Forty Years of This [Monster Hunter World]

Chapter 8

"The flagship of the Second Fleet has been spotted on the horizon." The Admiral addressed his crew of sixty with his arms crossed. "Rumors have gone around that I am leaving you, and they are, to a degree, true. I am taking a sabbatical to return to my family, but I will come back. Perhaps I will return with my children, if they're wily enough for it.

"You've all listened to the Commander, and you're going to keep listening to him. He knows what he's doing, and he's good at it, and if you have any gripes with that, then you've got a gripe with me, and I don't have time for that because I'm going home to my wife and my partner and our three kids, and maybe we're going to have a few more kids before I get back here! Those of you who've applied for sabbatical and who are returning with me, I'm glad to have you. Those of you who are staying here? I'm proud of you. Five years. We've been here for five years. Many of you will be here far longer than that! When I get back, I can't wait to see your progress!"

The Commander stood by the Admiral's side with a forced grin. Though he had been the one doing the leg work of organizing and actually commanding since day one, he wasn't sure how well the people of Astera would handle the Admiral leaving. The man was a force of nature, and people got swept up with him.

The rest happened in a blurr. The Second Fleet Commander led a veritable army of mechanics and technicians and had no interest in the Commander's role, but he had no qualms with asserting his skills. The man deferred to the First's Tech Chief, and the Commander found he rarely had to intervene in any disputes between them. The only fires the Commander had to put out were the small literal sort. But in all the work he had put upon him, he found less time to breathe. Less time to pause for meals. As construction pushed on and the Second Fleet Commander pushed for innovation in their arsenal, the First Commander found himself spread thin.

A week before the Admiral's departure, the first signs of an Elder Crossing began to pick up. They were subtle at first— more territorial disputes among the monsters and slight increases in population, but subtlety gave way to trouble as the monsters began to threaten the fleets themselves.

The Admiral and the long sword-wielding hunter paired off to take care of a broody rathian who, once wounded, seemed content to leave the fleets alone. Putting down massive wyverns became a regular duty, but despite the sudden need for manpower, the Admiral was still determined to go home. Such was the call of family, the Commander supposed.

"One last hunt together," the Admiral said as he dropped to the breakfast table. "Just you and me. What do you say, Commander?" The man's grin was infectious, and the Commander found it hard to turn him down on the best of days. Much harder when they would soon be parted.

"I have reports there's an anjanarth causing havoc close to the gate. It's no rathalos, but it still needs to be taken care of." The Commander raised his mug to take a thoughtful sip. "We'll need to approach it with caution none the less—"

"Great!" The Admiral pounded his fist against the table. "After we're done here, we'll deal with that. Consider it my parting gift!" The Commander met his enthusiasm with a smile, and the two left the walls of Astera with their weapons in hand.

From the start, their hunt was ill-fated. The anjanarth found them before they could find it. The Admiral's blade grew dull on the beast's hide far faster than either man expected, and a wayward burst of flame locked the Commander's switch axe in the sword form. But even so, the two were confident they could take down the monster. Though the Commander wasn't used to his weapon being stuck, he adapted well enough, and though the Admiral's blade dulled, he still found the anjanarth's weak points and dug in.

It wasn't until the Admiral's sword embedded into the beast's leg did they realize the hunt was unsalvageable. Unable to retrieve his weapon, the Admiral had to rely on wit alone to avoid the monster's flames and teeth. The Commander, determined to give his companion an opening, charged at the beast's side, only for it to unexpected vomit fire and blood.

In all of his hunts, the anjanarth had a tell before blowing flame. It had to inhale, and it took a particular stance before burning the world around it. This had no tell he knew. This was an act of desperation by a wounded and sick animal.

He escaped the fire by a hair's breadth. The creature's blood smelled of iron and charcoal as it sprayed around him, but for a moment he thought he had escaped. He heard the Admiral's cry before he felt the crushing embrace of the anjanarth's jaw around his leg. Even then, there was no pain. It lifted him, barely holding him at his knee, and shook him like a toy.

Detached but aware, he pulled a flare from his belt and shot it into the monster's eye. The second flare he shot while he was falling, and only after the Admiral had grabbed him did he realize he couldn't quite feel his leg. It was there. He could see it bloody and mangled, but it was there.

They escaped into a small cave where the water hid their scent, and while they waited for the beast to limp off, the Admiral tied a tourniquet around the Commander's leg. The Seeker found them, handed the Admiral his blade, and helped them escape back to Astera.