Kobold Wizard's Journal

Chapter 239 Fate and Buttons

So I started drawing. I remember when I was very young, whenever I was afraid, whenever I wanted to cry, whenever I was in pain, I would think of it and want to hold it in my arms so that I could sleep well, even if I cried myself to sleep. But I could no longer do that. I always missed its button eyes, so I drew it. I even secretly took the notebook that my tutor had thrown away. I liked to draw it on blank pages so that I could remember it and feel at ease. I started to sleep with the notebook in my arms.

Although I haven't cried myself to sleep for a long time, for some reason, tears sometimes soak the notebook in my dreams, making it blurry. The blurred mess looks a bit scary, but I still love it. It still makes me feel at ease, so I've kept this sketchbook for many years, even though the pages have fallen apart.

Unbeknownst to me, many years have passed since I last drew on it, but I still remember it, remember that dirty, stolen sketchbook that was only half-blank.

Although I no longer wear those dirty little dresses and am now a powerful wizard apprentice, I still remember them.

What's even more interesting is that, while the gaze of death looms over every wizard apprentice, I still find time and energy to take the Puppetry branch of the wizarding profession.

I want to revive it.

I wanted to truly bring it to life, but I had forgotten what it looked like at some point, only remembering a pair of button eyes. So I found this dirty sketchbook, which will be alive and can hug me with its short arms.

Although I don't intend to be an expert in puppetry, I still remember hearing that these things, which embody longing and memories, become easier to make into certain types of puppets after years of being imbued with intention.

That half-dirty sketchbook wasn't finished. I thought it was all used up by then. When I flipped to the last few pages, I saw two buttons wrapped in a folded page. I didn't even remember them. It seems that it really was torn by that fat guy. It's a pity that it died in the tutor's experiment ten days ago. Otherwise, I think I would have given him a good scolding.

I write this down, and I refer to it at every step of the puppet-making process.

My heart is filled with strong emotions such as longing, resentment, pain, and fear. These strong emotions, related to it or those it accompanied me through, will make the creation of the puppet smoother. Perhaps the reason I fell asleep holding the sketchbook was because its eyes were still in it. I decided to continue using those two buttons as its eyes; they are the medium between it and me.

My choice is—a branch of the Blood Curse Puppet, the Blood Curse Doll.

My tears and longing since childhood, the pure fear and pain of my childhood, and those old buttons are the best mediums to complete it. Not only do they make the puppet safer and more reliable, but they also make the process of awakening the spirit with the scroll smoother, rather than the inferior, spiritless puppet.

This book is rigorous in its exposition, including my own analysis of the path of the soul. Everything was done to complete it. Perhaps this accidental act of willfulness will allow me to pass this round of assessments and survive to the next round. I wonder when I will become a true student of the mentor.

Its embrace is perhaps the greatest reward for me.

There's a saying when taking the elective course on puppetry: the true beginning of puppetry is no longer limited to specific materials. Different wizards use different materials to give different puppets different lives.

Ruger read it carefully. Apart from the dozen or so pages of children's doodles at the beginning, most of the book was about making magic puppets, or more precisely, the blood curse magic puppet branch, making blood curse dolls. As for the sentence about the introduction to magic puppet making, the choice of materials in the making instructions is actually a matter of scope. Except for special cases, there are very few materials that are completely fixed and cannot be changed.

The crystal pen was scribbling away beside him.

Although it wasn't related to the ascension ritual, Ruger was still very interested in it and even planned to make one himself.

Ruger carefully flipped through the last few pages, a wave of drowsiness already washing over him.

Only after writing the last word did he lean against the bookshelf and let out a long breath. He even casually drew a rag doll on a blank page, and after thinking for a moment, he drew another one. They were the two versions of the doll that had changed the most before and after in the book, one was messy and cute, and the other was gloomy and blurry.

Feeling sleepy, Ruger leaned against the bookshelf and looked to the side.

Leiden is still searching diligently, but it seems he hasn't found anything this time.

As Ruger was about to fall asleep, he looked at Raiden, who had stopped, but was thinking about something else.

This book about making blood curse puppets seems to have been left behind by the old woman herself. The wizard who once claimed to have touched fate said in the previous collection of poems that she would leave the final outcome to fate, to the one who had been waiting for so long. However, she still left this book behind. Although she did not say it explicitly in the book, it was still reminding him to make a choice.

It seems we can't interfere too much in this matter, otherwise this guy will definitely leave behind arrangements, to the point of holding a knife to his neck and forcing him to make a choice.

What fate? If that's what happened, then it is fate. Luger pondered these thoughts, slowly lowering his head and surrendering to drowsiness.

In that case, the arrangement left by that wizard tens of thousands of years ago makes Luger more inclined to believe in the old woman now.

In a daze, he opened his eyes.

The two reappeared at a spot where the water was clear from the side but pitch black from the front.

The water droplets were still dripping upwards.

"No results?" Ruger turned his head and asked.

Leiden nodded and, as was his habit, waved his hand, creating a campfire.

The two sat by the fire, digesting the gains of their trip, which naturally included chaotic thoughts and even disappointments—all of which were part of the experience.

It was a very short time, but I felt very tired.

Ruger thought Leiden thought the same thing, even though the guy had already started brewing tea as if nothing was wrong.

But the blank stare in his eyes as he looked at the campfire betrayed him. Although he usually stared straight at the campfire, there was a subtle difference.

This guy must have been quite nervous when the old woman asked him questions.

As usual, Ruger presented his findings, but Leiden simply waved his hand, seemingly uninterested in puppet making.

Luger smiled and put it away, already thinking about what material to use for his first attempt.

The bubbling sound of boiling tea is much more pleasant than the monotonous dripping sound of water falling backwards from the pool.

As Ruger pondered, he began today's nourishment with the Spirit Hair Nourishment spell.

"Lord Leiden, do you have a teacher?" Ruger suddenly asked.

Leiden paused for a moment, but his gaze remained fixed on the campfire.

He thought for a moment and said softly, "You're not talking about the wizards in the academy who exchange magic stones for lessons, but rather the kind of wizards you're closer to. I had one when I was in the academy, but he was just a very old wizard apprentice and he's already dead."

Ruger was quite surprised when he heard the word "wizard apprentice".

Leiden smiled when he saw Leiden's surprised expression.

“I’m walking his path, and I’m sure I’ll succeed,” Leiden said softly. “And I also want to thank you, thank you for your squeak. I already thought I would succeed, and now I’m even more confident.”

Every now and then, a drop of water would bubble up from the pool, fly vertically into the sky, and disappear without a trace.

The flickering firelight illuminated Leiden's profile, making him appear energetic despite his previous slight fatigue.

Ruger blinked. His surprise wasn't just because of the teacher's identity, but because he was thinking about something similar.

(End of this chapter)