Seniors and Spells

He sat in his safe little den, with clear sightlines in every direction.

After each round of meditation, he reviewed the six runes he had mastered and tried to grasp the six new ones that had appeared. When his mental energy ran low and fatigue set in, he traced runes above his Demonic Mark to speed his recovery, then went back to savoring another bout of exhaustion.

After several rounds, even with his mental energy restored, he needed to stop and rest.

He pillowed his head on his arm and stared at the now-bare recess in the cave wall, thinking about what Old Gold Tooth had told him.

There was sunlight. The sun and moon rose and set. Far away stood enormous human cities. If all that existed, surely there was good food too, and sturdy city walls, warm beds, and noisy markets steaming with hot food. Perhaps a little puddle of filthy water lay on a market street, waiting for a child at play to stomp through it and send it splashing everywhere.

People? Could I still be a person? Could I become human again?

An ordinary lone Kobold did not even count as a fearsome beast. If humans came across one, they probably would not give it a second glance. They would casually kill it with a bow or a large pitchfork while chatting and laughing with their companions.

With this face, he could not simply head for a human city. It was not discrimination against his looks. It was discrimination against his entire body, down to the last hair.

To human eyes, a Kobold was prey. An ugly pest.

And Grotto City, a place even Old Gold Tooth had never visited, had to be extremely far away. At his current level of strength, he might not make it there even if he knew the way.

He took out the four books and began choosing which spell to teach himself.

He had already used the two Inheritance Scrolls for the Shedding Spell and Mental Boil. Their Spell Models, one with nineteen nodes and the other with twenty, were circling his Demonic Mark.

Each of the four books covered a Zero-Ring Spell. In their opening remarks, the authors made their purpose clear: to explain each spell simply but completely, without covering any modifications. The versions taught in the books were the most basic and stable ones.

The four spells were the Fireball Spell, Demon Skin Spell, Ear-Growing Spell, and Freezing Ray.

He wanted the Spiritual Light to guide him once more, but it gave no response.

Evidently, that fellow did not come whenever he was called.

He had originally wanted to learn the Demon Skin Spell first. Put simply, it was a spell that helped him take a beating. But right now, apart from casting Strength of the Savage Bull and charging in with his club, he had no spell that acted directly on a target. Foul-Smelling Skin would not work in every situation, either. As long as he was alive, he was bound to run into all sorts of strange circumstances.

He glanced at the Fireball Spell, then chose Freezing Ray.

Freezing Ray. A Zero-Ring Spell.

Legend had it that the Wizard who first invented this spell had gone mad after modifying a meditation technique. He claimed to have found the wretched little spirits that caused rheumatism. Blue-and-white specks of light would shoot from his hand, swarm through the air like insects, and burrow straight into the joints of the older Wizards in his school.

Unfortunately, his manuscript was later destroyed. When people found what remained and tried to reconstruct it, they managed only to produce this straightforward blue-and-white ray, which could not seek out targets on its own. Still, a caster could aim it at an enemy's joints, and its ray form preserved the original design's ability to build up cold continuously. A moment's hesitation could leave an enemy with an unforgettable chill.

He leafed through the book with satisfaction and put the other three away.

This might work well with Foul-Smelling Skin, though he had yet to encounter a creature that could withstand that spell for any length of time.

Better to be prepared. He could also use this spell to preserve food: dig a pit, freeze his supplies, then bury them carefully. They would keep for a long time.

It did not have the Fireball Spell's raw destructive force, but it could pair nicely with both Foul-Smelling Skin and Strength of the Savage Bull. If he came up against a shield or a sturdy iron door that Foul-Smelling Skin could do nothing about, he could chill it with Freezing Ray, then put his whole arm into a club strike under Strength of the Savage Bull.

This was the first time he would truly master a spell through study.

From Ka Liu's diary, he knew that apprentices at Wizard Academies often studied on their own too. The difference was that when they ran into a crucial problem, they could ask someone more experienced for advice, straighten out their thinking, and get past the obstacle.

That was enormously important. It was the foundation on which organizations like Wizard Academies passed down their knowledge.

Come to think of it, he had someone like that himself.

No. Half a someone.

By now, Half-Man had probably waited long enough to grow puzzled, with confusion written all over his face.

Ruger decided he should not leave Half-Man hanging for too long. He would study on his own first, note down anything he could not understand, then find time to ask Half-Man about it. That would put this currently helpful senior's mind at ease. Getting worked up was no good for his head.

Ruger kept Foul-Smelling Skin in its second state at all times, so he could meditate and rest without worry. Anyone who found their way here would be either an enemy who had stumbled in by chance or the simple-minded Aisijin. He did not have to worry about hurting anyone else by accident. Interestingly, he had seen Big Silly Hum once since then, and the big fellow had not shown the slightest ill will toward him.

If Old Gold Tooth knew about that, he would surely tease Ruger: "See? That's the magnanimity of royalty!"

Ruger finished another round of meditation.

"Big brother, you smell even better now."

The little Insectfolk sat in a recess in the cave wall opposite him, swinging her legs and staring at him without blinking.

He had opened his eyes to that sight.

His heart jolted, but then he remembered the spell he had kept active and quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

"You didn't smell that stinky spell this time?"

He did not scold the little bug for startling him.

Little Crybaby Bug was not crying this time, but her eyes were still so watery that a touch seemed enough to send tears spilling out.

The little Insectfolk shook her head. "Next time, I'm going into the city. I came to see you one last time before that. My little brother said just now that he likes you a lot."

Ruger looked at the cultivation pouch at his waist. Nothing stirred inside it, and its opening was still shut.

"No luck?" he asked.

The little Insectfolk looked dejected for an instant.

"I found the city, but I searched for ages and couldn't find the entrance. I'm close, though. I'll find it soon." Her spirits lifted again as she swung her legs. "Don't worry. I found a nice, safe place and slept there. I came to see you when I woke up, and I'll go back to looking for the entrance in a little while."

"What can he eat? When will he break out of his egg?"

He picked up the cultivation pouch and gave it a shake.

"He says he doesn't want to come out yet. Once he does, you can feed him those white bugs you see everywhere outside. He'll probably like them," the little Insectfolk said.

Ruger was surprised, but on second thought, ordinary bugs ate other bugs too. Not all bugs were the same.

Old Gold Tooth had trapped himself.

Just as Ruger was about to ask something else, the little Insectfolk's expression changed. In a flash, she vanished.

Ruger did not waste a moment staring after her. He turned and ran. By the time he took his first step, he had activated Strength of the Savage Bull from his Demonic Mark. Whatever it was, and whatever the reason, he would run first.