Another adorable little magic stone became an ugly, lusterless thing. At this point, Ruger only had to squeeze it hard in his hand to turn it into a small handful of fine dust, and this was with a relatively slow rate of extraction. Magic stones that were rapidly exhausted during use for one reason or another could turn to ash without anyone even touching them.
Ruger lowered his head and, just before the magic stone ran out, replaced it in sequence with a fresh standard-sized stone.
Ruger was annoyed that the interruption had almost made him miss the replacement.
The gaunt man outside the window, who flapped his wings from time to time, watched Ruger lower his head and busy himself. Beneath his placid expression, he was equally displeased.
Ruger could sense all this without lifting his head. That calm face could not conceal the restless malice beneath it.
At some unknown point, perhaps after crossing a certain threshold, or perhaps because of the changes in his mental power upon becoming a Level-Five Wizard Apprentice, the ability to sense others' malice granted by his permanent spell, Foul-Smelling Skin, had become exceptionally pronounced. When Foul-Smelling Skin first began to change, it had been no more than a vague impression.
He saw that the Blood Curse Doll had smoothly entered its final stage.
Ruger let out a long breath and raised his head to look outside again.
In truth, he had always wondered why, when he was on the ground floor, the man insisted on flapping those damned wings without a single feather on them, like some hideous giant bat. Ruger was already down low, crouching on the floor to tend to the Blood Curse Doll. Now he had to crane his neck with all his might to look at that vacant