Chapter Nineteen: The Place That Suits Oneself

The Light Bowgunner glanced helplessly at his companion before turning to Olang and the others. "Eat up. Many people think sashimi is the best way to enjoy Cephalodrome liver, but that’s a misconception; pan-searing is superior. However, whether it’s chilled, smoked, or salted, the texture of the liver changes, making it unsuitable for searing. That guy over there may be careless in his daily life, but he’s always precise when it comes to controlling the heat for searing liver."

After offering his thanks, Olang brought a piece of the trembling, tofu-like seared liver to his lips. The moment it touched his tongue, his eyes widened—it was a sensation he had never experienced before. While "melt-in-your-mouth" is often an exaggerated term used to describe tender meat, for the Cephalodrome liver, it was a literal description. It lacked the fibrous quality of muscle or the slight elasticity of fat; once seared, it was almost pure liquid. It slipped down his throat before he could even chew, leaving behind a rich, savory essence that made him loathe to even open his mouth to breathe.

"It’s great, isn't it?" The Dual Blades user offered another plate of thinly sliced, raw liver. "Seared is delicious, but the sashimi is also quite good. Give it a try."

Olang took a small bite. It was his first time eating raw meat, and to be honest, he wasn't accustomed to the slightly viscous, slippery texture. He swallowed it without really tasting it, though Shaji seemed to love it.

"Seniors, if it’s not too rude, I’m actually quite curious," Asa said after polishing off several skewers of seared liver, wiping the grease from the corners of his mouth. "Your skills are clearly formidable; in my opinion, you are definitely above the three-star rank. Why do you endure the criticism of others just to keep hunting Cephalos and Cephalodromes?"

"Asa!" Nuri quickly scolded.

"It’s alright," the Dual Blades user said with a wave of his hand. "We’ve grown used to it over the years. Besides, answering the questions of the younger generation is a duty for us seniors."

Although it was Asa who asked, Olang couldn't help but prick up his ears and lean in closer.

"To be honest, we were quite ambitious when we were young. Do you know what our original goal was when we started hunting Cephalodromes?" the Dual Blades user asked with a smile.

"Protecting your hometown? Revenge? Money?" Asa listed the most common reasons.

"None of the above," the Hammer user chimed in, grinning. "Although the Cephalodrome is a Piscine Wyvern, its body structure is very similar to that of a Flying Wyvern, and their sizes are comparable. In the beginning, we hunted Cephalodromes as special training to prepare for the leap to four-star rank and the eventual face-off with Flying Wyverns. How many did we hunt back then? Three? Or was it four?"

"Four," the Light Bowgunner replied promptly.

The Dual Blades user continued, "If the gap between five-star and six-star is the major threshold separating Low Rank from High Rank, then there is a smaller, yet significant, barrier between three-star and four-star. Below that, any hunter with enough effort can succeed. But above that, you have to start facing all kinds of dangerous Flying Wyverns—and that’s not something just anyone can do. To reach four-star, we spent nearly a year preparing, only to challenge a Rathian and suffer a crushing defeat."

"Indeed," the Hammer user laughed. "Even though the size difference wasn't huge, the overwhelming pressure, the flame breath that could snap a massive tree, and the ability to dominate the skies... were they truly creatures humans could fight? We were quite depressed for a long time after that defeat."

"How did you regain your confidence, seniors?" Nuri asked curiously. Everyone encounters failure, but the relaxed demeanor of the three showed they had long since moved past that shadow. This piqued his interest.

"By going back to hunt Cephalodromes to find our confidence, of course!" The Hammer user pulled out a flask and took a swig of strong liquor. "Actually, it wasn't just Cephalodromes; we tried Yian Kut-Kus and Khezu too. We could beat them, but they never felt as natural as a Cephalodrome. So, we spent another year or two gaining experience before challenging the Rathian again."

"Did you succeed this time?" Asa asked nervously.

"We did, but it was a brutal fight," the Dual Blades user’s smile faded slightly. "Two of us were severely injured. The one drinking over there barely made it out alive, and it took a long time to recover."

The Hammer user patted his stomach while pouring more liquor. "And to rehabilitate, we went back to causing trouble for the Cephalodromes! Hahaha!"

"The Cephalos family really owes you guys..." Shaji muttered under his breath.

"But, not long after that, we arrived at the gathering hall in Port Tanzia and heard some bad news." The Dual Blades user’s tone slowed, his expression turning somber in the firelight. "A genius hunter from our same cohort had been killed. He was such a brilliant talent... By the time we had just reached three-star, he had already successfully hunted a Flying Wyvern and promoted to four-star. When we were suffering our crushing defeat against the Rathian, he had already reached five-star. Everyone thought he would reach High Rank within a few years and become the pride of his hometown. But he died—died during an ordinary hunting quest. And the target of that quest was a Cephalodrome."

Silence fell around the campfire.

The Dual Blades user paused before continuing. "Back then, we hadn't yet earned the title 'Fins of the Desert,' but we had hunted nearly ten Cephalodromes. After our comrade died, the Guild Master entrusted that quest to us. Before we left, we were incredibly nervous. We made so many preparations and even wrote our wills. In our eyes, that Cephalodrome had to be abnormal; how else could a simple monster kill a five-star hunter?

"But in reality, the mission ended without a ripple. We even found the body of that five-star hunter near the Cephalodrome’s den. After the Guild recovered and analyzed the remains, it was confirmed: he had likely been ambushed by other Cephalos while fighting the Cephalodrome and lost by accident. When the Guild Master learned of this, he was devastated for a long time. One thing he said left a deep impression on us."

The Light Bowgunner, who had been quiet, picked up the story. "He said, 'With experts like you who can easily handle Cephalodromes, why did I entrust that quest to a hunter unfamiliar with them?'"

"Whew—" The Hammer user set down his flask and exhaled a cloud of alcohol-scented air. "It was an inappropriate moment, but I almost laughed out loud because it was the first time someone had called us 'experts.' We were always just the most ordinary of hunters—no impressive achievements, not outstanding, not famous, and nothing to show for ourselves. But after that, we found our place. *Hic*—kid, you asked why earlier? That’s why.

"No one knows better than us which part of a Cephalos's skin is the softest, or which gap in their bones leads straight to their vital organs. We know how to track their movements, how to pinpoint the location of a pack, how to drive them to act exactly as we plan, and how to maneuver freely even when surrounded by a Cephalodrome and its pack. Because of the pack dynamic and the unique ecology of these monsters, even powerful elites can trip up in front of a Cephalodrome. But we don't. Any quest involving Cephalos handed to us has no outcome other than a perfect resolution. Because we are the experts at dealing with them. We are the Fins of the Desert!"

"Ohhh!" Asa clapped, his face full of admiration.

The Light Bowgunner glanced at the Hammer user, who was holding his flask high with a passionate expression. "Did you prepare that speech?"

"Haha, you caught me," the Hammer user replied, showing no embarrassment at being exposed. "We don't get many chances to boast in front of the youth, so we have to practice, don't we?"