Chapter Thirty-Three: Ancient Dragons and the Target

Oran had always considered himself to be of a fairly tall stature. Standing just over one hundred and eighty centimeters, he might not have been exceptionally prominent among his peers, but he was certainly on the taller end of the spectrum—and he was still growing!

However, walking behind Ms. Maridan, he suddenly felt as if he had been transported back to his childhood years. The sensation of trailing behind an adult, staring only at the back of their shirt, had returned in full force.

"Listen here, kid, I have a question for you. Do you know what an 'Elder Dragon' is?"

Oran was lost in his melancholic thoughts when Maridan’s sudden question caught him off guard.

"Um... what?"

He had heard the term before. If he recalled correctly, it had slipped out during a conversation with Instructor Haifa, who had been scolded severely by her superiors for mentioning such things in public. Out of curiosity, he had asked Mr. Lamark about it, and the latter’s reaction had been even more peculiar. Lamark had sternly demanded to know where he had heard the term, and upon learning that his own daughter had let it slip, he wore the expression of a man whose family honor had been tarnished, muttering something about having "the mother of his children" discipline her. He had further warned Oran that the Guild kept information regarding Elder Dragons strictly under wraps for commoners and even average hunters, advising him not to probe into it until he reached a level where, even if he didn't want to know, the Guild would see to it that he did.

Thinking himself not an overly curious person, Oran had simply pushed the matter to the back of his mind. He never expected Ms. Maridan to bring it up now.

"Judging by that look on your face, you know a little something, don't you?" Maridan stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him.

"Yes," Oran did not hide it. "I heard Instructor Haifa mention it once. Mr. Lamark warned me afterward that I wasn't qualified to learn about such things."

"That brat... I'll have to give her a walloping later," Maridan grumbled before continuing, "That old man of mine was right. According to regulations, only High-Rank hunters are qualified to access information in this regard. But in reality, due to various factors, news can never be fully suppressed. Elite hunters of three or four stars and above know a thing or two, and some have even participated in combat against them... Well, I won't go into the details. You just need a basic concept: it is a collective term for a category of monsters far more powerful than Flying Wyverns."

"Far more powerful than Flying Wyverns..."

Oran chewed on the sentence a few times. Suddenly, he looked up, staring directly into Maridan’s eyes, and asked, "How do they compare to *that thing*?"

Maridan paused at the question. She knew exactly what Oran was referring to. She had been one of the hunters who participated in the rescue efforts when Oran's nomadic village was destroyed by that monster years ago. It had left a deep impression on her.

Choosing not to brush him off, Maridan remained silent for a moment before saying, "There are many types of Elder Dragons, and the strength between individuals varies wildly. I can only say that most are stronger than that thing, and some could even kill it with ease."

"I understand," Oran nodded. He did not press further, his expression remaining unchanged.

This brought a slight sense of relief to Maridan, but she could not have known that Oran was already forming his own theories. All this time, he had wanted to know the true strength of "that thing" and how long it would take for him to qualify to hunt it down. His instructors had been tight-lipped, making it difficult for him to glean any meaningful information, but Ms. Maridan’s words provided him with a rough benchmark.

Per Guild regulations, only High-Rank hunters were qualified to learn about Elder Dragons, which meant the danger level of an Elder Dragon was at least six stars. If "that thing" were to be compared to an Elder Dragon, it would likely be in the lower-to-middle tier—around seven stars, then?

Seven stars...

Ms. Maridan was an eight-star hunter, but that was largely an honorary rank bestowed upon her by the Guild as a highly decorated veteran upon her retirement. At her peak, Maridan’s strength was likely right around the seven-star mark. It was a distant goal, but at least he now had a target.

*SMACK!*

A palm the size of a dinner plate rapped him on the back of the head. "Damn it, look how far you've steered the conversation. I didn't bring up Elder Dragons for nothing. Tell me, how much do you know about the 'Harvest Festival' and the 'Great Desert Feast'?"

Oran rubbed his head. "Every year during the monsoon season, a very, very large monster emerges from the depths of the Sea of Sand and migrates near Loc Lac, accompanied by a massive school of Sandfish. The sand-ship fleets and the fishing fleets set out together; the former is responsible for driving the monster away, while the latter focuses on catching the Sandfish. This has become Loc Lac's most important tradition. To demonstrate valor and celebrate the harvest, the city holds a grand festival that attracts countless tourists and merchants every year. This is the 'Harvest Festival.' The battle to repel the monster and catch the fish is called the 'Great Desert Feast'... Wait, are you saying that the giant monster from the depths of the Sea of Sand is actually a type of Elder Dragon? And that the Guild only uses the term 'giant monster' as a substitute to downplay the impact?"

*CLANG!*

Maridan’s palm landed on his head again, this time with much more force. Oran couldn't help but crouch down, clutching his head, and it took him a while to recover before he asked with a aggrieved tone, "Did I guess wrong?"

Maridan brushed the non-existent dust off her hands. "No, you guessed exactly right. But I don't like kids who are too smart, so I have to beat you until you're a little dumber."

Oran: "..."

"Alright, hurry up and keep up. It was just a little tap, don't be so dramatic." Maridan gave his back a shove, sending him stumbling forward. "Move it, we're almost there."

Oran followed her, wincing in pain. Their destination was a large shipyard on the outskirts of Loc Lac.

The quay here was quite low, nearly level with the desert outside the city, allowing even large sand-ships to maneuver in and out of the shipyard with relative ease. The area was bustling with people wearing bright yellow sleeveless tunics. Oran recognized them—they were the most seasoned sailors and sand-ship pilots, including members of the Citadel Guerillas, commercial sailors, and fishermen from the fleets. Every year, before the monsoons arrived, these people would gather with elite hunters to form the Sand-ship Fleet.

The Sand-ship Fleet was the primary force responsible for intercepting the giant monster. Thinking of this, Oran couldn't help but look at them with a renewed sense of respect. He also noticed that the way these people looked at them—or rather, at Ms. Maridan—varied. The younger ones looked on with confusion and surprise, as if wondering, *Where did this muscular old lady come from?* But those over the age of forty or fifty wore expressions of pure awe.

Noticing their arrival, an old man with curly hair and a curled beard walked over. Before he could speak, Maridan beat him to it.

"You old goat, you’re a few years older than me, must be seventy by now, right? Your muscles are wasting away from lack of exercise; why haven't you retired yet?"

The old man’s face darkened. "Leading the Sand-ship Fleet is about experience, not muscles. And what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I feel like tagging along with the fleet this year to stretch my limbs. Is that a problem?" Maridan bared a set of white, sharp teeth in a tiger-like grin. "Save the spot for the great bronze gong for me. After all these years away from the fleet, you won't find anyone who can swing a hammer better than me!"

"Are you serious?" The old man eyed her suspiciously. Honestly, he didn't mind having Maridan on board. Even though she had been retired for a few years, one look at the rock-hard muscles all over her frame told him she was in excellent shape. Her strength might have waned, but she was still far beyond the average hunter.

"Serious? Don't make me laugh! If I really wanted to stretch my limbs, I’d go find a Tigrex to beat up, not come eat sand with you lot." Maridan grinned and shoved Oran, who had been trailing behind her, forward. "How about you take this kid? Consider it a favor!"

The old man’s gaze finally fell on Oran. His expression was clearly puzzled. "Your son? No, wait, I recall you had a daughter. A grandson? The age doesn't quite match... so you really did go and have another one late in life? Your partner certainly worked hard."

Veins throbbed on Maridan’s forehead. "Do you want to die, you bastard?"