In his private sanctuary—a safe hollow where he could see clearly in all directions—Tars had just finished another round of meditation.

  He warmed up by reviewing the six runes he had already mastered, then committed his primary focus to the six new ones. Whenever his mental power drained and weariness set in, he would trace the runes above his Sigil to accelerate his recovery, waiting for the next cycle of that exquisite exhaustion. After several rounds, even with his mental energy replenished, he felt the need for a break.

  Resting his head on his arms, he gazed at the now-bare walls of his cave and pondered Old Gold-Tooth's words. There was sunlight, the rotation of the sun and moon, and massive human cities in the far distance. If such things existed, there must also be delicacies, fine wine, sturdy walls, warm beds, and bustling, steaming marketplaces. Perhaps there would even be a small puddle in the street that a laughing, running child would stomp in, splashing everyone nearby.

  But humans...

  Can I ever be human again? he wondered. A lone, small kobold didn't even qualify as a dangerous beast. If a human encountered one, they likely wouldn't even look him in the eye; they would simply dispatch him with a bow or a pitchfork while chatting casually with a friend.

  With this face, he couldn't simply wander into a human city. It wasn't just facial discrimination—it was total discrimination, right down to every single hair on his body. In the eyes of humans, a kobold was either prey or a hideous pest. Furthermore, Old Gold-Tooth had never even seen a Cave-City or a Cave-Domain; they had to be incredibly far away. With his current strength, even if Tars knew the way, he might not survive the journey.

  Surely those massive Cave-Cities have libraries, he thought. He sat up and pulled out the four books to choose a spell for self-study.

  He had already used the legacy scrolls for Depilation and Mental Seethe. The two spell models—one with nineteen nodes and one with twenty—were now drifting around his Sigil in a tireless dance. The four exquisitely bound volumes corresponded to four Zero-Ring spells. Each author's preface stated the same intent: to explain the spell concisely and completely in its most basic, stable form, without any complex modifications.

  The four spells were Firebolt, Mage Armor, Planting Ear, and Frost Ray.

  He hoped his Light of Spirituality would guide him again, but it remained silent. Apparently, that "old friend" wasn't at his beck and call.

  In principle, he wanted to learn Mage Armor first because it was a defensive spell. However, he realized that currently, aside from buffing himself with Bull's Strength and swinging a stick, he lacked a direct offensive spell. Fetid Skin wasn't suitable for every situation, and as long as one lived, one would encounter strange circumstances.

  He glanced at Firebolt, but ultimately chose Frost Ray.

  Frost Ray: a Zero-Ring spell. Legend has it that the creator of this spell was a Great Wizard who went mad while attempting to modify a meditation method. He claimed to have discovered "Nasty Rheumatism Sprites"—blue-white sparks that would dart from his hands like insects, specifically targeting the joints of the elder wizards in his academy.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Unfortunately, his original manuscripts were destroyed. The reconstructed version was a straightforward, honest ray that didn't seek out targets on its own. Fortunately, the caster could still use it to aim at an enemy's joints, and the ray's design allowed for "stacking." A moment of hesitation from the target would allow the biting frost to accumulate, giving the enemy an unforgettable memory.

  He held the book in his hands, leafing through it with satisfaction before stowing the other three. This spell might pair well with Fetid Skin, even though he hadn't yet met a creature that could withstand the stench for long. Better safe than sorry. Moreover, it could help store food; freeze it in a pit, bury it, and it would last for ages.

  While it lacked the raw deterrent of Firebolt, it complemented both Fetid Skin and Bull's Strength. For example, if faced with a shield or a heavy iron door that his stench couldn't affect, he could apply an "ice pack" with Frost Ray, then swing a massive blow with Bull's Strength.

  This was his first time truly trying to master a spell through pure study. Karyu's diary mentioned that apprentices in wizard academies often self-studied, but with one key difference: they had predecessors to consult when they hit a wall. That was the foundation of an organization like an academy.

  Tars realized he also had such a person—a friendly predecessor. Or rather, half of one.

  The half-man had likely been waiting long enough to grow confused and impatient. Tars decided he shouldn't leave him hanging too long. He would study on his own first, note down what he didn't understand, and then visit the half-man for guidance. Even if he understood everything, he would put on an act to put the "kind senior" at ease. Stress is never good for one's head, after all.

  With Fetid Skin constantly in its "second state," he could meditate and rest in peace. The only ones who could find this place were stray enemies or the simple-minded Aiskin, so he didn't fear accidental casualties. Interestingly, he had seen Humph once; the big guy harbored not a single drop of malice toward him.

  If Old Gold-Tooth knew, Tars chuckled, he'd say, "See! That is the magnanimity of royalty!"

  The hardworking little kobold finished another round of meditation.

  "Big brother, you smell even better now."

  The little Bugfolk sat in a hollow on the opposite wall, swinging its legs and watching him intently. Tars snapped his eyes open. Startled as he was, he remembered his active spell and felt a wave of relief.

  "This time you didn't smell the 'stinky' part of the spell?" he asked, refraining from scolding the startling creature.

  The "Crybaby Bug" didn't cry this time, but its eyes were still watery, looking as if they might overflow at any moment. The child shook its head. "I'm going to enter the city next time. I came to see you one last time. My brother just said he likes you very much."

  Tars looked at the nursery bag at his waist. There was no movement, and the bag remained closed. "He failed?" he asked.

  The child looked momentarily dejected. "I reached the city, but I wandered for a long time and couldn't find the entrance. But soon... I'll find it soon. Don't worry, I found a safe place to get a full night's sleep. I came to see you as soon as I woke up. I have to go back and keep searching for the entrance in a bit."

  "What does it eat? When will the egg hatch?" Tars asked, giving the bag a slight shake.

  "He says he doesn't want to come out yet. When he does, you can feed him those white grubs that are everywhere outside. He should be very happy to eat those," the child said.

  Tars was surprised, but then realized that bugs eat other bugs all the time. Old Gold-Tooth had simply trapped himself with his own conscience.

  Just as he was about to ask more questions, the Bugfolk's expression shifted. In a flash, it vanished. Tars didn't even pause to wonder why; he immediately bolted. Within the first step, Bull's Strength was activated from his Sigil. No matter what was coming or why—it was time to run.