He yelped, stumbling back, then bolted away.
After the initial shock of a prone man launching upright, the swarm regrouped and bit down in earnest. Sharp, hot pain bloomed everywhere at once. His ribs did not appreciate him running.
“Shit—ow—get off—ow—shit!”
When Bob didn’t laugh, James knew this was bad. Like System-flagged bad.
Silence meant combat.
They were in his sleeves, his hair, up his neck. Every step brought another flash of pain.
One thought cut through the noise: water.
He mentally yanked open his map, spotted a nearby river, and sprinted, crushing ants against his skin as he went.
A sharp yip came from his pocket as he ran.
He pulled the squirrel kit free, holding her high with one hand while the other swatted frantically at the swarm still crawling over her. They plunged into the shallows together.
The current did the rest, ripping most of the ants away. The bites burned like fire at first, then cooled into something close to relief. Not gone. But bearable.
Then the rest of his brain caught up.
He scrambled out fast, heart hammering, drenched from head to toe, but still breathing.
He checked and found that everything in his inventory was still dry despite his being drenched. He looked forward to changing into spare clothes.
He scanned the banks in every direction: up, down, across. No threats. Time for an experiment. He opened his system inventory, shoved his soaked trousers inside, then pulled them straight back out.
The trousers were now bone dry.
Apparently, pants didn’t count as containers for water.
Bob finally spoke.
Bob:
James crouched on the bank, dripping, breathing painfully. The squirrel kit squirmed in his palm, completely dry but not unharmed.
A welt peeked through the fur behind its tiny shoulder. One bite.
“Sorry, little guy.” He dug out the salve from the backpack in his inventory, manually on the ground, then dabbed a speck on his fingertip. Gently he reached out to the flinching squirrel kit’s soft red fur and worked it in with slow, careful strokes. The kit twitched, then melted into the touch, sides puffing with each breath.
“You need a name…”
What would one of the characters from his books call it? Something lame like Squire, maybe, as it’s part of the word Squirrel.” He laughed, then choked as a notice appeared.
Trait Activated – Wait—NO!
Effect: Name Assigned: Squire (Squirrel Kit)
“…Seriously? That was a .”
Bond Progress Increased – Squire: +2%
Bob:
James was less upset after realising Squire seemed happy with the name. The name actually kinda suited her in a weird way. Not just the size of course, but the attitude: scrappy, stubborn, already throwing herself into fights he couldn’t win. If she was sticking around, she deserved more than “hey, squirrel.”
James eased Squire into the coin pocket at his side, warm against his side. Then he turned the salve on himself.
First, he addressed the red welts on his forearms from the squirrel brawl. The salve bit on contact like betadine; the pain fled a heartbeat later.
Second, the fresh ant bites. Dozens, each a hot coal under his skin. A slow, methodical smear dulled them one by one.
Condition Reduced – Swelling (Ant Bites)
Condition Removed – Minor Venom
Had the salve helped with the venom, or had it just worn off? And why didn’t he get a condition effect notification informing him he had venom in the first place.
Could he use cleanse on himself? He flicked up his deck again but no - the enhancement cards weren’t there. Could he only apply it in the Commander’s Space, then? If only he had a version of the card for himself.
Unfortunately the salve did nothing for his ribs. That particular ache was deep and stubborn, a snake-shaped memory cinched tight around his chest. The bruised bone needed time to heal.
Even though the card mini-world function itched at him, this was not the place to risk it.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Bob:
Bob:
Another problem for another day. Garron was probably in there, healing and getting stronger.
James was a bit worried. He’d gained two cards now but he was injured and definitely not level five. He wondered how bad it would be to ignore the instructions and just head to town early.
He swallowed. Time to take a risk.
He scanned the undergrowth. No movement, and no ants. Lying back in the grass, he willed himself into the Commander’s Space.
Bob leaned against a stack of cards, and gave a silent wave.
“Okay, Bob. I want the On Proximity trigger on the Large Snake card, and the +0.5 per Commander level to all stats enhancement. How do I do that?”
Bob:
A washed-out card floated forward.
Card: Large Snake
- Category
- Rarity
- Type
- Slots Required
- Abilities
- Traits
- Size
- Weight
- Level Requirement
- Uses Remaining
- Rarity
he wondered.
Bob’s expression tightened. One small shake.
He got it. Death-Marked either didn’t get one, or the living weren’t allowed to see it.
Two more cards drifted over.
Trigger – On Proximity
Balanced Boost – +0.5 per Commander Level to All Stats
Bob:
James took, then pressed the cards to the snake’s image. It fused with a muted glow.
The trigger card bounced.
“Why?”
Bob:
“Fine. Just have the snake defend me if something comes at me.”
Text appeared:
Trigger: Enemy On Proximity (2 meters)
He pressed again. This time the card fused cleanly.
A sharp burning sensation flared momentarily on his left forearm, and a miniature tattoo of the large snake appeared.
He had another flare of heat and then the tattoo vanished.
At the same instant, the snake’s card winked out of existence.
“Oh shit,” he breathed, the realization hitting too late.
He dropped out of Commander’s Space.
Back in the forest there was a new powerful smell of wet moss and animal musk. Something was moving through the forest, just out of sight. Way too close.
His snake was already there, bigger than before, coiled and hissing.
The undergrowth exploded.
A creature came at him low and fast, fur black as midnight ivy, bristling with green thorn-like spines. Feline face. Amber eyes. Tail whipping.
The snake struck first, looping forward. The spiky feline twisted mid-pounce, claws raking scales, landing light, thorns flexing with a sound like breaking twigs.
A volley of spines shot out, hitting both James and his snake.
Fire lanced through his shoulder and side as jagged spines punched through cloth and skin. He staggered, yanking a shaft from his arm with one hand, fumbling for his dagger with the other.
The snake reared and struck the cat’s foreleg. It hissed, then lunged for the serpent’s neck. They tangled in a knot of scales and green-bristled fur, all snarls and hissing.
His ribs flared white-hot. He shifted, trying to find a clean angle that wouldn’t drive steel into his own summon.
A spine hissed past his ear and buried itself in a tree.
The creature tore free, blood slick on its leg, feinted, then lunged past his guard.
Weight slammed into his chest, claws flashing for his face.
He jammed the dagger up, catching ribs. Hot breath seared his cheek.
The cat wrenched away, yet still left a deep scratch across his cheek. It backed up, straight into the snake’s coils.
If this snake had crushed him before then he’d be dead now. The thorncat however had natural defenses against crushing, causing deep wounds to appear.
He soon found out what was so scary about a death-marked summons. They did not appear to try to save themselves from death, though they clearly felt pain.
The snake, bleeding heavily from numerous small punctures, released the body once it collapsed.
James stood over the beast, chest heaving. Spines jutted from his shoulder and side, ridged, black-green. He yanked them out one by one, each barbed tip tearing flesh.
Blood slicked his hands.
The corpse started glowing.
His gaze flicked to the coin pocket. Squire was safe and unhurt.
He brushed a hand against the glowing, bloodstained fur.
System Notice – Essence Stabilized.
Loot, bind, or harvest options now available.
Thorncat
- Category
- Rarity
- Type
- Slots Required
- Abilities
- Traits
- Size
- Weight
- Level Requirement:
- Uses Remaining
- Rarity
The new card slid into his deck, pulsing faintly before settling.
The Snake’s large form collapsed as it bled out.
System Notice – Large Snake Defeated. Card Lost.
James ducked back into the Commander’s Space, Thorncat card still warm in his hand.
This one shimmered differently. The border was still Silver, but it had a bold 51
Bob:
Heat flared in James’ chest. He ignored it and focused on the work.
He slid the Trigger card into place.
Trigger: Enemy On Proximity (2 meters) → Thorncat. Commander’s
The same sharp burning sensation flared and a miniature tattoo of the Thorncat appeared in exactly the same spot on his left forearm.
He then pressed in the stat boost.
Enhancement Slot: Balanced Boost +1 to all Stats (+0.5 to All Stats per Commander Level (2)).
The Thorncat’s card did not instantly vanish.
He exhaled, only now realizing he’d been holding his breath.
The fear-induced adrenaline turned to anger in his veins. He turned on Bob.
“I did not use myself as bait. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m hurt, I’m tired, I miss my stuff, I miss home… and the thrill of this ‘adventure’ is wearing off fast.”
With that outburst, anger dissipated. James took a breath then faced reality. He’d always thought the adventure would mean more to him than anything else. People would think he was dead, and while he did worry for them, he missed the comforts of home.
“Can you send me home?”
Bob:
He flicked a hand. Deep couches appeared out of nowhere.
Bob:
James blinked, thrown off by the offer.
“No thanks, gluten allergies.”
Bob:
Curiosity took the edge off his anger. He nodded to Bob and slumped onto the nearest couch cushions.
Bob strolled over, conjuring two bottles from nothing. He passed one to James, then dropped into the opposite couch.
Bob:
He took a long sip, eyes steady on James.
Bob: