Luge ran faster and faster. He climbed up, filled the pit completely, and left the valley.
He had no idea what caliber of wizard would come to retrieve the wingless aberrant dragon, nor when or how they would arrive, much less whether their temper and disposition would be mild or foul. It was best to slip away while he could. After all, one thing was certain: anyone who came would undoubtedly be far stronger than he was now.
Judging from the supervision tier marked on the metal plaque, this aberrant dragon—which was explicitly noted to be no weaker than pureblood dragons, and even stronger than most purebloods of the same period—had nearly fallen into the lowest bracket, designated only as a target of the second-to-lowest tier. This reflected the staggering upper limit of dragon life-forms, as well as the immense power of the Aberrant Dragon Regulatory Committee.
With such a peculiar form of unattended oversight, every time an aberrant dragon ran off, it either met someone lawful who took some dragon blood and reported it, crossed paths with a greedy individual who moved directly against it, or was left entirely undisturbed, meeting no one and dying slowly in its slumber. Presumably, an ordinary stubborn and cowardly little dragon would behave after being retrieved once or twice.
He recalled the Gray Longneck Holy Lord's mocking of Bald Tooth. When that great serpent, covered from head to tail in wounds old and new, heard that a King of Kobolds had emerged from the Red Horn Tribe and even claimed he would deal with wizards, it had been unable to stop itself from throwing back its head and laughing. That great serpent clearly knew a great deal and possessed a certain understanding of wizards; it must have spent considerable time at some wizard's side.
Looking at the dragon blood that had already claimed nearly half the Abyssal Bedroom, Luge quickened his pace.
The arcane mark he had left behind would also be his first venture into the true wizarding world.
Striding swiftly under the buffs of two spells, he felt for the first time how exhilarating running could be, as if it had a cathartic effect on the mind. Light as a swallow yet steady and powerful, every forward leap was pure pleasure. The crags and boulders along the way served as footholds to propel him forward at breakneck speed. Although he still could not compare to Baonte, he was already thoroughly satisfied.
He went straight to Old Gold Tooth's dwelling.
Neither Aisjin nor Big Dumb Hum was around; only the old kobold sat there quietly, examining his luminous bean-sprout threads in fine detail.
Looking at the very things that were going to take his life, the old kobold actually seemed immensely pleased, sighing in wonder from time to time or muttering softly to himself.
Luge walked up beside him and looked down at the old kobold.
"You're here. No need to fuss. You don't belong here, and you certainly don't need to take dangerous risks for an old kobold like me who can do nothing but tell stories. And tell Aisjin she isn't all that clever yet; tell her not to waste her energy running all over the place. She only listens to you anyway. That thing that sprang from your hand last time was a spell, wasn't it? Just focus on your own affairs..."
Old Gold Tooth spoke leisurely without even turning his head.
After a moment's thought, Luge opened the door to the Abyssal Bedroom, went inside, and dug out a small separate pool. He used frozen earth to create a simple barrier against the encroaching dragon blood, though most of the floor was already thoroughly soaked. In this way, the area was partitioned into three: the original large pool, the temporary small pool, and the blood left to spread freely. The blood in the large pool remained the cleanest.
Luge stepped out of the spatial doorway, only to see Old Gold Tooth staring toward him, mouth agape in shock.
"Today, I'll show you something you've never seen before."
With that, he took hold of Old Gold Tooth, taking great care to avoid touching the bean-sprout-like luminous threads.
As he made contact with Old Gold Tooth, he quietly left an arcane mark on him as well. This was a precaution in case something went wrong with the old kobold—such as transforming into a mindless monster and running amok—making him easier to track down.
"I knew you were different. You don't belong here. I guessed you were a powerful spellcaster, even more formidable than those pointy-ears..."
Pulled into the wondrous space, the old kobold heaped praise after praise, his eyes hardly able to take it all in as his head turned unceasingly up, down, left, and right.
When Old Gold Tooth caught sight of the dragon blood, his voice cut off abruptly.
"Come on. Today is a good day for a bath."
Luge supported Old Gold Tooth, who could barely walk, and brought him over to the temporary little pool.
"Th-this is—" Old Gold Tooth stared at the dragon blood in the pool, sensing that peculiar, oppressive aura.
Luge took the chance to examine the luminous threads on the old kobold's body. Upon entering this space, the threads had visibly grown less active, yet under mental power probe, they gave no impression of withering.
"Yes, it's just what you think. All of this is yours. Whether you bathe in it or want to drink it dry, I have no objections. In fact, I'd be glad to witness such a striking sight."
As Luge spoke, with a single thought, he shut the spatial door behind him.
The Abyssal Bedroom became an entirely sealed chamber.
He released his supportive grip.
Old Gold Tooth swayed slightly, snapping out of his daze. The old kobold looked at him, then back down at the pool of dragon blood. Leaning forward in disbelief, he sprawled beside the edge, stretched out his head, and cautiously took a small sip.
This action caught Luge off guard, but he simply stood aside, watching quietly.
He did not rush him.
Old Gold Tooth's mouth fell wide open, his stunned expression never wavering, though a deepening joy and excitement brewed beneath it. It seemed that no matter how his emotions shifted, nothing could pierce that deep-seated instinct ingrained in a kobold's heart—not even for a wise old kobold.
*Looking at it this way, that King of Kobolds from the Red Horn Tribe really is an extraordinary kobold,* Luge thought to himself.
After an almost frenzied sequence of bows and kowtows, his muzzle smeared with crimson, Old Gold Tooth finally stepped into the pool of dragon blood.
In truth, the old kobold's transformation had already begun the moment he swallowed the first mouthful of dragon blood, as evidenced by the remarkably steady stride with which he finally stepped into the blood pool, as if he had returned to his youth.
The old kobold was not much larger than Luge, and the temporary pool had been tailored precisely to that size. Old Gold Tooth lay inside, his entire body submerging into the dragon blood. The pool, though not particularly deep, swallowed his figure in the blink of an eye, leaving only bubbling ripples upon the surface.
Luge waited with peace of mind. The luminous threads growing on the old kobold seemed to thrive even more vigorously after he drank the dragon blood.
Old Gold Tooth truly was an exceptional case.
Luge decided to sort through the storage pouch he had set aside amid his recent busyness, which he had been saving as a pleasant surprise.
Food, books and research notes on Fire Bolt, some clothing... Then his hands paused. He had actually found a diary. Such things were his absolute favorite, and a diary written by someone he had personally killed carried an even more distinct flavor.
Paying no mind to taking stock of the other items—this was neither the time nor the place for thorough tidying—he drew out the diary and flipped through it in his hands.
It was a diary begun only around the middle apprentice stage.
Casually opening to a random page, the very first sentence caught Luge off guard:
*—Day of Silence. Feeling restless. The stalled path is about to open, yet that cunning pseudo-dragon with red dragon bloodline deceived me—deceived an apprentice wizard destined for greatness! It can now be confirmed that so-called dragon heart blood is nothing more than a fabrication from third-rate pulp novels. It holds nothing special whatsoever.*
Chapter 49