Once and Now

From a distance, the Demon Skin Spell's Spell Model looked like a leaf with pointed, upturned ends. It slowly revolved, circling the Demonic Mark in his Mental Power Space alongside the other Spell Models. They seemed to be guarding that solitary mark. High above them, the Zero-Ring Spell Slot holding the solidified Foul-Smelling Skin shone down from the dome like a star.

Ruger was already working hard to bring forth a second Demonic Mark as soon as possible.

Once his mental power had recovered, he began casting, channeling power into the Spell Model again and again. After seven consecutive casts, an eighth was already a struggle.

That was about his limit.

He lightly scratched his skin with a fingernail. The spell seemed to have raised tiny wrinkles across its surface, which was also covered in a translucent layer of keratin. It felt nothing special, but it was light and comfortable. He stood, moved around, and jumped a few times without the slightest discomfort.

After a short meditation to recover a little, he took out the gift set Half-Man had given him.

A palm-sized piece of hide and a bottle of matching potion.

He could read the warnings on the potion bottle with his mental power. At first glance, they sounded rather dangerous.

First, he needed to choose where to attach it. Since it was meant for self-defense, he should keep it hidden. Just because he didn't recognize the hide didn't mean no one else would. Besides, if they spotted an odd little patch on him, most Wizard Apprentices would guess he knew the Demon Skin Spell, perhaps even that he used it often.

After feeling around for a while, he settled on the underside of his upper arm.

He cast the Shedding Spell on himself first. As he raised his arm, he couldn't help thinking of Bald Tooth. His precise control over the spell would naturally keep him from ending up like that.

He cleared the back of his upper arm, broke the seal on the bottle, and slowly poured the potion along the raised arm. It was thick enough not to run too quickly. A sizzling sound rose as his skin seemed to corrode, but there was none of the pain he had imagined. Instead, a strange itch spread from the corroded patch deep into his soul.

He counted silently, then lifted the unidentified hide and pressed it down hard.

The uneven hide instantly settled against his arm, as though it had been made for the corroded patch. He gently smoothed it with his hand. Under the potion's effects, the two became a perfect fit. Everything looked flawless, apart from a slight ache.

To his touch, it felt like a somewhat rough birthmark.

Zero-Ring Spell: Demon Skin Spell.

He cast it again, paying close attention to how the spell had changed.

This was his first time casting with the aid of a material, and this one was particularly unusual: it was already closely bound to his body.

He also watched for changes in the spell's cost. He had never experienced a change to the same spell before. Last time, he had been too eager with Foul-Smelling Skin to experiment and had solidified it straightaway.

A tingling began at the back of his arm. The palm-sized piece of hide still looked black, but as the spell took effect, it changed his entire body. He raised his hands before his eyes. His skin had turned a somber dark red.

He took out the claw left behind by the Black Long-Haired Holy Lord and scraped it hard across his skin. It left only a pale scratch.

Judging by the mental power it consumed, the number of casts he could manage had dropped from eight to five.

That suggested the hide's original owner had been somewhat stronger than him.

He prodded his skin with a fingernail. Beneath its hardness, he could feel a trace of give.

He lay spread-eagled on the ground.

Closing his eyes, he enjoyed a moment of peace.

At a thought, he cast Foul-Smelling Skin successfully. There seemed to be no conflict between the spells.

After some rest and meditation, it would be time to visit the remains of the Wizards. As a little Kobold, there was only so much he could do. He would make good use of what they had left behind, then give them a simple burial. Of course, a Kobold wouldn't waste anything. Waste was shameful, so he might even take their shoes.

He had already prepared for the trip and had no intention of disturbing anyone before he left.

If Aisijin and Bald Tooth couldn't find him, they would simply assume he had gone out hunting or catching bugs.

There was little else he needed to prepare. The two small bottles of Big Silly Hum's blood in his storage pouch, for instance, were something he had traded shaved ice for before they parted. He had also asked Bald Tooth for the broken-off handle of his blade; to Ruger, the remaining length was as good as a warhammer. As for spare food and the like, that went without saying.

He chose the long staff that felt best in his hands, with a beast tooth fixed to its tip, and left the maze-like place that had allowed him to survive this long.

For some reason, he thought of tragic tales about heroes, such as one who stepped outside only to be stabbed in the back and sent straight to his next life.

He shouldered the staff and strode along on his short legs. Remembering that he wasn't a hero, he relaxed again.

To reach the nearest destination, he first had to pass through the small-cave area occupied by the Kobolds and enter the vast cavern where they had hunted for generations. It was a little world within the cave, like something out of a wonderland. His route would take him diagonally across it; fortunately, that would save him several days of walking. In a neighboring cluster of small caves near its edge lay a Wizard's burial place.

Most likely, though, the dead Wizard had been a Wizard Apprentice.

Seen another way, this stretch of the journey was something he could enjoy.

Back when Ruger hadn't joined the clan's hunting parties, he hadn't dared venture far at all.

The mysterious underground expanse held unknown dangers everywhere for a weak species like the Kobolds. Their dependence on the so-called Holy Lords, and their eagerness to attach themselves to powerful beings of other species, stemmed in part from their surroundings. Such a harsh environment had given rise to their strange way of life.

Now Ruger believed that, as long as he didn't get careless, he was stronger on his own than the clan's best hunting team.

He pressed on at a quick pace until he finally saw the beautiful sight he hadn't laid eyes on in so long.

The first time he had seen it, he had stopped and stared, earning a kick in the backside from the Kobold behind him.

A short distance into the great cavern, he found himself looking up and into the distance. There, a towering spindle-shaped mushroom rose like a giant tree.

Neither of the two hunting parties he had accompanied had gone anywhere near it. That seemed to be one of the more dangerous parts of this underground world.

Ruger drew his gaze back and surveyed his surroundings.

He kept his footsteps as quiet as he could.

He had maintained the second form of Foul-Smelling Skin throughout the journey and had even picked up a few cute little prey animals. If he didn't recognize one and had no intention of eating it—or didn't dare eat it—he wouldn't stab it for no reason and get blood on his staff.

"Lizardfolk?"

He had barely gone any farther when he ran straight into a group of Lizardfolk.

Their backs were red, a marked difference from the green-backed ones that had spent years fighting the Kobolds. They looked sturdier, too, with a row of upright, membrane-covered spikes along their spines. It looked as if the spikes had forced their way out through tough skin.

Judging by their direction, it almost looked as though these little lizards were headed to pay the Kobolds a visit.

Hmm. If only I had a mind-control spell, he thought.