"Look at these lights—how beautiful they are. More beautiful than any lamp those pointed-ears brag about. Ah, though I suppose I've never actually seen the multicolored lamps they describe," Old Golden-Tooth said. Perhaps because he lacked the strength to turn his neck, he didn't even look at the two who had come to his side, staring instead straight upward. "This is good. This is very good. Better than dying slowly of old age, and better than being bitten to death on a hunt. To see light growing out of my own body... they are sprouting, becoming more beautiful..."

  "Do you know? You surely don't know—the legends say that long ago, kobolds also lived in places where one could see the light."

  Old Golden-Tooth didn't blink for a long time. The old kobold seemed convinced that he was about to depart this world.

  "Look, look at these beautiful little things. They grow upward in circles. They are working hard just so I can see this brightness," Old Golden-Tooth finally found the strength to cast a glance to the side. "It makes all those foul things I had to eat worthwhile—especially those tiny, hard-to-find pointed mushrooms."

  "How much longer can you hold on?"

  Tars felt compelled to interrupt the old kobold’s rambling. Old Golden-Tooth didn't seem anxious at all; his calm demeanor made him look less like a kobold than when he was telling his eccentric stories.

  "I told Aiskin not to disturb you. These things are just growing a bit faster, that's all. I still have time to live! At least... at least enough to go hungry dozens of times, maybe a hundred," Old Golden-Tooth said, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the threads of light.

  Despite the old kobold's words, Aiskin was no Big-Dumb-Humper. She had judged the situation by details like his refusal to eat and eventually decided to seek out Tars. If a normal kobold could last a long time on one meal, Old Golden-Tooth might indeed have a fair amount of time left—provided he was telling the truth and his judgment was accurate.

  "I believe you," Tars said. "I've found a way to save you. To ensure success, I need to make preparations. I will plan according to the timeline you've given."

  After finishing his words and giving Aiskin a few instructions, he turned to leave. A few steps away, he could still hear Old Golden-Tooth whispering questions to the kobold girl behind him.

  He made his way back to his "three-way ventilated" bedroom. Leaving to visit Old Golden-Tooth had also been part of an experiment: during the time he was gone, the spatial door had remained open on that cave wall. His earlier plan to take Aiskin on a tour of this strange space had been interrupted, so he decided to go in alone.

  But not quite yet. He pulled out a book and sat down to read. He wanted to see how long the door could stand on its own without any intervention or passage.

  The appearance of that strange dragon had disrupted his plans and shifted the order in which he intended to learn spells. His choices had to be re-evaluated. Since Old Golden-Tooth could still hold on, there was no need to waste the Spirit-Core Potion—a concoction that boosted comprehension, of which he only had one bottle left.

  The pages turned steadily in his hands. The book detailed a spell that had originally been far down his list of priorities, but one he now had to master as quickly as possible.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Zero-Ring spell: Feather Fall.

  His current reading strategy was to skim through the book once without seeking deep understanding to get a general overview, then return to the first page for meticulous study. Just as he reached the final page of his first pass, the spatial door before him flickered several times and vanished with a sharp whoosh. He glanced up, then returned to his book.

  The spell didn't look too difficult, but it wouldn't be as smooth as Mage Armor—after all, that spell had benefited from half a bottle of Spirit-Core Potion. Still, he didn't dwell on it. He would learn at his own pace. If Old Golden-Tooth had lied about his condition, he was certain Aiskin would come to confess the truth in a day or two. That old kobold was clever enough to know when to fold.

  Tars reflected on his recent travels, thinking of new applications for magic—different methods, different occasions, and even targets other than his enemies. For instance, Baont had used Ghost Sound to influence two targets at once, leading his rival away. Although that rival likely ended up as a trophy for the big man, the application was sound. Tars calculated that even with the skirmishes against the lizardmen, he had used Bull's Strength for travel far more often than for combat. Using magic in daily life was a vital part of training and expanding one's repertoire.

  He tapped himself with Spirit Boil. He had recently realized this was an incredible tool for late-night studying, far more effective than he had imagined. In the inheritance scrolls, it was briefly mentioned as a way to "briefly activate mental power and maintain clarity," followed by a dismissive comment that the spell was "not very useful." Tars felt this judgment was unfair. Making one more alert and focused might seem like a small thing, but over years or decades, the cumulative boost to learning efficiency would be massive.

  He even added a Bull's Strength to the mix. Who said reading didn't cause backaches? Good physical endurance made for tireless study. The increase in strength kept his reading posture from sagging, further reducing fatigue. He was a second-level wizard apprentice now; his mental energy was more abundant, and he wasn't afraid of a little extra consumption while hiding in his cave.

  Time flies when one is focused. Five days passed.

  He stood up and stretched, his small frame emitting a series of crisp cracks. Once finished, he warmed up and then performed a sudden squat-jump. The result was startlingly good. With a loud thud, he hit the cave ceiling.

  Feather Fall was mastered. A nineteen-node spell model now drifted within his mental space.

  Come to think of it, he hadn't cast a spell on anyone else yet—not offensive ones like Ray of Frost, but buffs like Feather Fall or Bull's Strength. He could use them on Aiskin and the others, though the effect might be weakened depending on their affinity with the magic. Spells like Fetid Skin or Mage Armor, however, remained self-cast only.

  After a hearty meal, he planned to begin furnishing the "Abyssal Bedroom" space. The shimmering spatial door reappeared. During his study breaks, he had practiced opening this door; though the progress was slow, he hadn't given up. At the very least, he no longer needed to lean against a wall to trick himself into opening it. His ultimate goal was to be able to throw open a door at will and dive inside whenever he needed to escape.

  He stepped forward slowly, sticking one foot in first and shaking it. This was his second time inside, but the sensation was still magical. He finally crossed the threshold and stepped onto the soil he had laid down. In the distance, the dark red fissure flickered. On the other side were several large stones he had gathered to serve as a dining table or a crude bed.

  He set to work. After much labor and with the help of magic, a large basin made of stone and frozen earth was constructed—barely functional, but finished. He stood by the pool with his hands on his hips, satisfied.

  Since Old Golden-Tooth was near death, he would use this pool to give him a "second spring." While saving the old kobold, he would also be making a contribution: there had to be a test subject for the effects of bathing in this strange dragon's blood. Let Old Golden-Tooth lead the way.

  Once the old elder succeeded—and after a period of observation to ensure everything was normal—he would consider letting Aiskin and the others have their turn. He might even let Bald-Tooth "cut in line" to see what would happen.