Tars was jolted awake by his own snoring. Whenever he was utterly exhausted, he became a one-man orchestra of snores—ranging from the low, rumbling prelude of deep sleep to the sharp, startled snort of the finale. Judging by the rhythm of those two sounds, they almost resembled a folk tune from his distant memories; if he lay in the wrong position, the pitch would climb even higher.

  The chunk of grub meat he had been gnawing on before bed had fallen onto the ground. Bleary-eyed, he picked it up, brushed off the dust and grit, and stuffed it into his mouth in two quick bites. He smacked his lips and washed it down with a bottle of Shaved Ice.

  As he ate, he pulled out the Black Book to study. A kobold who didn't put in the work, no matter how talented, was just a waste of space.

  Second-level wizard apprentice? He still hadn't touched the Meditation Awakening Potion the half-man had given him, which was supposed to boost mental energy and strip away side effects. He didn't plan on using it yet; his progress with his current meditation method was already far outpacing the half-man's estimates.

  It was time for a long-overdue session of deep meditation.

  The second Mana Scar required twelve runes to construct: six old and six new. Before his departure, he had already mastered two of the new ones. Although the runes were getting progressively more difficult, his speed of comprehension hadn't slowed down much.

  Sometimes he wondered if meditation methods had an "affinity" just like spells. If so, his connection with the Black Book—the Mana Scar Meditation Method—must be extraordinary. The feeling of progress was so fluid that it was hard to imagine hitting a bottleneck. Of course, it was also possible he was still at such a low level that the truly daunting obstacles were simply waiting further down the road to jump out and terrify him.

  His mental space remained breathtaking—a serene beauty that blurred the line between reality and illusion. The calm sea stretched toward a mysterious horizon, while the Mana Scar, shaped like a phantom canyon, hung high in the sky. Various spell models orbited it like guardians. At the highest point sparkled a bright star: his solidified Zero-Ring spell slot for Fetid Skin. Adding another star would likely have to wait until he became a full wizard.

  He cleared his mind and attempted the new runes from the Black Book. To his surprise, everything moved faster than expected. He remembered that uniquely shaped wizard apprentice—the one with the pale grey, translucent crystal that shattered with a single squeeze. My mental energy really did increase. I just hope there aren't any nasty side effects, he thought.

  He had suspected as much while out in the wild, but he hadn't dared to perform exhaustive meditation or spell testing there. During this session, he mastered two more new runes in one go. After recovering, he started from the very first rune and began a continuous construction, managing to complete ten runes in a single breath.

  Just two more, he thought.

  After resting, he decided to bring the roasted meat to Aiskin and the others. Although the storage pouch’s special space prevented spoilage, he wondered if it would still taste as good after all these days; he had been holding back from eating it on the road. Looking back, he had been too tense—he should have had the gall to ask that fire-wielding apprentice for some seasonings.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Tars was about to stand up when he sat back down. The sound of footsteps approached from a distance. He judged them to be Aiskin's; she had likely heard from Bald-Tooth that he was back.

  "Brother Tars, every time my stomach growls, I come here to look for you, but you're never here," the kobold girl said, though there wasn't a hint of complaint in her voice. Tars knew she was simply stating a fact.

  "Look!" Aiskin held up a black fruit with both hands. "Big-Humper and I go out searching every time we finish a meal. We keep looking until we're starving. We finally found it—a strange-looking tree! Every time I came here, I wanted to tell you, but you were gone..." Aiskin was beaming, thrusting the black fruit so close to Tars's face it nearly hit the bridge of his nose.

  "Is this the fruit the Big-Dumb-Humper ate?" Tars was genuinely surprised. They had actually found it. That fruit hadn't been something the Big-Dumb-Humper stumbled upon by chance; it had been a gift from the former Black-Claw Lord. There had been zero clues to follow.

  "Mhm!" Aiskin nodded happily. "There are more on the tree. I only took a few. Old Golden-Tooth wouldn't let us eat them; he said we have to wait for you and listen to what you say. And I listen to you too."

  Tars took the fruit and sniffed it, then gripped it in his hand and began to pace. The shackles of a kobold's short lifespan didn't just bind and threaten him; for the friends who had helped him, it was an inevitable noose tightening around their necks. He looked at Aiskin. This simple, direct smile of hers might vanish one day without warning. He believed that such a smile deserved to stay in this world for much longer.

  He remembered Old Golden-Tooth saying that the Big-Dumb-Humper had actually wasted a precious opportunity by eating the black fruit. The initial transformation is always the most likely to succeed. Combined with what Bald-Tooth had told him about the Red-Horn Tribe, attempting to turn into a Dragon-Vein kobold using items with very little dragon blood or impure drakes usually ended in failure.

  So, they couldn't just recklessly eat these fruits. However, the Big-Dumb-Humper's incredible self-healing ability was likely a unique trait of this fruit—Old Golden-Tooth had mentioned that normal Dragon-Vein kobolds didn't possess such a trait.

  "Can you still find the way? Take me there. I want to see this tree," he said.

  For a place to grow such unique fruit with a dragon's aura, there had to be something strange about it. He just hoped it wasn't some injured dragon that had passed by decades ago, spilled a few drops of dragon blood on a tree, and created a legend. That kind of cliché was only valuable in storybooks.

  Aiskin nodded vigorously, appearing as if she had been ready for this moment. Tars watched her excitement and suspected she might have even rehearsed the route, picking the shortest and easiest path just for him. It was just like her; though he never pointed it out, she always had a deep desire to appear a bit more clever.

  The two kobolds set off. At first, Aiskin followed her usual habit of being incredibly cautious. But gradually, she realized that being with Tars was different—it was even more relaxed than traveling with the main hunting party.

  As they ventured further from the settlement, Tars felt a touch of admiration for their bravery in coming this far. At the same time, he remembered he had explicitly warned Aiskin to only catch grubs nearby and not to wander off. Knowing the Big-Dumb-Humper, he would never have dared to disobey. The only possibility was that Aiskin had coerced him into coming along.

  Seeing her lack of concern, Tars decided he needed to give this reckless girl a proper scare.

  As they pushed forward, the environment grew more complex. He spotted a small group of lizardmen that they could have easily bypassed, but he deliberately guided their path until they ran right into them.

  Aiskin immediately dropped low, trying to hide in a hollow. At that critical moment, Tars pretended to be distracted. He moved a step too slow, failed to hide, and just stood there looking "dazed."

  The sight terrified Aiskin. She hadn't seen Tars fight off a crowd of lizardmen before, so she couldn't even fathom what was about to happen. He stood there as the lizardmen screeched just a few paces away. It all happened in a heartbeat; only when the flying short-spears were nearly upon him did he turn to look at Aiskin.

  "I recall saying that a kobold wandering alone is in great danger. Even if you drag the Big-Dumb-Humper along, it doesn't change much."