Kobold Wizard's Journal

Chapter 190 Old Friends and Daydreams

*Slap!* The leisurely old Lunser suddenly slapped his forehead, finished restocking the shelves, and went upstairs.

Luger straightened up and glanced towards the stairs, then slumped back down, resting his chin on the table as he continued reading. Old Lunser used to say a few words to him, but now he couldn't be bothered with his lazy demeanor.

He was simply warned to be mindful of his habits. He shouldn't be afraid of being greedy or lazy, but rather of strange changes. Such changes usually indicate a problem with the fused bloodline. It's acceptable for a bloodline wizard to be influenced by their bloodline habits, and it's not something that can be completely avoided, but there should be a limit. He shouldn't get too deeply involved.

As Luger thought about Old Lunser's usual demeanor, he couldn't help but speculate about Old Lunser's bloodline habits.

He had always been very curious about what exactly Old Dog Head's modified bloodline was, and what Old Dog Head originally looked like.

A crisp and melodious bell rang.

The door to Old Renser's Pharmacy was gently pushed open.

Ruger immediately put away the book and sat up straight.

The door was pushed open, but the person had not yet entered.

The first thing that caught his eye was a foot stepping in, followed by a section of dark blue skirt. As more of it emerged from the gap in the pushed-open shop door, it became clear that it was still a wizard's robe, only with some careful modifications to the style. At the same time, a faint fragrance filled the shop. Ruger had never liked perfumes, but this time he didn't dislike them. The light fragrance seemed not to linger around his nose, but rather to gently drift into his heart, relaxing his mind and body and improving his mood.

Ruger blinked, sensing that this guest might be someone special, and he was already considering whether to call old Renser down.

Just as he was making all sorts of guesses and letting his mind wander, that unhurried figure walked in.

She wore a deep blue robe, a gentle smile, and a uniquely styled pointed hat; the hat was black and appeared to be made of smooth material.

The woman looked at Ruger with curiosity.

She looked to be around thirty years old, no more than forty. Beautiful and serene were the few adjectives that Luger lacked, but the indescribable temperament she naturally exuded gave Luger the feeling that she was much older, perhaps even older than the old dog-headed Lunther, who had lived in the City of Burning Blood for decades.

The woman blinked, a simple blink that shattered any notion of old age.

"Welcome to Old Lenser's Pharmacy, beautiful lady. In addition to the medicines on our shelves, we also accept custom-made medicines."

Ruger looked at the strange woman in the blue robe.

The woman's eyes lit up at the words, and she nodded slightly. Her pointed hat swayed with her head, and the smooth material reflected the light.

“If you need any help, feel free to call me anytime,” Ruger added.

The woman looked at him thoughtfully.

“You… are Renser Elendil’s potion apprentice?” she said softly.

Ruger immediately realized that this was an acquaintance of old Lenser, and his identity was not simply that of the owner of some shop in the city.

He rose from his chair: "Yes, madam, I am his apprentice."

Upon hearing this, the woman smiled politely.

“He’s also his nephew,” Ruger added.

He watched as the woman's eyes widened slightly for a moment, then returned to normal.

"Should I go and call my uncle down?"

Unaware of what was going on, Ruger tentatively suggested that something he didn't understand was happening.

"Are you his nephew?" the woman said with a smile, gently touching the brim of her hat.

"Yes, ma'am."

As Ruger spoke, he had already walked around the counter. In this situation, the best option was to go find old Lunther immediately, since he was also going to meditate anyway.

"You're early."

Old Lenser appeared at the top of the stairs, looking at the beautiful, serene woman.

The woman laughed immediately when she saw the old dog's head.

Ruger looked around as he walked past the counter.

"Uncle, I'm going back to my room to meditate."

As Ruger walked upstairs, he gave old Lenser a wink as they passed each other, and with that emphasis on calling him "uncle," the meaning was clear: his nephew hadn't given himself away.

Ruger walked up the stairs, the sound of two people chatting still coming from behind him.

"He's more than just your nephew, isn't he?"

The woman's voice was gentle, without any hint of assertiveness; instead, it conveyed a sense of concern.

“I knew this would happen. You’ll definitely arrive much earlier than agreed…” Old Lunser said.

The old dog's words seemed to be a accusation, but they lacked the tone of accusation.

The tone of these two people's voices didn't match what they were saying.

Ruger shook his head and went back to his little attic.

But he didn't start meditating. The situation downstairs was unclear. Although things seemed peaceful now, it was still unsettling. So he continued to look through his spellbook of Lesser Sharpness.

He stood by the attic window, feeling the blood-red sunlight, when a sudden thought struck him.

Recalling the scene he witnessed that day, and the enormous humanoid figure bound by chains and magic circles, he took out his demonic dice, which he hadn't touched in a long time, and examined them in his hand. He usually kept the dice away for fear of accidentally dropping them, and rarely took them out to play with.

I recall a half-human saying that so-called rare objects are those of extremely high status in this world, unique and irreplaceable. So even if the effect of a rare object seems insignificant, these minor effects can still influence some powerful beings.

So, is this figure on the dome tall and large enough? Standing here watching the blood-red sun, will throwing the dice cause another rain of blood to fall?

Of course, he was just thinking about it.

He looked at the spellbook, then at the demonic dice in his hand.

He suddenly realized that he hadn't used any artifact magic on the demon dice yet. If he had to name his two most precious possessions, one would undoubtedly be the Black Book, and the other the demon dice. He examined the dice, mentally reading the horrifying stories of its past owners, while suppressing his impulse. At least not today. He could find a suitable time later to take a quick look and see what he could glean from the dice under the influence of artifact magic.

A pale blue line still runs along one corner of the die, connecting to somewhere in the world.

Ruger knew that this meant that Dasoya Star was still alive somewhere in the world, and that the Holy Inquisitor who had taken her away and his organization had not executed her, at least not for now.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently touched the pale blue thread of fate.

In the hazy moments, a sudden realization dawned on me.

It seems that the person on the other end of the pale blue line is experiencing some kind of suffering.

Ruger shook his head again, as if trying to shake these incomprehensible things off his dog head.

It wasn't until dinner time that Ruger quietly opened the small door to the attic and tried to go downstairs.

(End of this chapter)