By the time the low wall of Tars's courtyard lost a few more stones to the scuffle, he was nearly finished with his breakfast.

  He had moved a small round table from the living room to the shade of the ugly, crooked tree. There, he enjoyed an omelet wrap made from subterranean beast eggs alongside a rack of ribs simmered in a special spicy-and-sour sauce—a unique layering of flavors. In the numbered cavern sectors of various domains, vast quantities of crops that required light were cultivated to sustain human culinary desires. Legend had it that these crops were brought down from the surface world in the distant past, evolving and being culled by time into their current forms.

  Tars suspected that wizards had a hand in the origin of those seeds and crops; after all, the very foundations of the cavern cities bore the mark of wizard involvement.

  The unique nature of these cities meant certain luxuries existed only within human territories. In the wild, one would find neither the seeds nor the suitable environment, let alone the meticulous care required. Of course, humans weren't the only ones enjoying these harvests. The dark elves in their sharp-eared city-states purchased massive quantities of spices every year, and they were particularly fond of human-made wines with unique flavor profiles.

  Tars finished his last bite of meat and watched the two brawny men trade blows, marvelling at the stamina of those on the physical path of transcendence. Had these been ordinary men, the mere act of swinging hammers and swords for this long—even without injury—would have left them too exhausted to stand.

  Slash! Blood sprayed through the air. Trevanko parried with his metal bracer, but a split-second lapse left a shallow gash across his shoulder.

  "Haha! You're finished, Trevanko! A Fighter is no match for a Knight in the end!" the man laughed, gripping his sword with both hands. His arms blurred as he unleashed five consecutive overhead strikes. Sparks flew as Trevanko's iron bracer met the steel.

  Suddenly, a neighboring door creaked open.

  Tars turned his head to smile at his new neighbor. The female wizard apprentice stood there with a wooden expression. Watching the two men reach the climax of their duel, she simply raised a finger and pointed. In an instant, both combatants collapsed to the ground, paralyzed.

  Having finished her business, she glanced at the laughing Tars, turned around, and retreated back into her house.

  After his laughter subsided, Tars strolled over to the street and crouched before the two men with a wide grin. He picked up one of their arms and gave it a shake; it was limp and soft, as if it had been stewed into mush in a spicy-sour broth.

  "How does it feel?" Tars asked.

  The men hadn't lost consciousness; they were merely pinned there, staring up at him. Trevanko, seemingly already aware of his eccentric-looking neighbor, answered with a touch of friendliness. "I feel... exhausted. It's not that I have strength I can't use; it's that I have no strength at all. It's worse than being chased by a pack of beasts... more tiring than traveling for days without sleep..."

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Tars nodded, gesturing for him to continue describing the sensations. He then looked at the other man, who simply looked away, pretending to ignore him.

  Tars smiled. Tired? Just tired?

  He asked a few more questions, his mind whirring. Then, acting on a whim and a desire to test a theory, he reached out and pointed a finger. He cast Bull's Strength on Trevanko.

  "Try it now. See if you've recovered," Tars said.

  The other man stared at Tars, stunned by his identity as a caster, though he quickly masked it with a grunt.

  The moment the spell took hold, Trevanko moved. He clenched his fist, and hearing Tars's words, he attempted to stand. He clearly wasn't fully restored, but he managed to wobble to his feet under the astonished gaze of his rival.

  "Thank you, powerful caster," Trevanko said politely.

  "Thank you, Mister Sharp-Teeth!" The little boy ran over, throwing his arms around his father's thick leg.

  Tars smiled and patted the boy's head. He noticed a faint ring-shaped mark around Trevanko's pupils—the telltale sign of someone born in the Deep Abyss who had taken Eye-Opening potions to adapt to the light of the cavern cities. The boy's eyes, however, were clear; he was a standard city-dweller, born under the artificial "sun."

  "Can... can you make me stand up too?" the other man asked with a grimace. He tried to prop himself up with his sword but found he couldn't even grip the hilt properly.

  "Certainly," Tars teased. "But that courtyard wall... I expect the two of you to fix it together."

  The two men shared an embarrassed laugh. Tars cast another Bull’s Strength, helping the man to his feet.

  As he watched the pair stumble off to restack the stones of his wall, he mulled over the neighbor's spell. It seemed the effect merely amplified the subjects' existing fatigue to an extreme degree. If that was the case, they likely would have recovered on their own after a short rest even without his intervention.

  He returned to his lounge chair, gave a cursory glance at the three people—yes, three, as the boy was "helping" his father—and returned to his Transcription spellbook.

  Daisy brought out a plate of fruit for Tars and set two pieces aside to give to the boy. Tars watched with a content smile. Life seemed to be falling into a steady rhythm. But in his heart, he knew this was temporary, a mere illusion. He was still the seeker, waiting for his chance to reach the Wizard Domain.

  Two days passed quickly.

  As Daisy joined many in the city preparing for the Starry Festival, a piece of news swept through the streets. A massive diplomatic mission from Twin-Moon City was arriving for a visit. Rumor had it that the Marquis of Twin-Moon's most talented daughter was among them—some even said she was leading the delegation.

  While the cavern cities were independent, there was a significant power gap between Twin-Moon and Starry City. Starry City governed 98 numbered cavern sectors, whereas the domain of Twin-Moon City ruled over more than 200 such towns. The scale of a domain depended not just on management, but on a hard ceiling: the size of the Light Stones embedded in the ceiling.

  The Starry Festival finally arrived. The city was plunged into three days of continuous night, though the overhead "stars" provided a dim, beautiful glow. The children were the happiest; to those raised in the cavern city, the novelty of non-stop darkness was thrilling. They swarmed into the streets to play.

  As the festival began, people sang songs and lit bonfires in every alley and square. Tars moved his old lounge chair under the tree, reading his spellbook while soaking in the peculiar atmosphere. His neighbors had gathered in Trevanko's yard, the gate left wide open. Around a roaring bonfire, they shared food and wine, their laughter echoing through the night.

  A small figure peeked around his gate. "Mister Sharp-Teeth, are you coming? My mom made plenty of meat pies," the boy called out.