The sudden proximity of those shimmering eyes made his heart skip a beat. For a moment, Tars felt his life was hanging by a thread.

  "You... what is your secret?" she whispered.

  His mind raced as he slowly opened his mouth to speak.

  "Wait, don't be in such a hurry," she said, cutting him off. She held a finger up before his face. "I've just learned a new secret technique and haven't tested it yet. Cooperate with me. Use this finger as an imaginary target, extend your mental power, and feel the shape of the energy I’ve condensed upon it. By sensing the fluctuations, I can judge if I'm dealing with a hateful liar. They say this test is very accurate."

  Tars hesitated for a moment. Are you sure someone isn't playing a prank on you? Who taught you this? And what is that lip-shaped mental construct? You can't even see it without sensing it—is this some kind of wizard flirtation? he wondered.

  "I have an interesting little test as well," Tars said, maintaining a calm facade. "If you pass, perhaps we can talk. I should warn you, failing causes a bit of discomfort. Don't be angry, though—people who lose their temper tend to get wrinkles."

  "Fair enough. How do we start?" the female elf asked, looking eager.

  "Actually, it's already over."

  He had already enveloped the entire three-way chamber in Fetid Skin, using the "Malice Feedback" state. It hadn't been triggered.

  "You're playing with me! Hmm? Wait, I sensed a faint magical fluctuation... your methods are very subtle! It must be a spell that's been heavily optimized, or one you've mastered to a high degree of attunement. So, did I pass?" she asked.

  Regardless of what she said, as long as she bore him no malice, it was fine. He didn't expect Fetid Skin to slaughter a foe like her as it had the lizardmen; his goal was simply to test her intent.

  Tars reached out with his mental power and touched her fingertip, responding to her question with a direct gesture.

  "I am just an ordinary little kobold," he began. "A while ago, I was still worrying about food. I was always hungry, and that's a miserable feeling. Even though a kobold doesn't starve to death easily, that just means the suffering lasts longer. Also, Aiskin is indeed my friend. Even if she isn't beautiful by your standards—and I agree, that's only natural—please don't call her ugly with such a sharp tone. It displeases me. She is just a simple-minded kobold."

  With every sentence he spoke, the elf's eyebrows twitched upward, eventually forming three deep furrows on her forehead.

  "You... actually didn't tell a single lie." The elf looked more shocked by the truth than she would have been by a falsehood. "No, wait. You've used some method to deceive yourself. You've convinced yourself to live as a hungry kobold. But why are you here? Is it truly just bloodline research? Or do you want to enter that city? Are the kobolds here connected to it?"

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  "Perhaps I misunderstood you from the start! You were hired by Master Nitri for the mission too, weren't you? You're hiding among the kobolds waiting for your chance?" She scrutinized him. "We chased those bugs for a long time before arriving here."

  She leaned in again, her eyes sparkling. "A strange bloodline wizard just happens to be here, sincerely befriending ordinary kobolds. Anyone would be curious, and my curiosity just happens to be stronger than most, so please forgive my rudeness. You must know some secrets, right? You're far too strange."

  "I could consider giving you some mana stones," she said with a smile. "Sometimes, it's hard for one person to get things done. You need cooperation, just like those kobolds."

  Tars was tempted. He desperately wanted mana stones, or other treasures like spellbooks. But he didn't dare move—not his mouth, and certainly not his mind.

  "You have many companions?" he asked. He wanted to explain his situation, but he didn't know where to start. His spells, his meditation method, and the storage pouch were all impossible to explain without mentioning the half-man, and he felt that would only invite more trouble.

  "I wouldn't call them companions. Just fellow travelers on the same mission. And then there are lone wolves like you, who stay out of sight. I don't even know if some of them are still alive."

  Her words made Tars think of the "Crybaby" Bugfolk. His suspicion was confirmed: the Bugfolk was being hunted by the elf and her group. Her presence here was likely because she knew the creature had been sighted nearby. And the map the little creature had given him—the "legacy"—likely belonged to one of her fallen travelers or a lone wolf.

  "Boring. If you won't talk, fine." She stood up, appearing to lose interest. "By the way, you should watch out for your little kobold tribe. Those lizardmen are expanding like mad. With plenty of food, their bodies are changing—breeding cycles are faster, and every clutch of eggs is larger. Some annoying fellow is using spells to speed up their growth, probably wanting to drive them to do his bidding. Their numbers might double in just a few dozen days."

  This casual disclosure sent a jolt through Tars's mind.

  "Since you like playing here, take it seriously. Don't let your tribe get wiped out! And if you can, give that annoying fellow a good thrashing for me." The elf resumed her cold, detached demeanor.

  "Is he stronger than you?" Tars asked.

  She smiled. "I just find him smelly. Teaching him a lesson would just make me reek. Even if he is a Fifth-Level wizard apprentice at his limit, he doesn't have the right to be compared to me. He isn't even interesting enough to pique my curiosity."

  She leaned down once more to look into Tars's eyes. Tars was forced to wipe two stubborn crusts from the corners of his eyes to avoid ruining the atmosphere of the stare-down.

  "Actually, I'm quite smelly too. You just haven't noticed," he said.

  By the time he finished blinking, she was gone. Suddenly, a realization hit him.

  Fifth-Level wizard apprentice?

  She is a wizard apprentice too?

  If they were all apprentices, then what about the map? Was the long-awaited "legacy" just the gear of other apprentices? The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. The little Bugfolk hadn't necessarily lied; in its eyes, there was no difference between a powerful wizard and a high-level apprentice—both were terrifying hunters that could kill its kin.

  Then again, perhaps the legacy of an apprentice was more suitable for him. It was the only way he could comfort himself. He wondered just how powerful a Fifth-Level apprentice could be. Could they withstand Fetid Skin? Since everyone was using Zero-Ring spells, the difference lay in mental power and temporary spell slots. If a conflict couldn't be resolved instantly, the gap between high and low levels would become insurmountable. As for external assets... well, all he had was a pair of homemade shorts.

  Setting his crystal lamp in the corner, he opened his book to the last page he had read. Don't panic when things happen, he told himself. Just study some magic to calm the nerves.