This Small World, born malformed and growing under such unusual circumstances, would probably never develop into a truly perfect world. The longer Ruger stood here, the stronger that feeling became, as though everything had already been decided from the moment of its birth. In theory, of course, there was still a one-in-a-thousand or one-in-ten-thousand chance, but that was probably just an amusing little qualification Wizards added because they disliked speaking in absolutes.
Ruger stood atop the Flaming Centipede, looking up at this world as its two hundred and seventy legs trod through the void, carrying him onward in silence.
Compared with his caution when he first entered this Small World, he seemed to have grown bolder.
Perhaps that Two-Ring Wizard, who refused to retreat even before a formidable enemy he could barely contend with, had emboldened him. Or perhaps Ruger had never been a timid fellow to begin with, and had merely been cautious in the face of the completely unknown. At least, that was how he saw it. Besides, this Small World was larger than he had imagined.
The Flaming Centipede's drawback was its size. In fact, it was quieter: it walked through the air without a sound, and once summoned, it normally gave off no further spell fluctuations.
Only in battle, or when it was shattered, might it produce any unusual fluctuations.
Unless someone spotted it with their own eyes, it was stealthier than flying with his own wings, and took less effort, too. It was just a little slower.
As Ruger observed his surroundings and sensed this world, he also spared a little attention for the incomplete World Rune he had just acquired.
After this damaged World Rune was attached to Fendim's Flaming Centipede, the spell had gained a sense of solidity, of restrained power. He could