Solo Strategy

"I'd take the blueprints with me," Katashi said, a bit more relaxed than before.

"I have a better proposal."

I approached the hearth and added some firewood.

"As you've probably noticed, this house is quite large for one person. I suggest you move in while you're staying in Deytran. You definitely won't cramp me. We can take turns cooking or buy prepared meals. Or we could even hire a cook. The former storage on the first floor can be refitted into a workshop." I decided to play all my best cards right away. "We're both busy in the mornings: you're at the Fire Forge, and I'm training under the supervision of an experienced air mage. But in the evenings, after dinner, we can work on the glider. I'm not a master of wood or metal, of course, but simple tasks I can handle."

"This..."

"This is sensible and practical," I pressed on without letting him finish. "Besides, we can train in this courtyard."

"Train..." Katashi looked around as if seeing the place for the first time. "I'm not sure..."

"Kay." I stood up straight and frowned at the Japanese. "We are not on Earth. We are strangers in this world. I'm not suggesting we form a party, but I do think we can work together for our mutual benefit. And trust me, you really won't cramp me."

"Alright," he finally allowed himself to be persuaded. "I'll spend tonight at the inn I rented, and tomorrow I'll bring my things over."

Unlike many other cities, you could leave Deytran even at night through a special gate in the city walls.

"I'll meet you at the Forge after my training, a couple of hours before sunset, and we can head to the markets. We'll see what we can get for the first model. Let's also buy a small piece of Skywood so you can study its properties."

"You don't want to waste any time," Katashi said, and I caught a hint of approval in his voice.

"And why would we waste any?" I asked, and this question left him at a loss for words.

Still, no matter that the person in front of me would become a god someday, right now, he was just a young man who had spent most of his life in a small provincial town.

"Thanks for dinner. It was delicious." Getting up from the table, the smith bowed.

"Thank you for the compliment. Before you leave, I suggest you take a closer look at the former storage on the ground floor," I offered.

Katashi nodded and followed me. The inspection didn't take long—the entire hall on the first floor was empty. We roughly paced out the dimensions, and the Japanese paid extra attention to the lighting of the room.

After that, I saw the young smith out and locked the door, not forgetting to activate the magical alarm. Then I returned to the courtyard, washed the dishes, wiped the table, and cleaned the pot. I rinsed my face with cool water from the fountain and did some light stretching. While performing the exercises, I caught myself smiling. The conversation with Katashi went perfectly. Also, I was right—the Japanese, perhaps not realizing it yet, considered me, if not a friend, then something like a comrade. And that was a significant difference from the Last Cycle. A difference that would be good to solidify. I fell asleep quite easily, without even resorting to meditative techniques.

In the morning, I woke up refreshed and full of energy. Half an hour of spear training, then a light breakfast of leftover vegetables and cheese sandwiches, which I didn't forget to top with the remaining gravy from the stew. After that, I hurried to Fishing Harbor, taking the bottles of potions with me.

Today, the former captain of the Trade League met me at the entrance to his house. He stood leaning against the wall, observing the clouds drifting by in the distant sky. Noticing me, he waved his hand and silently headed toward Fishing Harbor, not even checking if I was following him. Well, if he wanted to play the part of a strict, severe, silent mentor, I wasn't going to get in his way. The knowledge and skills gained were far more important than superficial politeness.

The yacht-tender awaited us in the same place as last time. Just like yesterday, the Air mage guided the boat out of the harbor into open water using only magic, never once touching the oars. Actually, I had intended to ask him to teach me the Air Bubble spell while we sailed out of the bay, but I chose not to interrupt the trainer's silence. I wasn't in a rush and could wait, although his teaching style was starting to get on my nerves. Once we reached open water, the former captain of the Trade League finally deigned to speak:

"Activate the Perception aura and just watch me."

Nodding, I did as instructed and began to observe the Air mage's manipulations. At first, he acted, seemingly deliberately, in a crude manner, literally spilling out energy. But gradually, he started to reduce the energy expenditure. And at some point, my perception was no longer sufficient to catch his manipulations. Noticing this from my expression, Eddart stopped and, extending his hand, ordered:

"Give me those potions you brought yesterday."

After examining the vials, the former captain set two aside and began to twirl the third in his hands. He uncorked it and sniffed, then asked:

"This one enhances sensitivity to ambient magic but slows down the body's reaction speed?"

"Correct," I confirmed.

"Well brewed, and expensive ingredients were used. Do you have only this one, or is there more?"

"I have three more just like it," I replied.

"And what's in the others?" He nodded towards the other two vials.

"Temporarily enhances sensitivity to Air magic but dulls the perception of Earth magic—the blue one. And the red one—helps to track the flow of energies in the body more clearly, but temporarily impairs vision. All can be used simultaneously. The master who sold them assured me that the side effects would be minimal and quickly pass."

"Interesting," Eddart frowned. "A good combination, but it can wait for now. Today, we'll stick with this." He tossed me the first vial. "Drink it, and when it starts working, wave your hand."

Obediently downing the vial, I tuned into my sensations. At first, my body felt slightly stiff—just a bit, but noticeable—and then I started seeing something "strange" before my eyes. Some barely discernible "clouds" and streams of something weightless. And when I looked at the Air mage, I began to distinguish the magic flowing through him, even without the Aura of Perception. Faintly, but I could see it.

After I waved my hand, the former captain of the Trade League began casting again. The air around our boat stirred.

"Watch what I do and observe what happens to the wind," Eddart said. After waiting for my nod, he continued to weave his magic.

What he was doing was clearly not Wind Sense but something else. However, being more experienced in Air magic and having trained dozens of future ship mages, he certainly knew better how to achieve the best progress.

We spent the whole day like that. I just watched, felt the surrounding air currents, and matched them with the mage's energy movements, occasionally answering the former captain's short questions. And no, it wasn't useless. By the end of the lesson, when the potion had worn off, I finally caught an unfamiliar sensation—as if the air around me was alive, and its gusts were the breath of a celestial giant.

On the way back to the fishing harbor, Eddart made me meditate, not on air, but on water. Why? I didn't know, but I obediently followed his instruction. In general, I decided not to argue with him. Despite the apparent oddity of his teaching method, I felt definite progress.

Before we parted, the former captain of the Trade League gave me a strange instruction:

"Tomorrow, bring another vial like the one you used today." I nodded, and he continued, "Also, before your next training session, you need to stay up and come as exhausted as you can."

I didn't quite understand why he needed this, but I would try. I told Eddart that I got it, and we said our goodbyes. Staying up was no problem, but getting tired? I'd have to spend all night training with the spear at maximum intensity.

Lost in thought about how to push myself to the limit in the most beneficial way, I didn't notice when I reached the Fire Forge. Katashi wasn't there yet, so I decided to wait for him on the same bench where we had met yesterday. While waiting, I devised a plan for a grueling training session that included not only strength and weapon exercises but magical practice as well.

After half an hour of waiting, I started glancing at the Forge's door, considering whether to go inside. But while I hesitated, wondering if I should do it out of mere curiosity, Kay appeared at the other end of the square. He was dressed for travel: a large backpack on his back, similar to mine, a capacious bag in his left hand, and a box about a meter and a half long in his right. At first, I was surprised by the amount of stuff he had, but then I realized: the backpack or bag probably contained armor, which he wasn't wearing now but surely did on the way to Pentapolis.

"Ave!" I greeted Katashi.

"Hello," the young blacksmith replied, a bit wearily.

"When did you last sleep?" I asked, noticing the dark circles under the Japanese's eyes.

"Four days ago," Katashi shook his head.

"But what kept you from getting a proper sleep last night?"

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

It made sense earlier—the journey, then work in the Forge and new experiences, but what kept him up last night?

"Thinking," he answered concisely.

"Let's first drop off your things, I'll buy something to eat, and after dinner, you should get some sleep," I suggested.

"We wanted to go to the market," the Future God of Labor frowned stubbornly.

"Fine," I agreed, knowing it was useless to argue when he looked at me like that, "but let's drop off your things first; we'll go to the market afterward."

He agreed to that. As we walked home, I tried to engage the Japanese in conversation, but he responded reluctantly, clearly muddled from lack of sleep. I was also curious about what he had in the wooden box, but I refrained from asking, knowing I'd see it soon enough.

We only stopped by the house briefly. I gave Key a short tour of the rooms, after which he chose the corner bedroom for himself. Leaving his things, we headed to the market.

As soon as we approached the stalls, it was as if Katashi got a second wind. Since we needed relatively simple materials for the glider prototype, we made quick work of our shopping: several long bamboo poles, a roll of canvas fabric, a small pot of basic glue, and a coil of thin but strong rope. And, of course, we acquired a small piece of Ptah skywood—literally a fragment, which was sold to us for a modest price.

While the Japanese was checking the prices of metal ingots, I bought a basket of prepared food: a few patties, boiled eggs, and smoked fish, also grabbing a couple of jugs of the lingonberry-like juice drink I had grown so fond of.

When we got home, I practically forced Katashi to eat, as he kept trying to examine the Ptah wood. But after the meal, he grew so drowsy that he was literally nodding off.

"Alright..."

I took away the empty mug he had been holding for almost a minute, staring at the wall.

"All the work can wait until tomorrow."

The young blacksmith stirred, but I stopped him, placing my hand on his shoulder:

"Would you yourself let a worker who's falling asleep on his feet touch the job? No. Exactly. So, off to bed you go—you know where the bedroom is. Wake-up call an hour before dawn."

"Got it. Makes sense," Kay agreed unexpectedly easily and, getting up from the table, he still first washed his dishes and only then went up to the second floor.

Seeing him off, I couldn't help but think that Katashi really did treat me differently than in the Last Cycle. He listened to my arguments and even agreed when he was clearly against them. It was unusual and unfamiliar, remembering his attitude toward my former self.

Kay went to sleep, and I, after tidying up the courtyard, carried all the furniture—a table and a couple of stools—to the former storage room on the first floor, freeing up more space. I already had a plan to wear myself out over the course of the night, so I got straight to implementing it. First, I went up to the office and, opening the weapon cabinet, donned my armor, not forgetting to put on my helmet and take Striking Whisper. Then I descended to the courtyard, where I set about driving myself to complete exhaustion. And that was no easy feat, considering my Sapphire rank and Adamantium body. Nevertheless, by combining physical exercises, acrobatics with the added weight of the armor, and spell practice, I managed to wear myself out so much by morning that I could hardly move my legs. I was so tired that I didn't even bother to have breakfast.

In the morning, it was as if Katashi and I had switched places. The Japanese was bright and fresh, while I looked like a squeezed tomato.

"My trainer ordered me to come to today's session exhausted," I explained to the young blacksmith.

"You must always follow the mentor's instructions precisely," the Future God of Labor replied, not at all surprised by my trainer's strange order.

"Are you off to the Forge again today?" I asked, wiping off sweat.

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Absolutely?" I was surprised.

"Today, a dwarf mechanical hammer that's been under repair for almost half a year will be delivered to the Fire Forge. I want to see it."

"It must be quite a sight, it's a pity I have training again in the morning."

"You mentioned it," the Japanese nodded, and I recalled that I indeed had. "Do you mind if I stay at the Forge until sunset and return home by myself?"

"Great, so I'll have time to sleep for about three hours," I was pleased with the suggestion. "And then we can start assembling the prototype."

I made it to the port districts still feeling somewhat energetic, but as soon as I sat on the rowing bench of the yacht-tender, I barely resisted closing my eyes, knowing I'd immediately pass out. The former captain of the Trade League was satisfied with my condition and even sparsely praised me for accurately following his instructions.

The whole following training passed in a fog. I drank a potion and spent the first two hours observing the actions of the Air mage again, then practiced deep meditation. I realized why I had pushed myself to exhaustion only at the end of the session, when meditation overlapped with fatigue, making me feel as if I was dissolving into the wind currents surrounding our boat. As soon as I managed this, Eddart ended the session, instructed me to remember that state, and sent me off to sleep.

Arriving home, I immediately went up to the bedroom without even washing up, kicked off my boots, and collapsed into bed fully dressed. Katashi came about four hours later, during which I not only got a decent amount of sleep but also, thanks to the bonuses of the Adamantium Body, managed to recover.

"So, did you see the dwarven mechanical hammer?" I asked the young blacksmith, setting a kettle of water on the fire.

"Seeing it, that I did. But they haven't put it into operation yet. Imagine, this mechanism also consumes divine tears, not as much as the forge, but still—it's expensive to use. And it's not much more effective than a water hammer. Though I might be wrong, since I haven't seen it in action yet," the Japanese answered at length, then suddenly asked something else, "Are you planning to brew some tea?"

"Alright."

"Let me handle this," he offered, getting up from his stool.

"Sure, no problem," I agreed, stepping away from the hearth.

"You mentioned a spell called Lightness," Katashi said, removing the boiling pot. "Does it really affect an object's weight while keeping its mass the same?"

"That's right."

"That's very interesting," the Future God of Labor said, scratching his temple. "Intriguing possibilities open up. For example, you could add a much heavier hammer to a water-powered drive, reduce its weight with this spell, lift it, and then cancel the magic to strike the workpiece much harder."

"I think so, yes, that's possible," I nodded. "And in battle with heavy weapons, it would be useful as well."

"Well, that's obvious," the young blacksmith dismissed my example.

He was clearly more interested in the application of magic at work than in battle.

While we drank tea, I talked about my training, not just to keep the conversation going but to nudge Katashi toward a deeper study of magic.

"So, you're saying that the Wind Sense used by master sailors is different from the same spell used by archers?" Katashi asked, picking up on something that interested him in my story.

"Yes. Archers use a cut-down version of that aura. They simply don't need more. A full Wind Sense aura is akin to controlled meditation and requires deep immersion in the process. But archers need less: to feel the wind direction nearby and on their arrow's flight, perhaps to guide it. Deep immersion in this Sense is dangerous for them; in battle, they have much more to do: watch enemies, use skills and other spells, dodge attacks, and so on. But Wind masters on ships need to control a much larger volume of space. They also need to sense air movement at different altitudes and weather changes. And importantly, they're not fighting, so they can fully concentrate on this aura."

"And you need a full-fledged aura," the Japanese nodded at my explanation, "because when flying a hang glider, having complete control over the winds and air currents is crucial."

"Exactly," I confirmed.

"I've been thinking," after finishing his tea and washing his mug, the Japanese turned to me. "Why do you need a hang glider? Don't interrupt, let me explain my thought. You need to ascend a kilometer up, right?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be simpler to do it another way? For instance, with a balloon?" Having said this, the young smith looked at me with a hint of superiority in his gaze.

"First off, a proper balloon would be more expensive to make, as it requires much more costly fabric. And secondly, a balloon is essentially a one-time use item. But a foldable hang glider, which you can carry with you, also serves as a means of transportation and aerial reconnaissance."

"Carry with you?" Katashi said doubtfully. "Even disassembled, it would take up quite a bit of space."

"I'll order a spatial box for it," I shrugged.

I had already thought this detail through. Such a box wouldn't be that expensive, as I didn't need much—a volume ratio no greater than one to three, and a weight ratio of one to two would be fine.

"But..." Katashi, still not fully accustomed to all the magical wonders of Ain after three months, seemed to freeze for a moment.

"But if the hang glider doesn't work out, we'll make a balloon," I smiled.

"Are you that rich?" Katashi frowned.

"No, but I believe in my ability to earn money," I declared confidently.

Kay clearly wanted to say something, but then, remembering I truly didn't lack funds, he chose to remain silent.

After dinner, the Japanese went to his room and returned with a modest-sized box in his hands, which contained tools he had made himself. A dozen knives of various sizes and shapes, pliers, scissors, and something resembling a portable workbench.

"What should I take on?" I asked when we finished unpacking yesterday's purchases.

"Do you know how to work with bamboo?" asked the young blacksmith.

"No," I admitted honestly.

"Can you glue fabric?"

"I've seen the process..."

"Then hand over the blueprints and stay out of the way," Katashi smirked. "If I need help, I'll call you."

"But there must be something I can help with, right?" I still tried to insist.

"I don't like someone breathing down my neck while I'm working," he said, already not looking at me, but examining the bamboo poles.

Fine then—not like I was dying to, anyway. With that thought, I left the former storage room and, taking Striking Whisper in hand, began training, imagining with each movement how I would slice through the arrogant Katashi from shoulder to waist. I grasped his character, yes, but nevertheless, he could still get under my skin with just a couple of words. About an hour passed like that before the young blacksmith finally called me over to stretch the fabric. No, he hadn't made a full frame in that time; instead, he laid out a sort of mock-up on the floor, securing the bamboo poles with clamps.

Looking at Skyros' blueprints, building a hang glider seemed pretty straightforward. But that impression turned out to be false. The precise distribution of loads required a specific frame rigidity, which we couldn't achieve on the first, second, or even the tenth attempt.

"Pure bamboo won't do," Katashi declared two hours after sunset. "We need to add metal or additional stiffening ribs and struts."

"I heard that on Earth, they made frames purely out of bamboo," I disagreed.

"Maybe," the Japanese nodded. "It's possible. But for an all-bamboo hang glider, we probably need different blueprints than the ones we have. Do you have other blueprints?"

"No."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," he smirked. "Maybe then we should go back to the balloon idea?"

"But do you think that would be easier? Or have you ever made one?"

"No, I haven't," admitted the young blacksmith.

"In that case, let's add metal ribs to the bamboo for extra strength, and we'll attach the fittings to them as well. Yes, it will be heavier, but we're making a prototype, not a flight model. You can craft what we need at the Forge, right?"

"I can," agreed Katashi. "Alright, I'll do it tomorrow. Just need to think about the attachment options. But a flyable prototype…"

"We're just working on the basic design for now," I interrupted the Future God of Labor. "The shape, the size, the attachment options. When it comes to the flyable prototype, the materials will be different too."

"But…"

"If you're not interested, just say so."

Over the last few hours, he'd been getting on my nerves with his nitpicking: I wasn't holding the fabric right, the angle of the rod in my hands was wrong, something else was off—and I finally lost my cool a bit.

"I'm actually interested," admitted Katashi, looking away. "I love unconventional tasks."

"Then let's get to work instead of finding excuses why we can't do this," I said more calmly.

"But if we make a mistake, you'll crash."

Finally, I heard the real reason behind his doubts.

"No, I won't crash," I smiled sincerely. "We'll be testing the glider over water. And believe me, even falling from a kilometer high into calm water, I won't die. Mithril body, Sapphire Rank, magic."

"What magic?"

"I'll deploy an inverted air shield before myself. It won't stop the fall, of course, but it will slow it down. So, I'll keep putting up those shields the whole time I'm falling. By my calculations, this will halve the fall speed. A human's free-fall speed from a kilometer height is about two hundred kilometers per hour, and cut that in half, it's a hundred. And my body can definitely withstand a fall into water at that speed. But that doesn't mean I'm planning to test it," I clarified just in case.

"Alright," the tension seemed to leave the young blacksmith's voice, "then I'll make corner brackets tomorrow, and we'll try again."

"Now we're finally talking business," I smiled.