The constant struggles between the subterranean races, the Red-Horn Tribe's ambitious expansion of the kobold population, and that visionary Kobold King...

  Tars pondered these things as he stared silently into the campfire. Noticing the crowd nearby and the occasional curious glances being thrown his way, he pulled his hood low. The firelight flickered against his face, casting a long, sharp shadow from the rim of his hood.

  "If you have anything you wish to trade, you should check out that lizardman camp," the Fire Guy suddenly said, turning toward Tars. "There are plenty of low-level apprentices there who set up private stalls to swap the little trinkets in their possession."

  Tars's eyes lit up at the suggestion. His long-awaited first step into integrating with the transcendent world was starting with a kobold visiting a bazaar.

  But then he remembered the lizardmen—the ancestral rivals of kobolds. Even if these creatures were now entirely under the thumb of a certain apprentice, he wondered if he would be met with instinctive hostility or even an attack if he approached. Despite these worries, he was already on his feet, heading toward the camp.

  He was desperately hungry for contact with the supernatural world beyond the half-man and his small circle. The prospect of meeting low-level apprentices just like himself was too enticing to pass up; he had to explore. Ideally, he could get his hands on some interesting spells. In return, he could sell off a few things—like the notebooks regarding Firebolt research he had scavenged from that dead apprentice's storage bag.

  Tightening his hood, he drew closer to the two exceptionally tall lizardmen guarding the entrance. The pair twitched their noses, watching him with curiosity, but they didn't dare make a move. Tars passed through smoothly, even making a point to pause mid-step to watch the two stinking lizards gawk at him in confusion.

  Inside, he saw several tents and a few strange, square-shaped little houses made of golden metal. He was initially drawn by the scent of food, but he soon shook his head and made a beeline for the stalls lining the "streets." The camp was larger than he had expected, roughly divided into three main thoroughfares. There was even a tavern on a street corner, while one entire street was dedicated to independent vendors.

  Tars noted the attire and expressions of the apprentices. To use the terminology from Karyu's diary, these were clearly "wild wizards." Their aura was distinct from those who had received orthodox training in established organizations. Most wild wizards were either accidental wanderers who had stumbled upon a wizard's legacy or those whose aptitude was too low to be accepted by a proper academy.

  Strictly speaking, he was a pure wild wizard himself.

  Tars sauntered up to a stall and found it covered in objects he didn't recognize: liquids, solids, jars of various sizes, and even shriveled limbs of unknown origin. The stall owner was an elderly man in a tattered robe. He wasn't particularly warm upon Tars's arrival, merely eyeing the kobold's height and the face hidden beneath the hood with some curiosity.

  Tars scanned the items briefly before moving on. He needed things he could actually understand—things with text, like books or scrolls. Soon, a target appeared. A crowd of two or three figures had gathered around a particular stall, and he could hear the sound of voices in discussion.

  Being small, he easily squeezed through to see what the fuss was about. He felt a sense of novelty in everything; after being cooped up in a kobold warren for so long, he hadn't seen this many people in ages. His eyes swept over the stall, and he immediately identified the subject of the debate. It was indeed a book, but a brand-new publication titled The Great Reveal: Truths of the Mystery City. A thin volume cost five mana stones—and that was only if you left your mystical mark on a contract promising not to show it to others. If you refused the mark, the price jumped to seven mana stones.

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  Tars figured the seller just wanted seven stones and had set the prices close to nudge people that way. Most apprentices seemed to agree; no one liked leaving their mystical signature on a contract for no reason. Since information was what he lacked most—he could barely follow the conversations between Kanaya and the others—he shelled out seven mana stones for a copy.

  He continued his stroll, occasionally wandering into corners to see if the half-man would find an opportunity to appear. He had already decided to exit through the far side of the camp to spend some time alone in a secluded spot.

  Stopping before a middle-aged man who was clearly a wild wizard, Tars looked at the spellbooks on display. These were markedly different from the books he already owned, lacking any sense of elegance or weight.

  "Personal hand-copied editions, no unauthorized alterations. The first half covers basic spell models, the second half contains my own insights..." The owner flicked dust off his robe as he spoke to Tars.

  Tars didn't question him, his eyes moving rapidly between the books. Unfortunately, even after a long look, he felt no flicker of spiritual intuition.

  "May I pick one up to look?" he asked.

  The owner made a gesture of invitation.

  Among these pathetic books, there was actually a copy of Firebolt, proving the man's business was likely doing poorly. Tars felt the selection was getting less reliable the more he looked, and he eventually settled on a Zero-Ring spell: Light. A minor spell like this was unlikely to have any dangerous flaws.

  "Fifty mana stones," the owner said.

  Tars froze. Although he didn't know the market rate perfectly, this was a mere handwritten copy of a common spell; aside from a wild wizard, no one would give it a second glance. He had mana stones in his pocket, but he wasn't about to waste them. This was unacceptable.

  "I have something good here," Tars said, pulling out one of the Firebolt research notebooks. "Don't be in a hurry. Take a look at this."

  The owner frowned but took the notebook. Tars knew that among wild wizards, Firebolt was a spell with a very high solidification rate. Even if the owner couldn't use it himself, he could certainly resell it or make multiple copies for profit.

  The owner's expression remained neutral, but that was the best sign—it meant he was trying to hide his interest.

  "Two hundred mana stones, and I'll throw in the Light spell for free. You can pick one more book from here," the owner said slowly, closing the notebook.

  "Three hundred mana stones, and I don't want any more spells," Tars countered. He knew he might be taking a slight loss, but he couldn't be bothered to haggle. He had already read the contents of that notebook.

  The owner feigned hesitation before finally "reluctantly" agreeing. He handed Tars three of the high-grade mana stones, the same kind Bahunt had given him.

  After another loop around the camp, Tars exited through the other side. He sat down in a deserted area, finally opening the book he'd been itching to read: The Great Reveal: Truths of the Mystery City, while waiting for the half-man to show up.

  The so-called "Great Reveal" immediately gave off a vibe of unreliability the moment he turned the page. First, it presented three different "theories": one claimed it was an ancient alien demon city; another suggested it was an alchemical artifact created by a powerful wizard from the distant past; and the last was the most absurd—claiming it was a "City of Eternal Life" where residents became immortal at the cost of never being able to leave.

  Tars was most interested in the theory of the wizard legacy. It mentioned that the city involved a singular realm: the Knowledge World. When the Nightmare World was first discovered by wizards, a hypothesis was proposed: if the subconsciousness of countless living beings could create the Nightmare World and sustain it, then could there exist a more peculiar "Knowledge World" born from the infinite pursuit of truth and the collective psyche of the wise?

  Eventually, through the efforts of wizards, this bizarre world was confirmed and named the Knowledge World. But much like the Nightmare World, this realm was far from being as beautiful as one might imagine.