What kind of place was this?
Ruger began thinking about other things to distract himself. After all, he did not have two legs that could automatically carry him forward.
Judging by Varin's reaction, this place truly seemed to be as Mahama had concluded. Formal Wizards who had undergone a leap in their life level could feel this pain more acutely. That meant even second-ring, third-ring, or even higher-level wizards would find their own share of pain here, rather than having the gap in strength reduce it to a boring itch.
Ruger walked slowly, seeking neither speed nor haste, only that his pace remained steady and never stopped.
Drip!
Before he realized it, faint sounds reached his ears.
Then came a second sound, then a third.
He opened his eyes and discovered that they were his sweat and tears, falling soundlessly. Some landed on his robe without a sound; others struck the ground and made one final noise.
Ruger blinked and realized he was already halfway through.
He had been completely unaware of those tears and sweat. Moreover, he was a Dragonborn Kobold. Normally, only his palms, soles, and a few other corners of his body could sweat, and that was only in theory. His powerful life level meant that he rarely sweated at all. This was the first time he had learned that he could shed so much sweat and so many tears.
He suddenly stopped, still keeping his head lowered.
Only, instead of looking at the teardrops and beads of sweat that had fallen to the ground, he stared at his tattered robe.
The rough edges of the gray robe had been torn by his own hands. Though worn-out, it was exceptionally comfortable and had accompanied him for a long time. Its only flaw was that it had been