Chapter 109: Spoils of War

Kent’s guess turned out to be entirely correct.

The kobolds were apparently only allowed to enter the temple at certain specific times.

Even though their furious howls could be heard clearly from inside, not a single one of them dared cross the threshold.

That fact did little to reassure Kent.

If the kobolds were truly afraid to enter this place, then there had to be a reason.

And whatever that reason was, Kent doubted it would be anything good.

So he and Daphne chose a very small room on the third floor as a temporary shelter.

The room had a window overlooking the roof of the second floor, which made the position much easier to defend if anything went wrong.

“Here, little girl. Eat.”

Kent handed Daphne a piece of roasted meat.

“Once you’re finished, get some sleep. I’ll keep watch. When you wake up, then I’ll rest.”

There was little else to eat in the temple.

Fortunately, Kent could use water-element magic to condense clean drinking water, so at least they did not have to worry about thirst.

Daphne accepted the roasted meat and ate slowly, taking small bites.

Once she had finished, she leaned against Kent and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Too much had happened in far too short a time.

Daphne’s level was already low, and exhaustion was written plainly across her face.

Kent looked out through the window.

Several hundred kobolds had already gathered outside the temple.

More were still arriving.

They knelt or lay prostrate before the entrance, roaring angrily toward the temple as though demanding that Kent and Daphne come out.

The sight weighed heavily on him.

If he had known things would turn out like this, perhaps he would never have joined the Great Trial in the first place.

But there was no medicine in the world capable of curing regret.

The little room was completely dark, unlike the brilliantly illuminated halls of the temple.

Kent took off his outer clothing and gently draped it over Daphne.

As an all-element mage, he was unusually resistant to different environments.

Even extreme cold would not normally trouble him much.

Besides, the temperature underground remained relatively stable.

But sleeping was different.

Even if Daphne did not consciously feel cold, resting without proper covering could still leave her ill.

Kent glanced at the pile of magical beast hides stacked nearby and gave a helpless smile.

It was painfully obvious that Daphne had little experience with preparing hides.

In the end, Kent had done most of the washing and tanning himself.

After making sure she was sleeping soundly, he finally turned his attention to the spoils he had taken from the kobold priests.

First came the two robes.

Kent spread them out and examined them carefully.

Their size was surprisingly close to that of ordinary human mage robes.

That was one of the reasons he had become suspicious in the first place.

When worn by the kobold priests, the garments had looked noticeably oversized.

The robes were made from some kind of unknown hide.

The material was extraordinarily soft to the touch.

Kent studied it for some time but could not identify what sort of creature it had come from.

Eventually, he set the robes aside.

Then he picked up the strange staff.

It was a short staff, only about thirty centimeters long.

Its shaft had been carved from an unfamiliar type of wood.

Kent brought it closer and sniffed.

A faint, pleasant fragrance lingered around it.

At the top of the staff was a green gemstone roughly the size of a chicken egg.

Kent’s eyes immediately sharpened.

Gemstones were rarely mounted onto magical staves without good reason.

If someone had gone to the trouble of setting a gem this large into the weapon, then there was only one likely explanation.

The stone was almost certainly of exceptional quality.

Kent slowly wrapped the short staff in his spiritual power.

This was the usual way to examine the properties of a magical item.

He carefully extended his perception into the staff.

The moment his spiritual power entered it, Kent sensed an overwhelming tide of vitality.

His eyes widened.

Even his hands began to tremble.

The enormous amount of life energy contained within the staff, combined with the appearance of the green gemstone set into its head, pointed to only one possibility.

The gem was the legendary Stone of Life.

Water of Life was already said to possess the power to save someone from even the most grievous injuries.

But according to legend, a Stone of Life was something far rarer.

It was said to form only after Water of Life had condensed and crystallized over the course of ten thousand years.

And the benefits of possessing such a treasure were almost unbelievable.

First, anyone who carried a Stone of Life for a long period of time could greatly extend their lifespan.

That alone was enough to drive countless people mad with greed.

Second, it could dramatically amplify the effects of healing magic.

Third, it was said to possess the ability to preserve a soul, preventing it from dispersing after death.

And fourth—

it granted immunity to all forms of negative magic, including curses and similar spells.

Kent had never seen any record on the continent describing the discovery of a genuine Stone of Life.

Everything he knew about it came instead from the spiritual imprint buried within his mind.

He examined the gemstone again and again.

Eventually, he became certain.

There was no mistake.

This was indeed a Stone of Life.

And judging from its color, clarity, and luster, it was not merely an ordinary specimen.

It was one of exceptional quality.

Kent then turned his attention to the staff itself.

He inspected every inch of it carefully.

To his surprise, he could not find a single magical formation engraved anywhere on its surface.

Not one.

That left him puzzled.

Without a magical array, he had no way of knowing what the staff was actually meant to do.

Still, Kent carefully tucked it close against his body.

According to the standards of this continent, a staff containing a gemstone like this could already be called a divine artifact.

But without a magical formation, there was no obvious place to imprint a spiritual signature onto it.

And without such an imprint, Kent had no idea how to activate or use it properly.

He had no intention of experimenting right now.

His spiritual power was already badly depleted.

His mana reserves were also far from full.

If he wanted to test the staff safely, he would first need to recover to his best possible condition.

After securing the strange staff against his body, Kent picked up the spellbook.

Reading a spellbook required certain conditions.

First, the reader had to possess a compatible magical affinity.

Then mana had to be injected into the book before the hidden writing would reveal itself.

Normally, the type of magic contained within a spellbook could be identified simply by examining its cover.

Kent took one look at this one—

and surprise immediately appeared on his face.

To be fair, the last few days had already given him more shocks than he could count.

Even so, this particular book made him extremely cautious.

Mounted on its cover was a skull fashioned from metal.

That meant the contents were almost certainly related to either undead magic or nether magic.

There were several kinds of mages on the continent who would be hunted down by nearly every other school of magic the moment their identities became known.

The most infamous were Undead Mages.

Then there were Nether Mages—followers of the Nether God.

Unlike ordinary mages, Nether Mages did not acquire their powers purely through cultivation.

They gained access to nether magic only after forming a contract with the Nether God.

There were also the exceedingly rare blood-element mages.

Of all these forbidden paths, however, Undead Mages had the darkest reputation.

They were notorious for taking the bones of the dead and assembling them into skeletal soldiers under their control.

In fact, the path known as necromancy could be considered a combination of undead magic and nether magic.

A true Necromancer was far more dangerous in battle than a practitioner of either discipline alone.

Undead Mages specialized in manipulating corpses and the dead.

Nether Mages, on the other hand, excelled at curses and other forms of debilitating magic.

And much like mages of the light element, Nether Mages were also particularly skilled in spells that affected the soul.

Kent turned the matter over again and again in his mind.

Truthfully, he did not particularly care what school of magic the book belonged to.

What bothered him was that he had no idea what undead-element mana or necromantic mana was supposed to feel like.

Although Kent possessed affinities with every element, the magical elements he sensed in his mind appeared as a chaotic multitude of colors.

So far, he could only reliably distinguish a portion of them.

Water.

Earth.

Fire.

Metal.

Wood.

Ice.

Wind.

As for the rest, Kent still had no idea which was which.

“Damn it. I’ll just take the risk.”

Kent finally hardened his resolve.

He was about to inject mana directly into the spellbook and see what happened.

But just as he prepared to do so, a strange sound suddenly reached his ears.

Kent froze.

The sound seemed impossibly distant, as though it were coming from somewhere far beyond the temple.

And yet, at the same time, it also seemed to be drifting from the corridor just outside the room.

Worse still, it was not a single voice.

There were many.

As though countless people were speaking at once.

Kent immediately rose and looked outside.

His expression changed.

Every single kobold that had been gathered below the temple was gone.

Not one remained.

Even the light radiating from the enormous statue outside was gradually fading.

Something was wrong.

Kent hurried back to Daphne and shook her gently.

“Daphne.”

She did not wake.

Kent frowned and shook her again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

What surprised him most was the expression on her face.

Daphne wore a sweet, peaceful smile, as though she were experiencing some wonderfully pleasant dream.

“Soul magic...”

The words suddenly surfaced in Kent’s mind.

He pushed at Daphne once more.

Her breathing remained calm and steady.

There was nothing visibly wrong with her body.

Yet no matter what he did, she simply would not wake.

Meanwhile, the strange sounds outside were growing louder.

At one moment, they resembled an elegant song drifting through the halls.

The next, they became the agonized screams of people on the verge of death.

Then, without warning, they transformed again into the noisy clamor of a crowded marketplace, filled with countless overlapping voices.

Kent stood rigid.

Every hair on his body rose on end.

Whatever was happening inside this temple—

it had nothing to do with ordinary magic.