I hope I don't get myself killed just trying to watch a good show, Tars thought. Oh, that's right—I can't even go back now. Well, that's fine; even if I wanted to poke my nose into trouble, I couldn't reach it. He amused himself with the self-deprecating thought.
If only there were a spell for clearing away dust, he mused.
After tidying a small patch of floor, he sat down once more and produced the Black Book, turning to a new chapter of the Sigil Meditation Method.
This was his first time opening the pages of his oldest friend since promoting to a second-level wizard apprentice. He was no longer in that initial stage of just hunting insects; back then, having solved his food crisis but knowing nothing of spells or meditation, he had lived a life of pure kobold simplicity—eating and sleeping. During those days, he and the Black Book had been inseparable. He had carried it everywhere, used it as a dining table, a pillow, and even a sleep aid.
As he read the newly revealed section, his old friend did not disappoint.
The new page mentioned the Temporary Spell Slots granted by the Sigil Meditation Method. This system of pre-storing spells for zero-cost, instantaneous casting was a feature common to all Third Generation meditation methods. However, this page highlighted the unique specialty of the Sigil method: upon promoting to a full wizard, if one chose to sacrifice these temporary slots—which were designed only for Zero-Ring spells to aid an apprentice's survival—there was a high probability of obtaining a unique, One-Ring Composite Spell.
Composite spells were a rare type of magic to begin with.
Normally, upon becoming a full wizard, one gained a One-Ring spell slot and had to find a desirable spell to solidify within it. If this rare composite spell manifested successfully, it would be solidified directly into that slot. The birth of this spell occurred during the promotion process: a fifth-level apprentice possessed five Sigils, and as they ascended to a full wizard, these Sigils merged into one. In this merging process, the five Zero-Ring spells stored within the temporary slots would fuse into a single One-Ring composite spell.
The Black Book noted that the chance of success depended not only on the apprentice's mastery of the spells but also on the "affinity" between the five chosen magics.
At the end of the page was a small tip: try not to change the spells stored in the temporary slots too often. Using and replenishing the same spells repeatedly was like "feeding" the Sigils with specific magic, which would increase the odds of a successful fusion during the promotion.
Tars reread the page meticulously before setting the book down.
He realized he might be able to save himself the trouble of hunting for a One-Ring spell later. Furthermore, since obtaining his temporary slots, he had never once changed the spells within them; his first Sigil had always held Bull's Strength, and his second held Mage Armor. Every time he used them, he made sure to store them back as quickly as possible.
Some apprentices might find this method of obtaining a spell too unpredictable—even if the result was unique, it carried the risk of getting something they hadn't chosen. But for Tars, this was a magnificent option.
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This was a One-Ring spell. One must not underestimate that fact. For other apprentices, finding a desired One-Ring spell might just be a matter of effort, but for a homeless kobold with no channels for knowledge, this was the greatest gift his old friend, the Black Book, could offer.
He began calculating the spells he had mastered or was about to master while reading on.
Choosing five Zero-Ring spells seemed a bit premature given that he had only been a second-level apprentice for a few days. However, since the spells needed to be used frequently and not replaced, he had to start planning now rather than waiting until he reached the fifth level. He valued this potential One-Ring spell more than a typical apprentice would; it was very likely to be the only One-Ring magic he would possess when he finally reached that stage.
Suppressing his excitement, he began attempting to master new runes and practiced his meditation.
Naturally, in this place, he only dared to exert half his effort, never going full-tilt. He meditated for a while, then took breaks to recover. He tried his best to adhere to his rule of daily meditation. He had discovered that it was better and more stable to limit daily practice to a specific duration; after the mental energy was stimulated to grow, rest was essential. His previous habit of meditating day and night was a form of self-destructive impatience and wasn't sustainable in the long run.
After a few rounds of moderate meditation, Tars packed his things and took out a fat grub. Seeing the teacher pull clothes out of a ring earlier, he had also taken out his storage pouch and hung it on his person.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"Young Master, dinner is prepared," the butler's polite voice called from outside.
Tars was currently sitting on the floor with his head tilted back and his mouth open, about to drop the succulent grub in.
They even prepared food? He blinked. Recalling his experience going to class, there hadn't seemed to be much danger. He stuffed the grub back into his pouch. The life of a Young Master? This kobold might as well enjoy it today.
He pushed the door open to find the old butler waiting. Upon seeing him, the butler bowed slightly as before. They walked in silence, and Tars felt surprisingly relaxed. Now that he knew there were likely only three living things here, he wasn't as terrified or hyper-vigilant as he had been initially.
A spacious dining room, unlike any Tars had ever seen, appeared before him. It wasn't that he hadn't seen large dining areas, but he had never seen one with only a single table placed in the center. A figure was already seated at the table—his dedicated and unwavering mentor.
Led by the butler, he passed by her side and noticed her dark expression. Tars felt a sense of foreboding; he suspected this situation might be worse than staying in his room chewing on grubs.
As Tars was looking for his seat, the old butler suddenly turned his head toward the teacher. She startled, stood up quickly, and gave Tars a brief nod. Under Tars's bewildered gaze, she waited until he took his place at the head of the table before sitting down again, careful not to draw the butler’s attention further.
Tars patted his growling stomach, looked at his mentor's sour face, and began to feel a bit hopeful.
A moment later, a plate of dust and mud was placed before him.
Having been worried a moment ago about not being able to use the cutlery properly, he now silently set it down.
"Young Master, is it not to your taste?" the butler asked with concern.
Tars could only nod. "I feel a bit unwell. I would like to return to my room to rest."
He summoned his courage to speak; this was his first formal interaction with the old butler. He was ready to pull out the Demon Dice at a moment's notice to gamble for his life.
"I shall escort you to your room immediately. Please take this; have a sip if you feel discomfort."
The butler bowed at his right side and solicitously produced a bottle of silver, shimmering potion, placing it before Tars. It looked like high-end stock. The silent mentor nearby instantly shot a burning, covetous look at the vial.
It seems this castle has more than just dust and ruins, he thought.
