Healing in the Country Side with a Baby Dragon - CHAPTER 11 (Hope to Live)

Is there truly a dwarf out there who will hand over legendary artifacts in exchange for a single home-cooked meal?

If the high-ranking Hunters back in the city heard about this, they would have laughed right in my face and called it absolute nonsense. If a person could actually obtain authentic dwarven gear just by serving up a single bowl of rice, they would be lining up to cook for him hundreds of times over.

‘But... it actually happened.’

If anyone were to walk up to our porch right now, they would probably lose their minds and scream that a mythical treasure trove had just been blown wide open. No, wouldn't they actively start a war over who got to plunder it first?

The sheer value of the items Baldur had spread across the floorboards was at least S-class. There were even SS-grade and SSS-grade items mixed into the pile. Today was the first time I had ever learned that ranks beyond S even existed.

To be completely honest, my curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but peek at their floating system windows.

[Chaos Sword - Grade: SS]

[Allows the user to wield the pure power of chaos to sever absolutely anything that blocks their path.]

What on earth does 'the power of chaos' even mean? Sounds incredibly destructive.

[Courage Armor - Grade: S]

[Forged from the pristine scales of a Black Dragon, this armor boasts enough raw defense to withstand any incoming attack.]

[Effect: Grants the user the ability to transform into a full-fledged knight.]

A transformation skill? That explanation naturally aroused my inner gamer curiosity. If I ended up putting this on Seol-ah, would she technically become a literal Dragon Knight? The mental image of a chubby baby dragon in gleaming plate armor was a little too funny to ignore.

On top of those, there were quite a few weapons boasting incredibly unique, overpowered options. If I just grabbed one or two of these pieces, I could easily sell them for millions of dollars, or even establish myself as an elite Hunter.

‘Whoa, Jin-sol, what the heck are you thinking?’

I shook my head vigorously, forcefully snapping myself out of those distracting thoughts. Trying to sell something this spectacular in the human world would immediately trigger mass hysteria. Powerful organizations would start tracking the source of the artifacts in an instant. I would be caught in a heartbeat.

And the real nightmare would begin 'after' I got caught. It would be an endless, dangerous hassle dealing with people trying to interrogate me about where this gear came from and if I had any more hidden away. No, it wouldn't just be annoying; it would be straight-up life-threatening. A peaceful, tiny rural town is far too weak to withstand the violent waves of human greed.

Besides, I had absolutely zero intention of becoming a Hunter, so I had no use for weapons. I had packed up my life and moved down to the countryside specifically to escape a difficult, exhausting existence; I wasn't about to sign up for the even more exhausting and lethal work of a dungeon raider.

So, all weapons were officially excluded.

Suddenly, I recalled the tragic cries of the earth fairies from earlier. 

'Wait, maybe there's a tool in here that can break or move those massive boulders blocking the back lot? No, better yet, isn't there an item designed for full-scale agriculture?'

My thoughts traveled that far, leading me to make my selection.

"By any chance... do you happen to have any farm equipment?"

Since I was going to be working the land anyway, I figured it would be an incredible luxury to try using genuine dwarven farming tools.

The second the words left my mouth, Baldur’s face violently contorted. Oh, did my request offend him? Was asking a master blacksmith for farm tools considered a grave insult?

"Farm... tools, you say?" Baldur squeaked, his voice cracking. 

"Y-yes... of course they exist. Naturally, I have them! But... you will probably be completely underwhelmed by mere agricultural tools, Great One..."

"It’s perfectly fine." I reassured him with a bright smile. 

"Since I’m planning to farm here long-term, it’s always best to have high-quality equipment."

Baldur quickly forced his terrified smile back onto his face, though he began sweating bullets. He dug frantically through his pockets and handed over a heavy, neatly wrapped set of implements. The set included a rake, a pickaxe, a sickle, a spade, and an item that closely resembled a traditional Korean hoe, though its structural design was slightly different.

I was genuinely surprised. I had always assumed dwarves exclusively forged instruments of war, but it turns out they crafted practical everyday tools as well.

"Wow, you really make everything. Do dwarves actually farm?"

"We... we also have to eat to survive, after all." Baldur replied, his voice strained.

Well, that made perfect sense. You can’t exactly chew on raw iron ore to fill your stomach. I picked up the heavy bundle without thinking much of it, but the moment my fingers brushed the metal, the floating system description made my heart skip a beat.

[Farming Tool Set of the Harvest God - Grade: EX]

[An omnipotent tool-set once wielded by the God of Agriculture himself. When plowing a field with these implements, the soil will instantly become hyper-fertile; when leveling the ground, crops will grow in miraculous abundance.]

'EX-grade?!' 

Wait, so there was an entirely different tier higher than SSS-grade? And for some bizarre reason, a bundle of rusty-looking farm tools held a significantly higher rank than his legendary weapons! Was it literally just because it belonged to a god of farming?

"Are you absolutely sure you're okay with giving me something this incredible?" I asked, looking up at him to be absolutely certain.

"O-of course! Please, take as much as your heart desires!" Baldur nodded vigorously.

For some reason, even though he was smiling, his expression looked like he was about to burst into tears. Since it was rude to reject a gift that was being practically forced upon me, I decided to accept it with gratitude. Just like that, a complete beginner farmer had somehow come into possession of EX-grade agricultural gear.

Right at that moment, Seol-ah waddled over, holding a small object she had fished out from the very bottom of the armor pile. She proudly hoisted it up to me.

"Bam!"

Upon closer inspection, it was a beautifully crafted jewelry piece shaped like a sleek metallic bracelet.

[Transformed Aegis Armor - Grade: SSS]

[A mythical set of armor combining rapid-activation Mithril, Orichalcum, and the primordial enchantments of a Great Archmage. It remains in the compact shape of a sophisticated bracelet during peaceful times, but the absolute instant its master is judged to be in mortal danger, it automatically expands to envelop the body in an absolute defense barrier.]

Wow, a stealth armor piece. The craftsmanship was so incredibly refined that anyone looking at it would just assume it was a fashionable, high-end accessory.

"Do you want this for yourself, Seol-ah?" I asked.

Seol-ah shook her head vigorously from side to side.

"Huh? You brought it because you wanted to give it to Dad?"

"Yes!" she cheered happily.

It seemed she wanted her dad to be safe. I shot a quick, apologetic glance over to Baldur, checking his reaction.

"As... as much as you want! It is yours!"

Baldur stammered, nodding desperately. For some reason, he looked like a prisoner who had just been granted an unexpected pardon.

"Bam!"

"Alright, Seol-ah, that’s enough." 

I chuckled, stopping her before she could plunder his entire inventory. Having a legendary set of farming tools and a piece of compact, high-tier armor was already way more than enough.

Feeling a wave of intense guilt for taking his greatest treasures in exchange for a simple bowl of rice, I hurried into the kitchen and packed a large wicker basket to the absolute brim with our golden bell tomatoes.

"Please, take these with you on your journey." 

I said, handing the heavy basket to the trembling dwarf. 

"These are tomatoes I grew myself in the garden. They taste fantastic."

"Oh... oh my... thank you for everything, Great Lord." 

Baldur choked out, a genuine tear welling up in his bloodshot eyes as he clutched the basket to his chest.

I couldn't help but feel a deep swell of sympathy for him. The poor guy was willing to surrender his family heirlooms just because he was treated to a single meal, and he was actively crying tears of gratitude over a simple basket of vegetables. Despite his rugged, intimidating appearance, he was an incredibly gentle, soft-hearted dwarf.

"Safe travels on your way back home." I called out warmly.

"Thank you... thank you infinitely!"

Look at that—even as he departed, he couldn't stop showering me with gratitude. He stepped backward into the shimmering dimensional rift he had arrived through, disappearing from our world.

[You have served a magnificent, hearty meal to a hungry traveler!]

[The dwarf was so profoundly moved by the culinary flavors—a taste he had never experienced in his life—that he left behind a legendary token of gratitude. Please continue to warmly receive the tired and weary guests who find their way to your home!]

A successful quest notification floated gracefully in the air. This was already the second time a dimensional traveler had dropped into my yard out of nowhere.

I looked down at the chubby baby dragon sitting on the porch. 

"Seol-ah, did you happen to summon him here?"

"Huh?" she tilted her head innocently.

It was highly likely linked to one of her innate racial traits, specifically the one labeled 'Dimensional Dragon.' I realized right then that I should probably mentally prepare myself for a revolving door of exotic visitors in the future.

A fleeting worry crossed my mind. The first two guests, Lee Na-yeon and Baldur, had turned out to be wonderful, reasonable people, but would I always be that lucky? What if a genuinely malicious entity got pulled through? I briefly wondered if I should have kept one of those legendary swords just in case. But looking at Seol-ah’s bright, pure eyes, I shook the anxiety away. Since it was her subconscious ability pulling them in, she probably wouldn't bring anyone genuinely evil across the gap.

Besides, the system window explicitly stated that only "tired and struggling" people would find their way here. And hey, even if things 'did' take a dangerous turn, I now had a piece of SSS-grade automated armor strapped to my wrist.

‘If I just treat my guests well, I get rewarded with absurdly overpowered gear.’ 

I realized with a wry smile. I had literally walked away from a single lunch with EX-grade farming implements and an SSS-grade defense artifact. Life in the countryside was getting ridiculous.

"Shall we go test it out right away?"

Since I had the tools in hand, I was eager to see what an EX-grade pickaxe could actually do. Seol-ah and I marched out to the back lot, where the earth fairies were still clustered around the giant boulder, shouting dynamically.

"Mighty rock, please step aside!"

"We can only plant fields if you grant us space!"

"If we fail to cultivate the soil, that terrifying, monstrous Great Master will punish us and scold us mercilessly! Mud, mud, mud..."

I stopped dead in my tracks. 

'Excuse me? When on earth did I ever scold you guys?' 

Those little furballs were incredibly talented at slandering my good name when I wasn't looking.

"Hey. When did I 'ever' scold you?" I asked, stepping into view.

I scooped up a few of the gossiping fairies and subjected them to a gentle round of finger-squishes. The remaining fairies shrieked in exaggerated terror, scattering into the weeds. Honestly, they were completely adorable, but you could never let your guard down around them.

I set the fairies aside and picked up the dwarven pickaxe, turning my attention to a moderately sized boulder sitting at the edge of the lot. My plan was simple: shatter it into manageable pieces and toss them out of the way. I had no idea if a regular human swing would do anything, but I figured it was worth a shot. It was better than sitting around being bored.

It felt a little nostalgic holding a pickaxe handle after so long. I wrapped both hands firmly around the smooth grip, took a deep breath, and hoisted the heavy iron tool high above my shoulder.

The exact millisecond I initiated the downward swing toward the stone—

*Vrrrrm!*

The sleek bracelet on my left wrist suddenly flared with blinding light. Before I could even process what was happening, the liquid metal expanded, rushing up my arm and completely enveloping my entire body in a heavy, high-tech suit of armor that snapped shut over my face. The artifact's automated safety feature had apparently judged the incoming impact as a mortal threat.

Sheltered inside the automated armor, the pickaxe made contact with the solid granite.

*BOOOOOOM!!!*

A deafening, apocalyptic explosion detonated across the backyard, sending a shockwave ripping through the dirt.

"Bya...?" 

Seol-ah squeaked, her jaw dropping.

"Earth...?" the fairies whispered, completely frozen.

I stood there rooted to the spot, my mouth hanging wide open beneath the visor. The automated helmet slowly retracted, folding back into the collar to restore my vision.

When the dust finally cleared, I blinked in absolute horror. The boulder was gone. In fact, the entire landscape surrounding it had been completely altered. There wasn't a single pebble left, let alone a rock; the ground had been pulverized into perfectly level, pristine, powdery soil. Not a single weed remained.

'Wait a minute... I explicitly asked for farming equipment, not a tactical nuclear strike.'

Was this the true, unhinged power of EX-grade agricultural gear?

One definitive conclusion crystallized in my mind.

"Yeah... I am definitely never going to need a weapon."

If any high-ranking monster ever tried to cause trouble on my farm, I could probably erase them from existence with a single casual swing of my hoe. I chuckled to myself, wondering if Baldur would feel a profound sense of craftsman's pride if he could see the utterly stunned expressions on our faces right now.

Deep within the subterranean dwarven kingdom, Baldur was feeling absolutely zero pride.

"Ugh... they truly are a vicious, terrifying pack of dragons." he wept, collapsing onto a stool in his forge.

When he had first tasted that divine, lava-like bibimbap and been treated to that crisp, clean spirit, he had genuinely allowed himself to believe that perhaps they were rare, benevolent dragons. But the absolute instant that hidden Dragon Lord demanded his farming tools, that beautiful delusion was shattered into a million pieces.

"How on earth did he see through my inventory and make that exact demand?!" Baldur wailed, tearing at his beard.

The agricultural tools he had handed over with a bleeding heart were not mere ironmongery. They were sacred, mythical relics forged by the First Patriarch—the greatest, most legendary blacksmith in the entirety of dwarven history! It was a priceless ancestral treasure passed down through generations to symbolize the absolute authority of the clan leader!

Granted, Baldur had never actually used them because he didn't farm, but the symbolic value was astronomical! How could they be surrendered so casually for a single bowl of rice?

‘No, stop thinking like that.’ he forced himself to calm down. 

‘Look at the bright side. You bought your survival, didn't you?’

"But he took my ultimate masterpiece as well! Agggh!" he bellowed, his heart shattering anew.

The compact Transformed Armor was a multi-generational magnum opus that his grandfather, his father, and Baldur himself had spent a combined three centuries perfecting. They had practically begged a legendary Archmage to bind the spells to the metal! He wouldn't have sold that artifact even if a human king offered him a billion gold coins.

To an outsider, ancient farming tools and a hidden defense bracelet might seem lesser compared to giant, glowing broadswords, but dwarves carried an unmatched, spiritual attachment to the unique things they created. If the person sitting across from him hadn't been a primordial Ancient Dragon whose cosmic awareness clearly saw through all his illusions, Baldur would have chosen death before surrendering those two specific items. Every other legendary weapon he had left on that porch combined didn't even come close to the value of those two relics.

But he knew the alternative. I

‘If you provoke a dragon, the entire dwarven race can be erased from the face of the earth in a single afternoon.’

A dragon could systematically annihilate an entire civilization while maintaining a perfectly innocent, smiling face. By surrendering his greatest treasures, Baldur had single-handedly saved his people from extinction. The tears streaming down his face right now were tears honoring his own profound, heroic sacrifice.

"Why are you weeping and making such a pathetic racket, Chief?" one of the younger blacksmiths asked, walking into the forge with a look of profound disgust.

"You fools have absolutely no concept of the horrors I have just endured." Baldur sniffled, trying to cloak his grand, invisible sacrifice.

"Why are you shedding tears at your age? It’s embarrassing to look at."

"Exactly. He’s getting old. They say when dwarves get old, they become overly emotional."

"I’m telling you, we need to vote for a new chieftain!"

The mocking chatter of the young punks completely shattered Baldur's remaining patience. He jumped to his feet, his beard bristling.

"You ignorant little swindlers! I just came face-to-face with a dragon! I sat at its table! I shared its food! I drank its spirits! I conversed with it! I presented it with tributes! I did it all! And it wasn't just any common beast—it was a primordial Ancient Dragon!"

An abrupt, stunned silence blanketed the forge.

Then, the room erupted into a deafening chorus of mockery and laughter.

"Oh, listen to him!"

"The chief has finally lost his mind!"

"He went out for a stroll and came back a fantasy novelist!"

"I am telling you the absolute truth! I single-handedly averted the total annihilation of the dwarven race!" Baldur screamed, his face turning purple.

Right as he shouted, a cold, gravelly voice echoed from the back of the forge, cutting through the laughter. 

"What does it matter if you stopped it? We’re all bound for destruction anyway."

The laughter died instantly. Everyone’s jaws locked tight at the grim statement. Baldur’s face darkened as the sharp, suffocating truth settled over the room.

"He’s right. If we keep going like this, our tribe is finished regardless."

It was a bleak reality they couldn't escape. The stubborn dwarves had lived completely isolated throughout the massive mountain range for centuries, cutting off all communication with neighboring clans. Over the decades, they had lost track of where the other tribes even resided.

And then, disaster had struck. A dense, highly toxic subterranean smoke had begun rising from the deepest fissures of the mountains, completely filling the iron veins. Stranded, isolated, and completely devoid of answers, the majority of Baldur’s tribe was slowly suffocating. It was only a matter of time before they all perished in the dark.

Their legendary crafting dexterity was completely useless against a creeping, invisible poison. They were simply sitting in their caverns day by day, waiting for the end.

In the heavy silence, Baldur slowly raised his head, his eyes burning with a sudden revelation. "We need to go out there and find the other tribes."

The response from his kinsmen was immediately negative.

"Are you insane? You know how stubborn the other clans are. They'll greet us with axes."

"We'll die before we even cross the peaks."

But Baldur's mind was operating on an entirely different level now. He visualized the food prepared by the great disguised dragon—a masterpiece created by violently throwing completely separate, conflicting ingredients into a single bowl and forcing them to mix.

‘Sometimes, the ingredients that seem the absolute least likely to go together can end up creating the most mind-blowing flavor. Of course, you have to put in the effort to find the right balance to make it work. But generally speaking, there's always a way.’

The dragon's cosmic wisdom echoed clearly in his mind. There was no obstacle that could not be harmonized. If even the most stubborn, conflicting ingredients could blend to create something magnificent, then surely there was a way to unite the fractured, stubborn dwarven clans. It was infinitely better than sitting in the dark and waiting to die.

"Fine." the veteran blacksmith sighed. "Let's say we swallow our pride and try to unite. How do we bypass the toxic smoke filling the tunnels? We can't even breathe out there."

Ah. The poison. The ideological intent was there, but the brutal, practical reality stood firmly in their way.

Right as despair threatened to take hold again, Baldur’s gaze drifted to the wicker basket sitting on his workbench, overflowing with brilliant golden cherry tomatoes. 

'Wait... could the primordial entity have hidden a deeper, cosmic intent behind this parting gift?'

He stepped over and inspected the tomatoes with intense focus, but at first glance, they just looked like standard, albeit incredibly beautiful, vegetables. Just as a heavy sigh of disappointment escaped his lips—

"Hey, Chief, where did you get these fresh fruits? Did you secretly cultivate a hidden greenhouse down here?" one of the young trackers asked, casually tossing a golden cherry tomato into his mouth.

"Wait, don't eat those—!" Baldur yelled.

"GYAAAH!" the tracker suddenly screamed, his entire body convulsing.

The forger panicked. Baldur’s heart sank, wondering if the dragon had actually gifted them a basket of high-grade celestial venom. But the tracker’s expression completely inverted.

"It's delicious! This is insanely, beautifully delicious!"

Spurred by his absurd reaction, the other dwarves cautiously reached into the basket, popping the golden bell tomatoes into their mouths. Instantly, waves of pure culinary ecstasy rippled through the room. But the true, world-shattering miracle manifested a few seconds later.

"Huh? Wait a minute... my chest feels incredibly light."

"The chronic wheezing from the forge smoke... it’s completely gone!"

"The dark spots on my skin are fading! The toxic miasma inside our bloodlines is being purified!"

Shouts of absolute awe thundered through the cavern. Every single eye locked onto the golden tomatoes with ravenous, trembling reverence.

"This is it... this is the key! With this fruit, we can easily breathe through the toxic zones and reach the other tribes!"

"What are you all standing around for?! Gather the tools! Pack the survival gear!"

"We need to figure out how to harvest the seeds of this divine plant immediately!"

As the forge erupted into a chaotic frenzy of newfound hope and roaring laughter, Baldur approached the basket with trembling hands. He carefully picked up a single golden bell tomato and placed it into his mouth.

The instant the sweet juice burst across his palate, a wave of pure, absolute ecstasy flooded his nervous system, completely revitalizing his aged, weary body. Tears of profound reverence flowed freely down his face, soaking into his massive beard. I suppose people really do cry more as they get older.

"Thank you... thank you infinitely, Transcendent One..." Baldur sobbed into the dark, offering his deepest prayers to Jin-sol.

To think Jin-sol had casually told him to just drop by whenever he wanted and that he would give him as many tomatoes as he could carry. Little did Jin-sol know, the casual parting gift he had handed over to get rid of his surplus had just granted a dying race the ultimate hope of salvation.