Dante crouched behind a thick vine, watching the venom vipers slither around the terrified blue wrinkly creature.
There were too many to take down one by one—not with traditional spells, anyway—and even a single bite could be fatal if he slipped.
But he wasn't just any mage. He was a SSS+Master Fusionist.
His fingers moved quickly over his belt pouch, pulling out three ingredients: a Bloomscale Fragment from an earlier encounter, a Glowshroom Cap, and one Vial of Misty Nectar—normally used in crafting perfume-based distractions.
"Let's get creative," he whispered, initiating a Rapid Fusion.
A glowing circle hovered over his hand as the three items dissolved into swirling particles, recombining into something entirely new.
|| FUSED ITEM CREATED: Bloomfog Lure ||
>> Releases a haze that mimics pheromones of dominant predators. Confuses and terrifies lower-tier beasts.
>> Effect duration: 10 seconds. Effective radius: 10 meters.
|| END ||
Perfect.
Dante lobbed the glass sphere like a baseball into the center of the coiled vipers.
TSSSSHHH!
A pale green mist exploded out, swirling in hypnotic patterns. The vipers immediately stopped hissing. Their bodies went rigid . . . then twisted and recoiled violently, each one turning in different directions like they'd sensed something much worse than Dante.
A few even started attacking one another, overwhelmed by panic.
But Dante wasn't done.
He used [Multi-Fusion Array], placing down a quick trio of fused toxin pods—each created from earlier scraps of root poison, sharpened bone, and powdered fang. With a snap of his fingers, they activated like proximity mines.
Three vipers slithered into the kill zone—
THUMP. PFFFFT. CRACK.
Toxins burst out in precise jets, coating the serpents in acidic sludge. Their scales hissed as the poison ate through their natural defense. The creatures writhed for only a moment before collapsing into stillness.
The others, too confused by the lingering [Bloomfog], didn't even register the attack.
Dante emerged from the mist like a ghost, stepping over one dead viper and casting [Containment Jar] to quickly collect venom samples from the fallen.
He grabbed the last serpent by the tail mid-strike, slammed it against a rock, and drained it into a vial in one fluid motion.
"Thanks for the loots," he said, pocketing the venom with a creepy smile.
The mist cleared, and the little blue creature looked at him wide-eyed, trembling—either in fear or awe. It was more like the former.
Bluenose, a resident of the Feywild's wildest region—Animalara—had seen a lot of strange things in his lifetime. Sparkle-toothed raccoons, lava-breathing frogs, even a goose that sang lullabies before stealing your shoes. But this . . .
This was new.
A human—at least, he looked human—had dropped into the middle of a venom viper pack like it was just another spring season.
Before Bluenose could blink twice, the snakes were writhing, hissing, and dying in a perfect storm of green mist, poison traps, and weird magic orbs that smelled like burnt mint.
Then came the truly terrifying part.
The man didn't celebrate. He didn't even look fazed. He went straight into collecting mode—harvesting fangs, scales, venom sacs, even bones with surgical precision and a glint in his eye that said "waste not, want all—even if it's slightly cursed."
Bluenose watched in horror as the human held a still-warm snake head upside down, draining the last drop of venom into a black vial with a contented hum. His movements were swift, efficient . . . almost too practiced.
It didn't help that the man was smiling.
A cold shiver ran down Bluenose's spine.
He's a lunatic. A loot-crazed forest demon in human skin. He's going to do the same thing to me. Collect my nose. Or my ears. Or my blood!
With the stealth of a panicked squirrel, Bluenose began backing away, inch by inch, hoping the insane human wouldn't notice.
He didn't make it three steps.
"Hoi. Wait up, right there."
The voice rang out—sharp, casual, deadly.
Bluenose froze like a possum playing dead. Slowly, he turned his head.
What he saw made his heart stop.
Dante was walking toward him, calm as ever, his cloak fluttering slightly from residual spirit energy. His eyes—now glowing a ghostly silver-gray—seemed to pierce right through the jungle mist. The air around him shimmered faintly, as if it couldn't decide if he was real, a god, or a fever dream summoned by stress and fear.
Bluenose's ears twitched.
Spirit energy. That's a lot of spirit energy.
He looked like something out of an ancient forest tale—the kind you told children to keep them from wandering too far into the woods.
Dante raised a hand, palm out, in what looked like a non-threatening gesture.
"You good?" he asked. "I just saved your life, little guy. Least you could do is not run off like I'm about to cook you."
Bluenose blinked.
Dante tilted his head. "Unless you're edible. Are you?"
Bluenose squeaked, nearly fainted, and blurted out in one breath.
"I'mnotfoodI'mnotfoodI'mnotfoodI'mafriendlygnomefromAnimalara!"
Dante chuckled. "Relax, I'm messing with you."
The gnome stared at him, unsure if that made it better or worse.
Dante eyed the little blue creature again, curiosity flickering in his silver-gray eyes. The gnome—or whatever it was—had glossy, wrinkled skin like a well-aged blueberry, with matching blue hair that stuck out in tufts.
His ears were large and twitchy, and his round eyes blinked with an odd mixture of intelligence and panic. He looked ancient, but when he spoke, his voice was oddly youthful—nervous, high-pitched, and prone to squeaking.