Infinite Mana - Chapter 170: The Horse He Didn't Own (Patreon)

Sieghart deliberately avoided returning through Greymill after leaving the dungeon behind. Instead, he took a smaller road curving around the surrounding farmland, deciding that several extra kilometers were preferable to accidentally meeting Morran or anyone else from the rescue camp.

The same logic applied to every nearby village marked across Ronan’s map. The rescued miners, guards, demolition workers, and merchants would eventually scatter through the region, and several of them could easily stop at those settlements before returning home.

Sieghart doubted anyone would actively search for him after the rescue succeeded, but Morran would almost certainly have questions if they crossed paths again. Explaining why he disappeared during the retreat and remained underground alone sounded unnecessarily troublesome.

He could simply refuse to answer, naturally. Nobody from that camp possessed authority over him, and Sieghart had already provided considerably more assistance than anyone reasonably expected from a traveling merchant they had met only hours earlier.

Still, repeatedly walking away whenever somebody asked an inconvenient question would eventually create more suspicion than simply avoiding the conversation entirely. Sieghart preferred disappearing before anyone became interested enough to start investigating who “Sieg” actually was.

His mana-powered carriage rolled steadily along the empty road throughout the night, its Runes glowing faintly beneath reinforced panels while the mechanical engine maintained a familiar rhythm beneath his feet.

Greymill gradually vanished behind him. Farms gave way to rolling fields, isolated patches of forest, shallow streams, and occasional dirt roads leading toward villages whose distant lanterns Sieghart intentionally ignored whenever they appeared. Traveling during the night also reduced the chance of somebody recognizing his carriage. A horseless vehicle remained unusual enough that people remembered it, especially after watching an apparently fifteen-year-old boy drive one without any attendants.

Unfortunately, remaining on the road throughout the night meant sacrificing the sleeping hours his body had expected for the last ten years, and that problem became increasingly difficult to dismiss as the hours passed.

Sieghart yawned again while keeping both hands around the steering wheel. His eyes felt heavier every hour, and even Magic Vision became irritating enough that he stopped using it unless something unusual appeared ahead.

His Mentality allowed him to concentrate through pain, maintain complicated spells, and manage several magical structures simultaneously. None of that changed the fact that he currently inhabited the body of a ten-year-old child. That body had already endured a dungeon expedition, poison exposure, several hours of driving, repeated Impulse use, and a fight against a magic-eating earthworm considerably larger than his carriage.

Sieghart rubbed one eye carefully while steering with the other hand, wondering whether some magical discipline somewhere had already solved the irritating biological requirement known as sleeping.

“There has to be some spell that lets someone sleep while keeping their eyes open and maintaining enough awareness to avoid crashing into the nearest tree.”

The idea sounded useful for approximately three seconds before Sieghart pictured himself sitting completely motionless behind the steering wheel, eyes staring forward without blinking while his unconscious body continued traveling.

“That would look horrifying, probably be incredibly unhealthy, and it still wouldn’t help if the road decided to turn while I was unconscious.”

Perhaps White Magic could accelerate whatever recovery occurred during sleep. If physical exhaustion could be healed, then enough understanding might eventually let Sieghart compress eight hours of rest into something significantly shorter.

Alchemy probably offered another solution through stimulants, but Sieghart immediately distrusted that approach. Replacing sleep with magical chemicals sounded efficient until his heart, brain, or kidneys eventually decided they hated him.

Psionics might produce something stranger. Splitting consciousness, letting part of the mind rest while another remained active, or creating a temporary secondary awareness sounded theoretically possible in a world where Telekinesis already existed.

Sieghart dismissed that possibility almost immediately. Experimenting upon his own consciousness because bedtime inconvenienced him sounded exactly like the sort of research Mira would discover moments before confiscating every related book within several kilometers.

Normal sleep would remain necessary for now, which irritated Sieghart mostly because stopping meant losing valuable traveling time when he had only recently begun moving toward his actual destination.

According to the map beside him, the human capital remained around three days away under ordinary travel conditions. His carriage could reduce that considerably if roads remained clear and he avoided another accidental dungeon expedition.

Heading directly there was increasingly tempting. The capital should contain larger libraries, national merchants, adventurer organizations, specialized magical shops, mapmakers, and enough information brokers that finding uncommon knowledge would become considerably easier.

Seraphina represented the magical center of human territory, but it was not the political center. Aura families, military institutions, noble houses, trading companies, government offices, and wealthy organizations gathered more heavily around the capital. Visiting it would expose Sieghart to an entirely different part of human society, something he genuinely needed if his goal involved broadening his knowledge instead of merely relocating his basement habits onto wheels.

The only thing making him hesitate was the dungeon information he still lacked. After what happened beneath Greymill, knowing where established dungeons were located suddenly felt considerably more important than it had before.

One accidental dungeon had provided several monster cores, useful combat experience, Gluttony, Magic Resistance, and a much better understanding of how his newer spells behaved under actual pressure. That was far more progression than Sieghart had expected from an ordinary delivery job involving a merchant, several boxes of explosives, and a supposedly manageable dungeon filled with worms.

He wanted a complete list of dungeon locations before traveling much farther. Passing useful locations simply because Ronan deliberately neglected to mark them felt like allowing someone else to decide which opportunities Sieghart noticed.

“How many established dungeons are actually inside human territory? Ten would already be useful, but knowing this world there are probably dozens nobody thought to mention.”

He had absolutely no reliable number. Dungeons could function as mines, monster habitats, trading centers, military hazards, research sites, or disasters depending upon their age and whatever Guardian controlled them. Some might even have towns built around them, considering how valuable monster materials and mana-rich ores could become. Others were probably sealed because nobody nearby possessed enough strength to explore them safely.

The capital probably remained the best place to obtain proper records anyway. Visiting every minor settlement and asking local merchants about nearby dungeons would waste far more time than reaching a centralized source.

“Fine. I’ll head straight toward the capital, find a better map there, and then decide which dungeons are worth visiting without asking Ronan’s permission.”

Sieghart yawned immediately after finishing the sentence, somewhat ruining whatever determination it contained. The eastern horizon had begun turning dark blue, announcing morning while his body increasingly demanded that he stop pretending sleep was negotiable. He continued for another hour before realizing he had crossed a section of road without remembering anything about it. His hands had maintained direction automatically, but that discovery immediately ended the argument.

Crashing his self-built carriage because he fell asleep behind the wheel would be an exceptionally embarrassing conclusion after surviving enemy armies, corrupted monsters, assassins, Chimerians, and an enormous earthworm capable of eating magic.

Sieghart reduced the mana feeding the engine and began searching for somewhere hidden enough to rest without leaving his carriage exposed directly beside a public road. Several open fields offered nowhere to conceal something as unusual as his vehicle. A lonely barn farther ahead looked abandoned, but using somebody else’s property while sleeping seemed like an excellent way to wake surrounded by angry farmers.

He eventually spotted a dense grove beyond an uncultivated field. Several layers of trees surrounded a shallow depression, creating enough natural concealment that travelers passing on the road would struggle to notice anything parked inside. Sieghart turned away from the road and guided the carriage carefully across the grass. The wheels bounced through shallow holes before entering the grove beneath closely packed branches and thick morning shadows.

He positioned the vehicle between several broad trunks where vegetation concealed most of its shape from the road. Only someone deliberately entering the grove would have much chance of discovering it.

Before allowing himself to relax, Sieghart climbed down and inspected the surrounding area using Enhanced Smell, Magic Vision, and ordinary observation. No large mana signatures or recent human trails immediately appeared. Small animals moved throughout the vegetation, birds had begun waking above him, and insects occupied nearly every patch of grass. Nothing smelled like blood, smoke, monsters, campfires, or recent human activity.

Sieghart briefly considered covering the carriage with Phantom Image before remembering another annoying limitation. Maintaining a convincing large-scale illusion still required enough active concentration that sleeping would immediately ruin the effect.

Perhaps he could eventually engrave an illusion circuit directly into the carriage. A permanent concealment system powered through built-in Mana Runes would be useful for far more than hiding while sleeping.

“That goes on the carriage list too, beside better suspension, wind resistance, reinforcement, barriers, reduced weight, improved steering, and everything else I apparently forgot while building the thing.”

His improvement list was becoming ridiculous, but that only made the carriage more interesting. Sieghart had originally built transportation and accidentally created another long-term magical engineering project. Eventually, he wanted the vehicle capable of protecting itself without requiring constant spells. Defensive runes, automatic barriers, reinforced compartments, perhaps even some method of detecting approaching creatures while he slept would solve several current problems.

For now, natural concealment would have to be sufficient. Sieghart checked every compartment, locked the steering controls, and climbed into the enclosed cargo section rather than sleeping where anyone could see him.

He rearranged several crates until enough space remained between supplies, tools, books, and merchandise for his small real body to lie down without knocking anything expensive onto himself.

Comfort remained a generous description. The wooden floor was hard even beneath a folded traveling cloak, and his shoulders complained whenever he tried lying completely flat between two storage compartments.

Still, Sieghart had slept under much worse conditions during missions. A locked carriage surrounded by peaceful woodland was practically luxurious compared with caves containing monsters or temporary camps beside enemy territory.

“I only need a short nap, maybe two or three hours. That should stop me from driving like someone who got repeatedly punched in the head.”

Sieghart closed his eyes while still mentally reviewing possible dungeon routes, carriage modifications, Barrier Magic, Gluttony, Magic Resistance, and methods of obtaining national maps without revealing his real identity.

He briefly wondered whether Magic Resistance would function automatically while he slept. Testing that seemed important, but activating an unfamiliar Sin Magic spell before becoming unconscious sounded sufficiently stupid that even Sieghart rejected it. His thoughts drifted toward the giant earthworm instead. The creature’s core had looked completely ordinary, yet its absorption still triggered an unnatural hunger powerful enough to drop him onto the sand.

That meant visible corruption could no longer serve as his only warning. The idea annoyed Sieghart because it removed one convenient rule and replaced it with considerably more uncertainty. He would need better methods of testing cores before absorption. Maybe Magic Vision could eventually detect conceptual differences, or Alchemy could identify biological residues left inside monster mana.

The thought remained unfinished. Consciousness disappeared before Sieghart realized he had fallen asleep. Several hours passed without him noticing anything. The first sound that reached him afterward was an animal crying somewhere beyond the carriage, distant enough to become mixed with whatever dream his exhausted brain had been producing.

Sieghart shifted against the folded cloak and tried ignoring it. His body felt heavy, his mouth was dry, and every instinct insisted that opening his eyes was an unnecessary mistake. The sound came again, sharper this time. Something between a whinny and a frightened scream carried through the grove before fading beneath the rustling leaves.

Sieghart opened one eye.

He stared at the cargo ceiling for several seconds while his mind slowly reconstructed where he was. The carriage, the grove, the capital, the dungeon, and the previous night returned in disconnected pieces.

Another horse noise interrupted the process. Sieghart pushed himself upright and immediately regretted sleeping against the wooden wall. His neck felt stiff, his hair had become completely disorganized, and one cheek carried an imprint from his folded cloak.

“What is making that much noise this early? Some people are trying to recover from very responsible decisions involving giant underground monsters.”

He unlocked the rear compartment and stepped outside, squinting against brighter morning light filtering through the trees while listening carefully for another sound.

The horse whinnied again. Still half asleep, Sieghart walked toward the front of his carriage and inspected the area automatically, expecting to find whatever animal had somehow become agitated while attached to his vehicle.

The front of the carriage was completely empty. Sieghart stared at the space where reins and harnesses would normally connect to an ordinary wagon, his tired mind requiring several embarrassingly long seconds to identify the obvious problem.

“I don’t own a horse. I specifically spent all that time building this carriage because I didn’t want to depend on one.”

He rubbed both hands across his face while becoming more awake. Apparently, losing an entire night of sleep had temporarily reduced his intelligence enough to forget one of his vehicle’s defining characteristics.

The horse screamed again, much louder than before.