Tars sat in the courtyard, chewing on the resilient flatbread while watching Daisy and the others bustle about. Although he had left the manor, he had no intention of letting his appetite suffer, so he hadn't stopped them from bringing over an array of silverware, cookware, and various fresh ingredients.

  He was genuinely hungry. Of the five thick meat pies, he had already polished off three. Looking into the basket, he decided to save the last two for Big Dumb Hum and Aiskin to try later.

  Suddenly, he heard the little fellow's voice again.

  He stood up to look and saw the bold little boy struggling with a basket, delivering it to the lady next door. It confirmed that she had indeed been moving in as well, though her process was far less cumbersome than his own.

  This time, however, the delivery didn't seem to go quite as smoothly. The boy's kindness was not accepted. After the lady opened the door, she spoke a few brief words and then promptly shut it, not even leaving the boy enough time to finish his polite bow. Yet, the child demonstrated a trait of persistence that matched his courage; he stood before the closed door and meticulously finished his greeting before picking up his basket with both hands to leave.

  Tars watched with a grin. This—the feeling of a neighborhood filled with all sorts of people—was exactly what made things interesting.

  As he was smirking to himself, the neighbor's door cracked open again. The plain-looking woman was peering toward him. He gave her a friendly wave; she gave a curt nod in response and pulled the door shut tight.

  "What an odd person," Tars remarked, rubbing his kobold jaw as he critiqued his neighbor.

  Soon, everything was in order. Daisy stayed behind, while the three other servants bowed to him and boarded the carriage to return to the manor. As for the cook originally planned for the household, Daisy had requested to take over those duties herself. She had sensed Tars's desire for a small inner circle and assured him he could trust her culinary skills.

  "Lord Tars, would you like lunch now?" Daisy asked, clearly eager to showcase her cooking.

  But Tars had no appetite left. "Go pick a room you like and rest for a bit. Or make yourself something to eat and enjoy the afternoon," he said.

  Daisy looked a bit disappointed but eventually turned away happily to choose her room.

  Tars returned to his lounge chair and picked up his spellbook on Transcription. This was the final spell in his current collection that he had yet to master.

  By his count, he now knew thirteen spells: Stenchful Skin, Arcane Mark, Mental Boiling, Bull's Strength, Depilation, Firebolt, Mageskin, Freezing Ray, Ear-Planting, Lightfoot, Demonic Body, Light, and finally, Miser's Touch.

  Including the Transcription spell he was currently studying, that made fourteen. Some were daily essentials; others were situational or required specific circumstances to be effective. Fourteen spells seemed like a lot, but they were far from comprehensive—he still encountered situations where he felt utterly helpless.

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  Just as he was drifting from idle thoughts into the depths of study, a sharp, unmistakable ripple of magical energy shattered his concentration.

  He strode to the gate and looked toward the new neighbor's house. The fluctuation was definitely coming from her home. Tars was now certain: she was also a wizard apprentice. In this part of the city, unless one had accumulated significant wealth over years in the Outer District, ordinary people couldn't afford to live here. A solitary young person moving in likely meant a transcendent, and probably a caster who valued their privacy.

  Why was there such an obvious magical surge?

  It didn't feel like a normal spell casting. It felt like she was doing something he had never seen before. Curiosity flared within him; he wanted to see it, to broaden his horizons. His only fear was that she might not be the sharing type, or that she was working on something too personal to be witnessed.

  He began pacing his yard, feeling the intermittent pulses of magic from next door. It felt like a cat was scratching at his heart.

  BOOM!

  Following a muffled explosion, wisps of gray smoke began to curl out from the neighbor's tightly shut windows.

  Tars knew his chance had come.

  He vaulted toward the neighboring yard and, suppressed his excitement, knocked on the door with cautious politeness—though he was already prepared to force his way in if there was no answer. After a long wait, the door creaked open a sliver.

  A plain face—neither beautiful nor ugly—peered out.

  "Do you need help?" Tars asked. During the wait, he had put on a face mask to avoid startling her upon opening the door. He was quite considerate like that, despite the fact that she had already seen his unique appearance during their first encounter in the yard.

  The woman stared at him for a long time without speaking. "Are you a wizard apprentice?" she finally asked. She wasn't pretty, but her voice was melodic.

  Tars nodded. "A helpful one who enjoys exchanging knowledge with fellow apprentices," he replied.

  The woman's eyes darted back and forth as she finished sizing him up. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'll be more careful."

  With that, she shut the door in his face again.

  Tars curled his lip and returned to his yard, feeling rebuffed. In the distance, the little boy saw him and waved with a smile. Tars flopped back onto his lounge chair.

  He pulled out the notes that had come with the Transcription spellbook. Due to his backlog of studies, he hadn't read them yet. When he first acquired the book and notes, he had been curious why a high-level apprentice would spend so much time researching such a mundane spell.

  Transcription: A Zero-Ring Spell. Upon chanting the incantation, the quill before the caster comes to life; a minor utility spell commonly used for assisting with experiments and coursework.

  Tars scanned the brief description, followed by an account of a singular experience.

  The author of the notes had once had the fortune to witness a battle involving a true wizard—and not just a standard One-Ring wizard. Based on conversations overheard, the figure was at least a Three-Ring wizard or higher. It was that experience that led the author to delve into Transcription, knowing that what they saw was merely the tip of a vast iceberg.

  It had been a bizarre battle. The author had looked up at the silhouette of that powerful wizard, witnessing a modified version of Transcription, phantom quills appearing out of nowhere, and illegible content written directly into the void. Those glowing characters had streaked like arrows toward the enemy—a formidable Dark wizard. In an instant, the Dark wizard, who had left many high-level apprentices helpless, had his head burst open.

  The scene had left the apprentice profoundly shaken. He began to investigate everything about that wizard and inadvertently discovered an old anecdote: supposedly, when that wizard was still an apprentice, the spell he chose to solidify was Transcription. At the time, he had become a laughingstock, a widely circulated joke among his peers.

  There was one more rumor the apprentice had unearthed: that the powerful wizard's quill could connect to a legendary "World of Knowledge," or perhaps a sub-layer of it. No one knew how he achieved it, nor which spells were required to coordinate the effect. Many speculated it was all rooted in that seemingly insignificant Zero-Ring spell he had solidified in his youth.