The campfire flickered. Mahama must have brought the firewood back from somewhere else; on this little island, it was already a luxury.
Mahama's little island was as bare as Ruger's. The trees had long since been used up building houses, and Mahama's house was somewhat larger. Heaven Pillar Mountain no longer lit up, the plants that had grown before were all gone, and neither of them had deliberately cultivated anything as Kurt had.
Ruger had no interest in the Four-Language Spell. He only wanted to learn the Word of Flame on its own.
Presumably, that would not be serious enough to make his mouth seal shut.
He not only desired the power the Word of Flame offered; he was also reaching into a field he had never encountered before.
As he pondered, Ruger tilted his head and saw Mahama happily tending the roast meat. He could not help muttering inwardly, This fellow probably hasn't eaten anything good on his own island. All his time and energy have gone into meditation and spell experiments. He hasn't enjoyed himself nearly as much as I have on the island next door. Our quality of life doesn't even compare.
At that thought, he quietly took out a few more things, including the Sour Mushroom Wine and Bubble Wine jointly produced by Serious Mouse and Little Fairy.
Mahama's eyes lit up again at what Ruger brought out. Those uniquely flavored wines had left a deep impression on him the last time he tried them.
"The requirements for gaining insight into something like the Word of Flame aren't fixed, but Wizards who can master it generally share one trait: their souls are sensitive enough. That's an excellent quality, but it's also a source of danger..."
Ruger had just walked over to the campfire when he heard