Tars felt his mental power being drained rapidly. In his mental space, an invisible brush seemed to be tracing a wondrous spell model high in the air. His mental power acted as both the driving force for the brush and the ink being forcibly drawn. He now only needed to ensure a steady flow of "ink," keeping his mental power from fluctuating too wildly.

  A Zero-Ring spell model generally consists of twenty nodes. Fetid Skin had nineteen. Just as he began to feel the onset of fatigue, the spell model was finally completed, floating like a strange, tumbling kite in his mental space.

  Observing closely, the spell model, much like the runes, shifted within a certain range. Or rather, a spell model was simply an alternative kind of rune—more complex, a peculiar creation of human intervention directed toward a specific purpose. Tars stared at it for a long time before withdrawing from his trance.

  The legacy scroll had warned that the rapid construction of a spell model would consume vast amounts of mental power; one had to be in peak condition before unfurling it. After resting sufficiently, he eagerly began to trace the runes.

  The six runes were traced in succession, handled with mastery. His mental power remained as steady as a trickling stream. He moved faster and faster, entering a state of total self-immersion. Before the first rune could even begin to fade, the sixth was perfectly rendered.

  For a moment, his mental space seemed to freeze. Then, it began to expand. An invisible repulsion existed between the six runes; their collective power pushed the boundaries of his mental space outward, while the constraints of the space simultaneously squeezed them toward the center. The six "little things" drew closer, emitting beautiful threads of light that entangled upon contact.

  The entire mental space shuddered.

  Invisible ripples spread outward as the Sigil took shape, continuing until the expansion and tremors ceased. A dark red Sigil now rested peacefully at the very center of his mental space, looking like a wound torn into flesh by a claw. Upon closer inspection, it was composed of countless tiny runes, constantly shifting yet maintaining a stable overall form—as if the original six had been dismantled into innumerable fragments in that instant.

  He opened his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead, a grin creeping across his face.

  The newly stabilized mental space was suddenly flooded with an inexpressible sense of emptiness—a strange feeling of absence, as if his soul were no longer whole. It was like a hunger of the spirit. The moment this feeling emerged, he knew he had succeeded.

  This was the Zero-Ring spell slot created by the meditation method as the mental space expanded. It sat at the very pinnacle of his realm. Only after embedding his chosen spell model would he be whole again and rid himself of that sense of lack. This was precisely why solidified spells were so special, reaching the level of near-instinct.

  Steeling his nerves, he re-entered meditation. The model for Fetid Skin was drawn upward toward the heights. The process was surprisingly smooth, proving his high affinity for the spell.

  The moment the solidification was complete, he fell into a brief trance. His vision seemed to traverse an unimaginable distance, witnessing an incredibly remote place. There stood a giant, snow-white tree, looming in solitude. It had five thick branches but not a single leaf. One look at this white tree inspired a sense of absolute holiness; he felt, inexplicably, that it was the purest, most sacred thing in existence.

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  Then, he snapped back to reality.

  The completed spell model had slotted into the invisible gap. A sense of spiritual fulfillment washed over him, leaving his body and mind basking in an inexpressible comfort. At the dome of his mental space, it was as if a new star had appeared. He looked up, feeling as though he were creating a small, illusory world—the Sigil being a canyon beneath a starry sky.

  Withdrawing from meditation, he stood to stretch his limbs while eagerly attempting his first-ever casting. With a mere thought, Fetid Skin activated as naturally as breathing. High affinity combined with solidification meant there was zero clunkiness and no perceptible drain on his energy.

  Once cast, the spell entered a maintenance phase fueled by mental power. He closed his eyes to feel the flow; it felt as though he could keep the spell running forever. He grinned, his nose twitching slightly.

  Gradually, his brow furrowed. His movements became more agitated, shaking loose tufts of fur from his face. In this bizarre world, a kobold's sense of smell—if not the strongest—was certainly among the elite.

  "Is it because of the affinity?" he wondered.

  He felt none of the torment described in the manual—the "side effects" the caster usually had to endure. There was only a faint, indescribable scent. It wasn't foul, nor was it fragrant; it wasn't pungent, yet it was impossible to ignore. Its uniqueness defied description, and he exhausted many brain cells trying to categorize it without success. It felt as though the sensation extended beyond the mere olfactory.

  Perhaps very few people ever solidify this spell, he thought. Because it was rare, there were few records, and the scroll hadn't mentioned special changes upon solidification like Mental Seethe did. In his case, the combination of solidification and high affinity had likely deepened his mastery of the spell.

  He thought back to the tree he had seen. Why would a "foul and stinking" spell show him a holy tree in the middle of nowhere? He clicked his teeth and paced the floor, kicking away two small stones that were in his way.

  Still, he felt uneasy about the spell's actual effect. He wanted to go out and test it on a sufficiently strong kobold—someone like Big Silly Humph, who was now a guard.

  Before that, he decided to handle the storage pouch. After a short rest, he unfurled the legacy scroll for Arcane Mark. With a silent ripple perceptible only to his mind, another scroll turned to dust. Now a formal Level 1 wizard apprentice, his mental space was more stable and his energy more condensed. The Arcane Mark model had only fifteen nodes; the process was entirely effortless.

  The completed model drifted above his mental sea, orbiting the Sigil in the void. Unlike solidified spells, normal models required manual empowerment; gestures and incantations helped align one's mental frequency with the model to fill it faster.

  Feeling the drain of his mental power, he chose to manifest the mark on the back of his hand.

  Zero-Ring spell: Arcane Mark.

  The mark generated by every caster is unique, staying with them for life like a name. It allows the caster to brand personal symbols—visible or invisible—onto targets. It can be used to foil forgeries, detect swaps, or track a target's general direction within a certain range. Most importantly, it is used for contracts. Whether between wizards or with a familiar, an Arcane Mark is used in place of a signature and is recognized by the laws of the world.

  Thus, it was considered one of the three essential spells to master early on. The specific pattern is beyond the caster's control and cannot be changed later; it is an abstract reflection of the caster's existence.

  Please don't be a bone... and definitely don't let it be a kobold's face...

  He watched the mark form with bated breath. When it was halfway done, he breathed a sigh of relief. He brushed aside the sparse hair on the back of his hand to reveal two interlocking rings. In the center, a series of crisscrossing lines and negative space formed the image of a flower that had not yet fully bloomed.