"Teacher, I've had a question I've been wanting to ask you."
It was the morning of the third day since they'd taken down the Shadow Bladed Panther. They'd rested fully, ready to set out again while the weather held—clear skies and a gentle breeze that carried the faint scent of pine from the mountain slopes.
They'd spent an entire day recuperating here, not just regaining their strength but also stocking up on provisions. The pool had yielded dozens of fat, slow-moving fish, which they'd dried into jerky strips. Even the Shadow Bladed Panther's meat hadn't gone to waste—sliced thin and cured, it joined the fish as trail rations.
The panther jerky was slightly lacking in flavor, rushed in the curing process, but in the wild, perfection was a luxury. Leon had seasoned it heavily with dried herbs and a pinch of salt from his pack, masking the gamey tang and sour undertones of the meat.
They never would have dared to process so much meat out in the open if not for the panther's lingering presence. Its scent still hung heavy in the air, keeping smaller predators at bay. One magical beast lured by the smell had been enough—Leon and the others were still too weak to fend off repeated attacks, and Im couldn't always be in the right place at the right time.
As Leon packed a leather pouch with jerky, he thought about the unexpected benefit of the panther's meat: its faint mana-infused properties. For him, it did little—his body already hosted two sources of mana. One, the orthodox kind, stored in his mana pool and cultivated through meditation. The other, a slower, more grounded flow, woven through his meridians by Tai Chi, strengthening his body and subtly boosting spell power even if it couldn't be cast directly. He'd once tried channeling it into a qi wave, but it had barely rustled the grass.
For Flower and Dahlia, though, the mana-rich meat was a boon. Neither had fully awakened internal mana yet, and the panther's flesh theoretically accelerated that process—far more reliable than the unproven health supplements of his old world.
Leon had taught Tai Chi to Im, Flower, and Dahlia months ago, but none of them had managed to unlock its mana-generating potential. They'd latched onto the breathing technique, though, which boosted their meditation efficiency and mana recovery. It was enough for them, but Leon—still clinging to the martial arts nostalgia of his past life—valued both form and breath equally.
Now, watching Im stuff pouch after pouch of rations into his backpack without it growing an inch fatter, Leon's curiosity finally got the better of him. The question he'd tucked away for weeks tumbled out.
Im didn't pause his packing, his fingers deftly tying a leather cord around a bundle of fish jerky. "Ask away."
"Your backpack—how can it hold so much? Is it legendary space gear?"
Leon had read vague mentions of such items in old tomes—rings that held entire libraries, pouches that carried wagonloads of supplies—but never in detail. Once, he'd dismissed them as unattainable luxuries, but now, watching Im's seemingly bottomless pack, he couldn't help but wonder. A space ring would fit perfectly with the "protagonist" narrative he sometimes joked about—though he was quick to squash that thought when recklessness loomed. Better to be cautious than dead, even if it meant missing out on a fancy trinket.
Im let out a dry chuckle, finally glancing up. "You've been staring at my pack like a child eyeing a honeycomb. Fine—I'll explain. Space gear falls into three categories, based on how it works."
He set down the jerky, leaning against a smooth boulder as he spoke, his tone shifting into the patient, instructional register he used for magic theory.
"The first is an Expansion Pack. Made from magical beast leather or rune-woven cloth, with arrays inscribed to stretch the internal space and reduce weight via anti-gravity runes. It's just expanding the pack's existing space—same dimension as you. Break the pack, and everything inside bursts out, usually broken."
He tapped his own backpack. "Expansion rates range from 10 to 100 times. They're the most common—lowest technical barrier. Any competent rune mage can craft one, if they have the materials."
"The second type is Small Space-Attached Gear. A craftsman carves a tiny pocket dimension into a magical item—like a bracelet or arm guard—separate from our world, like a bubble in water. Size varies: some are no bigger than a jewelry box, others as large as a cottage. More materials mean more space, so they're rarely made smaller than a bracelet."
"No weight, perfect secrecy—you can't access the space without the item's opening. Force it, and the pocket dimension collapses, swallowing everything inside into space turbulence. But the artificial space has incomplete laws—no living things allowed. Food stays fresh forever, though. Only Purple Robe Mages can craft these."
"The third, and rarest, is Half-Plane Anchors. Powerful mages capture a small plane and bind it to an object—ring, necklace, even a toilet. The space size depends on the plane. If it's a lava world, you can only keep fire elementals. If it's fertile, you can plant herbs, raise beasts, mine gems—worth a fortune. But if it's a barren rock, it's barely useful."
"Half-planes need defense. Leak the coordinates, and raiders will storm it. Legendary Mages only can handle that. Destroy the anchor, and you just lose access—the plane itself stays intact."
Leon nodded, absorbing the details. "So yours is an Expansion Pack?"
"Naturally." Im's lips quirked into a faint smile, though his eyes held a hint of regret. "If I hadn't been injured in the academy incident, I could craft you low-end versions. But as it stands? Don't bother hoping. This one cost me years of savings. I sewed it into a sturdier backpack later—yours looked more practical, so I copied the design."
Leon sighed, not surprised but still disappointed. Flower and Dahlia, who'd wandered over to listen, exchanged glum looks. No space gear for them anytime soon.
With the last of the rations packed, they shouldered their bags—Leon's feeling noticeably heavier than Im's—and resumed their journey into the mountains.