"You might not even be as tall as my thigh."

  Inside the cavernous hot spring hall, where the mist swirled like ghosts, the charcoal-skinned female elf let out yet another remark that would have wounded any ordinary kobold. Fortunately, she had finally put on her clothes—a loose, shapeless robe that concealed her figure.

  "If you aren't a genius, you must be a world-class idiot," she concluded, delivering her final verdict on him.

  I liked you better when you were the cool, silent type, Tars thought.

  Watching her back as she turned to leave, he let out a long, silent breath of relief. She was finally going. Though he had forced himself to remain calm, the sheer gap in their strength had kept his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew his own truth: he was merely a First-Level apprentice with a handful of spells and a "wild" background, his knowledge of magical theory almost a total void. Most importantly, he wasn't some mad "modifier" who had transformed himself.

  From her behavior, she wasn't particularly angry; she had pursued him mainly out of curiosity toward a kobold wizard.

  As she walked further away, her voice still drifted back through the steam.

  "It won't be easy to climb out once you've sunk into such a low-tier bloodline. In my opinion, even a Dragon-kin kobold is a poor choice, and a pure-blooded dragon is just... boring. Be careful not to turn yourself into some freakish hybrid. The stodgy Heterodox Dragon Management Committee might just knock on your door to register... and 'monitor' you."

  At the far end of the tunnel, her silhouette finally vanished completely.

  Tars listened to her parting words and scratched his head with a clawed hand. It was as if she assumed a Dragon-kin transformation was a guaranteed success for him, speaking as though he actually had a choice in the matter. He had never been that well-off; for now, he was just a patch of wild grass.

  He looked back into the cave. Did the elf come here just to bathe? Could there be treasure under the water? Why would a noble elf wizard show up in a godforsaken place like this?

  A wizard never does anything without value, a line from Karyu's diary reminded him.

  Furthermore, people like him—self-taught and unaffiliated—were referred to in the diary as "Wild Wizards." It sounded rather eco-friendly, suggesting something that thrived tenaciously; like wild grass that could never become a towering tree, yet could never be fully uprooted.

  He pondered this all the way back. He thought of the half-man's words, the elf's warnings, the intricate runes of Frost Ray, and this small kobold settlement. Kobolds seemed to be losing their role as hunters in this region. He was beginning to understand why they were so desperate to find a "Master" to serve and support with the strength of the whole tribe.

  "Brother Tars!" Aiskin hurried to meet him.

  In the distance, he saw Old Gold-Tooth dozing. The sprout-like light-threads on the old man had grown another finger's length, even without him consuming more glowing matter.

  "These are for you. I'm very strong now, don't worry," Tars said. He activated Bull's Strength and patted the girl's shoulder. Though the height difference made the gesture look slightly comical, he continued, "I'll be traveling far away for a while. I'll catch some beasts for you and Old Gold-Tooth on my way."

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  Aiskin happily accepted the cooked grubs, taking a large bite as she went to put them away. "Brother Tars, did you find the fruit?" she asked, assuming that was the source of his strength.

  "No, but it's even better than Humph's fruit. It makes you more powerful, though I'm afraid you can't eat it," he replied.

  "I don't want it! I'm already strong," she huffed. "I wanted to find one for you, but Humph is too stupid. He says his nose can't remember the scent. I went out with him several times, but we found nothing... But it won't matter soon. A big, strange, wounded kobold came by. He said he was a messenger from the Red-Horn Tribe. He ate a lot of our grubs before he died. He said the great Red-Horn Tribe is expanding and willing to protect all kobold groups—and there are mines to dig!"

  "Hmph! They're looking for miners, those cunning Dragon-kin kobolds!" Old Gold-Tooth had woken up and barked loudly. "They must have too many of these light-bugs over there and food to spare, so they want to expand their territory. They'll probably go to war with those point-ear elves soon. Mark my words, Old Gold-Tooth sees through it all..."

  Small groups like theirs were usually the losers of mining wars—oppressed, forced to dig and surrender food for a time. But kobolds bred far too quickly. When the expanded territory could no longer support those outside the main tribe, the ones who had been squeezed dry would be cast out entirely. Now, the Red-Horn Tribe couldn't even wait for their own strength to build; they were in a hurry. Old Gold-Tooth was likely right.

  Will there be dragons in the Red-Horn Tribe? Real, pure-blooded ones? And would a powerful dragon really enslave large tribes just to collect treasure?

  "I'm warning you, youngster," Old Gold-Tooth cautioned, as if sensing Tars's wandering thoughts. "You can walk to the furthest edges of this world and find the strongest tribe, but you won't find a true dragon. Having Dragon-kin kobolds doesn't mean the tribe houses high nobility like a dragon."

  He warned Tars that the success rate for becoming a Dragon-kin in such tribes was abysmal; throwing his life away for them would be a waste. In truth, for ones like Old Gold-Tooth or Humph, a bath in true dragon blood would likely grant their hearts' desire. But kobolds were mere servants to dragons; bathing in their blood was a fundamental contradiction to their very existence.

  Tars gave Aiskin the location of his new home and agreed on a secret code so she could leave marks on the wall if he was out.

  "I didn't expect you to be so... dedicated."

  Tars had just sat down in his new "three-sided" home when that startling voice rang out. The beautiful elf stepped slowly out of the shadows.

  "I wondered before if your tutor had modified you for an experiment. But seeing you just now made me reject that idea." She approached him, her charcoal-gray skin shimmering with an excited, silken luster. "You might actually be a genius treading a path no one has walked. That ugly but clever little kobold... is she your friend? And that old one dying of light-rot? You're actually making friends with kobolds in this tiny tribe!"

  Her eyes glowed with fervor as she leaned in close. Seeing him speechless, she pressed on.

  "I read a theory in a book once—a method for ancient Bloodline Wizards to combat bloodline rejection. A hypothesis! To act like a thief! To gain the recognition of the bloodline source. The goal wasn't just to dampen the turbulence in the blood, but to steal the 'Inheritance.' Not to passively inherit through purification, but to pick the lock of a treasure chest, to break into a vault! That book was all theory, but you... you're putting it into action. And I'm certain you haven't seen that book, because it's a unique, solitary copy..."

  The more she spoke, the more excited she became. Tars had gone from being shocked by her sudden appearance to being speechless, and finally to being afraid to even open his mouth.

  "Of course, this theory only works for targets with a Bloodline Inheritance. Fortunately, those are usually powerful beings—like demons or dragons. They are born with unique 'True Names,' as if recognized by the world itself. Whenever they reach a certain rank, they draw extraordinary talents and spell-like abilities from that unfathomable river of power. It's said that every wizard's Sigil is just a byproduct of Great Wizards studying bits and pieces of demon True Names."

  She sat down beside him, looking into his eyes. "And you—if it isn't this, then what are you doing? Because I see nothing but confusion in your eyes."