"You're very pragmatic with this idea—very steady." Salian showed approval, then shifted the topic. "What are your plans going forward?"
Anser paused at the question, staring blankly at the empty wine cup.
"Feeling lost?"
"No. I have never been lost."
From the moment Anser had transmigrated, his goal had been clear: survive well.
In his previous life or in times of peace, that would not have been very difficult. But in this world, where disasters occurred frequently and the future was uncertain, it was far from easy.
Fortunately, the disasters now—whether in scale or severity—were nowhere near the level of the original Spellplague. Otherwise, a small Sorcerer would have had no chance to struggle at all and could only drift along with the current.
After becoming a professional, he had stepped into the world of magic. His goal gained another layer: to keep climbing upward, to experience the wonders he had never known before, to step onto the path of legend, and to master his own destiny.
"Durlag is rich in natural resources and isn't on the front line of any war. It's relatively stable, which makes it suitable for developing Holrewen with the help of the resources here. So for now, I don't plan to leave," Anser said after a moment of thought.
Where could he run that would truly be an end to it? To the east lay vast green plains, and beyond them the cities were already claimed. Every place had its own difficulties; none were necessarily better than here.
Durlag was a city of adventurers—an ideal place to begin developing.
There were risks, of course, but the rewards were high. If life were too comfortable, where would experience come from?
Salian thought for a moment. "You have that extradimensional space and can advance or retreat freely. Durlag really does suit you."
Kaleno, beside him, could not resist teasing, "You wouldn't happen to be staying because you're captivated by the beauty of the Lady of Fort Jacqueline, would you?"
"Heh, absolutely impossible."
Everyone laughed, taking it as a joke. Only Bratt smiled without speaking, because he had just met that female castle lord.
After dinner, Bratt led the group up to the fourth floor and assigned a room to each person.
There were plenty of rooms, but they were empty and large. Most people chose to share with several others—it felt safer that way.
Anser carried his belongings up to the top floor. He had too many secrets; an independent private space suited both his status and his needs better.
However, before meditating, he still had one task left to do: make some money.
He went to the storeroom, took out a small barrel of dragon blood, carried it to his room, and placed it on the round platform in the center.
This was the only barrel of dragon blood collected after cutting off the green dragon's tail—less than ten liters, after all, since it had soaked in the sea all night.
When he lifted the lid, the dragon blood had already congealed, like a dark green jelly, with a layer of frost crusted over the surface.
"Can this still be used?" Anser frowned deeply.
He found a wooden bowl, cut off a piece of dragon blood into it, and sent the bowl—together with its contents—into the Avaricious Dragonhide Pouch.
Then he manipulated the platinum coins at the bottom of the pouch, having them roll into the bowl. One after another, they passed through the dragon blood—each roll followed by a detection.
After two passes, the curse on the platinum coins had already disappeared.
"Still works."
He continued. After purifying roughly fifty or sixty platinum coins, that bowl of dragon blood completely lost its effect.
"Feels like I took a loss."
With a sigh, he put a stop to his wasteful behavior. He tossed the purified platinum coins into a wooden basin, rinsed them several times, then stored them in the Treasure Coin Pouch.
Next, he threw the Avaricious Dragonhide Pouch into a corner, used the round platform as a bed, spread a wool blanket and bedding over it, and meditated to rest.
...
[Target dead, gained 5 experience points]
Half-asleep, a string of experience notifications swept through Anser's mind, jolting him fully awake. He rolled over and sat up.
The room was still dim, with nothing out of the ordinary.
He got up and ran to the wall, pressed his hand against it, and the black stone turned transparent. The sea island under the night sky came into view—quiet and serene.
There were no sun, moon, or stars in the extradimensional space, but time matched Toril exactly: bright in the daytime, dim at night, though visibility was still decent.
'Nothing here. Then something happened outside.'
He let out a breath, steadied himself, and opened the die's combat log.
[The black dragon Visagazur cast Acid Breath…]
'A black dragon? That batch of cursed treasure?'
Anser immediately got dressed, went downstairs, and at the same time called to Nornoth through telepathy.
The black tower was very quiet—everyone was resting.
After leaving, he mounted up, teleported, and man and horse appeared in a dark street alley.
Nornoth was very alert. The moment it manifested, it immediately sprang away from its original spot. But there was not a single person around; it was somewhat over-tense.
Anser looked up at the night sky, listening as well. After confirming there was nothing abnormal, he activated the Royal Butterfly Cloak, spread its butterfly wings, and flew high into the air.
Durlag's scattered lights below grew smaller and smaller until they vanished into the night, nearly impossible to see.
Anser raised a magic spyglass and observed the distant south.
"Telescopic Sight" was very effective—the firelight three or four dozen kilometers away was clearly visible. But that was all. Aside from confirming it was a military camp, he could not make out many details.
It was too dark.
That was an Amnian military camp, located between Durlag and Nashkel, not far from the Uldoon Trade Way. Its purpose was to deter Durlag and control the commercial route.
'Could it be that the black dragon that lost its treasure has come looking for it? Those treasures couldn't all belong to it, could they?'
If the Avaricious Dragonhide Pouch kept targeting the same dragon hoard to fleece, that would indeed be a bit excessive.
Anser felt somewhat relieved. Fortunately, those Amnian troops had not withdrawn back to Nashkel; otherwise many civilians would have been implicated.
'That's too underhanded. I'm a man with grace and integrity—I can't do that again in the future,' he comforted himself.
The oath mark in the center of his brow fluctuated for a moment, then fell silent again.
He shook his head slightly. Fortunately, that had been done by his past self, and it had not involved civilians. Otherwise, he would most likely have broken his oath.
In fact, breaking the oath would not be such a big deal. Either he would lose his sacred power, or he would fall into becoming an "Oathbreaker," mastering the power of the dark side.
Both outcomes were acceptable to him.
'This black dragon is even more reckless than the green one, charging straight into the human heartland. I wonder if any big shots will intervene this time.'
The Kingdom of Amn was famous for its elite warriors and was likely one of the forces least affected after the disaster. It certainly had the capability to fight dragons; the question was whether those powerful professionals could arrive in time.
After thinking for a moment, Anser landed on Nornoth's back. Man and horse ran along the street out of the city, then sped south all the way while keeping close to the side of the Wood of Sharp Teeth.
Flying in the sky was too conspicuous; staying near the trees made it less likely to attract attention.
He was not really curious—he only wanted to observe the situation from a closer distance. With "Telescopic Sight," he did not need to get too near.
Nornoth was very fast, and before long they had already run several kilometers.
At that moment, high in the distant sky, a massive black shadow flashed past.
Anser's expression tightened. He immediately had Nornoth hide in the forest, then quietly flew up into the treetops and set up his spyglass.
The Amnian camp was brightly lit, but there was nothing unusual above it. He quickly shifted his field of view, and after quite a while he finally discovered the black dragon's trace overhead.
'Damn—don't tell me it's heading to Durlag?'
The black dragon skimmed past at low altitude and plunged straight into the endless Wood of Sharp Teeth, startling a flock of birds into flight.
"Thank goodness…" Anser let out a long breath. "Judging from its size, it doesn't seem to be an adult dragon."
In the distance, in the direction of the Amnian camp, a long chain of lights suddenly lit up, moving toward the Wood of Sharp Teeth.
"What's going on here?"
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