The Abyss? What was the Abyss? And was this really not going to cause any problems? Tars wondered.

  "The Abyss—a place where demons roam, a realm of the infinite. But then again, what in this world is truly infinite?" The half-man seemed to read his thoughts. "There is no need for concern. This small space is far too weak to sustain the descent of a true demon. As for using it as a springboard to invade the hollows, that is even more impossible. Do not underestimate this place."

  "What... what do you need me to do there?"

  Tars had realized by now that none of the gifts the half-man gave were meant to let his conscience rest easy. He could use them boldly and with his head held high only because the price—hidden or otherwise—had already been marked in advance. He had clearly misjudged the half-man before; this partial-head definitely didn't underestimate a little kobold like him.

  "Sacrifice, summoning, and Abyssal Altars," the half-man said. "Take my half-face and find a low-level Abyssal Altar. It does not matter if it is dilapidated; demons are no longer as keen on causing trouble as they once were, so there should be many abandoned ones. Once you find one, place my half-face upon it. I will prepare the sacrificial ritual here to summon it back. A severed limb will not suffer the world's revulsion or rejection. For the sacrifice on your end, any old boot will suffice."

  "When you see the half-face vanish from the altar, you may return."

  "That 'corridor' space can already support living beings for short periods. You could let some of your kobold kin live inside; that would make the space more stable. Once stabilized, it will continue to expand, though not as rapidly or noticeably as it did just now."

  The half-man spoke slowly, sounding almost as if he were praising his own gift. Of course, whether it was a gift or "hazard pay" depended entirely on how dangerous the mission turned out to be.

  At least, that was how Tars saw it. However, after seeing Baont and the other wizard apprentices—and the sheer amount of loot the big man carried—he felt that this level of deal wasn't so hard to accept. In fact, the half-man was proving to be a pretty good employer. That was, assuming the guy giving out the benefits was still unable to move and only had one "top-tier, all-around talent" like Tars to run his errands.

  As he listened, Tars sensed the space within him, marveling at its wonder. The expanded dimension felt more tightly bonded to him now, as if the Secret Mark he'd left had perfectly fused with the unfolding space. He felt that if he just focused, he could open a door—a door large enough for him to walk through.

  His first thought: I just gained a hell of an escape ability.

  As for the mission, even after the half-man gave him a crash course on the Abyss, other planes, and the mechanics of "descending," Tars found himself even more confused. It sounded like he was taking the half-face on a tour of the Abyss just so it could be "re-summoned" back here as an extra-planar object. If the face was still considered alive, that would be an invasion, but since it was originally from this world, it wouldn't be rejected. Why go through all that trouble for a bit of skin?

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  Tars couldn't imagine how much of a mess the half-man would cause if he could actually move around freely.

  He kept his doubts to himself. Avoiding unnecessary questions was his primary rule when dealing with the powerful. The appearance of spatial shards and Wonders had significantly elevated the half-man's status in Tars's mind.

  "The die can be left there or taken out; it no longer affects the space," the half-man noted. Though his eye didn't move, Tars knew he was being watched. "You can wait until you are a second-level wizard apprentice before going there. More spell charges will keep you safer. Keep the half-face in your space for now; if it says anything to you, ignore it."

  The half-man gave his final instructions as a faint magical fluctuation drifted over.

  "Mastering the Abyssal tongue is necessary, but remember to avoid dealing with intelligent demons if possible. Your form can be disguised as a low-level, screeching imp to avoid trouble." The half-man's silhouette began to flicker uncontrollably, as if the day's activity had exhausted him.

  Tars felt the fluctuation and tried to mutter a few harsh, jarring Abyssal words, marvelling at how useful the Tongues spell was. The half-man's figure slowly faded away.

  Tars looked at the half-face—or rather, the small partial skull—in his hand. For a moment, he had the urge to head to the Abyss and get it over with right now. After a thought, he stowed it in his space and turned back toward his "three-way ventilated" bedroom.

  The "Corridor Space." It was large, and still slowly growing. Looking at it, the emptiness felt a bit unsettling. To Tars, the name "corridor" revealed the half-man's mindset: it was just a place to pass through to reach a goal. But Tars wanted to fix it up, to turn it into a secure stronghold.

  In that case, the space should be called the "Abyssal Bedroom." It felt fitting—a bedroom adjacent to the Abyss.

  With that in mind, he changed his route. He soon arrived at the gully where he usually caught grubs. I wonder if this will work, he thought.

  He stepped on the soil; it was loose enough. He began attempting to "pull" the environment into the bedroom space. He hadn't noticed when doing small things, but moving large amounts of material was quite taxing on his mental energy. When his energy dropped to half, he stopped to recover, then continued.

  Small stones, dark soil, rotting plant stalks, and even fat, sleeping grubs were all sucked in. He kept at it until his hunger became unbearable, finally suppressing the impulse that comes with a child getting a new toy.

  The effort was worth it. As the soil filled the space, the bedroom became more stable. The atmosphere softened—not bright, but no longer so gloomily dim. Previously, the only light had come from that dark red fissure; now, with a dirt floor, it felt more real, rather than like standing inside a translucent eggshell.

  He picked up a few large rocks along the way; they could serve as a bed later. He planned to wait a few days to see if the fat grubs survived before trying to enter himself.

  For now, he had to return to his soon-to-be-obsolete bedroom to fill his stomach and get some sleep. He longed for the day he could sleep peacefully within his internal space.

  His wishes as a little kobold were simple, though he had many experiments to run: could he meditate normally in there? Could he cast spells? And what would happen if he invited Aiskin and the others inside?

  His stomach growled. Leaning against the cave wall in his familiar spot, with the last boiled grub dangling from his mouth, he couldn't even finish the meal before his head lolled to the side and he drifted off.