Inheritance and Gifts

The perfectly smooth orb in his hand now bore a distinct crack beneath his fingers. Strands of something wondrous drifted out from the fissure, then slowly drew back in. Each time, a small portion escaped completely. To his senses, that wondrous substance seemed to be made of the other party's spiritual power, yet was also somewhat different.

"What did you do?" the orb demanded.

"Does clutching you in my hand like some precious treasure count?" Ruger realized this apparently posed a very serious problem for it.

Though he had no idea what the other party had been trying to do before, it was certainly nothing good. He was therefore more than happy to see it panic now.

"It stinks! How can you stink so badly?!"

The orb suddenly began shrieking.

"Huh? How can I still smell odors?"

Just as questioning emotions emerged amidst the other party's violently surging spiritual power, Ruger abruptly flicked his arm and flung the orb away, then rapidly widened the distance without slowing his feet. In his perception, the crack on the orb had just been expanding at great speed.

The orb struck the stone wall with a crisp clang. Yet after bouncing and knocking about repeatedly, it did not lose so much as a speck. At last, after a few more bounces, it rolled to the ground—where it began cracking apart bit by bit on its own.

The voice from within the orb let out a miserable scream, though it was impossible to tell whether the cracking was the cause, or whether the stench had driven it to collapse.

A gray shadow shot out of the orb.

"You could have left, but now I can only choose you."

The gray shadow sounded far calmer than it had within the orb. The moment it finished speaking, it pounced at Ruger like a streak of light formed from gray mist.

Ruger smiled and occasionally glanced back, roughly gauging the situation behind him with his spiritual power.

He had already pulled far ahead in advance. The gray shadow was much faster than him, but by his rough estimate, he could still keep it at bay for quite some time.

From the moment the other party had sensed the smell, he had not been overly flustered. While running at top speed, he followed the map in his mind and veered toward the place where the wizard had fallen—killing two birds with one stone, without wasting an ounce of strength.

"You dare—you actually dare—"

After running for a while, the gray shadow seemed to see through his intentions. Rage immediately surged within it, and it sped up by another thirty percent.

"Oh? You know where I'm going? Don't tell me that's your corpse? Hahaha!"

The dog-headed man laughed hideously. He had noticed that perhaps because it had become like this, the thing was not quite right in the head. Its emotions fluctuated violently at every moment, making it an excellent target for provocation.

"Ah! It stinks! How could this be?! What is that smell... Was this the foolish decision—the spell you developed by turning yourself into a dog-headed man?"

One pursued while the other fled. The distance between them steadily shrank, while both of them gradually slowed.

Ruger had already caught sight of his destination.

A corpse had been crudely embedded high in the cave wall. Black blood had flowed down the stone and congealed there, like a deep, black doorway.

The corpse wore a simple black robe, with only a ring of patterns around its hood. The hood sat securely over the corpse's head, concealing its face. The most conspicuous feature was the horizontal slash across its waist, likely the fatal wound that had ended it.

"Even as a vulgar dog-headed man, I can sense that beauty. It has the artistic air of something never deliberately carved or polished. You died far too artistically."

Ruger turned back and applauded. He kept running as he clapped, having noticed that the gray shadow was beginning to slow. He had to be generous with his encouragement.

The gray shadow flickered, but this time it did not pounce at him.

"We can cooperate," the gray shadow said, stopping its pursuit.

Ruger ignored it. Only after opening up a considerable distance again did he stop. He knew the gray shadow was already extremely weak.

The gray shadow simply stood in the distance and watched him. Throughout the chase, it had been slowly dissipating.

"I know some things about that city. You came for that too, didn't you? I can also help you erase the mark on the storage pouch. I have no use for it for the time being anyway," the gray shadow said as it swayed, never drawing closer.

"I can tear it open myself."

As Ruger spoke, he paced back and forth. Seemingly by accident, he took several steps forward and brought the gray shadow into the range of Foul-Smelling Skin once more.

The gray shadow wavered, then silently retreated.

"I can sense that you are a low-ranking apprentice. Anyone no more than a third-level wizard apprentice who dares touch Wizard Niteri's mission is either a brave soul gambling with his life—not some mindless fool—or someone lacking in spell resources. If you forcibly break open the storage pouch, even with good luck you will lose half its contents. With bad luck, ninety percent will be sent into the void," the gray shadow said unhurriedly, as though brimming with confidence.

"I'm easily satisfied," Ruger said.

He remained carefully on guard, wary of the gray shadow's desperate final counterattack.

No matter how appealing cooperation might sound, he did not dare touch it. It all stemmed from knowing what he did not know. Even if a spell contract were placed before him, he would have no idea whether the other party had tampered with it or secretly planted traps meant to harm him. He did not understand the underground world, nor did he understand spellcraft—but he understood that he had only one small life.

The gray shadow fell silent and swayed from side to side, like a tiny flame about to gutter out.

"A hand. Just let me stay in your palm—that is enough. This is my greatest concession. You can wrap me in spiritual power. Your foot works too. Take me back to the wizard tower, and I will give you another reward," the gray shadow finally lost the composure it had maintained all along.

Ruger merely shook his head, his eyes already turning toward the nearby passage entrance.

A blue-white ray suddenly shot from his hand!

It disrupted the gray shadow, blasting a hollow gap into it, but it soon wobbled and reformed.

"So it really is like this." He had encountered this sort of strange enemy before. The spells he currently possessed might have no effect on it.

The gray shadow lunged at him, faster than ever before, like an arrow loosed from the string.

From that arrow, Ruger sensed an intense malice unlike anything he had ever encountered. It was completely unlike the simple, instinctive ferocity of lizardmen and dog-headed men. That concentrated malice stirred the spiritual power into violent emotional fluctuations. The instant one touched that spiritual power, terror seized the heart—overwhelming fury and despair, endless remorse and regret, and a hatred as boundless as the sea.

It was precisely those emotions that caused the arrow formed from the gray shadow to begin burning midway through its flight. Gray flames scattered amid ghostly glimmers.

Ruger still cautiously retreated some distance.

The gray shadow ultimately failed to reach where he had originally been standing. It turned to drifting ash, leaving behind a pale-gray, translucent crystal.

The cooperation that had never even begun was thus declared utterly over.

Ruger waited where he was for quite a while. Only when there was no response whatsoever did he dare approach. Though the inheritance process had been deeply unpleasant, he still intended to keep his promise and bury the other party after searching through its belongings.