Milo scanned the walls and ceiling, hoping for a convenient ledge he could use, far out of harm’s reach, from which he could pick off all the cassowaries one by one.  Unfortunately, none seemed to exist.  The stalagmites were probably the best he was going to do in that regard.  

Alright, but there’s an inherent danger in fighting from the tops of the stalagmites; it’s precarious and I can fall off and die.  However, I still think it’s safer to fight from a distance rather than down next to my enemies.  Is there a way I can make it less likely I’ll fall off?  

His method had been working up until he encountered two enemies together.  Perhaps the simplest solution was just to make sure he only fought when he could sneak attack single opponents, picking off each bird—or whatever else—one by one.  

Okay, that’s a start.  Only intentionally engage one enemy at a time.  If there are more than one, I just leave them alone unless I’m really sure I can take them or I can split them up somehow.  

What else could he do?  

If he had another book, he could keep it handy for emergencies, perhaps attached to himself somehow.  He’d already proven he could use the binder—oh my god I’m an idiot.  

He already had another “book” in the form of his binder with the stupid little story he’d written.  It was inside his backpack, perfectly positioned.  He could have just nudged himself back onto the stalagmite with a thought.  The only drawback was that it would have eaten a little into the duration of Fetch Book.  The binder was significantly less sturdy than his textbook, but it would have stood up to that level of force no problem.  He could have maintained his balance easily and finished off the cassowary!  

Kicking himself, Milo made a new rule: mentally catalogue available resources as much as possible.  Starting right the hell now.  

First off, he had two books instead of just the one.  Since it was in his bag, he could use it to tug his body around in case of an emergency.  Check.  He also had his original backpack.  He hadn’t even attempted one of his earlier concocted plans to use it as a wrecking ball—although against these particular opponents, that probably wasn’t the best strategy.  Given the tight quarters and their proficiency at dodging, it would be better to drop rocks from above, but that was bound to be very imprecise.  Honestly, snapping their necks had been working really well.  Why fix what wasn’t broken?  

Was there some other obvious thing he’d been missing?  Some cheat to make this situation essentially danger free?  

Well, he could just leave.  Simply head for the cavern exit to whatever was next.  However, that meant forfeiting the opportunity to earn experience, and he wanted as much as he could get.  In a world surely populated by ridiculously powerful monsters and people both, running away with his tail between his legs wasn’t a winning strategy long term.  

No, living long term in a dangerous world was all about managing risk and never getting complacent.  Milo was a student of Minecraft, and he felt some of the lessons he'd learned applied here.  He’d played the game on hardcore mode enough to know that, with only one life, you took your time, prepared like crazy, and always had an ace in the hole in case shit hit the fan.  You also got heavily enchanted diamond armor, but that wasn't exactly an option at the moment.  

How could he avoid risk?  What were the dangers here?  Poisoned feathers, scare stare, and terrifying scream.  Poisoned feathers—stay away.  Scare stare...he supposed he could try to fight blindfolded, but that sounded like a terrible idea.  In reality, it shouldn’t be too dangerous now that he knew about it.  Same with the scream.  He could pretty much weather the effect at this point anyway.  

What are some other risks to avoid?  

He needed to establish the safest standards he could...within reason.  He couldn’t dawdle around indefinitely here.  Running out of food was a risk in its own right.

Hmm...

He’d started the previous battle at about half mana.  It had technically been plenty, but the fact that he had been low meant that, when faced with an emergency, he’d made the questionable decision of being stingy with his mana, unwilling to use Pause For Thought a second time.  That choice had made the process of saving himself with the book more difficult, adding risk.  He needed to set himself up better in the future so that type of thing didn’t happen again.   

Only engage enemies when I have eight or more mana.  Boom, decided.  What else?

He drew a blank for a few moments before remembering that flying around on his book always felt really sketchy.  Was there something he could do about that?  

He considered making some kind of a seatbelt, but honestly that could backfire if he needed to dismount and rapidly switch from magic carpet to weapon mode.  Maybe he should get the last skill modifier for Fetch Book and make his binder into a permanent flying seat?  Strap it to his butt, even?  

Hm.  It has potential…

First, he’d want to verify that the binder would stand up to that kind of strain.  His idea depended a lot on how the skill distributed force, but Milo thought it ought to work.  The binder was quite flimsy, likely purchased for a buck or two.  However, even something as weak as a piece of paper could technically support his weight if it was sandwiched between him and something flat and solid, like a floor.  That was why all the pages in his textbook weren’t ripped to shreds already; they were supported by the other pages, the cover, his various wrappings, and the fact that his skill pushed on the textbook as a unit rather than on any one piece of it.  

Actually, wait, no, that’s not exactly right.  If he pressed up evenly on the whole binder and then sat on only part of it, then it would ultimately get deformed into the shape of his butt and break before long.  In order to counteract that, he would have to only exert a force on the binder where his body’s weight was pressing.  That...might be difficult.  

There was also the concern of busting the rings and causing the binder to lose its classification as a book mid-flight.  That wouldn’t be fun at all.  

Really though, it ought to work.  He’d been capable of using fine control when he’d torn that page during testing.  How hard could it be to manipulate the binder so it was exerting force only where it touched his buttcheeks?  

Or maybe he was thinking about this all wrong.  The problem was that his butt was squishy and irregularly shaped.  What if, instead, he somehow secured the binder to something relatively hard and flat, like a big flat rock?  

No, then he’d have to lug around a boulder any time he wasn’t using the skill.  That was clearly no good.  He’d just have to use precise control if he wanted to use the binder to fly on, and that was that.  

He didn’t want to start practicing right here and now, however.  For one thing, he was up where a spill from the binder could be deadly, and for another there were still enemies about.  He supposed he could head back to the tunnel he’d emerged from and practice in relative safety there, but he wondered if he could kill enough cassowaries to level up first?  That would increase his mana regeneration and ultimately be more efficient.  

After mulling it over, he decided he liked that plan.  For now, the binder was ready in his backpack for emergency nudges, and in the meantime he would simply use his new rules for added safety.  

He waited until his mana regenerated up to nine before flying up to survey the area for more cassowaries to hunt down.  Some quick arithmetic told him that he would need eight of them, assuming they were all level 4, for him to reach level 5.  Before he lifted off, he checked to make sure that yes, he could indeed use the binder tucked inside his backpack with Fetch Book.  Always good to make sure.  

Milo spent the better part of the next hour hunting cassowaries, ultimately getting six more.  He was noticed (and screamed at) twice in that time, but when that happened he simply flew around until he found another one and fought it instead of the wary opponent.  He managed to evade any more direct eye contact, thankfully avoiding the sharp jolt of fear such an event would cause.  

It turned out they were all level 4—with the exception of one, which had been about half the size of the rest and only level 2.  When he killed it, he’d discovered that it was a Juvenile Very Scary Cassowary and subsequently felt vaguely dirty about hunting it down for experience.  He kept reminding himself that any one of them would murder him with no hesitation given a chance, but he still wasn’t used to the casual death of this new world.  Back on Earth, he honestly didn’t even like killing spiders.  Once, moved by its plight, he’d even saved the life of one that had been struggling especially desperately to avoid the shower drain.  

It would be a lot nicer if his enemies would just dissipate into motes of light once vanquished, but this world’s video game similarities only went so far.   

When he was fairly certain he’d gotten all the cassowaries, he flew extra high to make positive that he had a view of the entire labyrinth of stalagmites before activating Skim and searching first for cassowaries, then for enemies in general, and then even more broadly for ‘living or animated entities’ to make absolutely sure that the room was as safe as possible before descending to finally practice with the binder.  

He touched down over at the ‘delta’ he’d stood on before, figuring it was probably the safest spot given the increased visibility there compared to being pressed in on all sides by huge columns of stone.  Even if he’d verified the room was empty, it was still probably a good idea to be as careful as possible.  

Was he being too paranoid?  

Nope.  Nuh-uh.  

Honestly, he felt like he hadn't taken enough precautions; he simply lacked the imagination or the resources to come up with more and better safety measures.  

Working out how to use the binder turned out to be pretty finicky.  He didn’t start with his own body weight, rather venturing back into the tunnels a little ways to find a rock that would work well for testing purposes.  

Part of the problem he faced was that there was so much of a gap between the front and back cover of the binder.  Nothing was supporting that elongated triangle of empty space.  That meant, unless he wanted to leave it flapping open, that he had to focus on keeping it closed while also pushing up pretty hard on just the inside of the top cover where the rock’s weight sat.  

It seemed like it shouldn’t be too difficult to handle if that was all he had to focus on, but when considering that he had to deal with that while also moving the binder through space, managing the balance of his body atop it, and potentially fighting enemies with the other book at the same time…

Complicated.  

He finally had an epiphany after spending his fourth mana on the project, realizing that he could simply envision the binder as being in its pristine, closed form.  Then, with a mental effort, he sort of...locked it in.  When he conceptualized it that way, Fetch Book seemed to automatically exert a counterforce to anything that would make it deviate from that shape, the cover refusing to bend no matter how large of a rock he placed on top of it.  He supposed that it would give if he did one that was too heavy for the skill entirely, but he certainly wasn’t going to try that even if he were capable of lifting such a large rock.  

With a grin, he spent a fifth mana and finally mounted the binder to fly around for a bit.  He even tried manipulating his textbook at the same time, first causing it to simply ride alongside him before sending it in front of him while making it do little loops.  It was challenging, but certainly doable.  He did two laps around the small delta before he was forced to stop, the duration of his skill halved due to using two books at once.  He was going to want to get that third modifier soon if he was going to be using his skill like this.  

In fact…

He brought up the screen with the modifier:

-

Targeting more than one book will no longer count against skill duration.  1 modifier point.  

-

Alright...so far, I’ve gotten a modifier point every level.  I should have two in the bank by the next time I need to spend one, and even if I don’t get another I’ll still have one at minimum.  Might as well do it.  Feeling reassured, he went ahead and spent the point, leaving him with just one remaining.  

Immediately after buying it, however, he abruptly realized something: the amount of force he had to play with was now going to be split between the two books, ultimately lowering both his mobility and the effectiveness of his weapon if he wanted to use them simultaneously.

Wait a second.  I don’t know that for sure.  What if the amount of power I have is per book...not divided between all of them?  

And what if I had a...a hundred books? 

His skin tingled. 

...Or a thousand?