Theo ran as fast as he could, pack cradled in his arms like a baby. It only took three steps of running and feeling it swing back and forth, battering into his lower back for him to decide that he couldn’t carry the pack the normal way.

Besides, he’d never tested the limits of Striding Wind before, and this was his chance to see if his legs would give out before he reached his destination.

The pack gently jingled, metal implements colliding inside to punctuate every step. It was regular enough that he used its rhythm to slightly harden the dirt beneath his feet. Sparrow had hammered home the point that, as his strength was improvisation, being able to take advantage of any sound would be very valuable.

The countryside was open, once he left the embrace of The Woods. The foliage thinned out, and soon the land became wide open plains with the only real thing of note being the dirt road he ran on.

His feet left a plume of dust in their wake, clumps of dirt dislodged with every step.

Theo fell into a comfortable rhythm, head filled with swirling thoughts of worry and memory, hoping Sparrow was alright and already starting to miss Union City. There were flecks of anxiety in there too, as the reality that he was on his way to Etol by himself started to settle in.

What was he doing? Running off by himself?

He quashed those doubts, forcing his thoughts to run through the plan he had made. Enter as a pilgrim, invoking rites that Thelonious taught him. Slip into casual conversation a question about if there were any public places to see prisoners and criminals. Use magic to get Sparrow out and escape together.

He would be the first to admit that the plan hinged a lot on “use magic to solve problems”, but in his defence… that was essentially what his life had become.

His thoughts wandered through all the classes he’d had (perfectly preserved thanks to Tome of Memories), and all the magic he’d learned.

His focus and efficacy had improved greatly, and the strength of versatility was showing itself more and more. His tricks in battle were no longer limited to moving some earth around – everything from illusions to fire to conjuring metal blades at knee-height now resided in his repertoire.

Not only was he able to simply wield stronger magic, but he used what he had more effectively.

Stolen novel; please report.

That was the major reason for his high rank in physical combat, and why he’d become a genuine challenger in the Martial Exchange.

Theo kept ruminating as things turned slightly chilly and the sunny yellow glow turned red and finally disappeared, replaced by the blue moonlight.

He slowed down.

He could have kept going through the night, but it was definitely safer to hunker down and avoid all the things that came out when darkness engulfed the land.

Finally pulling the large pack back onto his back, he walked a few paces out from the road, and started whistling. It was a little working tune inspired by teams he’d heard building and digging in Union City, embellished with runs and wandering aimlessly like his feet while he waited for his magic to, well, work its magic.

The earth opened up, and a mouth appeared amongst the grass. Theo kept singing, as he stepped inside.

It was a narrow, slanted tunnel that grew wider and wider as mana continued to flow out of him. Soon, he was looking at a small circular room like a hanging dewdrop, tall enough for him to stand up, and wide enough to lie down and rest.

He stopped whistling.

He looked up, out of what was effectively a hidden underground house. The dim light filtered through the hole, shining a spotlight on Theo.

Reaching into the pack, he pulled out a small orb. Channelling his mana through its surface, it started to glow, filling the space with diffuse light. With a short whistle, the mouth above closed and he was left in what was almost darkness, just bright enough to see the exit fill itself, leaving no trace of his handiwork until meters below the surface.

Theo exhaled from his diaphragm, whispering as the air around him turned from tunnel stale to mountain fresh. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the feeling. He had found out the hard way in class that this was a dangerous way to sleep, and so clean air was definitely something he made sure to guarantee.

He pulled out the leather cape, and laid it across the dirt floor, a basic tarp more comfortable than the earth (and less liable to contain worms). From the pack, he pulled out a pouch of beef jerky and rations, and a small metal bowl. With a rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his leg, pure water collected itself from the air and damp earth and deposited itself in the bowl.

Theo placed the bowl on the earth. He cleared his throat, before chanting in a rough, gravelly voice. The temperature inside the cavity rose as steam did from the bubbling water. He threw in the jerky, and watched it boil as he felt oddly more magical than he did actually casting magic.

Once the water had turned a rich brown, he stopped chanting, and moved to refresh the air again. And just like that, he had a warm soup to dip the hard rations into.

After dinner was done, Theo laid down on the cape, and pulled the cloak from his pack over his body. He shifted, feeling the loose earth underneath him accommodate as it sank underneath his weight. In an odd way, this was the best bedding he had ever experienced; even odder when he considered how the only real difference between what he had in his Shack was the slightly damp earth instead of accumulated dust.

Lit by the dim vigil of a glowball, inside a pocket of air hidden deep in the earth, he settled down to rest, ready to do it all over again another six or so times.