Dante looked around the gnome's "house."
It was . . . minimalistic, to say the least. Just one room with low ceilings, a stone floor, and mismatched furniture that looked like it had been rescued from a bonfire.
There were no doors, no windows—just a carved-out nook in the cave wall filled with the scent of burnt mushroom stew.
He had to crouch, his head nearly scraping the rock ceiling.
Bluenose glanced sideways, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. "So, uh . . . we don't have to go, right? I mean, I could talk to the mayor. He might not approve but . . . we could say that you're an adventurer who would stay a long time here. We could share my house."
Dante stretched, cracking his shoulders with a loud pop. "Nah. Let's go."
Bluenose's hopeful smile faded into a resigned sigh. "Yeah . . . thought so."
Truth was, Dante had every reason to take the easy way out. He could've just found a peaceful spot on some distant continent and let the world burn.
Let the races fight each other. Let the war rage on. But he had his own reasons.
Poison.
The kind of rare, alchemically potent, wallet-breaking material that you couldn't just buy at a shop or loot from a weak mob.
In his previous world, poisons were one of the hardest things to craft—especially the kind that could kill a drake or paralyze a troll. And if there were poisons strong enough to force a wyrm into submission, then Applewood was worth the risk.
Also, there was something else—a suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind.
Dragons didn't just abandon their nests. Not ancient wyrms. Not like Nagi.
"They said he conquered Applewood, right?" Dante said, more to himself than anyone else as he stepped outside.
"Uh-huh," Bluenose mumbled, following him with a backpack nearly twice his size.
"But dragons don't conquer other dragons' territory. They claim. They duel. They burn stuff and call it home. But they don't take land that's already steeped in another dragon's essence. That's a declaration of war."
"Maybe Nagi's just . . . eccentric?" Bluenose offered weakly.
Dante shook his head. "No. There's more to it. A dragon's lair absorbs their energy. It becomes part of them. Leaving it behind is like . . . slicing off your own arm."
"R-really?"
"And if Nagi's old—really old—then his lair was probably a fortress. Full of traps. Runes. Hoarded treasures. Magical veins running through the ground. You don't just walk away from that unless something forced you."
Bluenose's pace slowed.
"You . . . you know an awful lot about wyrms and dragons," Bluenose said cautiously, eyeing Dante.
Dante shrugged. "Part of the job."
"W-what . . . what is your job again?" Bluenose asked, still unsure what kind of traveler he was dealing with.
"Just a support," Dante replied casually, already turning away as he headed toward the only shop in town to check what supplies they had.
Bluenose could only scratch his head, muttering under his breath, "That's the most dangerous 'support' I've ever seen . . ."
Whatever pushed a wyrm out of its den was either powerful enough to threaten a centuries-old dragon . . . or something else enough to lure one away from its place of power.
Either way, Dante wanted a look.
The shop didn't offer much—some basic potions, travel rations, a few dull weapons—but Dante made sure to stock up on what mattered: tents, spare blankets, food, and a few tools for gathering.
If the journey to Applewood really took over a week, he wanted to be prepared.
Meanwhile, Bluenose was already nervously tugging at the hem of his tiny shirt.
"Uhm . . . are you sure it's only going to be the two of us heading out there?" he asked, voice shaking like a loose mushroom cap. "I-I'll have you know—I don't know how to fight!"
"Yeah," Dante said with a casual nod, "me neither."
"Egh!" Bluenose shrieked, practically jumping out of his own skin. "W-what do you mean me neither?!"
Dante chuckled under his breath, amused by the panic. "Relax. I'm not stupid enough to head out there with just the two of us."
Bluenose clutched his chest in relief. "Oh thank the Fey—"
"We're joining a group of adventurers."
". . . Eh? We . . . we are?" Bluenose blinked like someone just slapped him with a wet leaf.
Instead of answering, Dante walked straight toward the village's modest notice board. There wasn't a formal guild hall—the Low was too small for that—but there was a wooden board nailed to a mossy post, displaying pinned requests, expedition notes, and monster-sighting flyers.
A few adventurers—tough-looking but not overly intimidating—were clustered nearby, discussing something over a map.
Dante didn't hesitate. He approached them with his usual unreadable calm.
"You looking for an extra person to join your team?" he asked, eyeing the four of them.
They turned, surprised—maybe a little suspicious—but Dante's confident tone and cool demeanor didn't give them much reason to doubt him. Not at first glance.