[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

Alexander had expected many things.

When his senses failed him earlier, and that voice slipped past every instinct honed to their peak, he had braced himself for the worst. A phantom, perhaps. A killer. A shade lurking in the trees with malice. Someone—something—ominous enough to make them tense.

He hadn't expected… this.

Because standing there, half bathed in the light slipping between branches, was not a person at all—but a golden fox, elegant and almost otherworldly in its appearance. Her fur gleamed, and from behind her swept nine perfectly symmetrical tails, each one waving.

"Hello, it's everyone's favorite fox spirit, Tamamo-no-Mae," she said, her voice smooth and confident. She raised one paw delicately and waved as though greeting old friends.

Alexander blinked once. Then again. Ivan did the same, both of them momentarily frozen in the same expression of disbelief.

"Alex…" Ivan started slowly, eyes fixed on the fox. "Is that fox talking?"

"I think it is," Alexander murmured, still trying to make sense of it.

Tamamo's ears twitched. "Not it, she," she corrected, her tone sharp. "You can hear it in my voice, can't you?" She tilted her head slightly toward Alexander, nose twitching. Then she gave an exaggerated sniff, ears flattening. "But sheesh, you reek, boy."

Alexander's brow furrowed, taken aback. "What—what are you even talking about?"

"You smell like a wet dog," Tamamo declared dryly, eyes narrowing with disappointment.

"I do not!" Alexander blurted, affronted. "I wash!" Then, as if realizing how ridiculous that sounded, he quickly coughed into his hand and looked away. "Gah, what the hell are you, anyway?"

"You deaf, boy?" Tamamo retorted, tails flicking dismissively. "I just said what I was." She shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Mortals. No sense of reverence these days." Ivan, meanwhile, looked caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, glancing from the fox to Alexander like he couldn't decide if he was hallucinating. Apparently deciding the two men were no longer interesting, Tamamo turned her head slightly, tails swaying in rhythm. "These two seem dull," she said to no one in particular. "Now, do I get a reward for finding them so fast? A pat on the back? The rear? Maybe a peck on the cheek?"

A low grunt answered her from the shadows of the forest.

The two young men tensed instinctively, both glancing toward the source of the sound as a figure emerged from the darkness beneath the trees. The air around him seemed to grow heavier with each step.

The stranger was impossible to mistake.

A figure clad entirely in black trimmed with gold, his silhouette sharp and imperial. A long, fur-lined coat hung from his shoulders, the high collar framing his neck and jaw. His boots, polished, climbed high up his legs, bound by gold bolts running their length. Gauntlets, ornate and symmetrical, on each hand. And upon his head—a helmet, horned and sleek, concealing his entire face.

"You're the asshole who stole our bounty…" Alexander said, narrowing his eyes.

The man stopped, lenses narrowing.

"Dante, as I recall," Ivan murmured, recognizing him.

He inclined his head slightly, wordless confirmation.

With a light, effortless motion, Tamamo-no-Mae leaped from the ground and landed gracefully on Dante's shoulder, curling her tails neatly behind her. She looked perfectly at ease there, lounging against the horn of his helmet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Alexander asked, his tone sharp with suspicion. His hand subtly twitched. "You stalking us now?"

"I mean you no harm," Dante replied evenly. "I was seeking you out."

Alexander gave a derisive snort. "Yeah, no shit."

Ivan tilted his head, curiosity overtaking caution. "And… why exactly were you seeking us?"

"The dragons," Dante said, pausing briefly. "Albion and Ddraig. You know of them?"

The names hit the air like a punch.

Ivan's expression changed instantly. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second—barely noticeable—but his composure faltered all the same. His gaze dropped slightly, shadows darkening his features. "Where did you hear about that?" he asked quietly.

"Some townsman told us," Tamamo said, flicking an ear. "Claimed he overheard you two talking about them. You mortals aren't as quiet as you think."

"I see…" Ivan murmured, lips pressing into a thin line. He was silent for a few moments, lost in thought, before Alexander spoke up again.

"And why exactly do you want to know about those two?" Alexander asked, voice low.

"I merely want more information," Dante said. "It's imperative."

Tamamo smirked slightly. "Why not just tell them you wanna rid this fine realm of those overgrown lizards?"

Ivan and Alexander blinked.

"Get rid of them?" Ivan echoed, disbelief in his tone.

"Are you serious?" Alexander asked, clearly bemused. "You're joking, right? Those dragons can level cities just by colliding with each other."

"I'm aware," Dante said simply. "They are powerful beyond measure. But they are also a threat to this realm—and as such, they cannot be suffered to live."

The way he spoke those words—flat and utterly devoid of self-righteousness—made Ivan hesitate. There was no arrogance in him. No delusion. Just an immutable conviction, firm but absolute.

Ivan studied him carefully, his eyes tracing Dante's posture, the way he didn't shift or boast or flinch. He was a wall of certainty. Even the faintest movement of his gauntleted hands seemed measured in an odd way.

And in that moment, Ivan felt small. Not belittled, but… dwarfed. As though something older and vastly greater stood before him—something that had seen ancient things rise and burn.

"You're serious," Ivan said, almost softly. "You really intend to kill those dragons."

"I am," Dante replied.

The simplicity of his tone made the words feel heavier than a shout ever could.

Ivan's gaze drifted downward for a moment, thoughts flashing behind his eyes. ("It's just a gut feeling… but could he…?") He exhaled quietly, then looked back at the outpost in the distance. "I can tell you about them," he said finally. "But I have conditions."

Dante inclined his head once. "Very well."

"But not here," Ivan continued. "Let's get back to town. I'll fill you in there."

Alexander turned sharply to him, eyes narrowing. "Wait, what? I thought you wanted to play hero and go confront the Retorta Guild." He jerked a thumb toward Dante. "And now you're just going with this guy because he's interested in dragons?"

Ivan's lips curved into a faint smile. "You're welcome to join, Alex. But I've got a good feeling about him." He looked once more at Dante, "And this might just benefit us."

Tamamo tilted her head toward Dante, her voice low. "You hear that? He's already trusting you. Mortals really are predictable."

Dante gave no reply.

--------------------

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Rumpelstadt]

The hour had grown late by the time they found themselves standing once more in a familiar structure — the tavern where Dante had once accepted the bounty to slay a Deseruit Beast. Inside, the floorboards groaned beneath their steps. The warmth of the hearth was nearly swallowed by the chill that clung to the air.

Dante's gaze swept the empty room — the stools scattered haphazardly, the faint stains that would never wash from the counters, the single shutter tapping against the wind. He noted, with some relief, that there were no other patrons. No drunkards to question, no lingering eyes to follow the golden fox.

They chose the farthest corner. A square wooden table scarred by knife marks and mug rings. Dante sat with his back to the wall. Ivan took the seat across from him, while Alexander leaned back into his chair, one boot hooked on the table leg.

Tamamo-no-Mae, of course, ignored the chairs entirely. With grace she hopped up onto the table and seated herself right in the middle, tails unfurling behind her.

"Charming," she said at last, her tone rich with sarcasm as her eyes scanned the room. "Quite the dingy place. You two have no taste for atmosphere, do you? No sense for proper company either."

Her gaze settled on Ivan and Alexander, Ivan smiled, somewhat sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Alexander, on the other hand, looked unimpressed.

"You're a real annoying fox, huh?" Alexander muttered, slouching slightly.

"I shall not be judged," Tamamo replied without hesitation, "by a smelly boy."

"I— I wash!" Alexander barked, slamming his palm on the table before realizing how loud he'd been. He sighed, groaning into his hand. "For Iofiel's sake…"

Ivan snorted, half-laughing. "Seems you two get along just fine."

Alexander shot him a look. "You call that getting along?"

"Depends on the day," Ivan said, grin widening before settling back into seriousness. "Well, jokes aside. Let's get down to business."

"Indeed," Dante said quietly. "What would you have of me in exchange for this information about the dragons?"

Ivan leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying Dante. "I can tell you're strong," he said slowly. "And it's not just about your mana levels. It's… something else. Hard to describe."

Tamamo's tails flicked once, as though pleased. "You've a good eye," she said, then turned toward Dante with a knowing hum. Raising one paw, she lightly tapped the side of his helmet. "Dante here," she declared, "would be the strongest mortal alive."

Alexander's brow furrowed. "What?" He blinked, leaning forward as if he hadn't heard right. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever— a talking fox says that, and we're supposed to take it seriously?"

Dante was silent for a moment before saying, calmly, "I doubt that."

Tamamo's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing with faint irritation. "Come now, this is hardly the time for false humility. There are few left in this age who could stand before you without trembling. You and I both know that."

Her words hung in the air for a moment

Ivan shifted, unsure what to make of the claim. Her tone didn't carry exaggeration, yet the assertion sounded like myth. "Well… strength aside," he began carefully, "I'm not sure I can believe that. But I'll take it you're as capable as you look."

Tamamo snorted. "Understatement."

Ivan continued, "In exchange for the information, I need help."

Dante inclined his head slightly. "You're referring to this town's state, I presume."

"You presume correctly," Ivan said. His voice lost the usual brightness it carried. "We've been looking into things for a while now. The mayor here—he owned practically everything before selling it. The buildings, the walkways, even most of the trade routes. It was built here because of its close proximity to the mines. But the thing is… he never actually owned the mines themselves."

"And now the Retorta Guild wants those too," Alexander added grimly.

Tamamo's tails stilled. "But why bother purchasing the town?" she mused aloud. "They already have what they need—the mines, the manpower, the reach. Unless…"

"They're setting up a front," Ivan said. "Every neighboring city believes the mines are legally owned by Rumpelstadt. So the Guild bought the land to give themselves legal pretense to claim the mines. Paper legitimacy."

Dante sat still, listening, his helmet tilted slightly as if analyzing every word. "You worry," he said at length, "that they will eventually extend that claim to the town itself."

Ivan nodded. "Exactly. And if they decide to evict the townsfolk, they'll have nowhere to go. Out there are Deseruit Beasts—feral ones. The town wouldn't last a week."

Alexander huffed, leaning back in his chair. "And it's why he wants to play hero," he muttered. "He wants to negotiate with the Retorta Guild of all people. An organization that could buy and sell kingdoms. They've got weapons, armies, influence. We'd be lucky to crawl away alive. It's not wise to face them."

"Pitiful talk," Tamamo said flatly.

Alexander's glare snapped to her. "The hell would a talking fox know about it?"

Tamamo's tails waved behind her. "You possess strength — perhaps not extraordinary, but enough. And yet you cower behind caution and think it wisdom. Do you truly intend to leave these people to rot simply because your courage wavers?"

Alexander straightened in his seat, frustration coloring his face. "Oi! Things aren't that simple! You can't just rush into—"

"They are," Tamamo interrupted, her tone firm. "In this world, some are born weak and some are strong. The weak do not choose their weakness. The strong, however, choose how they wield their strength. And most," she said pointedly, "choose to do nothing." Her gaze lingered on him a beat longer before she looked away with a sigh. "Typical of humans. Always overthinking virtue until it rots into apathy."

Alexander stared back, jaw tight, unsure if he was angry or ashamed.

Tamamo went on softly, "Humans leap to conclusions. They decide who is worth saving and who isn't, all while pretending it's mercy. But I've seen enough of your kind to know better — it's fear. You fear losing what little light you have left, so you keep it all to yourselves."

The words hung over the table heavily.

Dante had remained quiet through it all. His hands rested on the table, still.

("She's seen the worst of men,") he thought silently. ("And yet she still searches for goodness in them. Foolish… but admirable.")

He looked up finally, his voice cutting clean through the silence. "I will assist you."

Ivan blinked, startled by the sudden declaration. "Really?" he said, rising slightly to his feet. "That's— that's great news!" He extended his hand across the table, smile returning in earnest. "Then I'll be looking forward to working with you."

For a brief moment, Dante didn't move. His head tilted slightly, violet lenses fixed on Ivan's outstretched hand. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet. His gauntleted fingers met Ivan's, the grip firm.

"Likewise," Dante said simply.

Tamamo watched the handshake, her tails curling loosely around her. "Well," she murmured to herself, "that's one pact sealed. Let's see how long before this one breaks."

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