Tars sat slumped against the rocky wall, his hand resting on the stone, staring blankly into the distance.

  In this pitch-black world, everything seemed frozen in time. Gradually, the only sound remaining was that of his own breathing. He instinctively slowed his breath, allowing the rhythmic beat of his heart to become audible.

  A drop of water fell from the ceiling, striking him squarely on the face.

  He wiped the moisture away, incidentally scratching at the sparse, patchy bristles on his head. The movement tugged at the wound on his left ribs, bringing a spark of life back to his vacant eyes. To live like this, skittering through the caves in a daze without ever seeing the sun—he had no idea how many days had passed. It was as if time had lost its meaning. He only knew that he had been hungry many times, had eaten many times, and sometimes, had to simply remain hungry.

  The sound of footsteps approached.

  A figure, standing half a head shorter than him, groped through the darkness toward him. Upon reaching him, the figure let out a string of rapid, concerned chatter.

  Tars set aside his melancholy sighs and observed the newcomer.

  In all this time, his only stroke of luck had been the coincidental rescue of the kobold before him: Aiskin, a young kobold girl slightly smaller than himself. She was one of the few kobolds he had encountered with whom he could actually communicate.

  "Brother Tars, I knew you'd be here. Is your wound okay?" Aiskin leaned in close, looking up at him while picking at her teeth with a claw. She spoke softly, "The Master is gathering everyone. He might be leading a tribal hunt soon."

  Tars blinked, propping himself up against the cave wall as he swayed to his feet.

  "The Black-Claw Lord's appetite has grown again," he remarked.

  "Not Master Black-Claw... Master Black-Claw has become food! The new Master swallowed him in one gulp! Now we follow the much stronger Grey-Neck Lord. He won't be eaten so easily." Her speech had improved significantly, flowing almost smoothly now.

  Tars leaned his shoulder against the wall and rolled his eyes at the news. He preferred solitude for two reasons: first, to avoid getting beaten, as kobolds were never stingy with their fists toward their own kind; and second, he liked to enjoy the feeling of an empty stomach in peace—hunger was, after all, a major component of a kobold's life.

  He hadn't been alone for long this time; he'd only been hungry once, and yet the regime had already changed. Apparently, their new object of devotion had a rather long neck.

  Aiskin continued picking at her teeth with one hand while extending the other, palm up, toward him.

  "For you."

  Tars raised an eyebrow, already guessing what it was. He leaned down to look. It was a palm-sized chunk of charred meat; even under the burnt exterior, the underlying stench was unmistakable. The kobold girl knew he preferred cooked food.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  He glanced at Aiskin's other hand. The claw she used to pick her teeth carried a soft, faint luminescence.

  "Did you eat those glowing mushrooms again?"

  "Not too many. I listened to you; I didn't eat much. I'll be fine. I'm strong." Aiskin patted her stomach and pushed her hand toward him once more.

  He scratched at the long fur near his ears. A kobold's ears were positioned almost at the back of the head, a fact he still found difficult to get used to. He also suspected he might be developing a lice problem lately. He scratched at the stray hairs again and again.

  The kobold girl waited patiently, her hand held out.

  "Half each," he said. He took the charred, undercooked meat, tore it in two with all his might, and placed half back into her palm.

  Aiskin beamed and stuffed the meat into her mouth. Tars watched her bulging cheeks as he took a bite and chewed vigorously, though his balding face lacked her expression of blissful contentment. The blackened meat hit his stomach before he even finished chewing, providing immediate relief.

  I can live another two days, he thought. Scrounging food from the kobold girl's already meager rations didn't feel good, but he didn't want to starve. He exhaled a long breath that reeked of sour decay.

  Suddenly, he frowned. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. He felt as though he had scolded Aiskin for eating those glowing things before.

  "Brother Tars, why haven't you swallowed yet?" Aiskin asked with a smile.

  "I..."

  He suddenly realized the meat was still in his mouth. He held his hand out, spat it out, and sure enough, there it was. He had heard that many old kobolds lost their minds in their final moments, some even dying amidst uncontrollable raving.

  Am I dying? he wondered frantically. But I'm not old! If I die, it should be from starvation! Did hunger break my brain? I haven't even become a wizard yet!

  As he wailed internally, a sudden jolt went through him. He looked down again.

  What he held in his hand was no longer a piece of meat, but a round orb emitting a ghostly glow. The flickering light was hauntingly beautiful. The world around him began to tremble, escalating into a violent earthquake. He instinctively reached out to protect Aiskin, but before he could complete the motion, everything shattered and vanished.

  He snapped his eyes open. A flash of anger flickered in the depths of his pupils.

  The world was peaceful again; the distant dripping of water continued. Tars looked down at the orb clutched between his fingertips and at the nursery pouch at his waist, which was vibrating frantically.

  "Thank you, little guy. You can rest now," he patted the pouch.

  "Your mental energy is so weak. Are you a low-level wizard apprentice too?" He looked at the smooth orb, talking to it as if he were a madman. "Wandering around at such a low level is dangerous. Did you grow up in a big city? One of those subterranean cities? The dangers of the Underworld are beyond your imagination..."

  "Are you really not going to say anything?"

  "I met a snake a few days ago. Even that snake knew how to speak using mental energy."

  As he spoke, Tars had already completed the empowerment of two spell models. One was Mental Boiling, a precautionary measure to sharpen his mind and provide resistance against mental confusion. The other was what he was doing now: quietly attempting to leave a Sigil on the orb as a marker.

  "Insolent creature!"

  A surge of mental energy carrying intense emotion erupted from the orb; the Sigil failed to take hold. Suddenly, the ghostly light flared, and the orb began to dart wildly in all directions. Tars gripped it tight, swinging his arm up, down, left, and right to follow its frantic movements. He had sensed it wanted to flee, which was why he had tried to mark it. Seeing the stalemate, he quietly activated Bull's Strength.

  "I am a Peak wizard apprentice, and I'm being held by... you're a kobold! If I'd known, I never would have attempted a Dream Induction! What a waste of my mental energy!"

  The orb's voice suddenly jumped an octave, stinging Tars's pride. He was about to retort when he froze. The orb, too, stopped moving.