“Okay. So. How do I… manage this Sphere thing?”

  The question came out half-exasperated, half-resigned. I sighed, rubbing the side of my bark-textured face. I could feel this mangrove—like a second pulse beneath my own. The acrid sting of the water. The dense, humid weight of the canopy overhead. Even the sky—painted in a permanent late-afternoon glow—felt like it hummed through me. Artificial, sure, but steady. Fixed somewhere between four o’clock and… maybe four-fifteen? Ish?

  Time didn’t feel right here. It felt like a setting.

  [Master: Bearer Morgan Barlow. Welcome to your first integration of S.P.H.E.R.E.]

  [S.P.H.E.R.E = Silent Personal Home Economic Resource Engine]

  [Your S.P.H.E.R.E, or “Sphere,” as most refer to it, is currently set to: Growth Mode.]

  [Growth Mode: Capable of placing new monsters, spawners, resources, and accepting challenger requests. Until your S.P.H.E.R.E accumulates 50 SP (Sphere Points), you are not eligible to disable this mode.]

  “Oh great,” I muttered. “I’m basically running a spiritual early-access game.”

  More text scrolled into view.

  [Please select a starting Monster. Choices are determined by Core.]

  — Orb Vallis – A larger-than-normal orb-weaver spider with potent silk. Attacks with fangs, venom, and binding thread. (Mana Types: Metal, Dark, Corrosion)

  — Diving Bell Blader – A mutated, mana-infused diving bell spider of abnormal size. Hunts prey underwater, forms and carries a sustained air bubble. (Mana Types: Dark, Water, Air)

  — Misty Illusion Weaver – A large gossamer-web tarantula. Ensnare prey in illusion-shrouded webs, disorient targets before striking. (Mana Types: Mental, Dark, Mist)

  I stared at the list.

  This was… absurd. Absurd and absolutely terrifying. I was picking what kind of nightmare got to live here. And yet, saying no wasn’t an option.

  “…Right,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “So that’s how this works.”

  My eyes drifted over the choices, the mangrove air buzzing with humidity and possibility. As my focus lingered on each option, the Sphere responded—unfolding translucent overlays of the spiders beside their names like ghostly projections only I could see.

  I expected disgust. A full-body shudder. Something primal telling me to back away.

  Instead… nothing of the sort.

  If anything, an odd warmth flickered in the back of my mind—an instinctive certainty that these beings would never harm me. Or anyone I gave residency to. But hostiles? Intruders? Challengers?

  Those would be dealt with swiftly.

  I wasn’t sure where I was getting that knowledge from—not consciously, anyway.

  The Sphere pulsed.

  [Sphere informational overlay set to: Instinctive.]

  [This request, and option, was set by: Divinity Thorn, God of Flowers, Life, Death, and Cycles.]

  [Instinctive Mode: Information is streamed directly into the Master’s Mana Matrices.]

  [Other Modes: Encyclopedic (spoken/typed Sphere data), Algorithmic (data only on explicit user queries).]

  Right. That explained the “I just know this” sensation.

  I hovered over the first spider, the Orb Vallis.

  A sharp metallic twang rippled through the air as the illusion formed—like steel strings vibrating.

  A massive orb-weaver, its abdomen plated in segmented metallic sheen—bronze, iron, and tarnished silver blended like weathered armor. Thin, dark lines traced across the plates like veins of corrosion, emitting a faint acidic shimmer. Its legs were long and jointed sharply, each limb textured like hammered metal yet moving with organic fluidity. The spider’s spinnerets exuded thick strands of silvery thread that hissed faintly, as if the silk itself carried corrosive mana.

  Its eight eyes were glossy black, but behind them pulsed tiny ember-like pinpricks of Dark mana.

  Everything about it said: Trap. Bind. Dissolve. Kill.

  And yet, to me, it radiated familiarity—like an old, loyal guard dog made of iron and poison.

  Next, the swamp water beside me shimmered, and the overlay burst upward with a bubbling distortion.

  This spider was sleek, predatory, its body shaped like a glossy obsidian teardrop. The entire creature was covered in fine, waterproof hairs that shimmered blue-black under the false mangrove sky. Its abdomen held a floating sphere of air—an actual shimmering bubble, clinging to its body like a mirrored halo, refracting warped images of the mangrove roots.

  Its legs were powerful, designed for swimming, each one ending in thin fin-like extensions. When it moved in the illusion, it glided like a blade through water—silent, swift, merciless.

  Dark mana threaded through its core like ink clouds, while Water and Air mana intertwined around its limbs, forming spirals of shifting light.

  A hunter built for ambushes beneath the surface—filling the Sphere with the quiet terror of unseen depths.

  A soft hush of fog unfurled around me as the last illusion took shape.

  A gossamer-coated tarantula, its body large but strangely elegant. Every hair on its form shimmered with drifting mist, giving its silhouette a blurred, dreamlike quality. Its legs were thick and steady, yet wrapped in constantly shifting vapor, as if it walked between breaths of reality.

  The silk it extruded floated in delicate strands, each one glowing faintly with pale violet light that rippled like disturbed water. As the illusion moved, its web expanded outward, forming a shifting tapestry—images half-real, half-unreal—illusions of movement, shapes, phantoms.

  Its eyes glowed with soft luminescence, haloed in drifting Mental mana, their centers dark as midnight.

  A creature of confusion, deception, and perfectly timed violence. A patient puppeteer hidden behind veils of mist.

  I knew my choice the moment the last illusion dissolved into mist.

  [You Have Selected: Misty Illusion Weaver as Your First Monster.]

  The Sphere pulsed once—soft, approving—before a panel unfolded in my vision like a blooming flower woven from light.

  Strength: Low

  Agility: High

  Durability: Low–

  Intelligence: Low+

  Mana: Low+

  Magical Ability: Mist of Madness

  Mist of Madness —

  Every fifteen minutes, dew naturally accumulates along the Weaver’s gossamer coat.

  This dew becomes the focal medium through which the Weaver projects illusions.

  Anyone who comes into direct contact with this dew is affected by an illusion proportional to the amount touched.

  Higher saturation > deeper disorientation.

  You may spend [Dice] to improve this ability for ALL Weavers.

  You may spend [Dice] to unlock this ability for YOURSELF, substituting mana in place of spinnerets.

  Dice?

  The question formed before I could speak it.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The Sphere answered before the thought finished.

  A rush of knowledge slammed into my mind—instinct first, explanation second—like someone opening a book and forcing me to absorb it by touch alone.

  The world blurred for a heartbeat.

  Then clarity.

  Dice weren’t metaphorical.

  They weren’t some gamey abstraction.

  They were…literal.

  Not physical objects, but tangible, measurable containers of capability within living beings who lacked a formal [Status]. Every creature, from the smallest insect to apex predators, possessed Dice. They determined potential—growth—raw possibility. Something between a soul’s flexibility and a body’s biological freedom.

  Creatures with a [Status] didn’t have Dice. Their growth operated by rules, numbers, metrics.

  Creatures without one?

  They ran on Dice.

  The Sphere hummed, confirming the understanding as it settled into place within my mind, as natural as remembering how to breathe.

  And with that knowledge came something else:

  A subtle shifting sensation across the mangrove roots.

  [First Resource Acknowledged]

  [Resource: A material dropped by a monster in your S.P.H.E.R.E.]

  [Resource Acknowledged: Misty Gossamer Webbing]

  [Spawner: Misty Illusion Weaver, Auto-Placed. Returning you to Aeterna.]

  Before I could even get my bearings, I was thrown once again into the black void.

  ***

  I felt my finger settle over the trigger, the Ghost beneath me letting out a high, wet squeal—half panic, half pain.

  “Charade, being hunted again?”

  Jester’s voice crackled through the comms, dripping with amusement.

  “Yes, Jester, I am,” I muttered. “And you’re supposed to say ‘over’ after transmit. Over.”

  “Stuff it, Charade. OVER.”

  I couldn’t help the small grin tugging at my face—right up until I had to throw myself sideways as a javelin of ice shrieked past my head. It shattered into a spray of frozen shards across a brick storefront.

  I exhaled sharply. “Woah now. What did we agree on? No Magia in public.”

  “Stuff it, Barlow.” The second assailant stepped out from behind a mailbox, teeth bared. “Where is the gemstone?”

  “Somewhere,” I said. “That’s all I know. I dropped it into the Delaware and let the river take it.”

  “Bullshit, Barlow. Bull. Shit.”

  I didn’t respond. I was watching him—above him, technically—tracking the faint glimmer skating across his skin.

  [Icelance].

  Thirty-second cooldown.

  He didn’t know I could see it. He didn’t know what my left eye did.

  Circles—hundreds of them—bloomed across my vision, all converging around him like targeting reticles overlaying a spell diagram. The formula he was preparing unfolded itself to me in perfect detail.

  All I had to do was slide the opposite formula in.

  Do it faster than he could cast.

  Do it exactly right.

  His mana flared—too bright, too soon.

  “Gods damn you, Barlow,” he started, “why do you always make this so diff—”

  His sentence ended with the report of my pistol.

  A clean shot.

  Right temple.

  Magia fizzled out around him like a snuffed candle.

  I lowered the gun, smoke curling up around my knuckles.

  “I said no Magia in public,” I told the corpse, almost tired. “You broke the rule.”

  The body hit the pavement with a dull, wet thump. I didn’t waste time watching it settle. Movement flickered in the glass of a parked SUV—just enough of a reflection for me to pivot left, drop to a knee, and let the next barrage skim over my head.

  Four of them.

  Of course it was four. It was always four.

  “Jester,” I snapped over comms, “I need a street count. Over.”

  “Uh-huh,” she replied. “And what do we say?”

  “Later. Over.”

  “Rude. Two incoming from Pine Street, one on your building’s roof, one more circling around the laundromat across from you. OVER.”

  I clicked my tongue. They were trying to flank me. Which would’ve worked if I were an idiot.

  A ripple of heat warned me a moment before the next spell fired—fire this time, a plume of orange and blue erupting down the alley, chasing away the cold. I dove behind a dumpster, boots skidding across wet asphalt as flame washed over it, turning metal neon-bright.

  They were amping up their Magia output. Not good. More witnesses meant more problems. I couldn’t exactly file “fought four mages in broad daylight” on a police report.

  “Charade,” crackled a familiar voice—this time Red’s. “You need backup? OVER.”

  “I need a vacation.”

  I leaned out just enough to see the fire-caster repositioning. “But I’ll settle for ideas. Over.”

  “Idea: stop being hunted. OVER.”

  “Very helpful, Red.”

  Another explosion of flame detonated where my head had been. I didn’t think—just vaulted over the dumpster, sprinted toward the fire-caster, and slammed my shoulder into him. He stumbled, and I saw his hand ignite again.

  Thirty-degree ignition vector. Sloppy.

  My left eye pulsed, the circles dancing and rearranging, giving me the counter-sequence.

  He hurled a firebolt the size of a basketball.

  I flicked the counter-formula into the air like a twist of my wrist.

  The firebolt inverted, collapsing midair into a choking puff of smoke that swallowed him whole.

  He coughed, confused for exactly half a second.

  That was all I needed.

  One punch—right hook, center jaw.

  He dropped like a sack.

  Two down.

  I heard footsteps behind me—fast ones—boots crunching across broken glass. I spun, grabbing the collapsed caster’s arm and dragging his limp body in front of me like a shield.

  Good timing.

  The third assailant’s spell hit his friend square in the chest. Electricity arced violently over the unconscious man, lifting him off the ground before dropping him in a twitching heap.

  “Really?” I called out. “Friendly fire? You people need a training seminar.”

  The electric caster swore and fired again, and this time I didn’t bother dodging. I let him think he had me cornered as he powered up a second strike. Sparks cascaded down his arm, pooling into a ball of white-blue lightning the size of a melon.

  My eye tracked every sigil forming along his wrist.

  He didn’t notice me whispering under my breath.

  Not a spell—just a breath. A misdirection.

  He flung the lightning.

  I threw myself backward into a puddle.

  Electricity loves water.

  But water also loves grounding energy directly into the pavement rather than the guy sprawled inside it—assuming the guy knows how to coax that energy downward.

  The lightning bolt shattered against the puddle, racing around me instead of through me. The jolt stung, but it wasn’t fatal.

  He blinked, startled that I was still alive.

  I wasn’t about to give him a third chance.

  Two strides.

  A jump.

  My knee collided with his sternum, dropping him flat.

  Three down.

  The fourth assailant landed behind me—a heavy thud of boots on asphalt from the rooftop. The sound alone told me what he was.

  Reinforced bones.

  Mana musculature.

  A bruiser.

  I didn’t have time to turn before he slammed into me, tackling me into the alley wall hard enough to crack brick. My breaths scattered out of me in a rush.

  He grabbed my throat with one hand, lifting me an inch off the ground.

  “Where. Is. The gemstone?”

  His breath smelled like spoiled ginger ale.

  “Didn’t we already do this part?” I rasped.

  His grip tightened.

  My vision spotted at the edges, but my left eye flared bright enough to cut through the darkening world. Magic ran through his arm, coiling around his muscles, reinforcing the chokehold.

  Fine. Two can play that game.

  I pressed my palm to his wrist, matching his mana flow, redirecting it the way I’d neutralize a spell—but this wasn’t a spell. This was raw Magia enhancement.

  Dangerous.

  Unstable.

  But workable.

  I reversed the polarity.

  His augmented strength spasmed.

  Muscles seized.

  The reinforcement turned against him, collapsing his arm inward like a sabotaged hydraulic press.

  He screamed and dropped me. I hit the ground, gasping, then swept his legs out from under him. He tried to rise, but pain kept him down.

  I stood, collecting my breath, wiping blood from my mouth.

  “Four hunters,” I muttered. “One little human with a gun.”

  He snarled up at me.

  “Why protect the gemstone? You don’t even understand what it is.”

  I leveled my pistol at him.

  “You’re right,” I said softly. “I don’t.”

  Then I fired.

  Silence reclaimed the alley, thick and humming.

  “Charade,” Jester’s voice returned, sounding almost bored. “Status?”

  I surveyed the unconscious, incapacitated, and very-dead bodies around me.

  “Still hunted.”

  “OVER!”

  I sighed.

  “Over.”