As the phantasmagoric scenes began to recede, Tars realized he still didn't know the man's name. None of the flashing images had contained anyone calling out to him; perhaps the focus of memory differs across times and places. It wasn't until the final, fleeting image of childhood that he heard a soft, tender female voice whisper "Hayat" just before everything ended. Most of the fragments had been lost, or perhaps they were never central enough to the man's memories to exist in the first place.

  Tars decided that when he passed that way again on his return journey, he would set a stone before the grave of this ill-tempered benefactor and leave a name.

  Experiencing these bizarre events only left him with more questions.

  Could the final sentence of that biography be true? Or was it merely the alcohol-fueled whim of some storyteller? Thinking back, in the disjointed and leaping memories of the man likely named Hayat, there truly hadn't been a single scene that clearly belonged to the Surface World—not a single frame of a clear blue sky in his entire life.

  "Only a wizard may walk upon the surface."

  What did that even mean? If taken literally, did it mean these wizard apprentices weren't just explorers in the Underworld, sent on tasks for some grand master, but were actually huddled here like little kobolds? Living forever in this endless dark?

  These fifth-level apprentices, whose mental energy had reached its limit—did they really not come from the surface? Was the path to the world above truly that difficult to travel?

  He realized then that his ignorance of magical knowledge was perhaps the least of his concerns; the Underworld itself might have even greater surprises in store for him.

  He ate a few of the meat-grubs from the storage pouch, partly to clear out some space. He tucked the books and mana stones inside first, then sorted through the rest of the junk. Most of it he threw away—things he couldn't use and couldn't carry. Besides, he needed to leave room for the next benefactor.

  Thinking of the next predecessor waiting to be buried, he recalled the shattered, pale-grey crystal. He wondered if every wizard apprentice left such a thing behind upon death. He suspected it might have been unique to that individual, but there was no need for exhausting guesswork; the answer would be revealed once he reached the next inheritance site.

  Though he wasn't sure what that substance was, he felt his mental energy had grown slightly after absorbing it, though the increase was small and nowhere near enough to break through to a second-level apprentice. In this wilderness, he wouldn't dare attempt an exhausting meditation session or spell testing.

  He glanced at the Lightfoot manual and decided to rest a while longer. After all, his previous sleep had been interrupted and was far from restorative.

  "I'm counting on you this time. You're on watch. I can see you're a sharp one—a real clever bug!"

  He leaned half-lying against the stone wall and patted the nursery pouch at his waist. The unhatched insect gave a slight wiggle in response, as if it actually understood.

  "Do a good job. You're not a baby anymore; it's time you started worrying about this household. Since you liked that egg so much, next time I'll catch that giant snake for you to eat."

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The nursery pouch vibrated violently.

  He chuckled, curled around his trusty staff, and drifted off to sleep. This time, there were no dreams and no interruptions. The accumulated exhaustion of the past few days acted as an invisible pillow; no matter how he lay or rolled, he slept soundly.

  Upon waking, he treated himself to a bottle of shaved ice and half a prized cooked meat-grub, setting a good mood for the new leg of his journey. The other target was also within this tunnel system. He shouldered his staff and set out once more.

  He remained curious about what the shadow had mentioned regarding the city the "little insect-people" were heading toward. It was unsettling that so many strange wizard apprentices were converging on his living area. Unfortunately, his reading of the memory fragments had provided no clues; perhaps the information was lost, or perhaps the man had been lying.

  In his mind, the "cry-baby" insect-person had likely already entered the city. All these people were destined for a wasted trip.

  Traveling through the small tunnels was much more relaxing than crossing the open spaces. Even though some "small" tunnels contained caverns as large as palatial towers, they didn't compare to the constant sense of peril found in the vast wildernesses that felt like independent worlds.

  Checking his crystal clock, he estimated he had walked for over a day. In another half-day at most, he would reach the final stop of his journey. Throughout this time, he had used magic to maintain a continuous, sleepless pace. The joy of nearing his inheritance made his steps light.

  "A wizard apprentice of the Black Eerie Tower?"

  Tars turned a corner and came upon three people resting. A voice tinged with a hint of a smile drifted toward him.

  The situation froze him in his tracks. He steadied himself and looked down at his robes; it seemed his attire had caused a misunderstanding. He quietly observed the trio. Their clothing lacked any unifying features. One powerful figure looked vaguely familiar—the man who had been chasing the giant snake that day. The other two were ordinary-looking young men. It was one of the latter who had called out to him.

  "Come rest, little fellow. No need to be nervous," the man said again.

  Tars wore his hood up, casting almost his entire face into shadow. However, a kobold's snout was impossible to hide perfectly. Even in the dim light, a close look would reveal the truth.

  "A low-level apprentice... being alone is too dangerous. You can follow us," the friendly man suggested.

  Whoosh! The silent man beside him raised a hand, conjuring a roaring bonfire. The sound nearly drowned out the friendly man's voice.

  Tars hesitated, nodding his thanks to the friendly man. Then, bracing himself, he used his short legs to walk toward the makeshift camp.

  The tall, muscular man glanced over and suddenly spoke. "What you should do is leave this place and crawl back to the Black Eerie Tower."

  "Now, Baont, don't be so harsh," the friendly man chuckled. "Not all apprentices from that tower are disgusting."

  Baont was merciless. "Low-level apprentices only come here to die. You just want him to scout the path. And you," he glanced at the silent man, "by sitting there in silence, you agree with him."

  "He might suffer a worse fate if he goes back. Dangerous missions are the only opportunities for people like him," the silent man poking the fire suddenly spoke, his voice slow and deliberate. "Looking at him, he likely crawled out of a pile of test subjects. Some apprentices in the Black Eerie Tower are like that—though few are as... thorough as him. He's been modified beyond recognition."

  "A kobold?" The friendly man looked genuinely surprised. "He's actually a kobold? Your mentor must be insane."

  Baont ignored the topic. "Those giant bugs should be dead by now, right? Perhaps we don't need to stay together anymore," he said.

  "Fine with me."

  "Hey, I wanted the little guy to join us, and you're both disbanding?"

  The man tending the fire didn't say another word. He took a step forward, walked directly into the flames, and vanished.

  The friendly man looked left and right, appearing unwilling to stay alone with Baont. He turned and left, his silhouette seemingly flickering through the darkness with every step.

  In an instant, only Tars, Baont, and the central bonfire remained.

  "Come, sit," Baont said.