"You might not even reach my thighs."
Inside the mist-shrouded Great Cave of the hot springs, the dark-gray-skinned female elf let slip cutting remarks at the kobold's expense from time to time.
Fortunately, she had already dressed, wearing a loose robe that concealed her figure.
"If you aren't a genius, you must be an utter idiot," the female elf declared, passing her final judgment on him.
*I still liked you better when you were playing it cool when we first met,* he thought to himself.
Watching her retreating figure, he let out a long sigh of relief. This woman was finally leaving. Although he had kept himself outwardly calm, the chasm in strength between them had kept his heart in his throat the entire time. After all, he knew his own limits: he was only a first-rank apprentice who hadn't mastered more than a few spells, an unguided wild practitioner whose grasp of magical fundamentals bordered on a blank slate. And most importantly, he was not a modified wizard.
From her demeanor, she had not been particularly angry; chasing after him had mostly been out of curiosity toward a kobold wizard.
As she walked farther away, her voice still drifted back.
"Once you sink into such a low-grade bloodline vessel, crawling out won't be easy. In my view, dragonborn kobolds aren't a good choice either, and pureblood dragons are even more boring. Be careful not to turn yourself into some aberrant species in the end, or the stiff-necked Aberrant Dragon Regulatory Committee will come knocking on your door to register... and supervise you..."
At the distant end of the tunnel, the female elf's silhouette finally disappeared completely.
Listening to her parting words, Luge merely raised a claw to scratch his head.
She talked as if transforming into a dragonborn kobold were a guaranteed success for him, as if he even had a choice. He had never been that well-off; for now, at least, he was just a patch of wild grass.
He turned to look back into the cave. Did an elf come here just to take a bath? Could there be some treasure under the water? Why would a noble elf wizard appear in a godforsaken place like this?
*Wizards never do things without value.* That was a line from Kaliu's diary.
Besides, unguided practitioners like him were referred to as "wild wizards" in Kaliu's diary. It sounded quite eco-friendly, carrying connotations of thriving growth—just like wild grass that was destined never to become a towering tree, yet could never be completely weeded out.
He walked along, thinking as he went.
He thought about what Half-Man and the elf had said, about the magical lore of Ray of Frost, and about the settlement of this small kobold tribe. The kobolds seemed to be gradually losing their role as hunters in this region. He suddenly understood a little why kobolds were always so fond of finding a master whom the whole tribe could pool their strength to serve and support.
"Brother Luge!"
Aisjin, whom he hadn't seen for days, immediately came up to greet him.
Luge spotted Old Gold Tooth dozing off in the distance. The bean-sprout-like luminous threads on the old kobold seemed to have grown another finger's width, even without eating more luminescent matter.
"These are for you. I'm very strong now, so don't worry." He cast Bull's Strength and patted the kobold girl on the shoulder. Although the height difference made his gesture look a bit comical, he continued, "In a while, I'm heading out to a distant place. I'll catch some subterranean beasts along the way for you and Old Gold Tooth."
Aisjin happily accepted the boiled grubs, taking a big bite as she turned around to put them away.
"Brother Luge, did you find the fruit?" Aisjin was delighted by his increased strength.
"No, but it's even better than Big Dumb Hum's fruit. It can make you stronger—it's just a shame you can't eat it," he said.
"I don't want any! I'm already plenty tough. I wanted to find some for you, but Big Hum is too stupid. He said his nose forgot the scent. I went out with him a few times to look, but we couldn't find any..." Aisjin huffed indignantly. "But soon we won't need to anyway. A big, strange injured kobold came by, claiming to be an envoy from the Red Horn Tribe. He ate a lot of the tribe's grubs, but he still died. He said the great Red Horn Tribe is expanding and willing to shelter all kobold tribes, and there's ore to mine."
"Hmph! They're rounding up miners—those cunning dragonborn kobolds! They must have plenty of these grubs over there, more food than they can eat, so they want to expand their territory. Maybe they're even gearing up for a war with those pointy-eared elves. Can't be wrong about that! Old Gold Tooth sees through everything..."
Old Gold Tooth had woken up at some point, shouting grumpily.
Small tribes like theirs were always the losing side in fights over mine tunnels, only to be exploited—mining and offering up food for a time. But kobolds reproduced too prolifically; once the expanded territory could no longer accommodate kobolds from outside the clan, the exploited side, stripped of everything, would be driven out completely.
And now, they couldn't even wait for their own tribe to spend the time building up strength. Clearly, there was something urgent they needed done, which meant what Old Gold Tooth said was very likely true.
Could there be a dragon in the Red Horn Tribe? A pureblood dragon? Would a mighty dragon enslave several large tribes to hoard treasure for it?
"Let me warn you, youngster: if you keep walking out from here, even if you go as far as you can and find the most powerful tribe, there won't be a true dragon. Having dragonborn kobolds doesn't mean the tribe has genuinely noble dragons."
Old Gold Tooth seemed afraid that Luge, a young kobold with a head full of ideas, would do something foolish. He repeatedly cautioned him that the success rate of transforming into a dragonborn kobold in such tribes was terribly low, and impulsively risking his life would only squander a chance.
In truth, for the likes of Old Gold Tooth and Big Dumb Hum, they hadn't really missed their chance. As long as they could bathe in true dragon blood, they stood a high chance of getting what they wished for.
Unfortunately, kobolds were insignificant beings that served true dragons; bathing in dragon blood virtually contradicted their very existence.
Luge told Aisjin the location of his new home and agreed on a secret code so she could leave a mark on the wall if he wasn't around.
"I never expected you to be so invested..."
Just as Luge sat down in his new home—open on three sides—he heard that utterly unexpected voice.
The beautiful female elf stepped slowly out from the shadows.
"You really might be a genius, walking a path no one has taken before. Is that ugly but clever little kobold your friend in the tribe? And that old kobold about to die from turning into light—you're actually making friends with kobolds in this little tribe!"
Her dark gray face shimmered with a mesmerizing luster born of excitement, smooth as silk.
The elf leaned in close to gaze at Luge, her eyes sparkling with exhilaration. Seeing that he remained silent, she continued.
"I once read in a book about a method—a hypothesis!—conceived by ancient bloodline wizards to combat bloodline rejection. Like a thief! Gaining the approval of the bloodline's source. In the latter parts of the theory, the goal wasn't just to quell the turbulence in the bloodline, but even to steal the heritage. Not passively inheriting it through bloodline purification, but like jimmying open a treasure chest, unlocking a vault! That book was entirely theoretical, yet you're putting it into practice! And I'm certain you've never read that book, because it was a unique, sole surviving copy..."
The female elf grew more excited as she spoke.
At first, Luge had merely been shocked by her sudden appearance, then left speechless; now, he dared not utter a single word.
"Of course, such a hypothesis could only work against targets with an inherited bloodline; otherwise, seeking the source's approval would be out of the question. Fortunately, those possessing bloodline heritages are mighty creatures, such as demons, or true dragons. From birth, they obtain unique true names, as if granted the world's acknowledgment. Whenever they reach a certain rank, they gain bizarre talents and various spell-like abilities from that unfathomable river. It's said that every wizard's arcane mark is just a minor byproduct, scrap material left over from great wizards researching demon true names."
The female elf sat to the side, looking at him.
"As for you—if you aren't doing that, then what on earth are you doing? I can see the blank confusion in your eyes."
Chapter 20