slip-ups, and [Third Arm] helped him clear the larger gaps, gradually bringing him lower and lower until once more he raced along the forest floor.
Rapid gunshots prompted him to jump high again. Tattletale was unloading the whole clip in quick succession now, desperate to get free. He missed what happened next, already falling below the treeline, but he spotted the Rathalos pulling into a steep dive.
Not a minute afterward, Jaune broke into a clearing, finding both of them there.
Tattletale—mud-splattered, leaves stuck in her hair, but alive!—was scampering across the rough ground. No longer screaming now, the desire to avoid being turned into lunch kept her focused on running. Behind her, the Rathalos gave chase, far less graceful on its two legs than when it was flying.
Compared to the Hellkite Drake, the wyvern boasted a sleeker form, its red scales vivid and the spikes along the back less pronounced, less aggressive. More… natural?
Licks of flames flickered between its teeth, growing brighter in intensity.
Jaune did not waste a moment. "Hey, ugly! Over here!"
He aimed with his empty hands. From thin air, a machine gun materialized in them, and he held down the trigger. A stream of bullets slammed into the side of the wyvern, chipping the spiky scales.
Uh…
"It's not dying. Tattletale, why isn't it dying ahhhh—!" He dove out of the way in the nick of time, and the fireball flashed on by, the searing heat lingering on his skin to let him know how close it had been.
The smoke cleared to reveal the Rathalos in flight. Banking hard, the monster looped around a tree, emerging on a direct course for Jaune.
In its movements, he saw brutish aggression. Blind animal impulse. It's a beast, not a man. Predictable.
"Okay, I got this," Jaune said, psyching himself up. "Come get me, you overgrown lizard. I'm ready. So ready!"
In answer, a mouth filled with sharp fangs opened wide.
It snapped down on empty air.
Above the wyvern, Jaune soared with boots trailing fire. The gun returned to his Pocket, and he drew Crocea Mors. Sunlight glinted off steel. The blade flipped to point downward.
Wham!
Jaune saw stars as his head met the thick, unyielding trunk of the tree branch above him. Unaccustomed to using the rocket boots in combat, he had neglected to keep track of his position and where the momentum was taking him. Power to the boots cut out, and he dropped out of the sky to land in the dirt with an "Oof!"
And by the time he pushed off the ground, the Rathalos was already way too close.
Its eyes, a gemlike blue, peered down at him with a spark of cunning. The monster possessed enough of an intelligence to know the meaning of victory. Fire bubbled within its throat.
Note to self: flight tactics require full 3-dimensional awareness. If alive tomorrow, practice.
…Extra note to self: if not alive tomorrow, don't worry about it.
An inferno burst forth. Jaune hunkered behind his shield in a futile bid for survival.
Just before the fireball hit him, Logy the monster Hunter slid into the space between Jaune and the Rathalos. It was his shield, not Jaune's, which caught the brunt of the attack, the flames splashing onto the near-fireproof Anjanath hide. Biting teeth slammed against the shield in the next instant, stopped by the metal beneath and a body that refused to buckle under the tyrannical weight of the monster.
Jaune blinked to clear his vision. No, he had not seen it wrongly. Somehow, the Hunter endured the collision with an object measuring in the tons. In fact, he was beginning to push it back.
They didn't have Aura here, right? Right?
"Don't worry. Everyone will be here soon!" Logy said.
Who, he wanted to ask, but his voice trailed off as he watched Logy reach for the contraption strapped to his back. A smooth flick of the wrist, and the segments snapped into place. Bone and metal formed one continuous whole.
Oh. That was a lance he's carrying around.
Boom!
And, oh. It's also a gun.
Driven by the explosive shell that had crashed against its jaw, the head of the Rathalos jerked to the side. Jaune and Logy darted away during that opening.
"Space ourselves apart, divide its attention," Logy called out.
With a nod, Jaune heeded the suggestion, and spared a moment glancing behind him to check on Tattletale.
She had stayed within the clearing, and was in the midst of deploying her camouflage cloak. It worked by her first taking it off.
…Again, limitations defined Academy City tech.
Invisibility cloaks did not work as imagined by science fiction movies. Shaken out like a sheet, the cloak stiffened to a flat, rigid shape. Flexible rods hidden along the bottom edge were manually extended to function as anchors, then impaled into the ground to create something resembling an outdoor cinema screen.
A bit more than a mere resemblance, really, since the concept started from that same place. Lights, and the manipulation of it, laid at the core of this technology. Once activated, the white, almost translucent fabric began a gradual process to adopt the colors and shapes of the area behind it, refracting light through embedded optical amplifiers to create the vividness of reality.
The transformation was taking too long. The Rathalos, recovered, flicked its gaze between the Huntsman/Hunter pair and Tattletale. One registered as a threat, the other as easy picking. It made a choice.
Leathery wings unfurled. The Rathalos took flight.
"We have to get it down!" Jaune shouted. He summoned a rifle, popping off another burst of unimpressive gunfire. It was like shooting at a Deathstalker Grimm. The bullets drew flecks of blood at most despite him aiming low at the scaleless underbelly.
Logy called back, "Way ahead of you. Flashpod, cover your eyes!"
Flashpod?
Flashbang! Jaune recalled the earlier lesson and squeezed his eyes shut, turning away. The resulting flare paled in intensity compared to the modern explosive, but was effective enough against naked vision. The ground shook with the impact of the wyvern's fall.
Jaune reopened his eyes to a Rathalos roaring while trying to climb to its feet. The massive head, nostrils spewing flames, swung every which way without seeing. It passed right across the camouflage cloak, now activated in full with Tattletale ensconced behind the screen in a safe position to observe the battlefield.
Without having to worry about her, he could focus on the Rathalos, and this seemed the perfect opportunity to bring it low. Jaune rushed in, drawing his sword… only to screech to a halt at the frantic signals coming from Logy.
"What?"
"Be careful," the Hunter said as the Rathalos swept its spiked tail through the space Jaune would have occupied. "Blind doesn't mean helpless. The big guy's enraged!"
The monster knew it was in a vulnerable state, and lashed out in a storm of talons, tail, and flames to deter would-be attackers. Against that, Logy advanced in cautious steps, and hovered just a bit outside the range of the Rathalos to harry it with quick swipes of the lance, adding in an explosive shell here and there.
Jaune stuck a little closer, sometimes within clawing distance, for better reach. The first hit he managed got the Rathalos on the snout, and failed to even break the scales. All it did was alert the monster of his position, forcing him to take a dive as sharp talons scythed through the air. Rolling under the Rathalos, he then tried an upward swing to scour a line across the chest. It left a cut to mark his most effective attack thus far—too shallow by half.
To his consternation, the blood dripping from the wound stemmed in seconds, scabbing over. Before he could wonder about it, the Rathalos took a hop, intent on trampling him underfoot. Another dive moved him out of danger.
Glancing over to Logy's side of the fight, he noted that the man seemed to have met greater success. Jaune's efforts, at the least, were serving as a decent distraction to keep the Rathalos facing the wrong direction, and the openings allowed Logy to strike with impunity. Each blow of his lance drew out a grunt from the monster, and sometimes fragments of the scales.
Still, nobody could mistake that the battle was going anywhere close to their way.
"Logy, this isn't working. We're scratching it."
"All according to plan, don't lose heart. Rathalos are just tough fellas."
Jaune leveled an incredulous stare at him. "I think this goes a little beyond 'tough.' The thing's as hard as a rock!"
"Are you kidding? The hide of a Rathalos is waaay stronger than that."
"Not helping…" Jaune whimpered.
Logy laughed at his morose expression. "Steady on. Our backup should be here any second now!"
"I hope so, because it's back in action."
With a final headshake, the Rathalos regained its faculties, and turned its baleful glare directly at them. A slight contraction of the neck warned Jaune of what was coming. The jaws unhinged.
A projectile smashed into the open mouth, bursting to release a pocket of water. A second and third shot followed to douse the impending fireball. The remaining flames flew towards Jaune in a weak stream that fizzled out before the halfway mark.
The shooter emerged from the woods, clad in dark leather and a cowboy hat. He held what looked like a portable ballista cobbled together from monster parts. (Why did it have horns sticking out?)
The blond man, who seemed too skinny and underweight to hold his weapon, called over to them. "Startin' the fun without me, Logy? For shame." He then directed a curious gaze at Jaune, but did not comment.
"Reyfer, good timing!" Logy replied. "Where's Linca and Escha?"
"Right here."
Horns must be in vogue, because the woman that crashed through the underbrush wore the skull of a beast with two great, curving horns pointed to the sky. The rest of the skeleton went into her armor, panels of strung-together bones protecting sections of her body. The midriff was left bare. She had better abs than him.
On her shoulder rested a hammer that was really a giant chunk of bone attached to an iron haft. The size of it looked rather comical on her short height, and an eyeball estimate suggested the thing weigh more than her.
Then, after her there arrived a… a cat? In armor? With a knife?
As the newcomers formed up with them, Jaune stared agog at the fluffy, white, long-haired cat wielding a tiny sword. The thing was adorable.
The cat turned to look up at him, and waved.
He nearly died then and there.
"Jaune, my team. Team, Jaune. Ready to show the big guy what for?" Logy asked.
Cat, he thought, dearly wishing someone would explain to him the why's and how's of it. Aloud, he shouted an enthusiastic "Yeah!" along with the rest of them.
The Rathalos beheld the line of enemies arrayed before it, and weighed the risk. By all evidence, it found the odds favorable as, rearing back on its two legs, the wyvern gave a mighty roar.
Logy and the hammer girl named Linca rushed in to meet it head on, while the guy with the ballista—Reyfer—hung back. Seeing the cat, Escha, flanking the monster on one side, Jaune decided to head for the other side, filling the empty spot in the formation.
Midway there, the phone in his pants pocket rang. Picking up the call, he looped the attached strap around his neck so he could talk hands-free.
"Jaune, can you hear me?"
Sliding into position, he summoned a gun with a fresh clip. "Loud and clear. Looks like the Handy Antenna tech works anywhere, not just in the apartment."
The Rathalos flapped its wings, blowing Logy and Linca off their feet. Immediately, Jaune fired off a few bursts around the monster's eyes. None were a direct hit on target, as after the first few shots the Rathalos turned to avoid the barrage, but it had to abandon pursuing the off-balanced Hunters in order to do so. That gave them the chance to resume their offensive before the wyvern could chase him. Linca smacked it upside the head with her hammer as it tried to breath fire.
Using the free moment, he addressed Tattletale, "Hey, do you have an idea of what's wrong with these guns? And my sword? Like, I'm tickling the Rathalos right now."
"It's not a fault on your end. Forget bulletproof jackets, those scales are the equivalent of inches-thick steel. Not just that, but the muscles underneath, the bones, they all have to be in comparable range to shrug off those attacks. The strength of that monster in relation to its size is disproportionate to a ridiculous degree."
And it already looked big to begin with. Great.
"Don't even think about engaging it head on."
"Wasn't going to."
"Uh-huh." Skepticism dripped from her voice. "Your best bet is to continue playing the distraction. Support the Hunters, and study what they do before you commit to anything rash. They're the pros, not you."
That was actually good advice, and in between bursts of gunfire, he observed his allies for hints to the finer points of monster hunting.
Despite their heavy armaments, the two main melee fighters on the team stayed light on their feet. They didn't plant themselves in one spot and go to town on the monster, even though Logy likely could have with his shield and fire-resistant gear.
At first, Jaune thought it a mirror to conventional Huntsmen combat styles. As the minutes wore on, he revised that opinion.
After ducking a swing of the tail, Logy had the perfect opportunity to lay into the Rathalos. He forwent it, and skipped back. His partner, Linca, could have gone for a truly skull-shaking overhead swing. That was given up, too.
The Hunters were not displaying the aggression typical in Huntsmen. Offensive undertakings rarely lasted for longer than three or four attacks before they broke off from the Rathalos. Oftentimes, Logy or Linca would settle for a single glancing blow.
Was it borne of caution? Fear? Not quite.
Reyfer, safer from his spot at the back, shared the mannerism. His ballista fired at an uneven rate—a three-shot burst here, a lone one there. He took frequent pauses, picking and choosing projectile bolts that bore a variety of effects, from a purple cloud to sparks to sharp spikes that attempted to pierce the scales. Every once in a while, he relocated to a new spot. Always near cover. Always at a set distance.
The strange ease to their movements spoke of practice. Experience taught them to fight this way.
Tattletale's voice came over the line. "They're conserving stamina. Targeting weakpoints. Jaune, slow down. You're out of step with their goal here."
Because a Rathalos was not a Grimm, and Hunters were not Huntsmen. A creature of flesh and blood, it can tire; lacking Aura, they can die. The flowing dance of offense and evasion ensured a constant barrage to wear the monster down, while minimizing the risk of a Hunter taking a debilitating injury. Considering the ludicrous level of toughness possessed by the Rathalos, decisive blows were off the table. He compared it earlier to a Deathstalker Grimm, which was not so far off the mark. Unlike Beowolves and Ursas, where one untrained but powerful slash can kill the creatures, whaling on this armored body accomplished not much of note. Striking a weakpoint achieved better outcomes for the effort expended.
Jaune began spacing out his shots, taking the time to put them where he saw the Hunters aiming. The ankles, to weaken its balance. The wings, to strain the smaller, more delicate bones, and tear at the wing membranes. The head he left to Linca, the hammer wielder. Her method to use a giant lump of monster bone to rattle another monster's bones seemed to be going well, whereas his bullets were useless on that skull.
His plan, uh, his plan worked a little too well.
Jaune gulped as the Rathalos, thoroughly annoyed by the gnat that won't stop buzzing about, focused on him. An angry blast of fire exploded from its throat.
[Third Arm] yanked him one long step to the left. Another fireball was there, because it wanted him dead, with a side of deader. With no time to think, he activated his boots and threw out another shadowy hand. A little voice in his head was screaming that either would be too late.
A shelling round struck him first. It hurt like hell. It hurt like fuck.
But it also launched him out of the path of the fireball.
He hit the ground on his back a short distance away, arms curled around his chest and a chunk of his Aura missing. It was better than being set alight, he tried to tell himself. Strangely, that did not at all make him feel better. Woozy eyes found the person responsible.
Logy sent him a thumbs-up, smiling.
"I got you, Jaune!"
You sure did.
"Tattletale, our ally just shot me. Maybe you were right about him."
"Ehhh." She sounded hesitant. "I think—no, it's definitely something normal for them. His teammates didn't even flinch when they saw that." Her speech shifted, becoming faster. "He's done it before. To them. He fired on them and they're still friends. The maneuver is part of their playbook. Their physiology allows for that kind of strategy. That girl's hammer is three hundred pounds on a stick, and he's swinging a lance with one hand. They should be breathing hard—they're not. This is the human baseline, and it's comparable to a person with Aura. Big insects—big trees—big everything. This is a worldwide effect."
They say you were what you ate. Perhaps this was that old adage in action. Whatever super nutrients giving the monsters their strength found its way into people's diet, and imparted to them the same unbelievable vitality. In a world like that, tanking a shell fired by one of their own may well count as a valid strategy to rescue a teammate, the damage recoverable with a draught of healing potion.
It sounded insane.
And made so much sense! Why hadn't he ever thought of that sort of strategy back in Beacon? Aura can mimic the requirements, as proven with him!
(He later realized why, upon recalling that Nora's weapon was a grenade launcher.)
"Sooo, how does that explain the cat?"
"…I'm working on it."
"Oi. What's takin' so long over there?" asked Reyfer in a rough drawl, hurrying over.
Climbing to his feet, Jaune said, "Oh, sorry—"
"Did that darn Rathalos get you, after all?" Reyfer scrambled for his belt. "Here, I have a potion. A mega potion, too, if you need—actually, drink it anyway, just in case. Come on, if you're hurt bad, I'll carry you from the fight while that thing's distracted."
"Omigod they're all like that." Tattletale sounded ill.
Arms full of medicine jars and herb pouches, Jaune rapidly shook his head. "No, no, no, no, I'm good. Completely fine. Logy took me by surprise, that's all." He tried to return the items to no avail, with Reyfer waving him off and rushing back to the battle now that he was assured of Jaune's health. Reluctantly, he deposited them in his Pocket.
A second flashpod stymied another attempt by the Rathalos to fly. This time, though, it landed on its feet and quickly set into a wild, thrashing frenzy.
A ballista bolt alerted it of Reyfer's presence, and it charged in his direction, forcing him to abandon his position with a long roll that covered quite a distance. The Rathalos skirted on by the escaping prey to slam against a tree, snapping the thick trunk almost in half with how hard it struck, afterward dropping to the ground in a stunned daze.
All of a sudden, a flip switched, and the monster Hunters sprinted for the downed foe.
Now they went all out. Logy unloaded shell after shell, reloading and doing it all over again. Reyfer changed to bladed projectile bolts, and directed them at the tail; those saw great effect, leaving grooves that refused to heal. Meanwhile, right in front of the Rathalos, the hammer rose and fell, each blow stronger than the last as its wielder found her rhythm.
Jaune heard a distinctive cracking sound after one of the hammer strikes landed. His heart swelled with anticipation. The monster was not invincible.
Once his current gun ran out of bullets, Jaune traded it for his sword, and dashed forward into melee range.
Logy greeted him with a grin. "Jaune, Reyfer's softened up the tail! Finish the job!"
He didn't have to say it twice. Jaune hacked at the open wound with abandon. Crocea Mors felt more akin a dull knife against the tough flesh of the monster, but he kept at it to do his part, sawing through the tail inch by agonizing inch.
Even the cat pitched in, sitting on the back of the Rathalos with a hammer and a chisel in its paws. One, two, three, four scales were pried away in succession.
Everyone paused as a roar that did not belong to the Rathalos rang across the forest. There was a desperate pitch to it, a whine of want so stark that it bordered on madness.
"What was that?" Jaune asked once it faded.
Logy furrowed his brow, lance never ceasing in its movement, "I don't know, but it sounded like Linca when she's hungry." Nods all around, even from Linca. Logy bit his cheek, looking a tad anxious. "It's far off. We should be fine."
They resumed their onslaught against the Rathalos. It had begun stirring, but a glance at the others told Jaune that they were committing to this until the very last possible second.
Good. He had no intention of stopping at this point. That tail was a sliver from being down to the bone now. Feverishly, he chopped at it, putting his whole body into the motion.
The Rathalos jerked awake, screaming, the moment he sawed into the bone of the tail.
The forest answered with another roar.
It sounded closer now. Like, a lot closer. Jaune might be imagining things, but the rousing Rathalos seemed very aware, and very hostile about that development, attempting to disengage from the Hunters to move in that direction.
Which was great, because the monster probably would have gone for him first otherwise.
"This is bad."
No, it's great. "Tattletale, the monster making that noise…"
"Is coming straight for us."
Trees started falling. Further away in the beginning, patches of the canopy vanishing as tremors ran through the earth. Then whole sections went down. In the murky depths of the jungle, they saw thee trunks shoved aside with ease, and the shape of something…massive.
Reyfer the gunner was the first to call it quits, folding his ballista into a more compact form. "Pack it up. Everybody, pack it up! Turf war incoming!"
Linca tch'ed, but heeded the advice. Logy fired one last potshot with his lance, then retreated. At the edge of the clearing, Tattletale was pulling up the cloak from the ground, clipping it back on her.
Jaune held no notion of defiantly pushing onward, not when the Huntsman equivalents of this world was running. He turned to follow, making it two steps before he snapped around again.
The cat. Where was it?
He spotted it still atop the Rathalos, paws clamped around a loosening red scale. It was yanking on the piece with all its might.
Logy had noticed the same scene. "Escha!" he yelled. "We need to get outta here!"
Everyone (except Tattletale) had stopped in their tracks. The whole team (except Tattletale) turned back. Decisions were being made, Jaune could read it on their faces. Weapons appeared in hands. They were going to go back for the cat.
Too late.
The second monster arrived, and the Rathalos shot into the air with Escha clinging to the loose scale. It started blasting fireballs, one after the other. All Jaune saw was a flash of green and too many teeth, before smokes obscured the newcomer. The Rathalos refused to relent in the onslaught until only faint sparks remained within its mouth.
That's when a huge maw erupted out of the inferno. It swallowed the final fireball, continued on, and would have clamped shut hard on the Rathalos had it not twisted its neck out of the way, losing a chunk of flesh rather than the entire throat. Batting its wings, the Rathalos gained altitude at speed.
Emerging in full, the monster—the T-Rex—glared at the wyvern through crimson eyes.
Jaune thought the Rathalos was big. This creature measured thrice the size, colored green from tip to tail. Slobber poured out in long trails from a mouth overfilled with teeth, to the point that the teeth left the mouth to grow on the chin and snout.
The stubby forearms almost looked comical on the monster. Then it unhinged its jaw, and any idea of laughing at it went out the window. The monster could swallow a car in one gulp. Or half a dozen people along with their gear.
In a breathless murmur, Linca said one word. A name. "Deviljho."
The two monsters crashed together, and from then on, the humans ceased to matter. Forces of nature clashed in a struggle that broke the land.
Trees uprooted. The ground tore up. Spewing flames with wild abandon, the Rathalos engulfed the clearing in fire, avoiding the hungry, snapping jaws as its talons carved deep gouges in the sides and back of the Deviljho. In turn, the Deviljho swung its head, toothy snout bashing into the Rathalos with the power of a freight train. It would leapt high after the wyvern, each landing followed by an earthquake. Twin roars drowned out the forest for miles around.
The Hunters ran pell-mell with never a single moment to swing their weapons. Mere ants beneath the feet of giants, this wasn't their world anymore.
Throughout it all, a cat jumped from the back of one monster to the other, its throat locked in terror. Time and again, it tried to escape the battle altogether, stymied in whichever avenue it took by the biting, slashing, and wrestling titans that got in the way. Simple luck kept it from missing a footing thus far.
As it once more scampered along the spine of Rathalos, that luck ran out. The Deviljho caught its foe by the neck, and twisted to throw the Rathalos end over end. The sudden rotation flicked the cat through the sky.
Jaune judged the direction, the distance, and then he latched [Third Arm] onto a branch to slingshot him past the tree into the air. Rockets took over, accelerating him further. A twist of his body puts him facing his target, and he flung out both arms to catch the cat.
He had never seen a cat smile before. It was adorable.
"Thank you!" Escha cried, hugging him.
She can speak!
Jaune nearly faceplanted in the dirt upon landing, too taken aback by the talking cat. Higher-pitched than a human, her voice carried the slight rasp of a cat's meows. (He couldn't believe that the voice carried anything except a cat's meows!)
"Jaune, did I hear someone else talking? I thought everyone was accounted for."
"Did you include the cat?" he asked weakly.
"...Excuse me?"
The cat was now staring at the phone hanging from Jaune's neck, jaw dropped open in awe. "How are you doing that?"
"Uhhh, interdimensional whimmy whammy stuff. It's—" Jaune looked past the feline, and paled. "Not the time. We need to go!"
Man and cat fled before they could be squashed flat by the struggling Rathalos that the Deviljho swung around like a flail. Spotting their allies waving to them at the edge of the clearing, they headed thataway, chasing after the group as they found shelter among some bushes set far inside the treeline, with Tattletale already there. Escha outran him, dropping to the ground to speed ahead on her four limbs, and she dove into an embrace comprising all the Hunters.
Jaune arrived to much rejoicing, and hearty slaps on the back that registered against his Aura. Since he had apparently put his life on the line to get one of their own out of danger, that seemed to have made him their new best friend.
It's a pretty nice feeling.
A weight settled on his back, squishy paws clinging onto his head. Escha's face swung into view a moment later, upside-down in front of him. "Hey, hey, how did you fly? And what did you mean, interdi-meow-sional whatsit? Who are you!?" Her face grew closer and closer with each question, eyes practically sparkling
The rest of the Hunters also voiced their curiosity. Logy was the sole local person to have seen his rocket boots in action before, and everyone now wanted to hear about it, along with the guns (they had gunlances and bowguns, but not gun-guns), his mechashifting shield (they, unlike many, understood the appeal of a portable weapon form), and his clothes (Hunters were somewhat fashion-minded, it seemed). He fielded them as best he could, which consisted for the most part of him attributing to interdimensional shenanigans all the minor details he was not quite sure about.
Once he extricated himself from the slew of questions, aided by the awe-inspiring sight that was the ongoing battle between two monsters, Jaune sidled over to Tattletale.
"Hey, did you get out of that mess okay?" he said.
"Yeah…" Her reply lacked spirit, and with a closer look, Jaune soon noticed the usual signs of a budding headache on her. Squinted eyes, a clench to her jaw, peace and quiet in her immediate vicinity, and so on.
Frowning, he said, "If you need to, why not shut your power off for a while? You're overdoing it."
"Actually, can I get a Remedy?" she asked hopefully. Before he could answer, she continued in a rush. "You know what, nevermind. I'm totally A-okay right now."
The one twitching eye suggested otherwise. Reading his micro tics to deduce the (very valid in his opinion) concerns about her growing reliance on the Remedies would only serve to exacerbate the headache she suffered, but warning the girl of things like that tended to never go far with her. He hesitated on whether to bring out a vial for the pain anyway, in the end deciding that she had already made known her resolve to not use one, which was ultimately a development he should encourage.
Their conversation tapered off after that, the pair returning their attention to the scene in the clearing.
The Deviljho had the Rathalos gripped in its mouth, but the Rathalos had in turn dug its talons deep into the base of the Deviljho's neck and was doing its best to pull in opposite directions, the two monsters engaged in a bout of mutually attempting to rip the other's head off. It locked them in a stalemate, a green tower pointed to the sky capped by a red roof. The creaking of bones, and the sound of gnawing teeth, could be heard loud and clear in this corner of the jungle now depopulated of wildlife.
Then, the balance shifted. The Deviljho, uncaring of its wounds, jerked to the side. Talons tore ribbons of flesh as they were pulled out by force, and the Rathalos scrabbled for new purchase.
With a whole-body twist, the Deviljho swung the other monster high above its head, and slammed it down. The ground cratered beneath the Rathalos, the moment of impact more akin to a missile strike. One of the legs landed wrong with a break that pierced the skin, leaving the monster lying collapsed, unable to climb upright. The mouth fell open, gasping for air as the winner of the bout released the grip on its neck.
The victorious cry of the Deviljho, shouted to the heaven, proclaimed to all and sundry its might.
That was its mistake, because in a flash, the Rathalos pulled a last gambit. The wings had survived intact, the flying wyvern protecting them by wrapping the appendages tight to its frame. They unfurled in a snap to bat the Deviljho in the jaw. Driving the broken leg into the ground, the Rathalos forced itself to stand. Frantic beats of the wings lifted it in the air, narrowly avoiding a bite from below as it withdrew out of range.
It circled once, and wailed its anger towards the winner in a keening cry. Then it flew away.
That might have been the worst outcome of all, to the Deviljho. It screamed, and screamed, and screamed at the Rathalos. A tantrum followed, the monster battering down trees and—for whatever reason that made sense only to it—bit huge mouthfuls of dirt out of the ground and spat them back out.
The fit continued for a good few minutes, but upon realizing that the other monster wasn't coming back, it… well, it didn't calm down, but it stopped flipping out and began to focus on searching the ground in agitation.
"What is it doing?" Jaune asked in a murmur. The group had ducked low ever since the battle ended, hiding deeper in the bushes. They peered out through the leaves at the monster.
Linca answered, "I've heard of this species. They are supposed to be always hungry. And angry. A carnivore that kills and eats whatever living thing is in sight—"
The monster passed its gaze over their hiding place, and on instinct they fell still, stifling their breaths.
The gaze moved on, completing a full circuit of the clearing. Once that was done, the Deviljho shouted another roar full of rage, before stalking off to seek new prey.
Linca resumed talking. "It's said something went wrong inside them long ago, that they were never able to recover from. They would eat their own tail if there is nothing else available. Eat until they kill themselves." She pulled a face, though the skull helmet that covered the upper half of it made the expression difficult to read. "We should hunt it," she concluded.
Jaune ran the conversation back in his head, wondering if he had missed a detail. Nope.
"Aaaand why would you want to do that?" he asked.
Tattletale cut in before Linca could answer. "These Deviljho guys eat too much, right? I bet that would wreck the local populations of whatever area they settle in. And if they self-cannibalize, it's probably hard to find remains of an intact specimen out in the wild to study."
"Pretty much," Logy spoke up, nodding. "Deviljho is incompatible with all known environments, and our researchers would love to get their hands on that treasure trove, especially since this is the first Deviljho I've ever heard of in the New World." He rubbed his chin, mulling on matters.
Escha hopped onto Logy, gathering everyone's attention. "Hey, hey, so does that mean we're letting the Rathalos go?" she asked innocently.
The Hunters halted at those words, staring at the cat as if it had
"You mean, drop the hunt?" Logy lowered his voice to a whisper at the end. An instinctive, visceral reaction to an alien concept. Linca mirrored the expression, yet Reyfer looked to be giving serious thought to the suggestion, working through it slowly to grasp the nuances of this novel approach.
"You've got the Rathalos on its last leg." Tattletale pointed out in agreement, then switched sides. "On the other hand, that Deviljho is valuable. One belongs to a species that will be plentiful in the future, but the other's a tough customer that you may not have the resources and energy to fight." She crossed her arms, shaking her head in sympathy. "It's a toughie."
The Hunters looked at her, looked at each other, and broke into fierce arguments.
Jaune slapped a hand over his face. He muttered out the corner of his mouth, "You meant for that to happen."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Tattletale smiled impishly. "So, which monster would you want to go after, Jaune? If the Rathalos wasn't what we're here for, I mean."
"Both."
She quirked a delicate eyebrow. "Bold of you." Stupid of you, she probably intended. "Any reason?"
Jaune gave a shrug.
"I dunno. Two monsters translate to twice the reward, I guess."
As one, the Hunters spun towards him, fingers pointing.
"""You're a genius!"""
Tattletale's smile grew stiff.
Author's Notes: Early chapter. One left to round out this world.
Tattletale—Oh, Jaune~ I've been captured by a big, wicked dragon~
Jaune—*arrives late*
Cat—*stuck in a high place*
Jaune—*locks in*