Kobold Wizard's Journal

Chapter 442 Evil and Taste
The approaching apprentice paused, turning back to look at the two wizards accompanying him.

Luger was also smiling as he looked at them. Before he finished speaking, the old man opposite him frowned and looked fierce. Luger really wanted to slap him. The old man's eyebrows were like two clumps of lush weeds, and when he frowned, he looked even more furious and unapproachable.

The middle-aged man did not respond immediately, seemingly waiting for the old man beside him to speak, but remained silent for two or three breaths.

The middle-aged wizard spoke again.

“That won’t do. We must take her away now,” the middle-aged wizard said earnestly.

Ruger raised an eyebrow; this was somewhat unexpected.

Was it rudeness and overbearing behavior? Or was there another reason?
Perhaps what they said was untrue, that they were not Valin's family, or perhaps they weren't lying completely, but once Valin woke up, she wouldn't agree to leave with them.

There must be a reason for anything unusual.

But these were not things Luger wanted to delve into, nor did he care about them.

He simply couldn't allow the unconscious Valin to be inexplicably taken away by a group of guys who suddenly appeared right next to him.

Although he wasn't very familiar with Valin, he couldn't tolerate such a thing happening around him. Since they were going out together to handle the demon-hunting incident, there had to be some basic principles.

“She’ll wake up soon,” Ruger said, smiling at them. “Then it will be between you two, and it will have nothing to do with me.”

The old man opposite frowned again, his brows furrowing so tightly that the two clumps of weeds stood up.

Ruger kept smiling, but suddenly felt a strong urge to perform hair removal.

These three guys in front of me are probably more suitable for experimenting with magic than just catching something from the sea.

The devil's dice have already quietly slipped into my fingers.

“We were dispatched by Wizard Zorn to handle the demon-hunting incident, so Lord Zorn will be arriving soon. She is also involved in the disappearance of a wizard, and Lord Zorn will agree to my approach,” Ruger said casually.

I just hope that Zorn wasn't drunk, or that the disappearance of the massive magic circle spanning the sea would wake him up.

Ruger felt that it was his identity as a witch hunter that prevented the other party from making a move immediately, rather than the words and grand principles he spoke.

Suddenly, the old man raised a hand, and a huge fireball blazed and condensed in his palm.

Ruger had long heard of this spell, often compared to Fireball, the famous first-circle spell.

However, the fireball spell in the old man's hand was somewhat different from the common descriptions.

If a fireball appears, there are two possibilities: one is that it is thrown directly at him, injuring and engulfing Valin who is lying on the ground, which means that the other party's identity and purpose are definitely not simple; the other is that it is aimed directly at him, which is the easiest to dodge, with the aim of scaring him away and preventing the fireball from falling to the ground.

Ruger's form began to change as he sensed the magical fluctuations.

He immediately realized something was wrong. It was indeed aimed directly at his head, but instead of scaring him away, the middle-aged wizard beside him was casting a spell, pressing his hands down on him to bind him.

Utter malice!

The foul-smelling skin suddenly kicks in.

Ruger was wondering what effect this zero-ring spell, which invoked a primal force he couldn't understand, would have on a first-ring wizard. The influence of the Miserly Demon had already enveloped the three of them, and the stench of the skin immediately distracted them.

The wizard apprentice collapsed instantly, the middle-aged wizard's binding spell failed for a moment, and the old man's unpredictable fireball exploded midway.

Ruger emerged from the flames, feeling intensely hot but not severely injured. These were some of the changes he had been testing. The casting material for the Demon Skin Spell was the skin of a Savage Demon, but after several modifications under the influence of the Demon Body, its appearance had changed, gradually shedding the influence of the casting material. Especially after becoming a composite spell, the skin no longer resembled that of a Savage Demon.

Looking up again, the two wizards had already separated and kept their distance.

Ruger, sporting a pair of curved horns, grinned at their solemn expressions, then looked down at himself, followed by an even more exaggerated, satisfied smile.

The patterns that had troubled him for so long finally began to make sense at this moment.

A surge of malice emanated from the two people opposite him, seeping into the patterns on his body. Those patterns, which would become clearer after being stimulated by the stench of his skin, were now exceptionally beautiful in Ruger's eyes. Just as he had previously judged, the Demon Body spell was adapted to him and several other spells, but the patterns had always troubled him until he realized that the solidified zero-ring spell, Stench of Skin, was also a part of him. Therefore, the Demon Body spell had always been connected with Stench of Skin, but it had never taken shape until this moment, when the composite spell was born.

Of course, it may be related to the name of the miserly demon, so stingy that he is unwilling to even waste malice.

The enemy's malice is stored in the lines on his body.

As malice filled those patterns, he raised his hand to look at his palm and had a sudden realization. This malice seemed to be able to be used more flexibly. The so-called malice was not simply power; it was a gift of evil. It did not harm the body, and even affecting mental power was incidental. It was aimed at the soul, the source of evil.

So, what is that bone hand?
Why did this change occur?

Malice? Does he really possess such power? The so-called primordial power?

Perhaps he only touched upon it a little, grasped a smattering of it, but what he strangely mastered was the stench emanating from the evil within his soul, the stench of evil itself, a primal power that ordinary people could not resist, and one that should be rare in the wizarding world.

Ruger felt that perhaps one day he could go further and not just grasp a little bit of the stench of evil.

Seeing the serious expressions on the faces of the two people opposite him, Luger suddenly felt playful.

These two experienced guys immediately ran out of the vile skin's range, and Ruger, facing a first-ring wizard for the first time, didn't use his usual fleeting spell to ensure it would work.

But now there are even more interesting ways to use it.

Luger grinned maliciously, his powerful mental energy fluctuating constantly, while exuding a strong demonic aura. The number one scraggly hair led a group of hairy creatures in praying on him, which further shrouded him in a layer of faith and divine radiance.

The inexplicable methods and the bizarre, grotesque appearance completely baffled the two wizards, whose expressions grew increasingly solemn.

Luger suddenly stretched out his demonic hand and flicked his fingers in a few simple strokes.

These two simple attempts are both imbued with the application of the power of faith.

Being able to store malice brings two benefits: he can use it more recklessly, even if the other party has left the vile skin's range, even if the other party has not harbored enough malice towards him, he can simply use these reserves.

Or rather, the patterns on his body do not store malice, but rather the stench of the other party's evil.

Two wisps of malicious stench flew from between his fingers, one of which was mixed with the power of faith, and flew straight at the old man with raised eyebrows.

(End of this chapter)