Moose sat just off to the side, perfectly still, eyes locked on them. His upper lip curled ever so slightly, revealing one fang. The growl that came from his chest was deep, slow, and constant—just soft enough to keep you wondering if it had ever stopped.
One of the bandits was already sweating through his shirt. The other had gone pale.
Pixie circled them like a cackling goblin, tail high, mouth open in a wide grin that she clearly thought looked intimidating.
“SPEAK, MORTALS!” she barked through the bond. “OR I WILL... DO SOMETHING VAGUELY VIOLENT WITH MY FACE!”
Ethan didn’t say a word.
“SEE? LOOK HOW THEY TREMBLE!” Pixie said proudly. “I AM THEIR NIGHTMARE.”
One of the bandits risked a glance at Moose and made a sound halfway between a sob and a hiccup.
Pixie gasped.
“HE’S CRYING. I DID THAT!”
Buster lay a few feet away in the dirt, completely unbothered by the scene. He was flopped on his side, one paw across his face, ears back, breathing slow. “Are we done yet?” he mumbled. “I could really go for stew. Or a nap. Maybe both.”
“You always want stew,” Pixie muttered, still pacing.
“And I never get it,” Buster said without moving.
Pixie stopped in front of the prisoners again and sat dramatically. “CONFESS, FOOLS, BEFORE I UNLEASH MY FULL WRATH.”
They both stared at Moose. Moose growled.
Ethan stepped forward, crouching slightly in front of the more alert bandit. “I’ll hold them back if you just tell us why you attacked.”
The man’s eyes flicked between Moose’s teeth and Buster’s disinterest, then back to Ethan. “Just keep your beasts away,” he hissed.
Pixie perked up. “HE MEANS ME.” She turned in a delighted circle. “I KNEW IT. I’M THE SCARIEST. I AM THE BEAST.”
Buster grunted without lifting his head. “You’re a lot of things,” he said, voice muffled, “but I don’t think ‘the beast’ is one of them.”
“SHHH. I’M HAVING A MOMENT,” Pixie said.
The second bandit swallowed hard and nodded quickly. “We weren’t supposed to kill everyone. Just hit fast—surround the wagons. Take the strong ones alive. Sell ’em. Same with the supplies.”
“You’re slavers?” Ethan asked.
“There’s a camp,” the man said. “Northwest—maybe ten miles. They’re expecting us to bring the haul by nightfall.”
Ethan stood, brushing dust off his coat. “Sounds like we’ve got a camp to visit.”
Durgan stepped up beside him, boots crunching over dried grass and scattered arrows. “Yer serious.”
“They said there are captives. We don’t know how many. If we wait, they’re gone—or worse,” Ethan said, keeping his voice low.
Durgan didn’t answer immediately. His eyes drifted over the wreckage before he gave a small, tired nod. “Ye’ve got one day. After that, I move this caravan, lad.”
“That’s all I need,” Ethan said.
Durgan’s mouth twitched like he wanted to say more—but didn’t.
From across the camp, the olive-skinned archer woman called out, “He’s not going alone.” She was already strapping a fresh quiver to her belt, sleeves rolled, expression flat and unreadable. She no longer had her hat. She had lost it from the earlier skirmish.
Ethan blinked. “You’re sure?”
“They’re slavers,” she said. “I’m coming.”
The battle-worn woman moved like she was pushing something unseen away from herself in the air. A soft system ping blinked in Ethan’s vision:
[Status Recognized – Gwenna Hale – Ranger – Level 37]
One of the nearby guards choked on his water. “Wait. That’s Gwenna?”
Another muttered, “Thought she retired.”
Durgan gave a short grunt. “Level thirty-seven. That’s a respectable number, even for a long-lived dwarf.”
“I’m not a dwarf,” Gwenna deadpanned.
Durgan grinned—just a flicker. “That’s what makes it worse.”
Pixie let out a dramatic gasp through the bond. “She volunteered to fight the slavers. She didn’t even flinch. I love her. Can we keep her?” She darted in a wide circle around Gwenna, tail high, energy vibrating like someone had poured sugar into her bloodstream. “She’s so calm and deadly. It’s very soothing. I think I imprinted.”
Ethan groaned. “Pixie, please stop orbiting the archer.”
Gwenna glanced sideways at him. “Is this a thing I should worry about?”
“It’s best not to engage,” Ethan said.
Durgan returned with a satchel and a wrapped bundle. He handed the arrows to Gwenna without a word and passed the satchel to Ethan—trail rations, mana sticks, and a tightly sealed high-grade potion inside. “I can’t go,” Durgan said. “But I’m not sendin’ ye off with nothin’.”
“Thanks,” Ethan replied.
Durgan looked back at the wrecked wagons and the exhausted guards. “Get them back if ye can. But don’t go throwin’ yer life away, lad.”
“That’s not the plan,” Ethan said.
Durgan snorted. “Good. Plans are how we pretend we’re not makin’ it up as we go.”
Ethan glanced at the sky. The sun was already starting to lower.
“We leave soon. I’ll give you a few minutes to prepare,” he said to Gwenna.
She gave a single nod, unbothered, then turned to her gear without a word.
Ethan barely had time to breathe before the pressure hit—low and steady, pressing just behind his eyes like a rising hum in his thoughts.
Then the system pinged.
[Ethan Cross – Level 10]
[Milestone Reached – Trait Selection Unlocked]
[4 Stat Points Gained]
[Trait Selection – Choose One]
The last line pulsed a little brighter.
He inhaled sharply and pulled the system interface into focus. The trait list bloomed in clean text across his vision, framed in soft blue glow.
[Trait Selection – Ethan Cross]
- Pack Telepathy (Passive) – Bonded companions can communicate across any distance.
- Bond Synchronization (Passive) – Slightly increases stat efficiency when all bonded companions are nearby.
- Mirror Link Surge (Active) – Temporarily convert Mirror Link stat sharing from replacement to additive. All mirrored stats stack with base values for 8 seconds.
It wasn’t even a question.
He selected the third.
[Trait Selected: Mirror Link Surge – Active]
The moment it locked, another window nudged into view—four unspent stat points blinking at the bottom of his screen from the raid’s level gains. The Level 10 milestone had unlocked the trait itself, not the points.
Ethan didn’t hesitate. He tapped Intelligence once. Then again. Then again.
And again.
[INT: 24 → 28]
His mana surged in response. Not overwhelming—just… full. Like his mind had taken one quiet step into a larger room.
The bond flared a second later. Not just him. Moose. Buster. Pixie. Amelia. All of them leveling. All of them stronger.
He let the interface slide to the background and looked toward the Pack.
“All right,” he said. “Pick your traits. I’m not leading this part. You know your roles.”
Moose was already moving. Of course he was.
The old dog stepped forward and stared straight ahead as his options unfolded in a clean panel of light.
[Trait Selection – Moose]
- Ironhide (Passive) – Reduces all incoming damage by a flat amount based on CON.
- Sentinel Instinct (Passive) – Grants automatic threat detection; highlights danger 1 second before it happens.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
- Guardian Surge (Active) – Intercept an attack meant for a nearby ally, once per cooldown.
“I’ll take Sentinel Instinct,” Moose said. “Better to prevent than to endure.”
The trait locked with a soft chime.
Ethan glimpsed the stat line behind it. He added two points to Constitution and two more to Wisdom, keeping both stats matched the way he preferred. Constitution and Wisdom were still tied. That was Moose.
Next up was Buster.
The big retriever-doberman mix lumbered forward and sat, squinting at the glowing list in front of him like it owed him something.
[Trait Selection – Buster]
- Devastating Strike (Active) – Next melee attack gains double STR scaling and knocks enemies back.
- Momentum Break (Passive) – Gains stacking STR every time he hits an enemy. Loses stacks when idle.
- Unstoppable Force (Passive) – Immune to crowd control while moving in a straight line. Slows and roots ignored.
“I’m tired of getting stuck in vines and trash and nets,” he muttered. “I want to keep moving.”
He tapped the third trait.
[Trait Selected: Unstoppable Force]
A moment later, he opened his stat panel and pushed all four of his points straight into Strength without fanfare.
[STR: 22 → 26]
“Math is good when it makes me harder to stop,” Buster said, entirely to himself.
Pixie didn’t walk up. She launched. A blur of fur and energy and way too much excitement.
[Trait Selection – Pixie]
- Trickster’s Echo (Passive) – Creates a 1-second delayed illusion copy after Quick Strike or Dash.
- Ghost Dash (Active) – Allows her to phase through enemies and terrain for 2 seconds.
- Blink Fang (Active) – Teleports behind the furthest enemy she can see and bites for bonus crit damage.
“BLINK FANG! BLINK FANG! I WANNA ZOOM AND BITE AND SURPRISE THEM!”
Her paw hit the selection before Ethan even finished reading it.
She dumped all four of her points into her highest stat the moment the window opened.
[Trait Selected: Blink Fang]
She zoomed in a tight circle, eyes wide. “I’M A WEAPON! A TARGETED ZIPPY WEAPON! WHO NEEDS BITING?!”
“Please don’t bite the camp,” Moose said flatly.
“NO PROMISES!”
And then there was Amelia.
Ethan hesitated before opening her panel. Amelia had started lower than the rest, and lower ranks always climbed faster when the fights were rough. She’d also taken on enemies well above her level during the raid, which pushed her farther than he expected. When he checked her level, he caught a faint sense through the bond that she’d only just reached Level 10, while the others already felt a little deeper into theirs. He wasn’t sure if that impression came from the system or instinct, but it seemed right.
She hadn’t moved. But her interface was still active—stat points waiting. Trait list untouched.
Ethan crouched beside her.
“You want help again?”
She didn’t speak. But she didn’t move away.
He opened her stat panel and added the points into Dexterity one at a time.
[DEX: 15 → 20]
No hesitation.
Her trait list appeared a moment later.
[Trait Selection – Amelia]
- Shuttleshade (Passive) – Movement speed while stealthed increased by 40%.
- Umbral Pounce (Active) – Lunge from stealth to intercept an attack on a bonded ally. Stunning critical hit if undetected.
- Flicker Fade (Passive) – 15% chance to enter stealth for 1 second after dodging.
She stared at the options, then selected the second. No sound. No explanation.
[Trait Selected: Umbral Pounce – Active]
It dropped quietly into her list, just beneath Shadow Meld—already part of her skill set.
Pixie bounded over instantly. “WHAT’D YOU PICK? DID IT HAVE TEETH?! I BET IT HAD TEETH!”
Amelia didn’t reply.
Ethan exhaled and stood. But he hesitated, glancing back at her.
She looked… bigger.
Not by much. A little broader. A little taller. It wasn’t in his head. She was still a cub, still quiet—but that space between “small” and “grown” was shrinking every time he looked.
Without really thinking, Ethan let his eyes linger on the trait name—Umbral Pounce. Just a second longer than usual.
The system shifted. The line pulsed faintly, and then expanded—unfolding into a full description window without him touching anything.
He blinked.
Wait—can I do that with everything?
[Umbral Pounce – Active Ability]
Type: Tactical Intercept
Range: 15 feet
Cooldown: 60 seconds
Lunge from stealth to intercept an incoming attack on a bonded packmate.
If undetected, the strike is a stunning critical hit and redirects aggro to Amelia.
He stared at the expanded panel for a long second.
“Huh,” he said softly. “I didn’t know I could do that.”
He returned to his own interface and opened the newly selected trait.
[Mirror Link Surge – Active Trait]
Temporarily override standard Mirror Link functionality.
For 8 seconds, Ethan and all bonded companions gain:
— Their own base stat
— Ethan’s full INT
— The full highest stat from every other bonded companion
(All stats are shared additively.)
Mana Cost: High
Duration: 8 seconds
Cooldown: 48 hours
The bond does not just mirror. It amplifies.
For one heartbeat, you are not a group.
You are a single force wearing many shapes.
“Okay,” he said again. “That’s... completely busted.”
Then, on instinct, he focused on the original ability.
[Mirror Link – Active Trait]
Bond Core Functionality – Synced Pack Attributes
— Ethan gains the full value of each bonded companion’s highest stat.
— Each companion gains the full value of Ethan’s highest stat (INT).
— All companions currently receive a 20% bonus based on the gap between their own stat and the highest stat from all other Packmates (excluding Ethan).
Pack Expansion Bonus:
Stat sync bonuses increase by 5% for each additional bonded companion.
Status: Stable
Sync Level: 4 Bonded
He let the screen fade.
“That’s... so much clearer than what I’ve been guessing,” he muttered. “I’ve been using this thing like a beginner with a cracked iPhone.”
A pause.
“Now that I know how to use some of this... it’s like I’ve got a really nice Android. Because iPhones suck.”
Ethan let the interface fade out. The numbers, the menus, the glow—they all dissolved, but the weight of what he’d seen didn’t.
INT twenty-eight. A trait that rewrote the way stats worked. A bond that didn’t just copy—it amplified.
He felt like he’d been handed a loaded spell without an instruction manual.
He exhaled through his nose, shook off the chill crawling up the back of his neck, and turned toward the wagons.
A little ways off, Sam was crouched beside the third wagon, carefully slotting a mana conduit into its housing. He adjusted it with the slow, deliberate motions of someone who’d done this a hundred times—and knew exactly how many more times he’d be doing it today.
Ethan walked up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey—Sam, right?”
Sam looked up. “Yeah. You need something?”
“Sort of,” Ethan said. “Just a weird question. What’s your mana pool?”
Sam didn’t even blink. “Two seventy.”
He said it like someone who’d measured it ten different ways and memorized the average.
“I hit Level 24 last month,” Sam continued. “Took me a little longer than it should have—I spent a few years focused on infrastructure casting. Longform routing, dual-channel balancing, practical stuff.”
Ethan nodded slowly. “That’s solid.”
Sam smiled. “It is. I’ve been at it since I was sixteen. Not academy-trained or anything, but I’ve got my certs. I can power a wagon loop off cleanstone for twelve hours without breaking flow. Most casters can’t manage more than five.”
Ethan started to respond, but Sam wasn’t done.
“You wouldn’t believe how many people burn themselves out trying to push high-output spells with garbage form. Everyone wants big capacity, but they don’t know how to regulate. The trick isn’t how much mana you have—it’s how well you manage the threads.”
Ethan nodded again, more slowly this time.
“I saw a guy melt a conduit ring last winter,” Sam said, warming up. “Thought he could brute-force a spike through a worn channel. Cracked the stone, backfed into the hub, lit the whole spindle on fire. Smelled like scorched copper and ego for a week.”
“Sounds nasty,” Ethan offered.
“Oh, it was. Took me two days to scrub the charge residue out of the stabilizer mounts. I had to rebuild the base grid from scratch just to get the axle working again.”
Ethan shifted his weight slightly. “Right.”
Sam leaned back on his heels, dusting his fingers. “Worst part? The guy still thought it was a stone fault. Wouldn’t admit he overloaded the sync window.”
“I bet,” Ethan said.
There was a pause. Sam inhaled like he might start a new story.
“I should get moving,” Ethan cut in quickly. “Thanks for the info.”
Sam gave a friendly nod. “Anytime.”
Ethan turned and walked away without looking back.
“Chatty fellow,” he muttered.
As the camp shifted into motion, Ethan gathered his pack and glanced toward Gwenna. She was already checking her gear, adjusting the leather straps across her chest, calm and focused.
They were nearly ready to move.
Amelia stayed close.
She didn’t crowd him, didn’t make a sound—but she was right behind him. Every step. Silent and sure, her presence like a thread at his heel, impossible to shake.
Ethan paused, then dropped to a knee beside her. “Hey, sweetie,” he said softly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “I’m gonna need you to stay here.”
Her ears twitched, eyes fixed on his.
“I need someone I trust to watch the caravan,” he continued. “Stick close to Durgan. Guard our supplies. Keep everyone safe while we’re gone.”
Still no response—just those steady, silent eyes. Focused. A little too intense.
He smiled, trying to ease the weight of it. “You’re strong. But not yet. Not for this one.” Then he stood.
That’s when it hit—not just a feeling, not an impulse. This was a thought, shaped and sent, chosen, formed into words.
“I go.”
Ethan froze. His pulse hitched as the bond spiked—sharp and direct, cutting through the usual hum of their connection.
Another pulse followed. Clearer. Firmer.
“I help. Me hhe-help Pack.”
Her voice was broken, raw, but it was there.
Ethan turned slowly, dropped back down to meet her eyes. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
“That’s your first sentence,” he said, barely above a whisper.
She didn’t react. Just waited.
He almost changed his mind. Almost. But he looked at her again—really looked. Still young. Still growing. Her body was filling out faster than seemed fair, her eyes too deep for her size, but she wasn’t ready. Not yet.
“You’re stronger than you were, Emmy,” he said gently. “But I need you here. Protect the caravan. Watch their backs. I’ll come back soon.”
She didn’t argue. She didn’t try to push again. She just sat, slowly, her gaze dropping to the dirt.
Ethan stood, throat tight, then turned toward Gwenna. “Let’s move.”