Tars stopped in his tracks and began to think seriously. He was weighing whether he should leave immediately and put as much distance as possible between himself and this city.

  Suddenly, his surroundings grew dim.

  He looked up to find several wizard apprentices blocking his path. He didn't speak first, nor did he show a hint of panic. His calm silence seemed to make the others uncomfortable. A well-dressed male apprentice stepped forward to break the tension.

  "We'll give you fifty standard mana stones to fetch a few books for us," the man said, his eyes shifting toward the library. "We'll specify the locations. For every extra book you bring out, we'll add five stones. If you find the specific ones we're looking for, we'll pay you fifty extra per volume..."

  The group exchanged glances, seemingly tallying up how much they could each contribute to the bribe. Tars looked at the library across the street, then back at the men.

  "How about this," Tars began. The apprentices looked hopeful, thinking he was about to agree. "You give me all your mana stones right now. Then, you go inside and haul books for me. If you don't bring out enough, don't even dream of leaving this city."

  Under his hood, the little kobold bared his teeth in a malicious grin.

  "Friend, there are five of us..."

  "Six."

  "Seven."

  Two more stragglers who had been loitering near the library joined the group, laughing as they moved in to surround him. Seeing that he had everyone's full attention, Tars simultaneously triggered Fetid Skin and every spell in his temporary slots.

  Since these fellows were so full of ill intent, he decided to let them taste the purest feedback of malice. He knew they'd never agree to enter the library for him, and since he didn't dare go in himself and was planning to leave anyway, he figured he'd settle the score before departing. It was a way to recoup the "losses" of ending his trip early.

  With Bull's Strength, Magic Skin, and Demonic Body all active, a strange sensation washed over him. He felt his height shoot up, and a surge of cathartic power followed.

  The six apprentices closest to him didn't last a single breath. The sound of heavy bodies hitting the pavement echoed through the street. Part of it was surprise—they hadn't expected a kobold to strike first—but Tars felt the outcome would have been the same even if they had been ready. One apprentice in the back turned to flee, but Tars lunged forward, instantly enveloping him in the range of his Fetid Skin.

  As his knowledge of magic grew, he realized both the limitations and the terrifying strength of his modified Fetid Skin. What had seemed like a simple, accidental mutation now appeared to be a sophisticated and inexplicable effect. It all traced back to that moment he saw the skeletal hand—the one that looked like a gnarled, leafless tree.

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  Tars frowned and cast a Mental Ferocity spell on himself to clear his head. He had just felt a sudden, violent urge to destroy everything. He scratched his head; spending three temporary spell slots on these "trash" apprentices felt like a bit of a waste. He had expected a counter-attack, but they had folded instantly.

  Suddenly, his hand paused. He felt two small, sharp horns protruding from the top of his head.

  He didn't panic. He cancelled the Bull's Strength buff, and the horns vanished. He re-cast it; they reappeared. This was wrong—Bull's Strength was his most-used spell, and this had never happened before. He then cancelled the Zero-Ring Demonic Body, and the horns vanished again. He also noticed that Demonic Body affected his Magic Skin; without it, the skin generated by the spell was noticeably thinner and less coarse.

  What a fascinating discovery, he thought. He wanted to experiment further but restrained himself. First, he gathered the seven storage bags and tossed them all into his Abyssal Bedroom. I hope these guys were rich, he mused, though their appearances suggested otherwise.

  Before leaving, he hauled up a downed apprentice to compare heights. He was disappointed to find that even with the height boost from Demonic Body, he barely reached the height of an average human.

  Tars deactivated his spells, adjusted his hood, and found a quiet spot to meditate and refill his temporary spell slots. If he wanted to leave, he had to use the golden stairs at the city's edge; his spatial door would only lead back to this city unless he planned to wander the Abyss forever.

  The notes on Demonic Body flickered through his mind, along with Bahunt's critique: a minor spell of flesh-and-blood mutation that required a catalyst with demonic essence. An "immature, low-tier trick."

  Refreshed, he began wandering toward the city limits. He felt a twinge of reluctance to leave; there were so many places he hadn't seen. He wondered where all the other apprentices had disappeared to.

  Soon, the aroma of food caught his attention. It was the first sign of "life" he'd encountered in this clinical, white world. He followed the scent to a small tavern on a corner. Inside, the Fire Guy was busy at work.

  Interestingly, this was a black building.

  "You can come in," the Fire Guy said without looking up from his pans.

  Tars pushed the door open. Inside the small tavern, his pupils dilated. The room was filled with blurred, ghostly silhouettes. Some were clinking glasses, others watched the Fire Guy cook. A hazy bartender acted as the Fire Guy's partner, serving indistinguishable drinks. The large pot of stew the Fire Guy had been making outside was now the star of the menu.

  "Satisfying them feeds me knowledge in return," the Fire Guy said, placing a cup of water before Tars. "Don't drink the wine the bartender gives you, and don't try to talk to them. If you want, you can help me in the kitchen. I'm a bit overwhelmed."

  Tars nodded, steered clear of the ghost-bartender, and started helping. "Helping" mostly involved stirring pots, passing finished plates, and deboning meat.

  "Have you seen Bahunt?" the Fire Guy asked.

  Tars nodded and kept working.

  "He's too obsessed, too rushed to become a wizard," the Fire Guy sighed. "This city is full of opportunities, but he only has eyes for that one book. When he was fighting Karyu for it, I saw the book fall from the sky. That insectoid—the one that briefly rivaled a full wizard through collective hive-power—crashed into this city and woke it up. I didn't join the scramble for the book. I believe I can become a wizard without those shortcuts. I also know that once Bahunt sets his sights on something, he won't stay his hand for anyone."

  As he spoke, the Fire Guy finished a dish of exotic deep-purple flowers entwined with meat rings. The customer who received it seemed highly satisfied.

  As an "assistant," Tars felt a small benefit: his understanding of the Demonic Body spell seemed to deepen.