“Hey! You damn moose, slow down a bit.”

Gerhart turned and glanced backward and saw that Ritzy was holding up fairly well, despite Mognog’s words. But he still slowed down.

“Why? Don’t we need to move quickly and get away from our pursuers?”

Even if he slowed down, it was only to hear Mognog’s reasoning. Since Ritzy wasn’t lagging behind and was only panting a bit, there shouldn’t be a reason for them to slow down already. They had to get to Chitron as quickly as possible, after all.

“Of course, it’s important you keep up a good pace since the ones coming after you are likely well-trained and whatnot. But you also need to keep in mind how far you need to run. If you move too quickly, you’ll just tire both yourself and the kiddo out until you’re too tired to move. You said it was, what? More than a week to the Chitron border? You’ll be too tired to continue at more than a snail’s pace after less than a day if you try to keep this speed. The kiddo? Won’t even last half that.”

Mognog had a stern tone as he spoke and gently reprimanded Gerhart.

“...ok.”

Gerhart knew Mognog was right. Mognog hadn’t told them his life story or anything. Even if he had, it wouldn’t necessarily be the truth. But the tidbits of information he slipped out now and then told them that he had a lot of experience. And so far, what he had said made a lot of sense. There also wasn’t a reason for Mognog to lie about anything, so it was obvious that they should follow his advice.

Ritzy moved his hands so that Mognog nodded.

“Good. Now, keep a steady, quick, but not too quick, march. Just enough to keep you warm against the cold rain.”

“Can you feel the temperature, Mognog?”

Ritzy didn’t even look at Mognog as he trailed behind Gerhart while carrying Mognog in his arms.

“A bit.”

Mognog didn’t say anything more for a short while after that.

“Kiddo, you should put me in your bag or find another way to carry me. Carrying me like this is taking too much of a toll on your shoulders.”

Ritzy only grunted as a confirmation that he had heard Mognog while he thought about it. He was tired. They had been awake for a while on less than a few hours of sleep. And yesterday had also been pretty intense, so Ritzy’s fatigue had compounded and weighed on him.

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Finding a way to ease some of his burdens would certainly improve their chances of outrunning their pursuers. So, Mognog’s suggestion was happily accepted and put Ritzy into deep thought as he considered what he could do.

Putting Mognog in the bag, as he had suggested himself, was one option. But that would mean limiting Mognog’s sight and awareness of their surroundings, so he wouldn’t be able to provide assistance or guidance should anything untoward happen.

They could stop and tie him to the bag straps on Ritzy’s shoulder, but he would bounce around and become another source of discomfort.

Ritzy wanted to close his eyes and concentrate on his mana to see how much he had left. But that would be stupid since he was walking through a forest untouched by the axe of man. There weren’t any clear paths without several layers of plants, roots, and vines to follow, and Ritzy and Gerhart forced their way through the forest using animal trails and stubbornness.

If Ritzy closed his eyes while they marched through that kind of forest, he was setting himself up for failure. If he, through some miracle, didn’t trip and fall, he would end up with a close-up introduction of a nearby tree or one of its branches.

But by slowing down and exerting some extra effort, Ritzy could get a vague grasp on how much mana he had left. Fortunately, Ritzy didn’t have to use any more mana to sustain the Deathbeds and the tethers to them, not even when they passed right through the trees around them.

It had come as a slight surprise, but it also made sense. Ritzy’s and Gerhart’s hands passed right through the beds, so why would anything else be different? Even the rain only went straight through without affecting the beds. The only exceptions they had discovered so far were Ritzy, when he used mana, and Mognog, who was an undead who should have his own Deathbed, not catch a ride on someone else’s.

And after inspecting, that was what Ritzy felt he had enough mana to afford. It would probably be most of what was left, so he wouldn’t be able to do anything else until he recovered some. But if it meant he could carry Mognog without having to go through the physical experience of carrying Mognog, it might just be worth it.

“Mognog, I’ll carry you on a Deathbed. Gerhart, wait a moment.”

As he said that, Ritzy slowed down until he stood still. Although he could sense how much mana he had without closing his eyes as they marched, that was where he had to draw the line. There was no way he could control his mana accurately enough to cast a Deathbed while on the march.

Gerhart heard Ritzy and also stopped before turning around to see Ritzy put Mognog on the ground.

Mognog understood Ritzy’s idea and agreed with it, so he didn’t protest, even if he wondered if he really had to be put on the muddy ground for the spell to work.

But when Ritzy closed his eyes and directed his palm toward Mognog, and Mognog felt Ritzy’s mana move and establish a connection with him, Mognog remembered something. He remembered the short description inside Ritzy’s spellbook.

Deathbed was the final resting place for the dead or something along those lines. It sounded like it was simply a place for the undead to rest, given the context.

But it could also be more literal. What if it was a resting place for the dead? Well, it wasn’t a singular place for all the dead considering the shape the spell had taken in Ritzy’s hands. But what if it was the bed where the undead rested? ‘Rested’ as in ‘slept’?

“...Kiddo! Wai–!”