Past and Present

From afar, the spell model of the Demon Skin Spell resembled a leaf with pointed ends. It was slowly turning, orbiting the magic mark in the mental space alongside several other spell models. They seemed to be guarding that solitary magic mark. At the very highest point of the mental space, the zero-ring spell slot of Foul-Smelling Skin, solidified upon the dome, shone down like a star.

Ruger was already working hard to welcome his second magic mark as soon as possible.

Having restored his mental strength, he began casting. After empowering the spell model seven times in succession, the eighth casting was already somewhat forced.

This was probably as good as it would get.

He lightly scraped his skin with his nails. The spell seemed to have stimulated wrinkles across its surface, while a translucent layer of keratin covered it as a whole. It felt merely average, but it was light and comfortable. When he stood up and moved around, even hopping a few times, there was no discomfort at all.

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

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

The bottle bore precautions that could be read with mental strength. At first glance, they even seemed a little dangerous.

First, he had to choose an attachment spot. Since this was something for self-defense, it should not be exposed outside. He did not know what sort of hide this was, but that did not mean others would not recognize it. Besides, if they saw an abrupt little patch like this, most wizard apprentices would guess that he knew the Demon Skin Spell—or even used it often.

After feeling around for quite some time, he ultimately chose the underside of his upper arm.

He first cast a hair-removal spell on himself. As he raised his arm, he could not help thinking of Bald Tooth. Precise spell control naturally would not turn him into that sort of sight as well.

Once the back of his upper arm had been cleaned, he broke the bottle's seal and slowly poured the potion along his raised elbow onto the back of that arm. The liquid inside was a little viscous, just thick enough that it would not flow too quickly. A sizzling sound arose, and his skin seemed to be corroded—but it did not hurt as much as he had imagined. Instead, there was a strange itch, as though it ran from that corroded patch straight into the depths of his soul.

He counted silently, then lifted the unknown piece of hide and slapped it on hard.

The somewhat uneven hide instantly became snug and docile, as if it had been born for that patch of corroded skin. He reached over and gently smoothed it down. Under the effects of the potion, the two also merged in size, becoming one. Everything looked so perfect, aside from a faint bit of pain.

At that moment, it felt like a slightly rough birthmark to the touch.

Zero-ring spell: Demon Skin Spell.

He cast it again, carefully sensing the changes in the spell.

This was his first time using a spell with the assistance of casting materials—and such special casting materials at that, materials already deeply bound to his body.

At the same time, he sensed the change in casting consumption. This was likewise the first time he had experienced the same spell changing in this way. Last time, he had been too eager with Foul-Smelling Skin to test it before directly solidifying it.

First, the back of his arm went slightly numb. The palm-sized hide still appeared black, but as the spell succeeded, his entire body changed because of it. He raised both hands before his eyes. His skin had already turned a solemn dark red.

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

Feeling out the consumption, he found that the number of times he could cast had dropped from eight to five.

From this, it was clear that the hide's original owner had likely been a creature somewhat stronger than him.

When he poked at it with his nails, he could sense a hint of toughness beneath its hardness.

He lay flat on the ground, limbs spread wide.

Closing his eyes, he savored a moment of peace.

With a thought, Foul-Smelling Skin was successfully cast. It seemed there was no conflict.

After resting and meditating, it would be time to set out on a condolence journey to the wizard's remains. As a little kobold, there was not much he could do. He would put the things they had left behind to good use, then give them a simple burial. Of course, as a kobold, he naturally would not waste even the slightest thing. Waste was shameful, so perhaps even their shoes would have to be stripped away.

He had already prepared to head out earlier, and now that he was leaving, he did not intend to disturb anyone.

If Aisijin and Bald Tooth could not find him, they would only assume he had gone out hunting insects.

As for what he needed to prepare, it was actually quite simple. For instance, the two small bottles of Big Silly Hum's blood in his storage bag were something he had traded shaved ice for when they had split up before. He had also asked for Bald Tooth's broken knife hilt. To him, the remaining section was still equivalent to a warhammer. There was no need to mention the rest, such as spare food.

After choosing the most handy long staff, with a beast fang fixed at its tip, he left this maze-like place that had given him the chance to cling to life until now.

For some reason, he thought of tragic tales of heroes—such as getting stabbed in the back the instant one stepped outside and sent into reincarnation.

Carrying the long staff and striding along on his short little legs, he relaxed again as soon as he remembered that he was not a hero.

His nearest destination required him to first cross the region of small caves occupied by the kobolds and head to the larger cavern where generations of kobolds had hunted. It was a small world within a cave, like a fantastical realm. His target lay beyond it on a diagonal path. Fortunately, he only had to cut across it diagonally; otherwise, he would have needed several more days of travel. In a neighboring small-cave area along that edge lay the burial place of a wizard.

Though, most likely, a wizard apprentice.

Seen from another angle, this stretch of the journey was also a kind of enjoyment for him.

During the time when Ruger had not participated in the tribe's hunts, he had not dared venture even a single step too far.

The unfathomable underground spaces held unknowns and danger everywhere for a weak race like the kobolds. Part of the reason kobolds relied upon the so-called Holy Lords and eagerly attached themselves to powerful outsiders was precisely this environment. Their harsh living conditions had given rise to this strange way of survival.

But now, Ruger believed that, so long as he was not careless, he alone was stronger than the tribe's most powerful hunting party.

After hurrying along the road, he finally caught sight of that beautiful scene he had not seen in so long.

The first time he had seen it, he had stood there blankly for a moment, only to get kicked in the backside by the kobold behind him.

After entering the great cavern and walking some distance, one could not help lifting one's head to gaze into the distance. Towering spindle-shaped mushrooms rose there like giant trees.

On the two occasions he had followed the hunting party, they had never gone near that area. It seemed to be one of the more dangerous places in this world within the cave.

Ruger withdrew his gaze and observed his surroundings.

He had lowered the sound of his footsteps as much as possible.

He had maintained the second form of Foul-Smelling Skin throughout the journey, and because of that, he had even picked up several cute little prey animals. If they were things he did not recognize, did not plan to eat, or did not dare eat, he would not stab them to death and needlessly get the long staff stained with the smell of blood.

"Lizardmen?"

He had only walked a short distance when he ran straight into a group of lizardmen.

Their backs were red, quite different from the green-backed fellows who constantly fought with the kobolds. They looked stronger, and a row of upright spikes wrapped in thin membranes ran along their backs, as though the spikes had forced their way out and burst through their tough skin.

Judging by their direction, why did these little lizards seem to be heading over to visit the kobolds?

"If only I had a mind-control spell."

He could not help thinking.