Logan slightly turned his body to the side, taking the initiative to expose an opening.
Sure enough, Odogaron, moving at high speed, immediately took the bait. The muscles of its four limbs and waist suddenly exerted force; with an excited gurgling cry, it stepped on the pitch-black wall and doubled back, its gaping blood-filled maw aiming straight for Logan's neck.
Should it be said that it truly deserves to be a native of the Rotten Vale?
Just now Glavenus had also aimed at the neck, and now that Odogaron had found a chance, it too was aiming at the neck—going entirely for a one-hit kill, nothing like the relatively peaceful turf wars among monsters in the Ancient Forest.
However, the youngster was still too green.
Logan's halberd-shaped tail was hidden beneath his wings, and had long since finished storing power.
Just as Odogaron pounced over, the long tail snapped out in an instant, arcing like a gigantic whip, and struck Odogaron's head in midair.
Odogaron, once again completely unguarded, was hit by a single blow.
Its body spun 360 degrees in the air and then rolled a long way by sheer force.
When it stood up again, its four limbs were trembling madly, and its eyes were bleary, as if it might topple over at any moment. The muscles of its lower jaw had been torn by Logan's tail spines into several deep, bone-revealing wounds; the entire jaw had been whipped out of joint, slanted to one side, exposing its large front teeth—turning it, alive, into a Crooked-Mouthed Wyvern.
Yet in those highly nearsighted eyes, there still flickered defiance, and the whole wyvern looked both wretched and comical.
That appearance truly made Logan want to laugh a little.
Just as he was planning to play around with this fellow a bit longer, from the downward-sloping passage in the distance came a loud crash, followed by a continuous booming as though something were falling, and a gust carrying a rancid stench suddenly surged upward.
At once, Logan lost all interest in continuing to toy with Odogaron. He turned, spread his wings, and took off at low altitude, flying downward against the airflow.
Seeing Logan distracted by the sound, actually leaving his back completely exposed during "battle," Odogaron grew excited once more.
Though its jaw was dislocated, it still had its sharp claws—it could still fight!
Snorting hot air from its nostrils, Odogaron sprang forward on all fours, sprinting madly toward Logan and, using the slope, leapt straight for his back.
Suddenly, the wind surging upward seemed to intensify, whistling through the enclosed space.
In Odogaron's nearsighted vision, it seemed as though something was tearing through the airflow toward it.
The decline of its eyesight had brought about an enhancement of its other senses; at once it detected in the roaring gusts the mixed-in noise of something else.
Only, at this moment, its body already in mid-leap, there was no stopping it.
Dozens of silvery-white scales came flying with the gale. At a certain instant, under the faint blue-violet flames burning on their surfaces, the scales turned crimson, slicing densely across Odogaron's body.
Lines of spraying blood burst open on Odogaron, and under the impact of the wind and scales, its body halted and crashed heavily to the ground.
Only this time, it could no longer get back up.
Although it didn't die from it, the many muscles across its body had been deeply cut by those high-temperature, razor-edged scales and could no longer support it to stand.
According to a monster's regenerative ability, even with such injuries, as long as it rested properly for half a day, it would naturally recover the most basic mobility.
But this was the Rotten Vale!
Though the commotion between Odogaron and Logan wasn't large, it still drew the attention of other predators.
Pairs of scarlet eyes slowly emerged in the darkness.
...
From the passage behind him came the wails of the Odogaron, along with faint low growls and sounds of tearing from other monsters.
From the moment he was ambushed by the Odogaron and Mind's Eye gave a token response, Logan had already sensed that some other monsters were hidden in those dark little passages, quietly waiting for a chance to get a share.
Whether it was Logan or the Odogaron, the instant their battle ended would be the moment those fellows that always crawled in dark corners rushed out.
Only, they had not expected that this battle that could scarcely be called a battle would actually become this one-sided.
Just a single tail blow had ruined the Odogaron's mouth—since when did a two-winged Flying Wyvern have such great strength?
And that incomprehensible scale-shooting that came after also made those monsters feel a bit unnerved. Clearly Logan had made no big movements, so how could he fire off scales with such great power?
In short, Logan's image had been lodged in these monsters' minds. Aside from that fellow who tossed bombs everywhere, the lower layer of the Rotten Vale had welcomed another top-tier hunter.
As for what these monsters thought, Logan did not care in the least—after all, he would not be staying long in this harsh place.
As for those flying scales that had just frightened the monsters, for now they could only be used to bully these ordinary monsters, being a by-product in the midst of developing new moves.
Progress on techniques involving scales was not very ideal; the difficulty was somewhat beyond Logan's expectations, mainly because the explosions after leaving the body were really too uncontrollable.
But this kind of thing could not be rushed; he could only take it bit by bit, slowly. Anyway, there was plenty of time.
As Logan picked up speed, he very soon completely crossed the buffer zone between the Rotten Vale's main layer and the lower layer, and fully entered the lower layer.
The omnipresent miasma suddenly vanished, and his field of view became much clearer. That formerly strange mixed stench disappeared as well, leaving only the even more unbearable sour stench of rotting acid.
Those seemingly clear, fluorescent "rivers" were in fact highly corrosive acid. The acid that had flowed down during the decomposition of those corpses in the Rotten Vale's upper and middle layers had all gathered in the lower layer, and then, in the sultry environment of the Rotten Vale's lower layer, undergone changes once again, becoming the corrosive liquid seen now.
The space here was no longer so cramped. Because it was closer to the Everstream's starting point and the nutrients were more abundant, the plants in the lower layer were actually growing better.
He descended slowly. The faint gurgling by his ears was not the sulfuric acid pools bubbling, but the sound of the Everstream flowing.
Logan knew very clearly that Kushala Daora must be somewhere nearby at this moment.
Folding his wings, he walked slowly through a moss-grown through-passage, following the traces left by Kushala Daora. After winding past several intertwined corridors, he finally felt a rush of heat blow against his face.
That familiar smell of sulfur gave Logan his judgment.
Turning a corner, his field of view suddenly opened up.
Before him was a vast enclosed space. Plant root systems had pierced the rock layer overhead and dropped straight down into the blue acid pool below to draw in nutrients. Corpses of land coral and barnacles were inlaid in the basalt, and the ground underfoot was pitch-black, still giving off a warmth.
At the other end of this space was a half-collapsed passageway, which looked as if it had been forcibly blasted open by a monster's breath.
In that instant, Logan thought of the sound he had heard earlier.
He beat his wings, made a small hop and low glide to the passage entrance, and saw those familiar storm scars like knife-cuts. After hesitating only a brief moment, Logan lit up with radiance and walked steadily into the passage.
This passage was not long, but the inside was a complete jumble. Rubble and snapped plant roots squeezed together within it, and Logan had to hunch his body, folding his wings tight to both sides to pass through smoothly.
Very soon, a streak of red light appeared ahead, illuminating the pitch-dark passage.
Logan quickened his pace. The moment he burst out of the passage, his footing went soft.
It even made Logan think he had stepped into empty air, and he instinctively beat his wings to dip into a low glide.
Looking down, he saw that what he had just stepped on was actually a small stream of acid, and, disgusted, he flicked his foot hard in midair
After shaking off the acid, Logan finally raised his head to take in this space.
What kind of scene was this!!
Countless monster remains were piled into a small mountain tens of meters high. Scarlet flesh, chalk-white bones, and the seepage constantly flowing out from the base of the "mountain of corpses" gathered into a small stream.
Behind the mountain of corpses, flowing magma cast a red glow, lighting everything here.
Vast life energy was converging in this space, and the seemingly thin miasma kept threading through the corpses of all kinds of monsters.
Several Girros with bloodshot eyes were numbly carrying corpses still bearing flesh up to the top of the mountain, digging out the white bones to use as the foundation.
They paid no heed to Logan's arrival, like puppets that had lost their intelligence, endlessly repeating their labor.
At that moment, a familiar figure appeared atop the mountain of corpses.
Kushala Daora—its entire body now turned gray-white—was staggering weakly across the mound, molten magma, which it detested most, still flowing down its body.
It looked as though it had rolled through the magma, seemingly trying to borrow the life energy accumulated here for one last struggle.
Unfortunately, what could not be accomplished in the Elder's Recess was even less possible here.
Resigned to its fate, Kushala Daora merely cast Logan a faint glance. In its now-murky, death-laden eyes, the firelight was reflected.
Though its body was already frail, Kushala Daora still firmly walked down from the mountain of corpses, and under Logan's gaze, released a breath toward the pitch-black wall to the side.
Soon, amid the whirlwind of its breath, a large hole was blasted open.
A crimson, age-ringed wing claw was swept out from within the wall by the hurricane of that breath, falling beside Logan.
The pupils within Logan's membrane contracted sharply—he instantly recognized the owner of that wing claw.
Shagaru Magala!!
How could its wing claw be inside the wall?!!
Kushala Daora was breathing heavily. Given its current control over the life energy within its body, reaching this point was already the limit of its effort.
Though somewhat dissatisfied with its burial site, Kushala Daora still spread its wings amid the scraping sound of worn metal, glided low into the hole it had carved with its breath.
Then it folded its wings, slowly closed its eyes, and lay there quietly in the dark, foul-smelling earth.
Very soon, within Logan's perception, Kushala Daora's life energy began to surge violently.
A series of metallic fracturing sounds followed. In Logan's perception at that moment, Kushala Daora no longer had the slightest trace of life—it was like a balloon stretched to its limit, about to burst apart at any moment.
It was not that Kushala Daora's death itself would cause an explosion, but that such an excess of life energy released all at once, in this place that was the Everstream's starting point, could likely trigger an Everstream upheaval.
The magma behind those mountains of corpses might well flood this entire space.
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