Tars skewered four fat grubs one by one and hoisted them back onto his shoulder.

  He began the slow walk home.

  He had gathered the general gist of what the large kobold meant. In the end, he chose not to soil his staff and let the big oaf go. On the way back, it struck him as somewhat humorous—cluelessness had actually become a survival skill. He didn’t even harbor the thought of making the creature hunt for him.

  The so-called Holy Lord Gray-Long-Neck did indeed forbid kobolds from hunting grubs for food. However, his command was that all captured grubs be offered to him, the Holy Lord. Essentially, they were allowed to catch them, but not to eat them.

  If he hadn't misunderstood, that was the situation. He didn't bother thinking about it further; it was a waste of brainpower.

  Returning to his little nest, he enjoyed some grub meat and took a comfortable nap. Then, he resumed his meditation.

  He believed the pages that had been so difficult to turn were a form of protection for someone like him. As mental power grew, flipping through the book page by page served as a process of tempering. Those two kobolds likely possessed such abysmal mental aptitude that they couldn't even withstand the initial rune. A single glance caused them to lose control until their heads exploded, unable to even look away.

  Since he didn't view the book as something evil, he felt no fear.

  As time passed, he finally mastered the fifth rune. During this period, he consumed another half-grub. He still hadn't made the trip to the hot springs he’d planned; enduring the slimy, raw meat for so long had left a stale taste in his mouth.

  Yet, he didn't move an inch.

  The next page could finally be turned. He was intensely curious. Opening this leaf would reveal the seventh and eighth pages. At least one of them would be a rune, but would the other be the spell he had long awaited? The mere thought that he might one day master such a magical thing felt wondrous, like a dream. At that point, who cared about eating "giant snot"?

  He spread the book across his knees and tested the page with his finger. As expected, it moved.

  What met his eyes was a rune slightly more complex than the previous five, but still within his expectations. The opposite page, however, contained a long-overdue wall of dense explanatory text regarding precautions. Flipping further, the book became as immovable as an iron bolt again.

  He scratched his head. He hadn't found the specific spell knowledge he’d imagined, but he wasn't too disappointed. Once he mastered the sixth rune or truly completed a Sigil, he should be able to see the ninth and tenth pages. Perhaps what he wanted was there.

  With that thought, he bypassed the rune to read the long dissertation first. After a while, his expression soured.

  The knowledge on this page regarding the fusion of six runes into a single Sigil was helpful, but the section on precautions for becoming a Level 1 wizard apprentice dealt him a heavy blow.

  Upon becoming an apprentice, one would gain a "Zero-Ring Spell Slot." This was an incredibly precious thing that caused a qualitative change in an apprentice. To gain another slot, one would have to wait until becoming a Level 1 Official Wizard, at which point a "First-Ring Spell" could be solidified—another qualitative leap.

  A solidified spell required no incantations or gestures. It could be cast repeatedly without fatigue and was easier to perceive and understand, eventually becoming as natural as an instinct. The benefits were numerous.

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  What made his kobold face pale, however, was the requirement to immediately solidify a prepared spell upon becoming an apprentice.

  In other words, normal apprentices began studying spell theory and mastering specific spell models long in advance. They would choose a spell purposefully while practicing their meditation.

  For him, this was a ridiculous fantasy. Forget having the luxury of carefully selecting or even modifying a spell that would stay with him for life—he didn't even have a mediocre, off-the-shelf spell to use. He hadn't even seen one. He had absolutely no options.

  After a moment of contemplation, he decided to master the final rune first. From mastering the most complex rune to being able to trace them all in one breath, and finally attempting to fuse them into a Sigil—all of this took time. He didn't want his progress to stall for any reason.

  Perhaps it would be like before? Once he mastered the sixth rune, would the next page open? He focused even harder on his meditation.

  Yet a voice in his mind suggested he might need to actually be a wizard apprentice to continue reading, and that the following pages might not even contain spell models, but rather advanced meditation theory. It was possible this book simply didn't cover low-level spell knowledge at all.

  Time passed in meditation. The grubs dwindled, their rich nutrition and terrible flavor serving as a biological clock.

  He successfully mastered the sixth rune. He let out a long breath. But immediately following, his fingers rubbed the corner of the page until they trembled and shed fur, yet the new page would not turn.

  He tossed the book aside in frustration, thought about it, picked it back up, and lay down using it as a pillow.

  During his meditation breaks, he had scrutinized his past. Aside from the black book, his chances of obtaining spell knowledge were practically zero—unless a miracle occurred right in front of him, the kind that inexplicably grants a wish.

  Of course, he had to make a final effort, such as returning to the place where he found the book.

  Back then, when he found such a refined object—clearly a product of civilization—he had been so excited he searched the entire area, but found nothing else. Perhaps he had missed something because he was hungry.

  Consoling himself with that thought, he swallowed some grub meat and set out on the path from his memory. Unlike his hunting trips, this search didn't require going outside. Instead, he followed a fork at the other end of his not-quite-secure nest.

  This area was suitable for man-sized creatures; the ceiling reached four meters at its highest and about two meters at its lowest. It could block some of the larger subterranean beasts, but it was no more peaceful than the vast, world-like hunting grounds further out. These seemingly small passages were a labyrinth, appearing endless. If measured, they might even be larger than the main hunting zones.

  There was no true safety here. Even the stretch of tunnel where he lived was open at both ends, completely unshielded. He only managed to live there in peace because it was remote and no kobolds frequented the area. Furthermore, because the tribe had been in the region for years, large predators rarely ventured nearby.

  Though the odds were low, theoretically, a small subterranean beast could still snatch him away while he slept.

  He marked the forks as he went. Getting lost was another life-threatening danger. Halfway there, he grew hungry and ate some of the grub meat he carried. The growth of his mental power seemed to have sharpened his mind; whereas he used to feel he was getting stupider, his memories were now crystal clear.

  According to his "Stomach Timer" and the surrounding environment, his destination was close.

  "Was this all built by hand?"

  He suddenly felt an urge: one day, when he became a wizard apprentice and had the means to face any danger, he would follow these paths to their very end. He wanted to see exactly where these crisscrossing tunnels led. It would likely be an incredibly long journey.

  Just as he was getting hungry again, he finally arrived at the place from his memory—a wide intersection resembling a small plaza. The black book had been right by that large rock. Compared to his last visit, some small, glowing white mushrooms had sprouted there.

  The quiet intersection was empty. The faint light from the mushrooms made the four tunnel openings appear even darker.

  "Ugly little kobold, you finally came..."

  An emotionless voice rang directly inside Tars's head. He immediately snapped the black book open and held it in front of him like a shield.

  "I have been waiting for you. It seems you had forgotten me."

  He held the book aloft, his dog-like eyes wide as he scanned the darkness. Finally, his gaze returned to the rock.

  "It seems you like the book I gave you. Unfortunately, you are just a kobold, destined never to become an Official Wizard. Even if you are different—more intelligent than your kin—the limitations of a short-lived race are something you cannot break..."

  The voice continued to echo in his mind. Squinting, Tars could just barely make out the silhouette of a figure reclining on the rock.