The wasteland north of the Hollow Den smelled of dry mineral and old lightning, the kind of smell that stuck to the inside of your nose and refused negotiations.
Which I didn't mind, because I've gone through worse.
Every three minutes I folded space in a short stable jump—fifty meters, a hundred, no more than two hundred at a stretch, enough to cut the travel time without pushing my own Demonic Essence intoxication past the threshold where my thoughts started dissolving at the edges.
Of course, outside of the teleportation phase, we sprint. Jhuwa matched my pace without complaint.
It was also a proper time to ensure that I could completely act like someone that differ from my initial self.
After all, my acting skill came from the exaggeration and depletion of what I already have, and if my goal was to act totally different than my original self, then I needed to ensure that I was ready and prepared to properly be an actor on a stage.
