Back when he had decided to stop joining the tribe's hunts, during the stretch when no plump grubs appeared, Aisjin often shared her hard-won food with him.
This went against kobold instinct, and it was what made her unique. She sometimes picked her teeth with a fingernail while she talked; the roast meat she brought was always burnt and reeked; her speech would never be fluent, and the so-called ability to converse was only a matter of degree next to other kobolds' clumsiness. But he genuinely regarded her as a friend.
Although it was he who had happened to save Aisjin during a tribe hunt, he knew that kobolds were not creatures who understood repaying kindness. Even Aisjin would not give away her own food just because he had saved her.
As he felt it, Aisjin was mostly cherishing him—cherishing that at last, in this tribe, there was a special little kobold who would chat with her, and who said things she had never understood, never heard, never even imagined.
Just like that roast meat, its charred smell mixed with a rank stench. Aisjin had learned from their talks that he liked cooked food, and only then tried her hand at making it. Part of her motive was wanting her good friend to eat happily; part was Aisjin's own wish to try something new.
“Brother Luge, be careful when you go catching grubs alone. There are stinking lizards nearby lately.” She said it with a solemn face.
“Lizardfolk? Has their hunting party crossed into the hunting grounds?” Luge was somewhat surprised. For a hunting party to recklessly step into another's territory was not as simple as stealing prey; it usually grew into a war between two tribes.
“Not a lizardfolk hunting party. Lizardfolk one by one, sometimes two by two, three by three. They're catching the fat grubs too,” she said.
Luge thought this was very abnormal. Between the two tribes lay each side's vast hunting territory.
The only thing lizardfolk and kobolds had in common on this land was their powerful fertility.
Hunting abroad and holding their own both depended on the size of the tribe. A hunting party formed from a great crowd of kin was an all-conquering weapon against large underground beasts.
And now the creatures of this region all seemed to have had their way of life changed by the grubs.
But lizardfolk catching grubs shouldn't require traveling this far.
The two of them went on to talk about the Black Claw Holy Lord. Aisjin still followed the tribe out to hunt, because the Black Claw Holy Lord did not like eating grubs—but so long as enough food was offered, it did not care whether the kobolds caught grubs to eat. In that respect it was better than the domineering Gray Longneck Holy Lord. Besides, the Gray Longneck Holy Lord was not dead.
Once, while the Gray Longneck Holy Lord was leading the kobolds out to hunt, it came upon the present Black Claw Holy Lord. The two underground beasts, both of which had already developed intelligence, started fighting the moment they met. In the end, with a great many kobolds dead, the Gray Longneck Holy Lord was defeated and fled, and no one knew where it went.
“The Black Claw Holy Lord doesn't like being disturbed. It chose a guard for its own great burrow—the biggest and tallest Hmph was chosen.” Aisjin raised her hands, gesturing as she spoke. “The Holy Lord gave it a black fruit. After Hmph ate it, it grew taller—this tall! Stronger than three of me!”
Luge was stunned for a moment before he remembered who this kobold named Hmph was.
“Now it stands at the Holy Lord's burrow entrance. It doesn't have to get its own food, and it can eat a lot at once,” she said.
This Hmph was the big oaf he had let go before. Day to day, whatever others said or asked, the big fellow liked to answer with a grunt or two, so some kobolds had started calling him Hmph. Come to think of it, last time he had bluffed and frightened Big Stupid Hmph into saying a bit more than usual.
Luge and Aisjin shared half a grub between them and talked for a long while. He even taught Aisjin how to pronounce the word “friend” in the Earth Cave common tongue. As expected, she was delighted.
A good while after Aisjin left, Luge was still thinking about Big Stupid Hmph.
He was very interested in the fruit she had described—eat it and you quickly grow taller and stronger. It was practically a divine fruit.
He took out the little pouch he had treasured so carefully the whole way back.
With excitement in his heart, he sensed the object in his hands with his mental power; working both hands together, he opened the pouch's mouth, turned it over, and poured its contents out.
Things he knew and things he did not clattered out into a small pile.
He first gathered up the few books, then five crystals of very standard size.
After sorting through it all, apart from a small number of things he did not recognize, the main items were spell-related books and a few scroll-like objects. Looking at them, he felt not the least surprise—after all, the Half-Man had given them to him, and knew what he needed.
“Hm? A diary?”
He flipped through the books casually and stopped at the last one.
It was actually the diary of an apprentice wizard named Kaliu. The Half-Man really had prepared thoroughly.
The diary held a young man's doubts, his exclamations at first encountering spells, and many reflections gathered along the way. To Luge, who had never received any such teaching, it was simply a priceless treasure.
He suddenly realized a problem: even now, he still had not forgotten the Half-Man.
He still clearly remembered who had given him this storage pouch—remembered that the fellow wore an exquisite robe, had only half a head, and had shaved his beard very clean, leaving a smooth chin.
He recalled what the Half-Man had said.
He already had a guess. He immediately got up and took out the long stone that tested mental power.
He gripped one end of the white stone bar, took a deep breath, and concentrated. The bar slowly gave off a soft white light. He stared fixedly at the ten dots on the bar.
At last, one dot slowly lit up.
The corners of his mouth turned up. It was a pity that his branch of kobolds had no tails, or his would surely have been wagging.
This meant his mental power had already taken the first step, reaching the standard of a first-rank apprentice wizard—one prerequisite fulfilled.
He went back to the diary, intending to finish it, or to stop where he no longer understood. This diary was a window; through it he could see a person, and glimpse an unknown field. At the beginning there was mention of life at the wizard academy, which truly stirred longing, but Kaliu mostly passed over it in a line or two. More common was confusion about spells, and regret over wrong choices. Between the lines there were constant sighs; through the words he could feel intense emotion, passage after passage, and on different days it was always full of anger and regret.
Who was this Kaliu? Was the storage pouch something the Half-Man had found? Or had the Half-Man killed Kaliu and taken these things?
The diary mentioned two paths—two choices for long-term development. One was called Beast King Wizard; the other path was called the Book of Condensation.
Interestingly, Kaliu had taken neither path. The Book of Condensation was mentioned only in a few brief strokes. Kaliu's deepest regret was that he had not taken the Beast King Wizard path, because the Beast King Wizard was a comparatively easy road to becoming a formal wizard.
By the time Kaliu came across this information, he had long since completed the solidification of a zero-ring spell, and had missed the best time to take that path.
More interesting still, after searching through it all, Luge found no spells or knowledge inheritance related to the Beast King Wizard here—which meant he likewise could not take that path.
There was another argument in the diary: do not force yourself too hard when learning spells. Everyone has their own compatibility, and it differs from person to person; a spell with high compatibility can be mastered with ease, and even advanced quickly.
Reading in fits and starts, Luge in the end finished only a third of the diary before running into more and more things he could not understand.
Broadly, he saw the process of an apprentice wizard, beset by confusion and unease, going from beginning meditation to solidifying a spell, and then to even greater confusion.
“Fortunately, I probably don't have to be too confused.”
He set down the diary and looked at the few things he had at hand.
With fewer choices available, there should be less confusion—and less room for regret later.
Chapter 6