Chapter 87
The moon was veiled by clouds.
A man gasped for breath as he pushed through the dense undergrowth. The faint magic flickering at his feet revealed his identity—a mage.
Huff, huff, huff.
In the silent forest, where even wild beasts seemed absent, only the ragged sound of his breathing echoed. Consumed by fear, he could see nothing ahead—only the desperate urge to keep running. His body swayed unsteadily, as if he could collapse at any moment.
Even with his burning lungs and trembling legs, he forced himself forward for one reason alone.
Survival.
Clenching his chapped lips together, he struggled to focus.
The spell enhancing his legs had grown unstable due to his fraying state of mind.
If the mages at the Magic Tower saw his pitiful excuse for spellwork, they might scoff at him, saying it barely qualified as magic. But to him, it was a lifeline—a thread keeping him from falling into the abyss.
“Live. Live. I have to live.”
As if speaking directly to his own legs, he repeated the words over and over, pounding against the earth with all his strength.
If he survived this, then he would live a humble life.