The beast-carriage sped along the road.

  Tars sat in a corner by the window, observing Young Master Rodrigo, the man who was likely to become the first-in-line heir of the Starry Family. Rodrigo remained silent throughout the journey, his posture still upright and his back straight. He gazed out the window at a slight angle, watching the street scenery blur past as if lost in a trance. At this moment, no one knew what he was thinking—not even Myrtle, who had been with him for years. Tars could see a sense of bewildered helplessness in her eyes, a feeling born from her deep concern for Rodrigo.

  One reason Tars hadn't wanted to stay at the Arena was to ensure this red-haired lady remained by Rodrigo's side. He didn't want his arrival to disrupt their long-standing dynamic. Rodrigo had always traveled with such a caster for protection, and there were surely valid reasons for it.

  Of course, there were other reasons to leave: he had no desire to be pestered by the other nobles after Rodrigo's departure. Furthermore, leaving with Rodrigo served as a statement of allegiance, which aligned better with his own interests.

  As he pondered, he quietly withdrew the newly acquired Soul-Heart Elixir for inspection. The seals and etchings on the bottle were perfectly intact. This item was perhaps his strongest motivation for leaving the Arena so abruptly. Including the one bottle he had left, he now possessed two bottles of Soul-Heart Elixir. Perhaps it was time to be a little extravagant.

  Leaning against the window, he weighed his options, his reason clashing with his impulsive desires. The axle groaned and creaked with every rotation until the carriage finally came to a halt in front of the manor.

  As Tars and the butler stepped down, they saw a sturdy young man who bore a thirty-percent resemblance to Rodrigo. He was riding a subterranean beast that stood on two legs; its upper body was reared back, and its four front claws were shaped like hooked sickles. The creature's arched, backward-leaning posture seemed to be a way of finding balance while standing still.

  "Second Brother!" the young man shouted happily upon confirming the carriage.

  Rodrigo pulled the window open wide, looking equally delighted. "I guessed you'd be at your manor. I only just arrived, and here you are."

  "Enough, let's go to the castle together," Rodrigo interrupted. "Come inside and sit; let your mount follow alongside."

  The young man obeyed, leaping from his mount with a sudden spring and landing nimbly on the carriage. Tars watched this unfold before turning slowly to walk toward the depths of the manor.

  As he neared the two-story cottage, his decision was made. He would use both doses of Soul-Heart Elixir to attempt to master Miser's Touch, that strangely peculiar Zero-Ring spell. This wasn't because he wanted to win the wager with the booze-loving old man, but because he truly believed this spell was worth the investment. He also felt that success was possible; beyond the gathering host's guarantee of the old man's honesty, his own judgment told him he wasn't being deceived.

  Back in his cottage, he performed his daily meditation before asking the maid, Daisy, to bring plenty of food to share with the two kobolds. He was in no rush to begin.

  A full day passed, and as expected, Young Master Rodrigo had not yet returned to the manor. No unexpected news had arrived either. After soaking up the sun with Aiskin and the others, they returned to the cottage. After instructing Daisy to ensure no one disturbed them, Tars entered the Abyssal Bedroom space.

  With his stomach full of prepared food, he prepared to consume the elixir. He sat alone on the stone bed. The spellbook for Miser's Touch was already fraying at the edges from his constant handling, yet he read it through once more in silence before tilting his head back to swallow the first bottle of Soul-Heart Elixir.

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  As the potion took effect, he entered a state of near-transcendental focus. The elusive aspects of the spell model finally unveiled themselves. Those mischievous "little things" seemed to grow docile—or rather, their chaotic movements were no longer a match for his sharpened perception; they were now firmly within his grasp.

  He felt a throb from deep within his heart—the part he previously associated with the soul, the most difficult part to understand and control. It was the very basis of his doubt that the old man had created the spell himself. He had once jokingly thought that if the old man had indeed authored this, he must have been drunk on the strongest of liquors when he did it. Now, days of confusion were cleared away. The points he had correctly identified but failed to master were finally falling into place. The Soul-Heart Elixir had not disappointed him.

  Before drinking the elixir, his greatest fear was that even two bottles wouldn't be enough to master Miser's Touch. Now, it seemed his worry was misplaced. He might even have time left during the second bottle to learn the Zero-Ring spell Scriptwriting.

  He recalled from his diary that typical Zero-Ring spell models had about twenty nodes—Stenchful Skin had nineteen, Arcane Mark only fifteen, and Bull's Strength twenty-one. One of the difficulties of Miser's Touch was that it appeared to have fifteen nodes on the surface, but hidden beneath were fifteen more nodes that couldn't be constructed directly. These hidden "mischief-makers" were like a moon reflected in a lake—elusive and untouchable. They were connected to the surface nodes but weren't as simple as a mirror image. One had to master the pattern of adjusting the visible nodes to project and construct them. It was exactly this novelty that had convinced him to sacrifice two bottles of elixir.

  He only stopped when the discomfort of the first bottle wearing off interrupted his thoughts. Holding his forehead, he paused. He had planned to wait a day between doses to recover, but the intense craving and the obsessive feeling of being so close to completion drove him to rest for only half a day. He only managed to convince himself to wait that long out of fear that a poor physical state would ruin the potion's efficacy.

  At this moment, he began to understand why true wizards feared approaching the Lost Cities.

  Finally, after forcing himself to take a short nap, he drank the second bottle of Soul-Heart Elixir. It was as if an unknown door was swinging open. Unexpectedly, the final stage was incredibly difficult. The time he had hoped to save for Scriptwriting vanished entirely. A spell model is a delicate thing where pulling a single thread affects the whole; in this situation of shifting light and shadow nodes, the difficulty more than doubled.

  Time ticked away. The moment the spell model was successfully constructed, he didn't even have time to celebrate before he was submerged in the abnormal dizziness that followed the elixir's end. He collapsed onto the stone bed, grinning through the intense discomfort.

  Aiskin and Big Dumb Hum had been watching him anxiously from a distance. Hearing his laughter, they rushed over. Tars only vaguely heard them speak and felt someone give him water before he fell into a deep sleep.

  When he woke up, he blinked on the stone bed. He didn't feel refreshed at all; the dizziness was gone, but his head throbbed with pain. Aiskin was nearby.

  "Aiskin, how long was I out?" Tars had told her to watch the crystal clock.

  "Brother Tars, two days! You slept for two whole days!" she said.

  Tars nodded. Looking at the food Big Dumb Hum had brought over, his appetite roared to life. He wasn't overly worried about his health—Dragon-blood kobolds were hardy, and he had the restorative powers of his specialized bloodline.

  After feasting, he left the Abyssal Bedroom feeling satisfied. It was peak daylight when he emerged, and the three kobolds resumed basking in the sun on the lawn chairs. While soaking up the rays, he meditated to restore his mental energy. Seeing the dozen or so spell models now revolving around three mana-scars in his mental space gave him a profound sense of fulfillment.

  He opened his eyes and summoned the maid, Daisy. "Has Young Master Rodrigo returned yet?"

  "Reporting to your Excellency, the Young Master has not yet returned. However, someone came to visit you yesterday. Following your instructions, I informed them you were practicing magic and were not to be disturbed," Daisy said meticulously.

  "A visitor? For me? Who was it?" Tars asked, surprised.

  "He wore the attire of a caster, but he left no name and his face was obscured. Judging by his voice, he may have been a middle-aged man," Daisy reported precisely.

  Tars leaned back in his chair and nodded. With Daisy dismissed and his energy mostly restored, he was finally ready for the long-awaited experiment with Miser's Touch.