"Using stone-back beast hide as a material for Magic Skin is a bit of a stretch for an apprentice; focusing it only on the fists was the smartest move he could make," the half-man noted. "Your composure surprises me. You'll make a fine wizard. He knows about the Demon Dice—that was a gain from this journey, a precious item that can be traded for the resources needed to advance."

  Tars gnashed his teeth. He felt like a fish being expertly played by a fisherman, though he had to admit the bait being fed to him was all top-grade material.

  "Don't you need any of this?" Tars asked, his mouth twisting.

  "These things are of no use to me anymore," the half-man replied without so much as a blink.

  Somehow, Tars could feel that the entity was telling the absolute truth. It was also a backhanded admission: he was not the true Karyu. Tars thought of Bahunt's gleaming longsword and felt a sudden chill on the back of his neck.

  "Can I switch meditation methods?" he asked sincerely.

  "You can, but are you willing to let it go? And would he believe you?" the half-man said slowly. "The price would be immense. Your mental space might not survive the transition. Even if he takes the manual, he might not practice it himself; the cost of switching is high even for those at the limit of the apprentice rank. He's more likely to use it as a bargaining chip."

  Tars nodded, his expression flat. He realized the half-man had made a brilliant deal. Everything the entity had done—helping Tars recover his mobility, finding the missing half of a head—had served to bind Tars to him, forcing him to face Bahunt. On the surface, the half-man was helping him; in reality, he was tightening the noose.

  "You... you aren't limited to just taking strolls, are you?" Tars prodded.

  He felt as though the half-man was chuckling.

  "This city is your opportunity. I will act at the critical moment. I know what you're thinking, but even if we left the city now, I still couldn't act freely. Think of it as my injuries not being fully healed. This place is the best choice. Everything is the best choice."

  "The Ball is about to begin. It's time to move. This alley is no stage for the likes of you..."

  As the half-man spoke, a force enveloped Tars. The scenery blurred into a kaleidoscope of speed. For a split second, he glimpsed a burly figure arriving at the mouth of the tavern alley.

  Then, the world snapped into focus.

  "Looks like we're early."

  Tars looked around and found himself in a massive Arena. It was constructed from a staggering number of black stone blocks, with a circular floor surrounded by tiered seating. They were currently in the front row.

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  "Don't be afraid. I will help you. Everything is the best choice," the half-man said.

  Before Tars could react, he was shoved over the edge.

  The moment his feet hit the sand, a mountain-shaking roar of cheers erupted from the stands. The Arena vibrated with the sound. Tars immediately cast Mental Ferocity on himself to sharpen his focus and suppress his rising panic.

  Waiting for him was a tall, faceless figure. It wielded a bizarre long staff. The moment Tars cast his spell, the figure charged. Its curved staff swept and lunged, though it seemed unaccustomed to attacking such a short target.

  Tars went all out. Fetid Skin activated. The blurred figure didn't collapse; instead, it froze in place, paralyzed. Tars fired a Firebolt, and the figure shattered. A mass of hazy energy attached itself to him like a suit of armor, and he felt his strength surge instantly.

  As soon as one vanished, another figure—this one holding an axe—appeared. Tars grinned, feeling the thrill of the rewards. Regardless of whether he could take this power out of the city, it felt like he might actually be able to stand against Bahunt.

  Just then, the axe-wielder lunged, nearing the range of Fetid Skin.

  BOOM!

  The figure was obliterated instantly, crushed under the feet of Bahunt, who had dropped from the sky like a falling star. Tars's expression froze.

  "He's up there!" Tars shouted, pointing at the spectator stands. "I threw the sphere to signal you, and he threw me down here to toy with me!"

  He had realized earlier that Bahunt's obsession with him was the half-man's doing. But Bahunt hadn't struck immediately because, in his eyes, his "friend" Karyu was the one who needed to be flushed out. The kobold dancing in the open was a secondary concern.

  "That doesn't matter anymore. I'm done waiting. I hope you'll hand over the Black Book and save me the mana stones it would cost to have a Master wizard wipe your imprint..."

  Bahunt drew his silver longsword. Anyone who knew him knew that when this blade came out, he was no longer playing.

  "Don't panic. I will help you," the half-man's voice whispered in Tars's ear, though his figure was nowhere to be seen in the stands.

  Ripples of magical energy flashed across both combatants simultaneously as they emptied their temporary spell slots. Tars's body shot upward in height; his head throbbed with the growth of small, sharp horns. The range of Fetid Skin expanded instantly, swallowing Bahunt.

  Bahunt staggered for a second, then steadied his footing. Tars's eyes widened. He couldn't feel the intense malice he had expected from Bahunt.

  "Is there any room for negotiation?" Tars asked, his voice now a deep, guttural growl from his transformation.

  Bahunt didn't speak. He simply held his sword vertically at his side.

  "You're going to kill me?" Tars asked.

  "My apologies," Bahunt grunted.

  Tars felt a jolt of shock. This madman—he truly intended to kill him, yet there was almost no malice in his heart. It was absurd. He hadn't believed such a person could exist: someone neither good nor evil, but possessed of a purity so terrifying it surpassed human understanding. He remembered the Fire Guy's assessment: Bahunt was a man who could only be described as "strange."

  Fortunately, Fetid Skin still had some effect. Tars lunged to the side as a silver flash tore through the air. A chunk of flesh was sheared from his shoulder; the hazy armor granted by the Arena was useless against the blade, and his attempt to cast Feather Step was interrupted.

  Bahunt skated past him, immediately identifying the boundary of the Fetid Skin and standing cautiously on its edge.

  "Your magic is strange, but you are still no match for me," Bahunt said, sword leveled. "I hope you can make this easier for both of us."