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MHD Chapter 42: The Day Tobi-Kadachi Regretted Everything
🕑 Added 2025-07-08 01:55:23 +0000 UTCTobi-Kadachi was deeply irritated. Being surrounded and attacked from all sides was far from pleasant.
It wanted to end the fight quickly. So it fully activated its electric sacs, triggering the static electricity stored within its fur, and repeatedly lashed out with its massive tail bristling with electrode spines.
But the Grimalkynes were like persistent flies—nimble and hard to hit. They deftly evaded the sweeping tail, then ordered the Jagras to swarm in and land occasional blows. The attacks themselves weren’t very damaging individually, but they came in such frequent bursts that it was starting to take a toll.
Just like the Kulu-Ya-Ku, the Tobi-Kadachi was a mid-sized monster native to the Ancient Forest and sat near the bottom of the large monster food chain. It wasn’t particularly powerful. And much like the Zinogre, it didn’t rely on its electric sacs as a stable power source.
The majority of its electricity during combat came from the static charge built up in its fur before battle by repeatedly rubbing against branches and leaves.
As such, its endurance was extremely limited—making its fighting style one that required quick, decisive engagements.
Since it couldn’t hit the Grimalkynes, it shifted its focus. Its next targets: the poisonous Strange Mask Tribe.
And that’s when things got worse for it.
True, the Strange Mask Tribe were more durable than the Grimalkynes and didn’t have Jagras assisting them. They also weren’t nearly as fast at dodging.
But—they could dig!
And dig they did, fast as lightning. Every time Tobi-Kadachi locked onto a new target and lunged to strike, that Strange Mask warrior would instantly burrow underground, vanishing before the attack could land—only to pop up again moments later, screeching as they launched a fresh assault.
By the time Logan and Aki arrived at the scene, they were greeted by a pitiful sight.
A once-proud Tobi-Kadachi stood there, drool dripping from the corners of its mouth. Its body was riddled with wounds, and several knives were embedded in its hide. The electrode spines on its tail sparked intermittently, and its movements had become sluggish and stiff—clear signs of poisoning. It was a sorry mess.
The Grimalkynes had coordinated their assault beautifully. Not only did they have to dodge the Tobi-Kadachi’s attacks, but they also had to watch out for the Strange Mask Tribe’s thrown weapons.
These Strange Mask warriors made no effort to avoid hitting the Grimalkynes. Every attack was aimed at the Tobi-Kadachi, but if a Grimalkyne happened to be in the way, they didn’t hesitate to throw anyway.
Through this chaotic tug-of-war, it was the Tobi-Kadachi that broke first. And when it noticed Logan and Aki’s arrival, it whimpered, turned tail, and fled without even trying to block the Grimalkynes’ strikes.
“Meow! Boss is here!!”
The Tobi-Kadachi’s retreat sent the Grimalkynes into a frenzy of excitement. In the entire round of battle, only one Jagras had taken a minor injury from a misstep. Their coordination had been flawless. While much of their success was thanks to the thieving Strange Mask Tribe, the main assault force had unquestionably been them!
The worst part was that the whole scene had been witnessed by their leader—Boss Rathalos!
They had just made a big show of themselves in front of Logan, putting their current strength on full display. Surely the boss would be impressed!
With that thought, the Grimalkynes grew even more excited.
Unlike the thrilled Grimalkynes, however, the Strange Mask Tribe clearly wasn’t pleased to see Logan and Aki arrive—if anything, they looked both wary and annoyed.
Probably because all their brainpower had been squeezed out by their bulging muscles.
The Strange Mask warriors saw Logan as no different from the Tobi-Kadachi—just another competitor trying to snatch away their food.
Not only did they refuse to back off, but they actually had the gall to screech at Logan in a way that bordered on open provocation!
How could he let that slide?
Logan immediately spread his wings, ready to unleash his customary pre-battle roar to assert dominance.
But before he could even open his mouth, a massive fireball streaked past him at incredible speed and landed right in the middle of the Strange Mask group.
Only a few of them had the reflexes to dig underground in time and escape. The rest were sent flying by the explosion.
Whether their notoriously stubborn vitality would be enough to keep them alive remained to be seen.
Logan's roar caught in his throat, leaving him awkwardly choked up for a moment.
He turned to look at Aki, eyes full of quiet accusation—like he couldn’t believe she’d just casually upstaged him like that, as if that burst of fire hadn’t come from her mouth at all.
Aki, for her part, paid him no mind. From her perspective, those Gajalaka warriors weren’t apex monsters worthy of a territorial roar. There was absolutely no need to waste time with theatrics just to establish dominance.
They were just noisy little things that didn’t know their place in the ecosystem. A single fireball was more than enough to deal with them. Why waste breath?
“Boss! Look what we caught today!”
One of the Grimalkynes scampered up on all fours, meowing proudly. The others worked together to drag over a vine trap holding a captured Mosswine.
Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, clearly expecting something in return.
Logan gave it a moment’s thought. He spread one wing, bit off a deep crimson scale that was about to shed, and tossed it in front of the eager group.
“Meow, meow, meow!!”
The Grimalkynes squealed with excitement, cradling the still-warm, flame-scented scale. A scuffle quickly broke out as they wrestled over who deserved it most.
Logan didn’t mind in the slightest.
After all these years together, this Grimalkyne tribe had formed a symbiotic relationship with him.
Much like the Golden Mask Tribe’s devotion to Kulve Taroth, these Grimalkynes held a fanatical reverence for him. They fancied themselves his loyal guards—and were utterly obsessed with the scales that fell from his body.
Every Grimalkyne warrior took pride in wearing jewelry made from Logan’s shed scales.
However, due to their limited crafting skills, they were unable to fashion these scales into actual equipment.
Because of this extreme reverence, the other Grimalkyne clans of the Ancient Forest referred to them as the Fire Wyvern Grimalkynes.
After Logan and Aki took down the Mosswine—one monster each—Logan licked his lips, still not quite satisfied. He instructed the Grimalkynes, who had been standing guard during their meal, to return on their own. Then he and Aki headed off toward their next hunting ground in search of more prey.
High in the sky, as Logan and Aki chased each other playfully through the clouds, a sudden flash of lightning appeared in Logan’s peripheral vision.
That bolt had struck not far from their current flight path.
Just as he was about to steer toward it out of curiosity, the Ancient Forest’s ever-vigilant 'sky patrol'—a Bazelgeuse—swooped past them at low altitude with a piercing cry, scattering a trail of explosive scales in its wake.
If even the Bazelgeuse was responding to the scene, there probably wasn’t anything worth checking out anymore. Logan turned back into the clouds, continuing his flight toward the next hunting zone.
Below, each explosive scale detonated in sequence.
The pack leader Zinogre weaved and leapt gracefully to dodge them, while the massive Great Jagras rolled and twisted to avoid the blast zones as best it could—taking the unavoidable explosions head-on with sheer brute force.
The fight was proving extremely frustrating for the Zinogre. The Great Jagras was not only massive but surprisingly resilient—and unnaturally strong.
Though it lacked agility, taking it down would consume an enormous amount of energy, and there was a high chance of suffering serious injury in the process.
The incoming cluster of explosive scales broke up the battle. Since the Great Jagras hadn’t been its real target to begin with, the Zinogre had no intention of continuing the fight. It turned and withdrew without hesitation.
Leaving the Great Jagras to face the descending Bazelgeuse on its own.
...
In the afternoon, Logan and Aki returned from the hunt.
Ever since their bodies had grown significantly larger once again, they had to go hunting two to three times a day just to maintain their daily energy needs. As a result, they spent more time away from the nest.
When they returned to the Ancient Tree, Logan suddenly noticed something unusual: the Rathalos—who normally stayed holed up in their nests unless hunting or patrolling—were now all out flying in circles above the Ancient Tree.
The sight triggered a memory. Logan carefully calculated the time, and then it hit him—he understood the reason behind this strange behavior.
He turned his head toward the southeast.
Sure enough, a large swarm of Rathian were flying en masse toward the Ancient Tree.
“So it’s that season again,” Logan murmured.
Every year around this time, some of the Rathian—those 'concubines' who had been sent to the Wildspire Waste to raise their offspring alone—would come here.
Of course, only those whose young had already developed the ability to survive on their own and had been driven out of the nest would make the trip. These females no longer needed to worry about childcare.
As for the ones still caring for hatchlings, they remained behind in the harsh environment of the Wildspire Waste.
Besides these seasoned mates, there were also some newly matured young Rathian joining the flight. These were the ones who disdained the weaker males scattered across the rest of the Ancient Forest and had their eyes set on stronger mates here.
Within a day or two, they would each choose a male they fancied. After an initial round of contact, the females would engage in brutal battles for the right to mate.
The victor would take the place of an old partner and stay here in the Ancient Tree. The loser, after nursing her wounds and completing the task of reproduction, would drag her now-pregnant body back to the Wildspire Waste—to resume the lonely cycle of single motherhood.
So really—
The Rathalos of the New World were absolute winners in life. Compared to their counterparts in the Old World—who followed strict monogamy and could even be rejected by their mates—these ones had it made!
Of course, this privilege was only granted to those who lived atop the Ancient Tree.
As for the unlucky ones—those who lacked the strength to settle here and were forced to eke out a life in the lower forest, or even still remained in the Wildspire Waste—there was no such luxury.
Among Rathalos, the rules of natural selection were ruthless!
You either did what Logan and Aki once did—boldly come to the Ancient Tree, fight, and earn your place...
Or you quietly trained and waited, hoping one day to finally make it here.
Otherwise, a Rathalos without sufficient power wasn’t likely to catch the eye of any female.
Of course, this situation applied only to standard Rathalos.
Subspecies and special variants were excluded from this pattern.
Subspecies of Rathalos typically only chose mates from their own subspecies. If no suitable partner was available, they would rather remain single than accept a standard Rathalos as a mate.
In Logan’s mind, perhaps to a subspecies, a standard Rathalos was like a gorilla in the eyes of a human.
