Dragging my aching body through the underbrush, I couldn't help but muse bitterly. I don’t know about the dragon’s ability to track me, but I’m sure about my ability to attract trouble. The pain was almost blinding, an ironic reminder of the 'action' I had so naively craved.

The woods around me were dense, offering some semblance of cover. I just needed to get away from the glaringly obvious trail of destruction my impromptu flight had created. It might as well have been a neon sign flashing, he fell here!

Back to the so-called adventure. My immediate to-do list was pretty straightforward: One, survive long enough to regain some form of functionality. Two, stay out of any more trouble. Facing any enemy now, be it a dragon or even an imp, was out of the question. Without my enchantments, I felt as vulnerable as a newborn - defenseless and clueless.

Another pressing issue was exhaustion. 'Thankfully,' the pain was doing a great job keeping me awake. Had I broken anything? I hoped for just a bruise, but with my luck, who was I kidding?

After dragging myself to a point where the hole in the canopy from my fall was no longer visible, I finally took a moment to observe my surroundings. Was I being careless or fearless before? Neither. It was just that I knew how to prioritize. And right now, nothing in these woods seemed more dangerous than that enraged dragon mother.

I gingerly checked my legs, relieved to find they were still functioning, though with a fair amount of pain. The real issue was my back. Please, don't let it be a broken rib, I silently begged. A bruise, I could handle; a fracture was a different story altogether. And my knowledge in first-aid? Practically non-existent. The situation called for something beyond first-aid... more like fourth or fifth-aid.

Leaning against a sturdy tree, I took a moment to catch my breath. My immediate needs were clear: shelter and rest. Only after a long, uninterrupted sleep would I have any idea about the extent of my injuries. I recalled countless stories about finding a cave in the wild for shelter, but I was skeptical. Easy-to-find and uninhabited caves? Yeah, right.

The alternatives weren't great either. A tent, a fire, or maybe something up high? Fire was a definite no; it was the dragon's element, and it could probably sense it from miles away. Can't be too cautious now. And a tent? I didn't exactly have one lying around. As for climbing trees with my back in its current state? Not happening.

But then, I was an enchanter. My specialty was turning the impossible into the possible. Makeshift tent or something less conventional? I pondered. A tent would require multiple enchantments and might not keep out any curious creatures of the earth. I needed something more secure, something that would guarantee a full night's rest.

A barrier, perhaps? The thought intrigued me. I'd never attempted a full-blown, immaterial barrier before. Locks and seals, sure, but this was a different game. It would take a lot out of me, especially in this condition. Perhaps, more than I could bear.

What I really needed was something offering basic shelter and security. Security didn’t have to mean Fort Knox; a bit of camouflage might just do the trick. Glancing down at my robe, I noted it was in one piece – well, sort of. It was riddled with scratches and tears from my not-so-graceful descent, but I figured those could be fixed.

The catch? My robe could only hold two enchantments, tops. And that's only because of the magic fiber on it. If it had been made of legendary silk, it might have sustained three enchantments for a while, but not this one. Two enchantments it was then. I could forgo repairing it for sheltering and camouflage. But what about the holes? Wouldn't the camouflage fail because of them? And even if I managed to get it to work, it wouldn’t keep out rain or small, potentially venomous critters.

Maybe, just maybe, I could do a weak enchantment for the tears, one that would wear off eventually. I hadn’t tried something like that before, but I'd seen powerful enchantments break after a single use because the material or power couldn't hold on. Enchanting my own clothes was always a gamble, especially since I didn’t have a spare outfit. If the enchantment failed, my robe would be toast, literally consumed in the process.

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Even so, I would rather take the risk. It was a calculated risk and in my current situation, any shelter was better than none. And then, what choice did I have?

I mulled over my options for a minute before reaching a decision. Despite the chill in the air and the lurking dangers of the wilderness, I swiftly removed my tattered robe. Holding it in my hands, I focused intently on the technology I wanted to emulate - a self-healing polymer. It was a bit of overkill from what I remembered, but I was aiming for an enchantment that would fix the tears quickly and then break. There were simpler solutions, like the self-healing concrete component, but I wanted the enchantment to be overloaded.

With a deep breath, I prepared to tap into my abilities, hoping my body would hold up for just a bit longer.

The green smoke started to envelop my robe, and I watched it with a mixture of hope and apprehension. Combine, I whispered, almost like a prayer. The smoke spun ominously, reluctant to dissipate. This was a gamble. Rather than visualizing the technology in intricate detail, I relied on the vague impressions in my memory. The efficacy of my combine ability hinged on my understanding of the technology's inner workings and how it could merge with the item. A clear and detailed visualization would result in a stronger enchantment, while a vague one risked weakness or complete failure.

I was intentionally aiming for the latter – vague enough to be weak but just strong enough to last for a single use. It wasn't too difficult, considering I was no materials expert.

As the smoke finally cleared, I let out a sigh of relief. The enchantment held. Now came the real test – breaking it. Before my eyes, the scratches on the robe began to fade. The holes, however, weren't so easily fixed. I started pinching them closed, allowing the newly imbued self-healing effect to work its magic on the fabric.

Wearing only my undergarments, the wind made me feel acutely naked. Despite this, sleeping in the forest without some form of shelter wasn't an option I was willing to consider. The weather here was far from accommodating.

After some time, the robe had magically repaired itself, looking almost as good as new. Well, 'almost' because it was still stained with that disgusting amniotic liquid from my unintentional dragon egg demolition. Unfortunately, as I expected, the enchantment didn't break immediately. How could I possibly gauge the perfect combine connection with so many variables at play?

Resorting to a more manual method, I found a stone with a somewhat sharp edge and began scraping at the edge of the robe, hoping to accelerate the magic wearing off.

An hour later, the enchantment finally dissipated. Not because my enchantment was particularly robust, but rather because the effect was infuriatingly sluggish. At least I got a chance to catch my breath.

Next up was the second enchantment. Holding the now un-torn but still filthy cloth, I focused on a special fabric capable of mimicking its surroundings, based on luminogens and sensors. This was a tough one. Halfway through, I almost lost control of the enchantment because I didn't fully grasp the technology behind it. But, as always, there are workarounds. I could have achieved similar effects with different enchantments, but I lacked the materials and time to cast them. The day was fading fast, and through the dense canopy of trees, I could barely make out the sun dipping below the horizon.

The final enchantment I needed was one for protection against the cold and water – a relatively straightforward task that wouldn't put too much 'strain' on my robe. All it required was bestowing the cloth with the properties of impermeable and insulating materials. In my mental classification of enchantments, I labeled this type as Shifting – changing a material's existing property. This was child's play compared to the other enchantments I'd done.

The self-repairing enchantment, for instance, was an Augmenting type – adding a new property to a material. But the real challenge always lay in Transmuting, the process of transforming the enchanted object into something entirely different. Transmuting was undoubtedly the most useful but frustratingly prone to failure.

Finally, with the last enchantment complete, I had my portable shelter. All I needed now was a reasonably clean spot to lay down and wrap myself in the robe. The rest of the world could wait. After about ten minutes of walking, I found a relatively flat stone. It wasn't the ideal bed, but it would have to do. I lay down on it, and within minutes, the stone had an additional, lump – me.

It was far from the comfort of a bed. For the first time in decades, I found myself missing that damned magic shop and my own bed within it. Sure, there were enchantments that could have made my current makeshift bed more comfortable, but right now, sleep was the priority.

Who knows, maybe I'll actually get a full night of sleep? With that, I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.