Compressing things is very finicky. Mana crystals aren't as bad as say water or fire. Once in physical form, that's what they are, a solid object. Water and fire are too fluid, too hard to contain in any real sense. I've made progress though, I think at this point that I'm ready to attempt making some sort of bomb. All I need to do is inscribe the sigils on my mana crystals, and I'll be good to go. 

  Sigils are a lot simpler than I thought they would be. From the fantasy books I've read, it seems that enchanting has to do with all sorts of complicated algorithms. For me at least, that isn't the case, at least for something as simple as compression. All I have to do is kind of direct the crystal to do what I need it to. I used a simple sigil for fire, and one for compression. The only problem I had was figuring out how to set them off, but I figured I could activate them remotely by sending a pulse of mana towards them. The water versions of these reacted quite violently, so I'll assume the fire ones will work as well.

  I spend the next half hour making a bag out of blanket using my needle and thread. A master seamstress would surely be ashamed of me, but hey, not everything is perfect. I've prepared all my mana crystals and inscribed them with the proper sigils. Today is the day I get out of this cell. What is it they say in that movie Braveheart? FREEEEEEEDOM!

  First I stack a few of my bombs against the hinge side of the door. Next, I climb under the bud, protecting my feet with my fluffy little pillows. Then I pray to whatever god might be in charge of this world and send a mana pulse directly at the bombs. One, Two, Three, well, it's taking a minute, I guess I'll do inventory. A few compressed mana crystals, nine bombs left after putting three on the door, my blanket, a change of clothes, some decent boots, all in all I think I'm rea----. BOOM. The door, half the wall, and a good portion of the pillows by my feet are blown to fuck all.

  Well, shit, guess I underestimated myself. Maybe next time I'll make sure to include a limiter of sorts, or may figure out how to use compressed mana to make a localized barrier around myself. As I'm contemplating the mysteries of the arcane, a nagging sensation forms in the back of my head. Hmm, wasn't I doing something? Oh, yeah, FREEDOM!

  I immediately charge out of my cell. Only to be greeted by hall, after hall after hall. Cells line the path all throughout this place. How many fucking people are locked up here, and better yet, what should I do a bout it? An idea slowly forms in my mind, one of the best ideas I think I've had in ages. I go up and down the hallway opening slots on the doors. I shout: IF YOU KNOW ANY COMBAT MAGIC, LET ME KNOW!

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Silence, followed by a shuffling of feet, suddenly there is a clamoring heard behind each of these doors. Apparently they all know combat magic, or so they say. Well, fuck it someone has to be useful. Nine bombs to go, and each one can probably take out a door by themselves. I have no idea what kind of caliber of ally I might be getting, but I know one thing. They have to be more loyal than that Vekel son of a bitch. I place 8 of my bombs by 8 doors and get back. I quickly shout a warning to get under their beds, which I'm hoping they listened to, and take cover in my old cell . I send a stream of mana towards the bombs then duck and cover. Kaboom

  After the deafening roar, I quickly rush out of the room. Theoretically I have eight new allies, and they say they can do combat magic (but seriously, wouldn't you lie in their position?). Time to take stock of who we have before whatever guards patrol this place decide to fuck us up. Speak of the devil, this big burly son of a bitch comes running around the corner at a dead sprint. Guess he heard all the explosions and decided to come beat some sense into some unlucky son of a bitch. 

  Hi, I'm Justin, you can just call me unlucky son of a bitch. If you've purchased this video you are in dire need of help. Welcome to my marathon, I'll show you proper leg exercises to get the fuck away. Watch closely as I do a one eighty, for all the kids watching, that's when I turn the fuck around. Remember kids, breathing exercises are very helpful. Like when you are walking into a cloud of ash and dust, don't breathe, exercise instead. Tip of the day, if the man chasing you has what appears to be something sharp or pointy, don't fret. That's the motivation you need to get in shape. Well, I have my hands full, but remember the golden rule of running. Don't be dead, stay ahead!

  After running for what was honestly not long, maybe thirty seconds, I glance back to find the guard well, a bit holier than I left him. As in, he appears to be leaking a bit from his chest. A quick look to my right finds the culprit. A wiry looking man is standing in the doorframe, or well, hole frame at this point. He appears to be covered in a thin layer of dust, but other than that, perfectly fine. Everything about this man screams WIZARD. Long beard, thin robes, if he told me fly and then called me a fool, he'd be the hollywoods idea of a wizard. 

  I clear my throat *ahem* so, uhh, seems you weren't all lying about the combat magic thing. It's a shame I could only free eight of you guys. It's at this point that the man appears to be mouthing something. I'm not quite sure what he's saying though. Rewind tool? Behind Jew? A jewish behind, what the hell is he saying? Well, no matter, I'll just leisurely walk up and ask him what the deal is and see if he'll help me get out of this shitho---.