Chapter 3: My First Friend
Jamie finished off the remainder of the jerky he’d pulled from the backpack for lunch before packing everything away and shrugging the ruck back onto his shoulders. The plan had been to walk for most of the day before stopping.
That plan lasted exactly four hours—or near enough as he could tell, since Jamie had no accurate way to track time.
Unforeseen complications changed that. It sounded dramatic enough to put in an adventure log, but in reality it was just one very familiar complication—and, surprisingly, it had absolutely nothing to do with the giant tree.
That particular concern had turned out to be a nothing burger. In fact, it wasn’t even unique.
The count was now up to six trees that size or larger. Jamie just hadn’t noticed them earlier, thanks to the distance they’d been from his original position. In hindsight, that felt like an alarming oversight. Apparently, boss-level vegetation was just the local aesthetic.
No, the real complication had everything to do with the call of Mother Nature. Specifically, the kind of call that did not accept voicemail, calendar rescheduling, or divine intervention.
Jamie slowed to a stop, grimacing as he subtly shifted his weight.
Jamie needed to pee like a racehorse.
“Oh no,” he muttered. “No, no, no—now? Really?”
This area didn’t give Jamie good vibes, but if he didn’t stop now, things were going to get messy.
His body, traitorous to his plans, offered no explanation and no mercy. Whatever goddess-controlled warranty this new form came with, it apparently did not include immunity to inconvenient biological timing.
Jamie glanced around. Trees everywhere. Underbrush. Rocks. Privacy, theoretically, in abundance.
And yet…
This was officially unfamiliar territory. New world. New body. New plumbing. The rules were no longer obvious, and Jamie suddenly found himself wishing—desperately—that he’d paid attention during literally any anatomy class that wasn’t about his own equipment.
“Okay,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “We can handle this. This is just… advanced camping.”
He took a few careful steps off the path he’d been unconsciously following along the river, moving toward a cluster of thick bushes that looked suitably secluded. The forest remained quiet. No ominous growls. No rustling monsters. No judgmental trees.
Good signs.
Still, Jamie paused, scanning the area one more time.
“If I get eaten by something right now,” he said quietly, “I just want the universe to know this would be an exceptionally undignified way to go.”
Satisfied that nothing larger than a squirrel was watching him, Jamie stepped fully into the brush.
And that was when he heard it.
A soft sound. Not a growl. Not a roar.
More like… a sniff.
Jamie froze.
Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head, but he didn’t see anything. Not until he looked up.
Jamie had read somewhere that in a tactical situation, people always forgot to look up. Jamie now knew that piece of wisdom to be accurate. He’d forgotten to check the upper parts of the trees.
Thankfully, Jamie’s blunder was salvageable.
The creature hadn’t noticed him yet.
Okay, that was a lie. Their eyes clearly met, but the creature, too engrossed in its meal, didn’t seem concerned with Jamie’s intrusion.
Jamie did the first thing that came to mind.
He booked it out of there. Nature could wait.
Jamie did not run so much as strategically retreat at maximum speed.
Branches whipped past his face. Grass grabbed at his ankles like it had a personal vendetta. He burst out of the brush and didn’t stop until he was standing next to the river again.
He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping.
“Okay,” he wheezed. “New rule. We don’t… we don’t pee near trees that have eyeballs.”
He straightened slowly and glanced back.
No crashing pursuit. No enraged forest guardian. Just birdsong and the gentle babble of the river, as if the entire woods were collectively pretending nothing had happened.
Which meant—unfortunately—that he still had a problem.
Jamie clenched his jaw.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Survived death. Survived reincarnation. Defeated by basic biology.”
He scanned the area again, this time with far more care. No bushes with suspicious shadows. No trees with convenient perches. Just a stretch of low grass near the riverbank—open enough that nothing could sneak up on him without announcing itself.
No privacy—but also no surprises.
Resigned, Jamie did what had to be done, albeit awkwardly and with far more self-awareness than he’d ever wanted to possess.
Peeing had been much simpler when all it required was a zipper and a general sense of direction. This squatting business felt like it came with a learning curve, a trust fall, and the constant fear of tipping over backward into destiny.
“I miss pockets,” Jamie muttered under his breath. “And not needing to wipe after peeing.”
Once finished, he stayed still for a moment longer, eyes on the treeline, listening.
Nothing lunged out. Nothing growled.
After several quiet minutes, his thoughts drifted—unhelpfully—back to the creature he’d just fled from.
It had looked like a fox.
Sort of.
A tree fox, maybe? Was that a thing? Jamie wasn’t sure if foxes back home climbed trees, but they definitely did here. And now that his heart rate had dropped below impending cardiac event, he realized something important.
It hadn’t been big.
In fact, it couldn’t have been much larger than a house cat.
“So why,” Jamie asked the empty forest, “did I react like it was about to file my death certificate?”
He winced.
Fair point, universe.
Curiosity began scratching at him almost immediately. Jamie knew the saying—curiosity killed the cat—but he was reasonably confident there was no truth to that saying. Probably.
And besides, if this world was going to be full of strange creatures, running from every unfamiliar thing wasn’t a long-term survival strategy. At some point, he was going to need to stand his ground.
Jamie took a cautious step back toward where he’d seen it.
Then another.
The forest remained calm, the river whispering nearby, birds chirping like nothing noteworthy had just happened. Jamie scanned the branches overhead this time, pointedly remembering his earlier mistake.
“Okay,” he whispered. “We’re just looking. No sudden movements. No screaming. Let’s try not to set a personal speed record.”
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A flicker of motion caught his eye.
There—on a low branch ahead.
Two bright eyes peeked out from behind leaves, curious rather than hostile. The creature emerged slowly, and Jamie got his first proper look.
Definitely fox-like.
But sleeker. Longer ears. Fur patterned in warm browns and reds that didn’t quite blend with the forest canopy—making him feel dumb for not noticing the fox earlier. A long tail curled around the branch like it belonged there.
It tilted its head.
Jamie froze.
The fox-creature sniffed the air.
Jamie held his breath.
Several seconds passed.
Then, to his absolute shock, the creature sat down and yawned.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jamie whispered.
The fox blinked at him, unimpressed.
Something in Jamie’s chest loosened.
“Okay,” he said quietly, lowering himself into a crouch. “We’re cool. You’re cool. Nobody’s lunch today.”
The fox’s ears twitched.
And just like that, Jamie realized something important.
This world was terrifying, beautiful, ridiculous—and apparently populated by judgmental tree foxes.
I wish I had a scan function. Or maybe an identify skill, Jamie muttered, not actually expecting anything to happen.
Something happened.
Text blinked into existence in front of him, hovering in the air like a very rude hallucination.
Identify: Successful
Jamie flinched.
“…Oh come on.”
A translucent panel expanded, crisp and impossibly clean, like a game UI that had escaped its screen.
CREATURE STATUS SCREEN
Name: —Creature: Kitsune (Spirit Fox)Sex: FemaleLv.: 2Disposition: NeutralTamability Chance: 92%
ATTRIBUTES
Agility: 10• Strength: 10• Intelligence: 17• Stamina: 10• Constitution: 10• Willpower: 10• Charisma: 17• Spirit: 10
ABILITIES (Max: 10)
Danger Sense (Passive Aura) — Alerts the creature to hostile intent within range.
Forage — Lv. 1 — Locates edible plants, water sources, and minor resources in the surrounding area.
Spirit Claws — Attack — Lv. 1 — Empowers the creature’s claws with spirit energy, increasing damage against corrupted or hostile targets.
Celestial Bite — Attack — Lv. 1 — A spirit-infused bite attack with increased effectiveness against magical or undead targets.
TAME?▶ YES▶ NO
“This is just like a pop-up screen from one of my video games,” Jamie whispered, barely audible even to himself.
He decided to experiment.
Minimize, he thought.
The fox’s status screen vanished instantly.
“Oh, nice.”
He tried to bring it back. Return screen.
Nothing happened.
“Well, that was disappointing.”
Not discouraged in the slightest, Jamie tried again. This time he focused on the word identify.
Bingo.
The screen reappeared.
Jamie grinned. “Okay, so voice commands are optional, but keywords matter.”
A new thought followed immediately.
If the fox has a status screen… then I should too.
After minimizing the Fox’s screen again, Jamie pictured himself in his mind and thought the words:
Self-status.
The result was immediate.
A much larger, far more detailed screen bloomed into existence in front of him. Jamie’s eyebrows climbed steadily higher as his eyes scanned it.
Right at the top, where his name should have been, there was a blank line.
“Huh.”
He thought Jamie, and the name appeared instantly.
“Oh, come on,” he muttered. “I didn’t pick a last name yet.” It appeared the universe had different ideas about that because his name now read Jamie Godwin.
He tried to change it, but nothing changed.
He tried a third time, just to be sure.
Nope.
“Well,” he sighed. “Looks like it’s Jamie Godwin from now on.”
He moved on.
STATUS SCREENName: Jamie GodwinRace: Dryad (Spirit Nymph)Sex: FemaleLv.: 1Class: DruidSub-Class: TamerAffinity Types: Nature, Psychic
Titles:
Forest Guardian
Chosen of Nia, Goddess of Spirits
BLESSINGS OF NIA, GODDESS OF SPIRITS
Greater Blessings:
Divine Empowerment — All base stats and ability points are doubled.
Calm Mind (Passive Aura – Perception) — Slows perception of time by 7% for 3 seconds after initiating combat, increasing reaction speed and movement speed by the same amount.
Lesser Blessings:
Spirit Perception (Passive Aura) — Increases sensitivity to nearby spirits.
Identify — (Spell) — Reveals information about allies and enemies. Effectiveness increases with use.
Timidity (Passive Aura) — Heightens bodily self-awareness and subtle movement control.
ATTRIBUTES
Agility: 20• Strength: 20• Intelligence: 20• Stamina: 20• Constitution: 20• Willpower: 20• Charisma: 40• Spirit: 20
ABILITIES (Max: 20)
Wands — Lv. 1 — Allows the learning and casting of spells aligned with the wielder’s affinity types.
Sword Combat (Short & Long Swords) — Attack Skill — Lv. 1 — Basic proficiency with short and long swords.
Shapeshifting — Lv. 1 — Enables the learning of alternate forms. New transformation slots unlock every 10 levels. Known forms: None. One slot available.
Taming (Psychic Spell) — Lv. 1 — Allows non-sentient creatures to become permanent familiars.Adds familiars to combat and utility roles• Cannot permanently tame sentient beings• Can temporarily overcome sentient willpower• Success based on Willpower + Charisma vs Target Resistance• Moderate mana cost
Familiar Communication (Psychic Utility Skill) — Lv. 1 — Enables mental communication with bonded familiars. Effectiveness improves with bond strength.
Tree Singer (Dryad Skill – Nature Spell) — Lv. 1 — Greatly enhances plant growth, strength, and productivity. Low mana cost.
Woodland Stealth (Dryad Skill – Passive Aura) — Grants a 20% stealth bonus in forested environments.
Jamie let out a low, impressed whistle and dismissed the screen.
“Okay,” he murmured. “That’s… a head start.”
His eyes flicked instinctively back to the spirit fox, still perched on the branch, watching him with quiet focus. Stats or no, it was a wild thing in a dangerous forest—and he was standing well within pouncing distance.
He didn’t know enough about this world yet to be certain, but if his gaming instincts were right, base stats probably started around ten. Every single one of his stats had been doubled at twenty.
Except charisma.
That had clearly started higher.
Forty points.
“That explains a lot,” Jamie muttered, thinking back to his reflection. If charisma affected perception, charm, and attractiveness—as it usually did in games—then yeah. That tracked.
It also explained why taming was highlighted so prominently.
Guess that’s my build, he thought. Not what I’d planned, but I’ll take it.
Still, he couldn’t help wondering—if forty charisma did this, what did fifty look like? Sixty?
Jamie shuddered.
“If the guys here are anything like the ones back home,” he muttered, “this is going to be a whole new problem.”
Not the stat spread he would’ve chosen—but he wasn’t about to complain about divine favoritism. Honestly, the whole thing felt wildly overpowered.
“Thanks, Goddess of Spirits,” he thought sincerely.
Nia.
Nice name. Fit her perfectly.
Jamie snorted softly as his opinion of her improved dramatically in the span of about ten seconds.
Funny how god-tier buffs do that.
Not everything was a win, though.
Finding out he wasn’t actually an elf stung more than he expected.
Still… dryad sounded pretty cool. And if mythology back home was any indication, dryads were supposed to be absurdly beautiful. That, unfortunately, also tracked.
“Guess I’ll call it a win,” Jamie decided. “Pointy ears stay.”
He refocused, attention snapping back to the reason he’d crept back into the forest in the first place.
The fox—kitsune, apparently—found more food and it was munching away at the meal. Its ears flicked constantly, alert.
Okay, Jamie thought. Moment of truth. This thing was super cute and he wanted it. He also had a strong feeling that the forage skill she possessed would come in handy.
He extended his right hand toward the small spirit fox, palm forward, instinct guiding him as he pushed mana through his arm, somehow knowing exactly what to do.
The sensation hit like a surge of electricity.
The kitsune’s head snapped up.
Their eyes locked.
Jamie felt the mental link form—fragile, but real—as resistance pushed back against him. Willpower met willpower. Charisma pressed down like a tide.
The struggle lasted only seconds.
Then—
Surrender.
Not forced.
Accepted.
Jamie exhaled slowly as the bond settled into place.
“Well,” he whispered, awe creeping into his voice.
“My first friend.”
TAMING SUCCESSFUL!
Tame Capacity: 1 / 2Available Tame Slots Remaining: 1
Would you like to name your creature and distribute its bonus stat points?
▶ YES▶ NO
Jamie didn’t hesitate.
Yes.
The fox—kitsune, spirit fox, whatever label the system wanted to slap on her—tilted her head as if she felt the decision ripple through the bond. The mental connection sharpened, going from a vague awareness to something warmer. Curious. Alert. Very much alive.
Okay… naming time.
The first name that popped into Jamie’s head was Firefox.
He winced internally.“No. Absolutely not. I am not naming my first magical companion after a web browser.”
The second name came more slowly, drifting up from somewhere softer and quieter. Something that fit the creature’s watchful eyes and ghost-light grace as she slipped between roots and shadows.
Ember.
Jamie smiled.
Yeah. That one felt right.
The name settled into place like a puzzle piece snapping home.
A faint glow shimmered along Ember’s outline—green and silver threads of light spiraling briefly around her form before sinking in. The system chimed again, polite and smug.
Creature Updated!
Name: EmberCreature: Kitsune, spirit fox, femaleBond Level: 1 (New Familiar)
Stat Adjustment Available. Bonus points: 10. One free skill upgrade available.Distribute bonus points and skill upgrade?
“Oh, this is dangerously addictive,” Jamie murmured.
He focused, nudging points where they made sense—agility, intelligence, a touch of spirit. Ember stretched as the changes took hold, tail fluffing, posture straightening. She looked… sharper. More there.
And then—
Hello.
Jamie startled so hard he nearly fell backward.
“That—okay—wow,” he whispered. “That was definitely not a sound.”
You are loud, Ember replied, not unkindly. Her voice wasn’t words exactly—more impressions shaped into meaning. But warm. And you smell like trees.
Jamie snorted.“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Ember padded closer, circling him once before sitting neatly at his side. Her tail brushed his leg, light as a whisper.
The bond settled. Not ownership. Not domination.Partnership.
Jamie exhaled, tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying finally loosening.
“Well,” he said quietly, glancing at the forest around them, suddenly feeling much less alone, “looks like you’re my first friend in this crazy place.”
Ember flicked one ear, eyes scanning the woods with calm confidence.
Then you should stop standing in the open, she sent dryly. Big things hunt here.
Jamie blinked.
“…Right. Good note. Love the constructive criticism.”
He rose to his feet, adjusting the strap of his rucksack, sword and wand reassuringly close at hand. With Ember moving silently beside him, the forest felt different now. Less hostile. More… alive.
“Ready to get moving then,” Jamie asked.
Ember sent her agreement and the party of one that became two set out on their journey.
Even with Ember beside him, Jamie didn’t miss the way the forest seemed to watch them go.
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