The dwarf Mapra sat on the ogre's shoulder, staring blankly at the sky above him.

No, there was no sky, just a gloomy gray, like pepper-fueled buffalo milk—something strange to look like, and especially to smell like this forest.

Yes, this forest is even weirder. Mapra had seen a humble vine suck a rabbit the size of a dog into jerky, a pair of pointed-toe shoes lying like garbage at the base of a tree, occasionally moving as if something was still wearing it, and even a bird with a skeletal face on its wings following them, deep in the mist, not far or near.

As they went, the birds flew, and when they stopped, the birds dropped their wings. Until a pair of withered talons, hidden among the dense foliage, dragged the bird that followed them for some unknown reason into the shade, and after a messy flutter, it was as quiet as death......

Based on what Mapra knew about the rest of the group, the other people in the 'nasty novel' should have been unaware of what was happening in the depths of the fog.

Yes, they did not perceive. These people are all good adventurers, and they all have their own strengths and abilities, but perception is obviously not one of them.

But the dwarf believed that the Nord, who was a good storyteller, must have been as aware of the many things that were happening around them that were obscured by the fog.

Originally, Mapra thought that although the Nord man's perception was not bad, it might still be a thin line away from what he wanted to compare. But through further contact in the past two days, he found that this Nord person's perception is actually no worse than his own, and may even be slightly stronger than himself in some aspects.

Whenever something happened in the depths of the fog, the Nord would stop and take a closer look around before moving on. But none of these things were told by the Nords, and it should be inferred that there would be no danger, so they didn't bother to speak.

Mapra speculated on her own.

"There is more and more hoarfrost left in the traces. A soft, angular voice reached the gnome's ears, Estelle's unique voice, "It seems we're getting closer and closer to it." The half-elf said with a smile.

When ordinary people hear Estelle's voice, they will only feel that the handsome man's voice is very pleasant, but Mapula can hear something special hidden in it. Yes, it was a nice sound, but it felt like a nightingale singing in the midday sun, full of all sorts of dividing contradictions, like Estelle's blood, a half-blood, who looked like an elf to a man, and a man to an elf.

If he wanted to choose the most normal person from the ranks of 'nasty novels', Mapra thought that that person was undoubtedly himself. ('Human' and 'human' here are not the same words in the lingua franca, the former is more commonly used to refer to intelligent beings)

Yes, it's yourself.

Mapra knew that others might not agree with this judgment, but only because they didn't know them.

Estelle is easy-going and obedient, Moglock is a temperamentless ogre trained by a mage and never cares about anything but food, and Will the mage, come on, he's a mage, and a mage is not a normal person!

And Mapra, he thinks he's just an ordinary dwarf assassin who can't be more ordinary, that's all. As for not liking to talk, not liking to talk, it's all a matter of profession!Which assassin have you ever seen who likes to chatter?Mm~~, that's not true. It should be said, what normal assassin have you ever seen who likes to talk about it?

Assassins are supposed to be cold, and always have a face that doesn't smile and doesn't let anyone enter, at least that's what Mapra's master told him.

"You were born to be an Assassin!" Mapra remembered his master often telling him, "because your mother gave you a bitter melon face." You always have a hateful and weathered look, which allows you to easily earn the respect and fear of those around you through the profession of assassin!"

At first, Mapra didn't quite understand the meaning of his master's words. But when he succeeded in his studies and began to go out on his own, he gradually realized the true meaning.

The pitch-black and old leather armor, the dark dagger with a matte finish around his waist, and the indifference and vicissitudes of life always hung on his face, so that when Mapula was just starting out and didn't understand anything, no one dared to provoke him.

Even though he was a small dwarf, when he looked up at the tall ones with dead eyes, they were all afraid. The big men in the range of his gaze would involuntarily lower their heads and dodge their gazes, as if his gaze was like the 'gaze' of a petrified lizard, and it was very powerful.

Very few people dare to look at him, very little!

Not only that, no one dared to rob him of the tasks that Mapula wanted to take, and the remuneration was often two percent higher than the agreed. Even the sheriffs of the city, who were invincible in the city, who had a good background, and who often oppressed other adventurers, only whispered advice to him to try not to cause trouble......

But none of this was done by Mapula on purpose. Yes, he was born with this kind of bitterness and hatred, and no one should enter. He didn't want to, but what could he do?

His mother bore him seven brothers, and Mapula was the youngest. Each of his older brothers is enthusiastic and cheerful, curious and impulsive, which is typical of the dwarf race.

His older brothers sometimes fight to keep an eye on him, and sometimes they fight each other to avoid taking care of him. Whenever they got into a fight, Mapra's mother would watch with relief on her face, and sometimes whisper to cheer on her sons.

Maybe in her opinion, it is more energetic to play and make trouble.

But Mapula was different from his older brothers. He was always reticent and did not like this particular way of promoting brotherly bonds through fighting.

Because he was the youngest, he couldn't beat anyone. Eating, sleeping, and beating Doudou, no one cares what 'Doudou' thinks, so 'Doudou' must not be in a good mood every day......

But other than that, Mapra thinks that he is normal - a normal family (it should be), a fairly normal career (it should be), and a normal personality (it should be), doesn't that mean anything?

"Hey, what's that?" the dwarf asked as he heard his 'mount' in the sound of an urn.

Moglock must have a few words left unspoken, Mapra thought to himself. The whole sentence should be, 'Hey, what's that, can you eat it?'

Eating is always the main theme in the ogre's mind, and Mapra knows his hunky buddy well.

The gnome looked in the direction of the ogre's finger and spotted a bush with red fruits. The dark red berries were shaped like gooseberries, but Mapula knew that gooseberries were summer berries and that they hadn't borne fruit at this time.

Outside the underground cave city where he used to live, there were large patches of gooseberries that his mother would pick in the summer to make pastries, jams, and wine. His brothers would fight each other when they drank too much fruit wine, beating him by the way......

"The adventurers of the Bay of Pigs call this berry 'ruby'. The Nord guide explained, "In the Misty Forest, it's easy to tell if wild berries are edible. Blue and black berries are mostly edible, they are generally juicy, and have a delicious taste, while white or yellow berries are almost always poisonous, with a variety of poisons, most of which can be fatal. ”

"Is the red fruit good?" the ogre had more to do with the one in front of him.

"As for the red berries. The Nord man smiled, his face looking a little ill-intentioned, "Half of the species can be eaten directly, and the other half, it will kill you!"

Half, half, that's an interesting answer, the dwarf Mapra thought to herself, glancing at the half-elf.

......