Master Says the Drawn Traits Must Not Be Wasted

Chapter 122: Chapter 121: Below the Earth’s Surface

Inside The Pulsating Goblin Head.

Fevik was frowning, trying to decipher the text Hesia had written from memory: Ilhar l’ khal th?lik.

”It looks a bit like ancient Elven script, but... not quite.”

She tapped the paper with her fingertip and looked up at Hesia. ”Where did you see this?”

Hesia briefly recounted the Kobold’s commission, focusing his description on the cave opening that led into a dense fog and Trist’s out-of-place cabin in the woods.

”...The strangest part was that even though it’s already late autumn, there was no stove in the cabin. Instead, there was a huge water tank next to the hammock.”

Fevik pondered for a moment, then waved a hand toward the bookshelf.

Using [Mage’s Hand], she retrieved a large, black-covered tome from the top shelf.

She blew the thick layer of dust off the cover, and a heavy, musty smell spread through the air.

On the cover, a quaint title was written in faded silver paint: A Guide to the Forms and Origins of Subterranean Scripts.

Her small hands flipped rapidly through the heavy pages as she muttered to herself, constantly making comparisons.

After a long while, her tightly furrowed brow finally began to relax.

”Just as I thought. This is the script of the Zor, the underground Elves.”

”Zor? Elves? There’s that kind of Elf?”

”That’s right. A bunch of folks who live underground.” Fevik pointed to an illustration on the page—a slender figure with dark skin, silvery-white hair, and wearing leather armor adorned with a spiderweb motif.

”To be precise, they live in the ’Dark Underworld,’ an underground world so vast it defies imagination. There’s no day or night there, only eternal darkness and... some natives who aren’t exactly welcoming to visitors.”

Hesia stared at the illustration for a good while before shaking his head. ”But the person in this picture looks completely different from that guy Trist. Maybe he used some kind of item to change his appearance?”

”An item or magic are both possibilities. Of course, we can’t rule out that he isn’t a Zor Elf at all and just happened to learn the script.” Fevik stroked her chin. ”But that’s unlikely. After all, what normal surface-dweller would have the time for that, unless he plans on opening a restaurant in the Dark Underworld?”

Hesia recalled Trist’s various strange behaviors and thought to himself, ’Given his recipes, a restaurant in the underworld might actually be pretty popular.’

However, the fact that someone who likely came from the underground world was living right near that strange, misty cave entrance gave rise to a faint suspicion in his heart. ”So, could that cave opening we saw be an entrance to the Dark Underworld?”

”Almost impossible.” Fevik refuted him decisively. ”The Dark Underworld is vast, but all known entrances are marked, and they’re extremely far from the Gray Mist Forest.”

”Didn’t you say it’s huge? Isn’t it possible there’s a direct passage from the Gray Mist Forest?”

”When I say vast, I’m referring to the total space of all its caves, tunnels, and fissures, not its surface area.”

”You can think of it like a block of cheese full of holes. Yes, that’s it!”

Fevik’s analogy was very vivid, and Hesia understood instantly. It was the difference between a two-dimensional plane and three-dimensional space.

”As for that place you mentioned, it’s most likely just an ordinary dungeon ruin. You’ll probably only find some ’little cuties’ like goblins and Kobolds inside.”

”But that Beastman, Zande, is a Professional Warrior. The cave can’t just have Demons like goblins and Kobolds.”

”A Professional?” Fevik scoffed disdainfully. ”Just a guy who’s barely crossed the threshold. What’s the difference? Besides, he’s in a ’sandbag’ Profession.”

As she finished speaking, she also completed her character-by-character translation of the text.

Hesia leaned in to look at her translation:

Ilhar l’ khal th?lik—The Skin Peeler in the Forest - The End.

He felt like he’d seen those words somewhere before...

’Isn’t that the horror novel Zoya was reading?! That gourmand, Trist, is the author of that book?’

While Hesia was still stunned, a rough, heavy breathing sound suddenly reached his ears.

”WHERE—DOES—HE—LIVE!?”

Hesia looked up to see that Fevik was now hovering a short distance off the ground. Tiny arcs of electricity crackled around her small body, making her cheeks flicker between light and shadow.

”You... What’s gotten into you?”

”So it was all based on personal experience...” Fevik’s eyes flashed with a light that was a mixture of excitement and rage. ”I knew it! How could a surface author possibly write such a bone-deep depiction of the rituals inside the Spider Queen’s Divine Hall, or that conflicted feeling of hating your own kind yet being unable to let them go! And the details of hunting Elves are too realistic to be fake! He’s definitely a Zor Elf who escaped from the Dark Underworld! I’m going to drag him back here and get some answers!”

”It doesn’t sound like you just want to ’get some answers’...”

”Answers?! I’m going to lock him in my basement, shine the brightest Magic Lamp on him, and give him only ink and a quill every day! Until he finishes the finale of The Skin Peeler in the Forest, he won’t see another sunrise—oh, wait, he already lives underground. In that case, he won’t get another drop of water! That damned author who went on hiatus!”

Hesia: ”?”

”You’re a reader of this novel too?”

”That’s right!” Fevik’s anger didn’t subside. ”He made his money and just stopped writing, is that it? That would fit his status as a male Zor Elf. He might be a true ’Childless’ one!”

To be honest, Hesia felt that while Trist was strange, he hadn’t done anything to him personally.

The fact that he killed Elves didn’t seem to have much to do with him either. From Zoya’s perspective, he might even be considered one of their own.

Looking at Fevik’s state, Hesia had a feeling that if he really gave up Trist’s address, the gourmand would spend the rest of his life in this little shop, accompanied only by parchment and ink.

Just then, Fevik glanced at the Kobold skull Hesia had placed on the table.

”Didn’t you need to do something with this Wand Tip?”

Hesia nodded. ”Yes. I didn’t run into a Goblin Shaman. Will this work?”

”A skull with Red Dragon Bloodline... it’s usable, but it’s not a great match for your current Magic. How about this,” a cunning smile appeared on her face, ”you tell me where that guy is hiding, and I’ll find you a better one from the Gray Mist Forest while I’m at it.”

”Follow the Twilight River north, it’s around...” Hesia recited the address without the slightest hesitation, then added, ”Don’t tell him I was the one who told you.”

[Ghostly Half-Elf... +2]

Upon hearing this, Fevik’s expression instantly went from cloudy to clear, and she broke into a brilliant smile.

”Good.”

The word had barely left her lips when her small hands were already tracing an arc in front of her.

Silvery threads materialized in the air, rapidly sketching and weaving together.

An array so complex it was dizzying rapidly took shape before her.

Every node of the array pulsed with light, as if establishing a connection with a distant spatiotemporal coordinate.

When the final line was drawn, the light from the array instantly swallowed Fevik’s petite figure.

Then, the light abruptly collapsed inward into a pinpoint, finally vanishing completely.

In the empty shop, only the echo of her words remained, reverberating through the air:

”I’ll check out that cave while I’m at it. You don’t have to wait around like a little doorman goblin. I’ll contact you when I get back.”

Hesia stood frozen on the spot, only coming to his senses after a long moment.

Gone just like that... ’Looks like I’ll have to wait for her to get back to ask about the Bloodline Technique.’

Although he had long known this Half-Elf Mage was powerful, seeing such a high-level, instant-cast teleportation magic with his own eyes still left him deeply shaken.

Compared to that, the few spells he had mastered seemed like a child’s parlor tricks.

This Half-Elf Mage was far more powerful than he had ever imagined.

He silently made the sign of the cross in his heart for the free-spirited gourmand, then turned and left the shop.