The cozy yet eerie tavern hummed with the chaotic order of the kitchen.

  "When does this end?" Tars asked.

  The Fire Guy glanced at the dish in his hand, understanding the subtext. "I'd like to keep going until they're all satisfied, but that's impossible. They reflect the personality of this city—never content. We need to leave before the Ball begins. Once it starts, it means the little insectoid is nearing the end of the succession ritual to become the City Master. At that point, leaving becomes difficult... he might even gain control over everyone."

  "But don't rush just yet," he continued, plating a dish that looked ordinary but smelled sharply of vinegar. "There are steps before the Ball. It's all designed by that Great wizard. I don't know everything, but there's at least an Arena to get through first..."

  Tars had to pinch his nose at the scent. So the crybaby's succession isn't a secret, he thought. The high-level apprentices seemed to know the city's itinerary, while that wretched "Reveal" booklet had mentioned none of it. Still, he could use these veteran apprentices as living alarm clocks.

  Tars found that being a kitchen hand wasn't so bad. According to the Fire Guy, gaining knowledge and inspiration through this method was relatively safe. Though Tars was just a lowly assistant, he occasionally got to taste a few splashes of the leftover broth.

  One dish after another was produced by their joint efforts. Tars focused intently on plucking the "fur" off an unrecognizable ingredient.

  "Can I just use a Depilation Spell? I've learned that one," Tars offered.

  "Better not," the Fire Guy advised. "Cuisine requires heart—to perceive, to feel. Using magic might leave behind subtle traces of mana that spoil the essence."

  Tars rolled his eyes but admitted the logic sounded sound. As he finished cleaning a specimen and split it in two, he couldn't help but think of the half-man. He cast a sidelong glance at the busy chef.

  "Do you know Karyu?"

  "Of course. But we weren't close."

  "What kind of person was he?"

  "Well, a strange fellow, just like Bahunt. But more flashy, a bit acerbic, arrogant, and prone to jealousy. He failed his advancement to full wizard twice. His life essence must be severely damaged, yet he insisted on making himself look twenty years old. Standing next to Bahunt, he looked like his nephew. I often wondered how those two ever became friends," the Fire Guy said.

  Another dish went out, drawing a series of unintelligible gasps of delight from the faceless diners. Tars felt a sudden flash of insight into his Fetid Skin; for a moment, he felt the urge to attempt a spell modification, but his reason told him he wasn't ready.

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  The chef's black meat rolls sizzled on the pan, wrapped around something so revolting that even a kobold would struggle to stomach it. But Tars had no room for nausea. The Karyu described by the chef was worlds away from the figure in his mind; the half-man he knew refused to overlap with that description.

  "Bahunt is actually quite old too," the chef continued. "It's his powerful knight foundation that keeps him looking sturdy despite his lack of vanity. Karyu was in a worse state—after two failures, this is likely his last chance."

  "Is that why you didn't fight them for the book?"

  "Not entirely. Peel the skin and roots off that... but you could say it that way. They won't let go of anything that offers a shred of hope. Bahunt is likely in the Palace of Knowledge right now, risking his life to retrieve a 'Wordless Book' from the shelves. He's determined to complete Master Nitely's commission. He won't pass up any opportunity."

  The chef spoke leisurely, but his hands moved with surgical precision. Five dishes were completed almost simultaneously.

  The tavern doors swung open again. This time, a massive resident of the city entered. His shoulders were wider than Tars was tall. The Fire Guy's expression tightened; his hands blurred with speed as he pulled out an oversized platter.

  Thump! Thump! The guest began slamming the table. The ghostly bartender hurried over with a massive tankard of ale to pacify him. Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Tars worked faster, extracting the gelatinous marrow from a triangular bone. But before the dish was done, the guest hammered the table again.

  The vibrations made Tars stumble.

  "There's a back door," the Fire Guy said with a strained smile. "You should leave now. You could risk staying for more rewards, but..."

  THUMP! THUMP!

  The vibrations rattled Tars's mental space. Without a word, he grabbed the edge of the table and bolted for the back exit.

  As the door clicked shut behind him, the pressure vanished. Suddenly, the sky shifted. The white city plunged into a deep twilight. A clock tower tolled in the distance, though he couldn't count the strikes.

  Standing in the back alley, Tars saw a handsome young man waiting for him. The sight felt surreal.

  "Are you Karyu?" Tars asked. Since meeting the half-man, the entity had never once uttered a name.

  The half-man smiled, though the "smile" was a mental transmission; his face remained a frozen mask. "I am here to fulfill my promise. I will help you obtain the Pure Blood Potion."

  "Bull's Strength, a modified Air Armor, Lesser Arke-Resistance, Feather Step, Magic Skin, and a deconstructed Stone Fist. Those are the five spells Bahunt usually chooses for his temporary slots. His solidified spell is Giant Strength, and his physical training follows a path called 'Ice Bear Respiration'..." the half-man spoke fluently.

  Even though his lips didn't move, he was incredibly talkative. Tars listened for a moment, then realized what was happening and whipped out the small sphere Bahunt had given him, throwing it at the man's feet.

  The sphere rolled and burst silently. A red ripple shot into the sky and vanished in an instant.

  "It's no use," the half-man said calmly. "He has already marked you. When you were in the Spirit Spring, he saw the book in your hands. The Sigil Meditation is a rare 'Unique' method. Every rune is different from other systems; it is exclusive. Those who master it have a much smoother path to becoming a full wizard—provided they are the only practitioner. If there is a second student, the runes are no longer exclusive, and the effectiveness drops drastically..."

  The half-man was composed. Tars was even more so. He thought of a certain unique succubus he knew. He wouldn't scold the half-man, nor could he feel grateful, but a fire smoldered in his chest. Because even if he could go back, he would still have picked up that Black Book. Even if he had known the risks, he would have chosen the Sigil path. At that time, it was the only choice that gave him a chance to survive.