There was just one more thing to do before trying this out. Logan was so used to the versatility of his spatial storage collar that hanging onto a dagger seemed odd, as if he'd reverted to pre-System Integration Logan. And yet, he couldn't store the dagger inside of his collar, and until he knew what it did, he didn't feel comfortable storing it in the cabin or outside. Who knew who'd stumble across it? At this point, he had no concerns about theft; if the members of his community had any inklings to try, they'd back down when faced with Logan and the threat of expulsion.

No, he was worried about unintended consequences. Hell, imagine if he'd left his Cursed Rope unattended on the ground and a child had picked it up, thinking it was a regular rope? He was hoping that the Cursed Rope and the Sabáktes dagger weren't in the same category, but until he figured it out, he couldn't risk it.

Logan eyed the dagger and then scanned his surroundings.

Well, never say that he couldn't be creative.

He flipped the wet Pink Sock over his shoulder, using it like a portable drying rack and then walked away from the beach, heading towards the grass growing on top of solid, packed earth. The dagger was sharp as hell, so that shouldn't be an issue. The issue was whether it would withstand his strength. Well, no use owning a dagger if it couldn't hold up to his attributes. Biting his lip, Logan spread his legs apart, bracing himself, his muscles knotted in tension.

His fingers creaked around the handle of the dagger as he shifted his grip. Then with a shout, Logan slammed the sword into the ground blade first, cutting through the grass and burying into the soil. The dagger stretched, the blade twitching like a kitchen knife, before whatever powered the sharp as hell edge allowed it to seep into the dirt another inch.

Logan released the handle and took a step back.

Huh.

It had worked. It wasn't quite an Excalibur sword in the stone situation, since he'd buried the blade only halfway. It was lodged in packed soil instead of stone, but he'd bet the entire contents of his spatial storage collar that no one here could move it.

That dagger wasn't going anywhere.

Logan returned to the beach and then held up the sock, sniffing it, his nostrils flaring. It still smelled like stinky sneakers. Logan swallowed hard and then pinched his lips shut, sure he was making funny faces as he tugged off his shoe and put on the sock on his left foot. It was lightweight, just like his other.

At least the smell was only apparent when he stuck it in front of his nose, and although his skin tightened in distaste, it was hardly the worst thing in the world.

Still, ugh.

Logan flexed his toes in the sand, trying to let the hot coal-like grains suck the moisture from the wet material and suck out the smell, but that just resulted in a sock covered in sand. Oh well. He could have tried waiting until it dried, but Logan was too impatient.

Throughout the Integration, he'd been awed by talking animals and by the System vaporizing cars and boats and sucking them into black holes; he'd been amazed that he had magic—real magic—and could grow trees by willing them into existence. But the thing that gave him a secret thrill was physicality. Logan could admit to a bit of pride. He liked being rank number two in the world. He liked that his muscles had turned into layers of steel and that he could lift a car and balance it on the tips of his fingers. He liked that he could accidently pulverize a rabid squirrel to death.

Plummeting things satisfied that dark streak within him, that streak that just wanted to let go. Excise his frustration and pain, and to win. Oddly enough, it hadn't been a drive that existed before the Integration. It took learning that he was good at killing the hell out of shit. Of dealing with death and striving past his physical limits and beyond.

Flying? It was just another level. Something that would allow him to inch closer to Pied. The furry fucker was over level 1000, so right now, reaching that level was a pipedream, but was it really? Earth was on day 14 of the System Integration and Logan was already close to D grade. Even better, without the constant threat of death, leveling up should be easier than before. It might take more effort—it would take a heck of a lot of slaughtered monsters—but it was possible.

More than any other time, Logan was optimistic that they might come out of this thing intact. That Lara and the kids, that Tasha and Jack and the others could survive. All he had to do was get powerful enough to protect everyone, to ensure that no one could challenge him or rival his community. There were still roadblocks ahead—the Man in Black, Pied's shitty Knight's Integration Tournament. Not to mention the purge in less than a year and figuring out why the heck his FUBAR Save Humanity Quest wasn't acting normal. And yet, none of it lessened his optimism.

Each enhanced System item got him closer to that goal.

The Pink Sock helped him get closer to that goal.

Deploying [Mimicry Armour], Logan grabbed a bucket-full size of sand from the beach and then reformed his exoskeleton. He covered his two Pink Sock-clad feet, inching the sandstone up his legs and chest, then paid special attention to his shoulders and helmet. If all went well, he wouldn't need the extra cushion of his armour, but he couldn't help remembering what happened the first time he'd tried the Pink Sock. He'd slammed head-first into a cliff face.

Logan snorted and then rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles.

By now, he knew that the trick to these socks was all about visualization. He could—

Down the shore, two children raced down the beach, laughing, Shoot on their heels. Shoot playfully darted around their legs, her vines trailing bright yellow flowers. Behind them, Chase and Brooke scanned the area, keeping the children in view. Chase's salt and pepper hair glinted in the sun, his stubble looking scruffy and unkempt. Brooke had pulled her hair back into a loose bun, her sharp cheekbones looking less harsh after having access to Jack's guest bathroom. In addition to the knife fastened around her ankle, she had a sword strapped to her back. It was one of the weapons Logan had taken off Pied's soldiers.

They got sight of Logan, hesitated, then waved.

Aww, man. There was nothing worse than a witness to an act that could make you look like a fool. It would be just his luck that he'd try his new floating ability and slam into Jack's cabin. Rubbing the back of his neck, Logan gave them a half-hearted wave in response and then with a blink, deployed [Threshold Shift].

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Yeah, he didn't need a witness to this one.

Logan materialized on top of a steep cliff that overlooked the lake, beige, sharp basalt surrounding him. He was far up on the highest point with a clear view for miles. Up here, without the advantage of his mutant carbon trees, the wildfire smoke was back with a vengeance, tinting the sky orange.

Squally Point.

Logan had been here many times as a child. His grandfather would head to Squally Point after visiting Rattlesnake Island; their treat for being patient while he'd fished. Grandpa could anchor the boat, take out his rod and fish for rainbow trout while Lara and Logan cliff jumped. Locals speculated that Squally Point was the home of the lake monster, that it lurked in a cave underwater underneath the jutting point, but Logan knew that was incorrect. Not after his encounter with the queen serpent. Her cave was a long way off. Best of all, Squally Point was high up, isolated and only accessible by boat.

No one would witness Logan being a fool.

By now, Logan was a master at jumping with the Pink Sock. Everything came back to visualization, and he suspected mastering flying would follow the same logic. Closing his eyes, his insides vibrating with excitement, Logan changed his perspective. He pictured himself lifting into the air as if he were weightless and up in space where gravity didn't exist. His boots were full of helium, causing him to rise, inch after inch. Tilting his chin towards the sky, his arms to his sides, he imagined flying so high that—

It was working!

Logan wobbled, feeling as if he were standing on a tilting building, his body swaying side to side. Peering down, he grinned like a madman. He was up in the air! Hovering over Squally Point, at least ten feet in the air!

Wait a minute.

His grin faded, confusion taking its place. He'd envisioned himself rising into the air, and yet he wasn't moving. He was hovering. Logan leaned forward, trying to tilt his body up and force himself to climb, but he bobbed in place like a balloon. Up and down, side-to-side, as if he were standing on top of a cloud propelled by the wind.

And… how could he get down?!

Logan peered underneath his feet and stared at the tip of Squally Point. Windmilling his arms like he was paddling underwater, he tried to use the wind resistance to push himself down, but that only…oh fuck! Logan tilted forward, vertical, then tilted up, then went down again! The blood in his head rushed up, then to the side, then down. He was on a hell ride at an amusement park! Windmilling his arms again, he tried to straighten out, but the sky went rushing past. He was turning upside down!

Squeezing his eyes shut to stop the dizziness, his heart palpitating, feeling his stomach lurch, he reached for the ground, the tips of his armour-covered fingers skimming the rocks before he went swinging around once again. Shit! Why hadn't he crafted talons!?

Holding back bile, Logan rummaged through his spatial storage device and then willed out one of the wooden planks from the Tactician Trial. The evil blobs had used these to construct the wagons in front of the gorge, and they were long, long enough to reach. Logan grasped it with his gloves, then swung it towards the ground. The wood scraped against the rock. It didn't bring him down, but it stopped the sick-inducing loops in the air.

Blowing out a breath, Logan ground his teeth, aggravation making his cheek twitch. There was an easy solution to stop the floating ability. Take off the damn socks. But he'd come this far, and he knew flying was within reach. To anyone on the ground, he'd look like a flailing idiot, but that was the beauty of Squally Point.

No witnesses.

Logan grinned and then closed his eyes. There was a trick to this, and he just had to master it. Normally, when he needed to visualize for [Life Fabricator], he did it while he was motionless, calm. That's why he never experimented in the middle of battle unless necessary. With the help of this plank, he could steady his body and stop the loop, giving himself enough time to figure this out.

The first thing he needed to do was to get down.

In his mind, Logan pictured exoskeleton covered-Logan hovering in the air. His feet were pushing him up; he just needed them to push down. Logan envisioned weights hanging from each foot, pulling on him like he was underwater and sinking to the bottom of the lake. Falling so quickly that—

Logan sucked in a breath and looked down.

He was standing on the ground.

But this was a delicate dance. One wrong move could put him back in the air. With one Pink Sock, he never had to worry that he'd accidently jump in the air while walking. It didn't happen. Even though his skin was clammy with worry and nerves, nothing was different. If he didn't envision it, he wouldn't activate the socks.

Tensing, Logan took a step forward, wincing, before relaxing when nothing happened. Taking another step and then turning in a circle on top of the cliff, he huffed, his tension collapsing.

So, he'd been right. This thing wouldn't activate unless he wanted it to.

And yet, his first technique hadn't worked. He hadn't flown. He'd floated like a bloated balloon.

The description of the skill had been clear:

[Upon ownership of both socks, the jumping ability will turn into a floating ability.]

He'd known the System had listed the ability as 'floating' instead of flying, but hadn't he already repurposed his sock? Underwater, he could hurtle through the lake like a submarine. By now, he knew that a description was just that, a description. A little bit of ingenuity, of creativity and outside the box thinking could transform a lump of coal into gold.

So, he needed a change in perspective. Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This time, he didn't envision the socks kicking him into the air; instead, he envisioned his feet as rockets, the soles pushing out a Jetstream, lifting Logan into the air. A rocket that didn't stop, with unlimited fuel. A rocket that…

There was a sound around him as if he were in a gale-force storm. Logan opened his eyes, his mouth parting in shock, adrenaline surging through his body. He was flying! Shooting through the sky like a bullet! Shooting straight up! Logan opened his mouth in wonder, looking down as the ground disappeared. Clouds rushed past, smog disappearing as he rose so high that he could see blue sky and a sun bright in the sky.

"Hell yes!" he screamed, so excited that he felt like he was going to burst. In his first attempt, he'd tilted the hell all over the place because he'd envisioned his feet as balloons instead of a force to be reckoned with. His feet were rockets. Rockets!

Logan thrust out his arm, pointing it straight up. When his speed started to slow, he envisioned his feet as rockets once again, and his speed picked up.

But how could he change directions? If he kept going at this speed, even though Logan had [Deepwater Explorer], he wasn't looking forward to experimenting so high up that if the skill failed, he might end up being a Logan splat. Although he had [Regenerate], he'd rather avoid the pain of his body reforming from a splat, thank you very much.

Change direction, change direction, how did he…? "Go the other way, goddammit!"

Yeah, he wasn't expecting that to work.

Logan kept hurtling upward while trying to think of a solution. Hold on. His feet were the rockets, they were the ones pushing him up, so didn't logic follow that if he moved his feet, he would tilt in a different direction? Holding his breath, he envisioned one of the rockets that represented his feet stuttering out, the power lessening. His other foot was still going at full strength. Logan lifted his foot, tilting it to the side, forcing his—

He'd moved! He was still rising, but he was traveling at an angle.

It was working!

Logan bit his lip, then held out his arms like a bird, trying to get the lift to help him tilt. At the same time, he kicked up his foot again, once again envisioning his other foot stalling. And then he envisioned the force decelerating just enough so that he could start dropping to the ground.

Logan laughed like a madman as he plummeted through the sky, and then with a moue of concentration, imagined his rocket feet powering back up like he'd just injected himself with fuel.

Logan was a superhero! Logan was Superman!

He did another loop, the wind rushing past his ears. At this point, he regretted reforming his facemask, wanting to experience the pure joy of flying with no barriers.

The sun started to dip in the sky, but Logan kept flying, doing loops and purposely turning himself upside down, stalling his rocket feet, dropping to the ground and then accelerating once again.

Now he just needed to land.

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