Tars watched the deepening night, slowly enjoying the dinner he had just asked Daisy to bring him. Before this, he had personally delivered a hearty meal—portioned for transcendent knights—to the two hardworking fellows in the Abyssal Bedroom space.
As he ate, he reflected on the day's events.
The greatest crisis he had faced in the Fendis castle was actually the two Redeemer Bishops. It was only thanks to the existence of his mana-scars that he was immune to their specific brand of corruption, allowing him to escape unscathed. One could say it was a stroke of pure luck. While he wasn't one to overthink things—and his survival was technically rooted in the meditation method he practiced—he still felt a lingering unease about relying on fortune to stay alive. As the old drunkard had shown, everyone's luck eventually runs out.
The root of the problem was that Stenchful Skin had proved ineffective against those freaks. At the apprentice stage, one's greatest reliance is on solidified Zero-Ring spells; other spells are difficult to sustain in prolonged combat, and the time required to empower a spell model is a constant liability. Temporary spell slots were designed specifically to bridge this awkward gap, creating a system where solidified spells act as the core, supplemented by others.
He tossed a morsel of meat into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Is there any way to increase the number of solidified spell slots?
He shook his head immediately, dismissing the thought as a fantasy. If such a method existed, someone would have used it long ago. The only true path was to become a formal wizard and unlock the next tier of slots.
Thanks to his increased mental energy, he could now sustain his exhaustive meditation sessions for longer periods. With each of his two daily sessions yielding more progress, his mastery of the runes was proceeding faster than he had initially estimated.
Then, his thoughts turned back to Young Master Rodrigo.
He had staged a chaotic scene at the Fendis castle in the early evening, and by nightfall, Rodrigo had managed to return to the manor. It felt a bit too coincidental. Perhaps simply asking Rodrigo who had detained him at the family fortress—and under what pretext—would reveal the identity of the person targeting Tars. Knowing who Rodrigo had spoken to regarding the request for an unrestricted passage ticket would also help narrow down the culprit.
Tars even suspected that Rodrigo might have a vague idea of who it was. Looking back at the assassination attempt during the previous ruin expedition, there hadn't been so much as a whisper of an investigation after they returned to Starry City. In Tars's eyes, the young master's behavior seemed somewhat cowardly—or perhaps he was paralyzed by some insurmountable taboo.
The night passed without incident. The kobold, full and content, enjoyed a comfortable sleep in his soft bed.
The next morning, as Tars was eating breakfast, Young Master Rodrigo arrived as expected, with the red-haired woman still trailing behind him.
"My sincerest apologies."
Rodrigo spoke as he approached the small dining table in the cottage and sat down familiarly.
"Daisy, bring a serving of whatever Lord Tars is having for me and Myrtle. I'm famished," Rodrigo said with a smile. "Lord Tars, ever since I invited you here as a guest, I've hardly been back to the manor. I've completely disrupted our travel plans—it's an unforgivable breach of etiquette. I had even hoped to study some magic under your guidance."
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Tars savored his food, watching the talkative Rodrigo with a slight smile. Daisy soon brought out their meals.
"How is the matter of the passage ticket?" Tars asked.
At those words, Rodrigo waved a hand. Daisy, who had been waiting to serve them, took the hint and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.
"I've spoken to my elder brother. He promised to find a way," Rodrigo said, continuously spooning soup into his mouth. "For years now, my brother has been the one handling most family affairs. If he can't manage it, I'll find another way for you."
Tars nodded, though he was secretly puzzled. He remembered that the eldest son of the Starry Family was a long-term invalid, and back at the Arena, he had heard rumors that the eldest son was on his deathbed.
"Hehe, I was actually afraid of the news leaking before," Rodrigo said, catching Tars's expression. "The one who was truly about to leave this world was my father. The castle used my chronically ill brother as a cover. But now that my father's condition has improved, there's no longer any need for secrecy."
Tars nodded again. That raised another question.
"You've been staying at the castle without returning... was that to watch over the Baron?" he asked.
Rodrigo tore off a piece of toasted flatbread, dipped it in the soup, and nodded.
"And to help my brother handle some matters. His health has always been poor, and it's inconvenient for him to appear in public—especially since the news of his 'worsening condition' has certainly spread from the castle by now," Rodrigo explained.
Tars was surprised. Things were not as he had imagined. This eldest son of the Starry Family had no reason to target his own brother; if the Old Baron died, he was the primary heir. Moreover, the eldest son was clearly more adept at managing the family territories than Rodrigo and had been in control of the cavern domain for some time.
Among the nobility of the cavern cities, there was an unspoken, rarely mentioned reality: the so-called titles of "Count" or "Baron" were supposedly based on the number and scale of sub-districts under their control, but in truth, they were just props to highlight the rulers' nobility. This was something he had heard the old drunkard grumbling about just yesterday.
Some cavern nobles would fabricate ancient family histories, swearing that their titles could be traced back to the distant era when humanity lived under the sun—the legendary time of the surface world. While it wasn't entirely false, these titles were mostly clumsy imitations based on ancient texts, born of a longing for the surface. There were no kings here, and no feudal hierarchy between cavern cities. In the words of the old drunkard, the only ones truly supreme were the wizards.
"I'm curious. The Starry Family governs an entire cavern domain and has ties to the wizard territories. As the eldest son, what kind of injury or illness has kept him uncured for all these years?" Tars asked. "Of course, if this touches on sensitive matters, you don't have to answer."
Rodrigo's lips twitched into a bitter smile.
"There’s nothing to hide. Actually, the nobles in the city all know about it, though they don't know the details as well as I do—because I was the culprit," Rodrigo sighed. "Since I was a child, I loved running off to play. I didn't have any talent, so I was bored and would sneak out of the fortress, or even out of the city. My brother was different; he stayed by my father's side from a young age. He had the talent of a knight, and later it was discovered he had the talent of a wizard. He was busy every day just with his knight training."
"We siblings loved to pester him. Every time he used the excuse of coming to catch me and bring me back, he'd actually sneak a bit of playtime for himself. Of course, I was always the one who got thrashed when we returned. In the end, it was quite simple: my brother discovered his wizard talent and was preparing to go to the Upper Domain, likely not to return for a long time. We pestered him until he agreed to sneak us out for one last trip. On that road, he was injured while protecting me. It was a strange insect. At first, we didn't think much of it, until one day, my brother could no longer get out of bed..."
Myrtle placed a cup of tea by Rodrigo's hand. He gripped the cup, feeling the warmth, but did not drink.
"My father called in a wizard who hadn't yet left after the talent testing. That wizard said my brother hadn't just suffered a wound to his arm—strangely, his soul had been damaged as well. Even after drinking expensive potions, he never fully recovered. He never will. And he can no longer walk the path of a wizard."

