Chapter 6: The Magic Pouch and his Hand Seal

Silvester Lerwick stood on the edge of the cliff. His small cloth coat flapped in the cold wind that blew up from below, smelling of rotten eggs and smoke.

He remained calm and unafraid. He believed that fear would only shake him and mess him up—like a bad component that caused a lock to stick when pressed hard. Instead, he looked slowly to his left, searching the flat rock where the fight had happened.

The dead body of the three-star mage Julian lay flat on a pile of broken stone nearby. The mage’s smooth silk clothes were ripped apart. Her chest was burned from her own magic blowing up inside her, ending her life. Near her quiet right hand lay a smooth black leather pouch.

Silvester walked over to it. His small boots made a soft crushing sound on the stones and dirt. He knelt next to the dead mage and took the pouch from her hand.

It was a top-quality magic bag that had vast space inside. It was made from dragon skin and sealed with a very strong locking spell. To anyone else, the bag was locked forever. The magic runes inside were designed to match Julian’s living soul. If someone tried to cut the leather by force, it would trigger a lightning spell that would start a fire and burn everything in the dimensional space inside the bag.

Silvester lifted the bag and focused his dark eyes carefully.

Locksmith’s Eye.

The leather bag turned into a glowing blue map made of golden light lines. At the top opening of the bag sat the Soul-Lock, a complex floating magic circle of four connected rings around a tiny space that was supposed to open. The centerpiece was frozen in a complete deadlock.

’It is a soul-matching lock,’ Silvester thought. His mind worked in a calm, neat, and careful way. It needed a specific frequency of 10,000 vibrations per second to open the magic space. The sound had stopped completely when Julian’s heart stopped beating, locking the mechanism right in place.

Silvester extended one finger and touched the magic plate in the middle.

He did not try to push his own magic into the bag. Instead, he used his spell called Open to softly vibrate the outer magic circles. He sent many tiny, fast golden mana threads into the magic lines, gently bending the magic rings until they started vibrating at the correct natural frequency.

Click.

The fourth ring shifted to the side.

Click-click.

The second and third rings lined up along the center line. The vibrating mechanism settled into position with a pleasing sound. The blue light changed into a calm white.

The leather string on the magic bag came loose and dropped open.

Silvester put his hand inside. His small arm went deep into the pocket space, feeling the cool emptiness of the void.

He pulled out a few items to help him stay alive:

Four glass bottles full of strong mana potions.

"I don’t really need these, but they will be useful," Silvester muttered to himself.

He didn’t need the potions; he could extend his mana using his Open skill.

Silvester continued to pull out items:

Twelve small, hard biscuits made from special grains that could feed him for three days each.

A five-hundred-foot roll of white spider-silk rope, strong enough to hold one thousand pounds.

A small lantern called the Ever-Burn, powered by a magic crystal that would stay lit as long as it was fed mana.

A paper map showing the known paths through Floors 1 to 10 of the dungeon, marked with dangerous areas and monster nests.

A thin, small, sharp knife made of shiny dark steel, kept inside a soft beast-leather sheath.

Silvester tied the magic pouch to his waist. Since he had opened the Soul Lock without destroying the centerpiece, the extra space inside was completely safe to use. He hid the sharp knife inside his rugged coat, put the map in his pocket, and slung the rope over his shoulder.

"I am ready now," Silvester said quietly.

He turned back toward the edge of the drop. The only way down from Floor 5 to Floor 6 was a straight, upright wall of smooth, black rock. It was slippery and flat from many years of moisture and underground wind.

For an adult fighter with floating magic or metal climbing spikes, it would be an easy task. But for an eight-year-old child whose body was small and weak, it was a daunting test of physical strength.

Standing right at the edge, he decided not to tie his rope to a rock. A rope could easily snap. If the anchor rock broke off or a monster cut the line, he would fall to his death. So he chose to rely on his own magic.

He took off his boots and slung them over his shoulder, stepping barefoot onto the cold rock.

Hand Seal.

Silvester pressed his bare hand against the rock wall. A quiet wave of magic flowed from his skin, sinking deep into the tiny cracks in the wall’s surface. Hand Seal did not just make his hand sticky; it bound his skin and the rock together, creating a strong, unbreakable hold for a short time.

He stepped off the flat rock edge into empty air, held only by the patch of skin where his left hand touched the cliff.

Silvester released the seal on his hand with a quick thought. He moved his right hand down a few inches to a new crack and applied Hand Seal again.

Step. Lock. Let go. Step. Lock. Let go.

He moved down the vertical wall like a spider crawling down a glass window pane.

His eight-year-old body began to ache. After climbing down fifty feet without stopping, his shoulders burned with terrible pain. Exhaustion filled his small arms, and his heartbeat ran fast and wild in his chest.

Body exhausted, Silvester thought to himself. It is time to control my physical limits.

Close.

He locked away his pain, shutting down the signals sending agony from his shoulders and arms. He regulated his internal organs, forcing his heart to slow to a calm, steady beat. He redirected blood flow away from non-essential organs and routed it all into his arms, shoulders, and legs.

The terrible pain vanished, and his trembling fingers stilled, becoming as firm and precise as steel tools.

He continued his descent down into the dark, empty space.