The bluish-gray wyvern danced joyfully in the sky, dragging a long rope as it tilled the silver-gray "paddy field." As its reward, after a morning of hard work, it returned home with a full net of fish. Before enjoying this delicacy from the sea, it still had much work to do, and all of this allowed the flavor to become even richer and deeper.
First, it had to clean out the debris that had accidentally been mixed in and pulled up—sand, mud, driftwood, and even an unlucky waterbird were among the haul. It even discovered a young, greedy pike. Of course, as a gourmet of the sea, it wouldn't let this delicious morsel of fat escape, but it also couldn't let it stay with its catch for too long.
After clearing away the debris and mud, the stone slab placed over the fire became scorching hot. This slab was made of obsidian from near the New World's ley lines, its dark surface forged in the depths of the earth's furnace, smooth and translucent like crystal. Its rich texture could hold oil and prevent sticking. The astral wyvern took out a large jar of transparent oil—not the herbivore wyvern oil commonly used by hunters, nor the vegetable oil pressed from specialty mushrooms and oil fruits shipped from the Old World. Instead, it was premium fish oil rendered from the liver of a deep-sea emperor marlin.
The scorching obsidian slab sizzled as it came into contact with the oil, filling the air with a blend of desert and ocean aromas. The oil gradually melted on the stone, and the astral wyvern placed the tender, pink slices of fish onto it one by one. In an instant, the rosy fish meat curled up, and delicious fat oozed from the surface, frying the skin to a golden crisp—ready to be eaten.
Next, after brushing on the "desert-flavored vegetable oil" pressed from rock-skinned fruits, the wyvern quickly stir-fried the large fish roe that had been marinated in a clay pot with giant peak honey and premium crystal salt (a mineral powder mixed from leyline crystal dust and dragonvein stone, deadly to humans if consumed). The delicious roe, after being marinated and stir-fried, resembled a treasure trove of large pearls, exuding the unique charm of a top-tier luxury ingredient. In the "Weapons and Lynx Inn" at Astera, such a serving of roe was not something an ordinary hunter could afford.
The fish slices, cooked to about 80% doneness, were carefully removed, sprinkled with explosive walnut seeds and ghost blast mushroom chunks, and then coated with a layer of "astral wyvern's secret spicy sauce" (made from rock-skinned fruits, dragonflower fruits, poison pouch grass seeds, and firestarter fruits). The steaming hot pan-seared emperor salmon, paired with the stir-fried roe rice that resembled a pile of pink coral beads, completed the dish—a special "Astral Wyvern's Salmon and Roe Fried Rice."
The scalding fish roe burst open in the mouth, releasing a delicious juice. Paired with the tender, melt-in-your-mouth spicy fish meat, it not only diluted the strong fishy taste but also brought an extraordinary culinary experience. The power from the sea continuously flowed into the stomach, fueling the appetite for the next meal. On this New World, there were endless delicacies and ingredients, and no other wyvern could compare to it. This was the first dish of the day at the "Flavors of Sky and Sea Pavilion," set up by the beach by this unique wyvern species known as the "gourmet."
(Because in its memory, places where humans cooked and enjoyed food always had a name, the young wyvern hung a dismantled ship plank as a signboard at its nest. Using the human script from its memory, it wrote a name and, after carefully considering its ingredients and main culinary style, came up with a flavorful name—"Flavors of Sky and Sea," meaning the tastes of both the sky and the sea were contained within. By the way: if any hunter saw its nest, they would never think it was a wyvern's lair...)
Next, it would go in search of the main ingredient for today's second dish. In the vast wilderness, abundant cacti and thorny fruits not only nourished the armor-clad Aptonoth and herbivorous wyverns but also sustained some small, hopping creatures. These beings, no larger than a small goat, with warm, white-spotted fur, were the main ingredient for today's second dish—the Kelbi.
Known for their long, elf-like ears and curious nature, Kelbi primarily feed on moss, lichen, and various sweet, thorny fruits. The males sport a pair of antlers resembling rabbit ears, which, when ground into powder, have highly effective restorative properties. Hunters often mix this powder with various functional solutions to concoct potent tonics that significantly enhance physical strength and stamina.
Kelbi possess thick, soft fur covered in warm, downy fluff, commonly used by hunters to craft scabbards and weapon maintenance cloths. However, compared to these uses, their liver is the ultimate delicacy coveted even by hunters. Particularly, the livers of Kelbi that have consumed excessive high-sugar foods and become rich in fat are hailed as one of the Seven Dream Ingredients—the "White Liver."
The liver, brimming with fat, resembles the finest cheese; a gentle touch can scrape off a thick layer of sweet, creamy fat. When sliced into small pieces and pan-fried on a stone slab with Aptonoth butter alongside premium local mushrooms, it emits a rich, creamy sweetness akin to the finest dairy products. When tasted, it offers no trace of the usual offal scent or the bitterness typical of liver. Instead, it delivers a tender, delicate texture and an enduringly sweet aftertaste, embodying the essence of a dream-class ingredient.
However, for the Amatsu, the liver is a bit too small, akin to a biscuit for humans—something that can be devoured in one bite. Thus, it requires a substantial amount of side dishes and other ingredients. Regardless, the Kelbi themselves are a necessary prey. These agile little creatures might evade many terrestrial predators, but they have no chance against a killer from the skies. That said, they are not on the menu of almost any wyvern species—most wyverns are piscivorous, preferring fish, followed by other small wyverns, and only then ground-based creatures.
This is also why the beaks of most wyvern species resemble those of birds. They are not strictly carnivorous; like birds, they also consume insects, honey, and fruits. The Amatsu, or at least this particular Amatsu, has no interest in insects, nor does it care much for the fluttering wyverns or the Yian Kut-Ku. Instead, it is far more intrigued by the types of prey that most wyvern species would never consider.
It must be said that after mastering the ability to control fire, its diet has vastly expanded. Cooked meat eliminates most toxins and parasites, preventing parasitic infections that its digestive system isn't equipped to handle. Additionally, the high-temperature denatured proteins do not overly burden its stomach and digestive enzymes. After all, while raw meats vary in their characteristics, once cooked...
Perhaps due to its habit of frequently preying on miscellaneous things, its mouth has grown increasingly wide, and its once fine dragon teeth have sharpened, resembling small daggers. Externally, it now bears subtle differences from other Amatsu. This might also be attributed to its regular consumption of Dragonvein Crystals as seasoning—substances formed from the corpses and bones of Elder Dragons. In this world, creatures possess peculiar traits, as if the boundaries of genetic material do not exist. Through consumption, they continuously evolve in strange and rapid ways—and in fact, perhaps humans are no exception. Otherwise, it would be difficult to explain where hunters derive their extraordinary physical prowess.
This is a Kelbi leader, or rather, a former leader. It has grown quite obese, no longer fit to lead the herd or punish rebels with its antlers. It now lingers on the outskirts of the group, selecting particularly thorny yet exceptionally sweet fruits. Its age and experience allow it to quickly identify delicacies that the younger members disdain. The abundance of sugar has also made its body larger and more sluggish, though this might be the new leader's deliberate strategy or a natural selection process.
When encountering any predator, this obese Kelbi would inevitably be the first to fall. As the predator feasts on its tender and succulent flesh, the herd gains precious time to escape. Unfortunately, this natural wisdom offers no protection against a "gourmet" predator. The young dragon spreads its wings, tracing a wide, curved arc as it swoops down upon the Kelbi herd foraging for sugar-rich fruits in the wasteland.
Having no parental guidance, its flight style differs from that of other Amatsu, which tend to fly straight and rely on tight-radius maneuvers. For wyvern species, attacks are usually frontal, so when two wyverns clash, they target each other's front, engaging in strikes, grabs, and bites rather than tail attacks—a poor choice for creatures with sharp spines on their tails. Yet, the inexperienced Amatsu hatchling knows none of this. It instinctively mimics the flight and attack patterns of the "teachers" in its memory. To compensate for its lack of a fiery sword, it has fashioned a spear as a substitute.
The wyvern swooped down with a roar, its predatory stance unlike any other wyvern, allowing it to avoid landing to peck at its prey. With just one sharp turn and a low, level flight maneuver, a robust stag was plucked from the Kelbi herd. This "gourmet" predator was no mindless glutton; it had carefully planned and prepared. The plump creatures with white livers couldn't run far, so securing one of the key ingredients was the first step. The stag leader, with its magnificent antlers, became its target.
The Amatsu hatchling forcefully bit through the stag's neck, its hot blood spilling into the air. Without a habit of drinking, it hadn't yet considered the idea of deer blood and antler wine, so it let the unnecessary ingredient waste away on the barren ground. As a gourmet, this also meant that, despite its modest appetite, it hunted far more frequently and in greater numbers than its peers. Unlike its ordinary, aimless counterparts who merely filled their stomachs with the sweet, fishy blood and raw meat, it discarded parts unsuitable for its refined palate, resulting in significant waste.
Though this waste sustained many seabirds and scavenger fish that fed on the discarded entrails and scraps, one couldn't rule out the possibility that it harbored a human-like intention to cultivate these leftovers as a convenient reserve. Animals' impact on the ecosystem is less devastating than humans' because most predators lack the habit of hoarding. They typically consume their prey entirely before hunting again, as meat, especially raw meat, is difficult to preserve in the wild. This natural behavior prevents most predators from overhunting.
However, this does not apply to the Amatsu hatchling, which has mastered the techniques of drying and curing meat. It belongs to the type that engages in excessive and reckless hunting. For instance, it has now killed far more Kelbi than needed to satisfy its hunger, harvesting only their antlers, a portion of tender meat, and the rich livers. The excess venison is carelessly discarded on the wasteland, left for giant ants and small scavenger birds to feast upon.
The Kelbi's liver is merely the first part of its hunt. Beyond that, it requires a substantial amount of Aptonoth tail meat and herbivore flesh. With a thrown spear, an adult Aptonoth collapses with a mournful cry. The Amatsu hatchling uses its wing blades to carve out a large section of rib meat from the carcass before departing, leaving nearly hundreds of kilograms of meat abandoned on the wasteland. It then moves on to its next target...