The morning sun of Origin World filtered through the tent's fabric, painting the interior in a gentle amber glow. Ethan Cross opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. His head pounded as if it had been used as a percussion instrument in an enthusiastic goblin marching band. Every muscle ached, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
He tried to sit up, which turned out to be another mistake. The world swam around him, and he grabbed the edge of his bedroll to steady himself.
Ethan: "Whoa. What hit me?"
A notification pulsed at the edge of his vision, and he instinctively focused on it. His status screen materialized:
[Status – Ethan Cross]
Class: Arcane Tamer – Variant
Level: 3
HP: 185/185
MP: 31/ 1340 (Recovering from mana exhaustion)
Attributes:
STR – 8 → 19 (Mirrored from Buster)
DEX – 10 → 11 (Mirrored from Unnamed Wolf Cub)
AGI – 9 → 19 (Mirrored from Pixie)
CON – 11 → 18 (Mirrored from Moose)
INT – 23 (Mirrored to companions)
WIS – 11
CHA – 11
LUK – 19
Skills:
– Pack Bond (Passive)
– Mirror Link (Active)
– Basic Directive (Active)
– Command Surge (Active)
– Pack Awareness (Passive)
– Mana Sharing (Active)
– Arcane Resonance (Passive)
– Translation (Passive)
Bonded Companions:
– Moose (Level 3)
– Buster (Level 3)
– Pixie (Level 3)
– Unnamed Wolf Cub (Level 2)
Stat Points Available: 1
“At least the mana exhaustion didn’t knock my stats down,” Ethan muttered, scanning his status screen. “Was my mana cap always this high?”
“Yes. Well... sort of,” Buster said, ears twitching. “You lost sixty. You had fourteen hundred—then minus sixty—so now you’re at thirteen-forty. Moose leveled up, and his highest stat shifted, so your mirror changed. Your HP went up by ten, though. Moose’s CON rose by one.”
He paused, then groaned. “Why do I know this?”
Ethan frowned at the blinking line on his screen. “Looks like I leveled up while I was out. I’ve got a stat point to spend.”
“No,” Buster said flatly. “We leveled up after fighting the wolves. You just forgot to spend your stat point.”
“Right...” Ethan winced. “And Moose’s CON pulled ahead, so I lost the WIS mirror. That explains the mana drop.”
He turned to Moose. “Okay, we should lock this in. If you keep your WIS and CON tied going forward, I’ll mirror both. That’s free survivability and awareness for all of us. It helps the whole pack.”
“Agreed,” Moose said, nodding. “I didn’t hold my last point—I spent it on Constitution. But I will from now on. If it keeps our bond balanced, I’ll wait until both can rise together.”
Ethan gave a slow nod, a grin creeping across his face. “That’s a very wise decision.”
He paused.
“Some might even say... they see the wisdom in it.”
Beat.
He glanced toward the tent. “Get it? Wisdom. WIS.”
From inside, Pixie let out a triumphant, earsplitting cry.
“WIIIIIIIIIIIS!! WISDOMMMMM!”
THUMP. BARK. WILD SPINNING.
“I GET IT! WIS! BECAUSE IT’S SMART! AND IT’S THE STAT! I LOVE THIS JOKE FOREVER!”
Buster groaned from where he was sprawled. “Nope. I’m out. I’m leaving this build for a solo campaign.”
“You’ll never escape the WISDOM!” Pixie howled from the tent, laughter echoing through the bond.
As the manic energy died down, Ethan rubbed his temples. “I wonder how long it’ll take me to recover all of my mana?”
“Thirty-one mana missing, needs to regenerate back up to thirteen-forty,” Buster said instantly. “That’ll take... 6,233 minutes, or 103.88 hours. So, about four days and almost eight hours of uninterrupted rest and natural regen.”
He frowned. “But... I think the rate is increasing somehow. It’s throwing off my calculations.”
His voice flattened. “I hate this. Math shouldn’t be weird.”
Ethan’s jaw dropped. “How did you—”
“Don’t. Ask,” Buster snapped. “The numbers just appear. I hate it. Quit increasing your Intelligence!”
He glared, ears back, as Ethan raised both hands in surrender, barely able to hide his smile.
“Why don’t you spend your available stat point now,” Moose suggested.
Ethan nodded and focused. One more point into INT. His total rose to 24, and right away, his mana cap ticked up by ten.
“Huh,” he said. “So Buster was right. Ten mana per point.”
“You get ten mana for every INT and WIS point,” Buster muttered. “I kept count. The numbers never stopped. They just kept showing up. In my head. On some kind of... screen thing. It won’t shut off.”
Ethan stared at his grumpy, overclocked retriever mix. “You can see stats now?”
“Only when I don’t want to. Which is always.”
“BUT I KEPT YOU WARM AND FED THE CUB AND CLEANED THE WHOLE TENT WITH MY FACE AND—”
“You did great, Pixie,” Ethan said quickly.
She puffed up proudly, tail going hyperspeed.
“THAT’S AUNT PIXIE TO YOU. I’M THE OFFICIAL CUB CARETAKER NOW.”
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Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “How’s she doing?” He glanced toward the small shape curled at the foot of his bedroll.
“Healing,” Moose said. “She’s been quiet. Eats well. Pixie has been... attentive.”
“I AM THE BEST AUNT!” Pixie yipped. “I showed her all the important things like how to turn three times before lying down and where the food bowl goes and how to bark at imaginary enemies!”
As Ethan shifted, he realized something was clutched in his right hand. When he opened his fingers, a soft, geometric glow lit his palm—a glowing thirty-sided shape, faintly pearlescent. The platinum bit.
Buster’s eyes locked on it, his voice going oddly monotone.
“That’s a platinum bit.”
Then, without warning, he launched into a trance-like recitation:
“Ten copper bits equal one copper piece. Ten copper pieces equal one silver bit. Ten silver bits equal one silver piece. Ten silver pieces equal one gold bit. Ten gold bits equal one gold piece. Ten gold pieces equal one platinum bit.”
His eye twitched. “That’s ten to the sixth power. One million copper bits. That’s what’s in your hand. One. Million.”
Ethan stared at the modest little shape. “I created a small fortune. In my sleep.”
“The small fortune made you sleep,” Moose growled. “And gave you a debuff for days. If you decide to make more money in the future, you need to be more careful. Look at your status screen so you don’t almost DIE again!”
He growled out loud, the sound echoing through both throat and bond.
Ethan blinked at him, startled. Moose had never raised his voice like that before—not even in the bond.
“Sorry, bud,” Ethan said quietly. “I won’t scare you like that again.” He reached over and gave Moose a reassuring pat.
“WE CAN BUY ALL THE BEDROLLS AND ALSO MAYBE A CASTLE!” Pixie squealed, spinning in place.
Buster’s stomach let out an audible grumble. “Think of all the FOOD. WE COULD HAVE A BANQUET.”
He said excitedly. Almost Pixie-like.
The gravity of the situation hit Ethan like a bucket of cold water. This wasn't just spending money; this was potentially life-threatening wealth in a world where people fought tooth and nail for copper.
First, he needed to make change. He tried to separate the platinum bit, like Rolan had shown him, and got ten slightly glowing gold pieces—each shaped like a perfect twelve-sided die.
He knew they weren’t dice. But they looked like dice. D&D dice.
He did it again with one of the gold pieces, breaking it down into ten gold bits—ten-sided now, smaller, sharper, somehow more dangerous just for being closer to spendable.
He set aside one gold piece and two gold bits, then shoved the rest—the strange handful of magic dice—into a pouch.
Not dice. Money, he reminded himself firmly.
He carefully wrapped the pouch of bits and pieces in a scrap of cloth and buried it deep within his pack.
“We don’t flash platinum in a world where people kill for copper,” Ethan said, keeping his voice low.
A small whimper drew their attention. The wolf cub had awakened, her blue eyes blinking cautiously at the group.
Ethan moved slowly, retrieving some of the dried meat he'd purchased from Garrick's store. He offered a small piece to the cub, who sniffed it warily before taking it from his fingers with surprising gentleness.
The others watched quietly as Ethan fed her, piece by piece. The bond between them was still new, fragile, but growing stronger by the hour. Though the cub couldn't speak yet—wouldn't until their next level-up—Ethan could feel her emotions: hunger, uncertainty, and a desperate desire for safety.
“She needs a name,” Ethan said, glancing toward the cub.
“OOOOH I HAVE IDEAS! FLUFFTAIL!” Pixie blurted out, practically vibrating.
“No,” Moose and Buster said in unison.
“PRINCESS BITEY!”
“Absolutely not,” Ethan replied without hesitation.
“LADY BARKINGTON THE THIRD!”
Ethan didn’t answer. He reached out instead, gently stroking the cub’s silver-gray fur. A wave of homesickness hit harder than expected—his apartment back on Earth, quiet Sundays, his sister’s voice through the phone. Things he’d never thought to miss.
He hadn't planned to say anything, but the name slipped out before he could stop himself. "Amelia," he murmured, the word carrying more weight than he'd expected.
The tent fell into a profound silence. No one laughed or made light of his choice—they could all feel the significance of it through the bond, the way it connected to something deeper in Ethan's past, someone he'd left behind in a world that felt increasingly distant.
Through the bond, they felt it—the name, the memory, the weight behind it. A connection to a world Ethan couldn’t return to, and someone he hadn’t stopped missing.
“It fits,” Buster said softly.
Ethan gave a slow nod, eyes still on the tiny form curled up beside him. “Welcome to the pack, Amelia.”
The cub—Amelia—gazed at him with those intelligent blue eyes, then curled up beside his leg and drifted into sleep, her small form finally projecting safety for the first time since they'd found her.
Ethan’s hand rested lightly on her back, the warmth of the bond still humming softly. He opened her stat screen with a thought.
[Status – Amelia]
Class: Bonded Companion – Stealth Cub
Level: 2
HP: 84 / 84
MP: 342 / 342
STR – 4 → 7 (+20% from Buster)
DEX – 11 (Mirrored to Ethan)
AGI – 5 → 9 (+20% from Pixie)
CON – 4 → 8 (+20% from Moose)
INT – 6 → 24 (Mirrored from Ethan)
WIS – 2 → 4 (+20% from Moose)
CHA – 3
LUK – 5
Skills:
– Pack Bond (Passive)
– Mirror Link (Passive)
– Cub Instincts (Passive)
Ethan blinked. “Stealth Cub?”
He smirked. “That’s… adorable and mildly threatening.”
He leaned in a little closer. “There we go. Now you’re officially the sneakiest little monster in the forest.”
She didn’t stir—still curled up and asleep, completely unaware of her promotion.
“You keep leveling like this,” he murmured, “and I swear the system’s gonna let you evolve into a full Ninja Puppy class.”
From across the tent, Pixie gasped. “Can I be a ninja too?! I can be a pink one! I’ll be invisible except for the screaming!”
Ethan turned. “Wait… what? Why would a ninja be screaming—and how would they be invisible?”
Pixie looked absolutely serious.
“Ninjas are super sneaky.
Sneaky means invisible.
Invisible is the best possible zoom.”
She lifted one paw and made a dramatic whooshing sound for emphasis.
“And screaming means power! Because if you’re yelling, you’re winning!
Loud means strong.
Speed equals victory.
Noise means everyone knows you’re awesome—with PRESENCE!”
“Her logic is circular and chaotic,” Moose said dryly, “but... internally consistent.”
“And terrifying,” Buster muttered.
Ethan gave a half-laugh, half-groan. “So... your ninja plan is to be invisible, fast, and extremely loud?”
“EXACTLY!” Pixie beamed. “I’M A SNEAK ATTACK THAT ANNOUNCES ITSELF WITH CONFIDENCE!”
She spun in place and dropped into what might have been a stealth pose—if not for the energetic tail thwapping against the tent wall.
Ethan blinked at her, one corner of his mouth twitching. Somewhere in an anime dimension, an orange-clad ninja would’ve been nodding in total agreement. “We’re gonna need a bigger stat for chaos,” Ethan said, eyeing the aftermath.
“She’s already over the cap,” Moose replied dryly.
Ethan grinned. “Then I guess we’re officially the Bark Assassins.”
Pixie gasped. “Like a secret ninja clan?!”
“Yeah,” he said, fighting a smile. “The Akatsuki of belly rubs.”
He snorted under his breath. Great. My own personal Akatsuki—if the Hidden Leaf ran on snacks and chaos instead of jutsu.
“I LOVE US SO MUCH!” Pixie howled, spinning in place with zero shame.
Amelia stirred slightly in her sleep and shifted closer, one ear flicking toward them in her dreams.
He knew he needed to get up. There were supplies to fetch, things to organize, next steps to plan.
But he didn’t move.
Not right away.
She was warm, breathing slow, and finally at peace. And for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, the thought of disturbing her made something in his chest go tight.
