Chapter 4: Let's get Some Levels
The rest of their afternoon had gone in a very different direction than Jamie had expected. She and Ember had found a really good spot to camp for the night with about two hours of daylight remaining, and instead of continuing downriver, Jamie had decided they might as well put that time to good use.
They went hunting.
Two hours later, Jamie was dirty, hungry, carrying dinner, and somehow already Level 3.
The levels had come quickly and easily. The best part about their campsite was the quiet pool of deep water fed by the river. With the fighting done next came the food prep, and dinner, after that Jamie could finally take a bath.
Jamie was having mixed feelings about that soon-to-come bath. On the one hand, getting clean sounded amazing. She wasn't as dirty as, say, a human would have been. Another benefit Jamie had discovered about being a Dryad was that she didn't sweat. She glistened, and not in the way girls sometimes claimed they did when they were trying to sound cute. Jamie actually glistened.
Dew. That was what Jamie had decided to call it.
Whatever it was, it didn't smell anything like sweat. It smelled like flowers—honeysuckle, to be exact. Purely for scientific reasons, Jamie had even licked a little off her arm and discovered that, sure enough, it tasted slightly sweet.
She wasn't sure what to do with that information. Apparently, this was just a Dryad thing, another small change Jamie would have to get used to as she figured out how to live this new life.
The lack of sweat didn't change the fact that combat was dirty work, though, and after two hours of fighting, Jamie was officially a dirty girl. Her enchanted dress was still spotless, because apparently magical clothing got to cheat, but Jamie wasn't so lucky. Dirt smudged her arms, legs, and pretty much everywhere the dress wasn't actively covering.
It was going to feel really good to be clean again.
The problem was the body she'd be cleaning.
A female Dryad body.
A super-hot female Dryad body.
Jamie wasn't entirely sure how much she trusted herself with that yet.
She shoved that particular obstacle out of her mind for now and concentrated on something much safer: food. Jamie already had dinner in hand in the form of a pair of brown brush pheasants, and judging by the way her stomach was complaining, two might not be enough. Thankfully, Ember's Forage skill had come through in a big way, and Jamie's rucksack now held six large yams to add to the meal.
She was really looking forward to dinner.
On an even brighter note, Jamie had finally figured out her wand problem.
This world's magic system required choices. Lots of them. When it came to magic, that meant deciding what kind of caster you wanted to become. New spells cost four skill points each, and thanks to Jamie's Goddess-granted blessing, she received eight skill points every time she leveled up. With two level ups under her belt now she had sixteen points to spend for that purpose.
This world's magic also had a cap on power.
That came in the form of skill slots. Jamie was limited to twenty skills total, and counting the seven she'd been gifted before waking up in this world, that meant she could only add thirteen more.
Thirteen.
Jamie still wasn't sure whether skill choices were permanent, but she had a nasty suspicion they were. If that turned out to be true, she was looking at thirteen decisions that could shape what she was capable of doing for the rest of her life. That was a hell of a lot more commitment than clicking something on a skill tree and respeccing later because she'd discovered some guy on YouTube had already mathematically proven her entire build was garbage.
Which was why, despite already having the points to spend, Jamie hadn't gone crazy buying spells.
She'd bought exactly one.
Field Dressing (Utility Spell) — Lv. 1 — Converts slain creatures into usable materials. Quality scales with Intelligence and Spirit.
It might have been a dumb move. Jamie honestly had no idea yet. But anything that made preparing food easier sounded like a damn good investment. She'd been a less-than-enthusiastic cook in her old life, and apparently dying, changing bodies, and waking up on another planet hadn't magically transformed her into Gordon Ramsay.
If this world had an In-N-Out, Jamie could regret the skill choice later.
Somehow, she was willing to bet fast food wasn't a thing here.
As they walked back toward camp, Jamie found herself replaying some of the combat encounters they'd had over the last two hours. Calling all of them combat encounters might have been generous. A fair number had consisted of Ember warning her that something was nearby, Jamie finding it, and whatever unfortunate creature they'd discovered learning that being worth experience points was a dangerous evolutionary trait.
Between Ember's Danger Sense and Jamie's heightened awareness of creatures—something she'd discovered was part of her Tamer sub class—they'd had surprisingly little trouble finding things to kill for XP.
Jamie had experienced a brief moral crisis about that.
Very brief.
Using a Tamer ability to locate creatures so she could murder them for experience sounded slightly unethical when phrased that way. On the other hand, there was nothing in the skill description saying she couldn't use it for hunting. No warning had appeared. No angry woodland deity had descended from the heavens to revoke her Dryad membership.
Jamie had decided that counted as permission.
Probably.
They hadn't killed everything they found, either. A couple of genuinely cute little creatures had registered through the ability, and Jamie had immediately vetoed those targets. She already had one adorable forest creature following her around, and apparently that was enough to awaken some protective instinct she hadn't known she possessed.
Besides, Jamie only had one familiar slot remaining with her current Willpower, and she already had some very specific ideas about what she wanted to do with it.
Something big. Something badass. Preferably something she could eventually ride.
A dragon would be nice.
Jamie wasn't setting unreasonable expectations or anything.
Oddly enough, though, they hadn't encountered another spirit fox. Not one. That had eventually bothered Jamie enough to ask.
Ember, where are the others?
The fox's ears had twitched. Others?
Other spirit foxes. You know. Your family? Friends? Foxy neighbors?
What followed had been several minutes of confused back-and-forth, mostly because Ember didn't seem to have a word for species population statistics, and Jamie wasn't entirely sure how to explain what she was asking without sounding like she was conducting a census. Eventually, however, the answer became clear.
Spirit foxes were rare. Extremely rare. Jamie had stopped walking when that realization finally clicked.
How rare?
Ember hadn't been able to give her anything resembling a number, but the concepts coming through the bond had been clear enough: uncommon births, great distances between territories, years passing without encountering another.
Jamie looked at the little fox trotting beside her.
Ember had been the first tamable creature she'd encountered in this world.
“One in a million,” Jamie muttered. “Yeah… that checks out.”
Ember glanced up at her.
What is million?
Jamie opened her mouth. Then closed it.
A lot, Jamie sent.
Yes, Ember replied.
Jamie narrowed her eyes. Somehow, she suspected Ember had just made fun of her again.
Her own creature-sensing ability was useful, but it had limitations. The biggest was that it only worked on creatures capable of being tamed, and based on what she'd seen so far, that represented a depressingly small percentage of the forest's population.
Ember's Danger Sense, on the other hand, was freaking amazing.
At level two, its range had expanded to a hundred yards, and Jamie was rapidly discovering just how much a hundred-yard warning could matter when practically everything around her had evolved claws, teeth, poison, magic, or some creative combination of the four.
Upgrading it after their bond had been an easy decision. Learning how often it activated had been considerably less comforting.
Jamie had spent most of today wandering through this forest completely alone, blissfully unaware of just how many things had been lurking beyond the trees. Wolves. Slimes. Oversized insects. Things Ember had sensed but hadn't been able to properly explain yet. Most kept their distance. Some apparently hadn't considered Jamie worth the trouble.
That wasn't nearly as reassuring as Jamie wanted it to be.
It also meant she had established a new rule.
Ember checked the area before Jamie peed.
Every. Single. Time.
Jamie had already come dangerously close to being slimed in one location where absolutely no slime should ever be permitted to trespass. She wasn't giving the universe a second opportunity.
Thankfully, the genuinely dangerous creatures seemed relatively rare in this part of the forest. Ember had warned her about wolves twice and what Jamie thought had been a dire bear once. They'd gone around all three. Jamie was here to gain levels, not speedrun her second death.
Which was why slimes had accounted for most of their XP.
It certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with Jamie nearly sitting bare-assed on one and subsequently developing what some people might consider an irrational personal vendetta against the entire species.
Those people were wrong.
Oh, slimes.
Jamie hated slimes. She'd been living in this world for less than twenty-four hours and somehow already had an archnemesis. Not a Dark Lord. Not an evil wizard. Not even some terrifying monster lurking deep in the forest.
Slimes.
And Jamie had decided their eradication from this world was now one of her personal life's goals.
Unfortunately, killing them wasn't nearly as satisfying as she'd imagined. They were the weakest creatures they'd encountered and relied almost entirely on ambush tactics. With Ember's Danger Sense exposing them before they could spring those ambushes, fighting one usually amounted to Jamie walking over and stabbing an angry bowl of Jell-O until the system gave her experience points.
The first few had been therapeutic.
By slime number who-the-hell-cares, Jamie was bored.
That first hour of leveling had turned into a pretty serious letdown. She'd expected monsters, danger, heroic sword fighting, maybe the occasional narrow escape.
Instead, she'd gotten pest control.
Maybe that boredom was why, when Ember finally detected something that sounded genuinely challenging, Jamie had ignored the very clear warning coming through their bond and gone looking for it anyway.
Well… that, and the fact that Jamie loathed rats.
Unlike her newly acquired hatred of slimes, that particular prejudice had followed her from Earth and, thankfully, had nothing to do with a bathroom mishap.
Thinking back on it now as they walked toward camp, Jamie could pinpoint the exact moment she'd made the wrong decision. Ember had detected the nest maybe halfway through their second hour of leveling, and Jamie's interest had gone from mildly curious to we have a moral obligation to destroy this almost immediately.
Many, Ember had warned as they'd moved cautiously through the trees. Her ears had pointed forward, her body noticeably more tense than it had ever been while hunting slimes. Many rats. Dangerous.
Jamie had slowed, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword. How many is many?
Ember hadn't been able to give her an exact number, but the impression that came through their bond had been pretty damn clear: enough that the little fox thought going around them was the better option. Jamie had considered that advice seriously for all of about five seconds before the part of her brain responsible for making good decisions was overruled by the part that really, really hated rats.
Or, Jamie had sent, carefully presenting the alternative, we could kill them.
Ember had stopped walking and looked up at her.
Even then, Jamie had already been becoming familiar with that look.
Many rats, Ember repeated.
Yeah, I got that part.
Dangerous.
Also got that part.
Ember's tail had flicked sharply behind her. Go around.
Jamie had looked toward the patch of forest Ember's attention kept returning to. She'd known the smart thing to do. There had been absolutely no reason to fight something Ember considered dangerous when they already had a perfectly good campsite waiting for them. They'd gained two levels, had dinner in hand, and Jamie had survived almost an entire day in a fantasy forest without being eaten.
That had been a win.
Then something squealed somewhere ahead of them.
Jamie drew her sword.
Counterpoint, she'd sent. Rats.
The replay in Jamie's head apparently wasn't exclusive to her. Her thoughts were being shared through the bond, and Ember was still very much displeased with how the rat-nest encounter had gone.
At the beginning of the fight, Jamie had managed to cast Analyze on the largest rat she'd seen. Unfortunately, between her enthusiasm for exterminating the disgusting things and her complete lack of knowledge about just how aggressive this world's rats could be, she'd never gotten a chance to actually read what Analyze was trying to tell her.
That normally wouldn't have mattered. Jamie had discovered earlier in the day that Analyze wasn't a one-and-done sort of skill. Anything she successfully analyzed was automatically stored in a codex she could pull up again later.
Apparently, telling Ember about that particular feature had been a mistake.
Jamie had barely finished replaying the beginning of the fight when a screen suddenly appeared in front of her.
Look, Ember sent.
Jamie blinked at the unexpected interruption.
“Did you just open my codex?”
Ember's answer carried the unmistakable satisfaction of someone who had just discovered where the receipts were kept.
Look.
CREATURE STATUS SCREEN
Name: —Creature: Dire RatSex: FemaleLv.: 10Disposition: HostileTamability Chance: 0.08%
ATTRIBUTES
Agility: 12
Strength: 30
Intelligence: 10
Stamina: 14
Constitution: 30
Willpower: 10
Charisma: 10
Spirit: 10
ABILITIES (Max: 10)
Bite — Attack — Lv. 2 — A vicious bite attack.
Claw — Attack — Lv. 2 — Slashing claw strikes.
Dig — Lv. 2 — Allows rapid burrowing through soft earth and debris.
Accelerated Mating (Passive Aura) — Greatly increases reproduction rate when in proximity to other dire rats.
Jamie's eyes immediately found the number Ember wanted her to see.
Thirty.
She'd expected the rat to be stronger than her. It was level ten, after all. What she hadn't expected was thirty Strength backed up by thirty Constitution. Jamie mentally pulled up her own attributes for comparison, and whatever argument she'd been preparing began quietly packing its bags.
Jamie frowned.
Ember's irritation pushed through the bond.
Jamie looked at the number again. One dire rat had been considerably stronger and tougher than she'd realized. There had been thirty-two of them, and Jamie had charged straight into the nest without even bothering to read the information she'd already gone to the trouble of collecting.
Worse, Ember had told her not to.
Jamie had only cast Analyze on the one rat—the biggest one. What levels had the others been? They'd all been visibly smaller than the Dire Rat, but how much weaker had they actually been?
“…Okay,” Jamie said, considerably quieter now. “That's higher than I expected.”
You stood in front of that, Ember sent. With confidence.
Jamie winced. “In my defense, the confidence was based almost entirely on ignorance.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
She thought about that for a second.
“Still, in my defense, I took that Dire Rat out right at the beginning of the fight.”
Ember stared at her from beside the trail.
And if you had not?
Jamie's mouth opened, but whatever argument had been preparing to come out apparently thought better of it.
They continued walking. With Ember's help, Jamie had won the fight with the rats. Barely. But right now, Jamie couldn't help feeling like she'd lost.
“I was being stupid,” she finally admitted. “I thought I could handle it, and if I'd been wrong…” Jamie glanced down at the little fox walking beside her. “It wasn't just my life I was gambling with.”
The annoyance coming through their bond didn't disappear, but it softened.
“I promise I'll listen next time,” Jamie said. Then, because some concessions had limits, she added, “Even when it's rats.”
Ember considered her for a moment before apparently deciding that was good enough. She trotted closer, jumped onto Jamie's rucksack, and settled herself comfortably on top of it, clearly claiming a ride for the rest of the walk back to camp.
Jamie adjusted the straps as Ember's added weight settled against her shoulders and kept walking without complaint. After the stunt she'd just pulled, carrying Ember the rest of the way was probably the least she owed her.
The journey back to camp ended without any surprises—though Jamie wasn't sure that counted for much with Ember's skill set. Not for the first time, she thanked her good fortune in finding the little fox.
As soon as they reached camp, Ember jumped off the rucksack and darted into the forest while Jamie made her way over to the firepit she'd prepared earlier. She didn't need to ask where Ember was going. They'd already worked out that Ember would make three or four sweeps around the perimeter while Jamie got dinner started.
Knowing security was in good hands, Jamie sat on the log she'd placed beside the firepit and turned her attention to the two brush pheasants. She laid both birds on the large flat rock she'd chosen as a work surface, then reached for her wand.
This would be the first time she'd used it to cast an actual spell.
Jamie held the wand in her left hand. That was where it belonged. Whatever she'd been given by the Goddess knew she was meant to fight as a spellsword, with a blade in her right hand and magic in her left, and holding the wand that way felt as natural as holding her sword.
She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated.
There.
Jamie could feel the wand.
Not just the smooth holly beneath her fingers, but something inside it. The black runes carved along its length seemed almost alive beneath her touch, and behind them she could sense an emptiness waiting to be filled. The wand wanted something from her.
Mana.
The realization came with the same strange certainty as her sword techniques. Jamie could feel the mana inside herself now that she knew to look for it—not sitting in one particular place, but spread throughout her body like a second current beneath her skin. The wand was reaching for that current.
More importantly, Jamie knew how to let it have some.
She opened herself to the sensation.
Mana moved.
It flowed down her arm and into her hand, gathering around her fingers before spilling into the holly wand. Jamie sucked in a quiet breath. The sensation wasn't painful. It was warm and strangely electric, like feeling energy move through a part of herself she'd possessed all along but had never known existed.
The wand changed the instant her mana entered it.
The runes responded first, giving off a faint green light as the power traveled toward the tip. Jamie could feel something else happening as well. The mana she'd given the wand wasn't simply sitting there anymore. The spell was giving it purpose, taking raw power and shaping it into something specific.
Jamie understood then.
The mana was hers.
The wand gave her a way to channel it.
The spell told it what to become.
“Okay,” Jamie whispered. “That's freaking cool.”
She opened her eyes and pointed the wand toward the pheasants. Jamie had exactly one spell. Time to see what it could do.
“Field Dressing.”
The waiting magic surged forward.
A rush of air swept across the flat rock as both pheasants lifted several inches into the air. Wind curled around them, slowly at first, then faster, tightening into a miniature whirlwind that completely engulfed both birds. Jamie caught flashes through the spinning air—feathers tearing free, shapes shifting inside—but there was no blood, no gruesome spray of organs, none of the mess that should have accompanied dressing an animal.
The spell wasn't simply cutting them apart.
It was sorting them.
Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, the whirlwind collapsed.
Jamie blinked.
The two pheasants were gone.
In their place sat two neat piles of clean white meat alongside a much smaller collection of feathers, bones, and other materials the spell had apparently decided were useful enough to preserve.
Jamie stared at the results for several seconds before looking down at the wand in her hand.
“Holy crap.”
Maybe spending one of her precious skill slots on Field Dressing hadn't been such a stupid idea after all.
“Eat your heart out, Potter.”
The fire caught easily, crackling low and steady as Jamie fed it small pieces of dry wood. Sparks drifted upward and vanished into the darkening canopy, swallowed by shadows and leaves. The forest settled around her, its sounds shifting as day creatures gave way to night ones—chirps softening, replaced by distant rustles and the occasional far-off call of something she sincerely hoped wasn't auditioning for the position of local apex predator.
The air smelled of woodsmoke and damp earth. Nearby, water trickled over stone, the sound faint but constant and strangely comforting. Jamie felt her shoulders slowly loosen as the minutes passed.
This… this felt almost normal.
Which probably meant it was about to go horribly wrong.
She skewered the pheasant meat over the fire, turning it carefully and listening to the gentle sizzle as fat met flame. Every so often, she glanced toward the treeline, half-expecting glowing eyes or a system notification screaming AMBUSH. Nothing happened.
Once the wood had burned down enough to leave a good bed of coals, Jamie tucked the yams into them. She would've preferred wrapping them in tinfoil first, but apparently the Goddess hadn't considered aluminum foil essential survival equipment.
If wishes were wings, Jamie would have a set of those too, right alongside the tinfoil, a mansion with its own private hot spring, and an assortment of gorgeous women eager to join her in it.
Jamie turned one of the pheasant skewers.
“Priorities.”
Ember was out there somewhere, performing what Jamie assumed was an extremely judgmental perimeter sweep. If anything so much as looked at the camp funny, she'd hear about it—likely with a pointed mental I told you so attached.
For the first time since waking up in this world, Jamie allowed herself to just exist.
The fire warmed her hands. The forest watched but did not threaten. After everything that had happened since she'd opened her eyes in that meadow, sitting beside a fire waiting for dinner to cook felt almost ridiculously peaceful.
Jamie nodded to herself.
“Alright,” she murmured to the night. “You can keep being ominous. Just don't get interactive.”
For now, that seemed like a fair compromise.
Ember's sense of smell must have been keen, because her return lined up perfectly with the moment dinner was ready.
Your fire smells correct, Ember sent as she padded into the firelight, eyes fixed firmly on the sizzling meat. And the bird smells like accepted fate.
Jamie snorted. “So that's a yes on the perimeter being clear?”
Nothing dangerous within range, she replied absently.
Ember sat, tail curling neatly around her paws, her gaze never leaving the skewers.
Hungry, she sent. When eat?
It's almost ready, Jamie replied.
That apparently triggered something in Ember. Her carefully curled tail immediately came loose and began swishing excitedly behind her. As if that wasn't enough to make her feelings clear, the little fox licked her lips, and the slightest bit of drool appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Jamie laughed softly and turned the meat once more. If this was what companionship looked like in a new world—judgment, sarcasm, and a shared appreciation for a hot, tasty meal—she could live with that. Jamie's stomach was very much in agreement with Ember, though thankfully she'd managed to stave off the drooling.
“Your communication skills need work,” Jamie said, “but not bad.”
She placed a third of the cooked meat onto a wooden plate at Ember's feet.
Ember didn't bother looking down.
Instead, Ember gave Jamie a look—one so judgmental it clearly conveyed that Jamie should reconsider her portion distribution immediately.
Jamie laughed and adjusted the plates, redistributing the meat until both portions were equal.
“Better?” she asked.
Better, Ember sent.
It appears you are trainable after all.
Jamie smirked at the dig as she carefully used a stick to roll the two yams closest to being done out of the coals. After digging a fork out of the rucksack, she speared one of them and transferred it to Ember's plate, then did the same with the other for herself. A little dirt and ash clung to the skins, but after splitting them open, the insides were steaming, soft, and thankfully ash-free.
Even though Jamie had said Ember's communication skills needed work, she could already tell a difference from that morning. Maybe the skills allowing them to communicate were becoming more accurate as they used them. That was certainly possible, but Jamie suspected there was more to it than that. The two of them were simply getting better at understanding each other—learning what certain feelings meant, how Ember phrased things, and when a particular look needed no translation at all.
It helped that Ember's habit of ribbing Jamie was right up her alley. This was exactly the kind of thing Jamie and her old friends back on Earth would've given each other.
They ate together in comfortable silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the faint nighttime sounds of the forest. Jamie had just settled into a relaxed rhythm—bite, chew, breathe—when she noticed movement beside her.
Ember was already done.
Not nearly done. Not working on it. Done. Meat and yam both.
Her plate sat spotless, polished so clean Jamie briefly wondered if licking plates was another hidden kitsune ability.
Jamie blinked, looked down at her own meal, then looked back at Ember.
“…How?”
Hungry, she replied promptly.
“That explains nothing.”
Are you all stomach or something? Jamie sent.
Ember sat primly, tail curled around her paws, eyes fixed on Jamie's remaining food with the intense focus of a creature who had discovered a new and deeply personal calling.
Jamie snorted and took another bite. “You know, pacing yourself is a thing, right?”
I pace myself, Ember sent calmly. Simply eat faster than you.
Jamie rolled her eyes.
Out here, eat quickly or get eaten.
“Yeah, but you have that crazy-good Danger Sense skill.”
Ember hesitated.
Not… perfect.
Jamie stopped chewing.
“What do you mean, not perfect?”
Some things have skills. Counter Danger Sense.
Jamie lowered her fork. “Wait, what?”
Ember calmly licked a bit of yam from her muzzle.
“Why am I just hearing about this now?”
It is fine, Ember sent. None like that in this area.
Here safe.
Jamie glanced toward the darkness beyond the firelight. Somehow the forest had become slightly less relaxing than it had been thirty seconds ago.
You sure?
Yes.
Jamie waited, but Ember didn't elaborate. Instead, the fox's attention drifted right back to Jamie's plate.
You eat that?
Jamie looked down at her remaining food. In truth, she wanted every bite still sitting there, but Ember had more than earned her keep today.
Jamie sighed theatrically and slid two more pieces of meat onto Ember's plate.
Her ears immediately perked.
You are learning, Ember approved.
Jamie shook her head, smiling as the fire popped softly beside them. She definitely wanted to know more about creatures that could slip past Danger Sense, but Ember didn't seem worried, and after the lesson she'd just received about ignoring her warnings, Jamie figured she should probably trust the fox when she said they were safe too. Besides, Jamie still had food to eat.
And a bath to navigate.
The rest could wait.
When Jamie finally finished her meal, she leaned back slightly and patted her contented stomach.
“That hit the spot.”
Yes. Your cooking meets my approval, Ember sent. Meat much tastier cooked than raw. Tastes… different, she added thoughtfully.
“That's because I added some spices to the meat.”
Ember's ears flicked.
You have same spice for next meal?
Jamie laughed quietly. “Yes.”
Good.
Jamie started gathering the plates. “Well, now that dinner is done, we can get down to business. We've got points to allocate, and you apparently get to choose a class now.”
She glanced at Ember.
“One of four choices, in fact.”
I'm a bit jealous, Jamie sent. I never got a choice.
Ember's tail flicked once, smug.
You chose me, Ember sent. Best choice will ever make.
Jamie didn't think she could argue with that statement, but actually agreeing with Ember seemed dangerous. Her ego and attitude were already developing at an alarming rate. There was no telling what she'd become if Jamie started encouraging her.
Not knowing what else to do, Jamie gave her companion her best, warmest smile. She had a feeling that ridiculous little boast might end up being one of the most accurate statements Ember would ever make.
“Okay. Let's see,” Jamie said as she pulled up Ember's latest stat sheet. “Looks like you've got two level-ups to spend. That's eight attribute points and eight skill points. And you still have the four unused skill points from before we bonded.”
Jamie looked over the numbers for a moment before moving on. “We need to pick your class first, though.”
Not understanding class, Ember sent. Kitsune is kitsune, no?
Jamie paused, considering how best to explain the concept of classes to her cute, fluffy friend without breaking her brain in the process.
This was going to take a minute.
It's kinda like a job, Jamie sent.
Job?
Ember tilted her head in a way that forced Jamie to exert maximum self-control to avoid scooping her up and squeezing the fluff out of her.
Okay. Different approach.
“A class is something that'll make you stronger and give you access to new abilities.”
That registered immediately. Ember's tail began wagging enthusiastically.
Stronger is good. Yes, please!
Jamie smiled. Of course that was the explanation that worked.
“Alright, here are your choices.” Since Ember didn't have an Identify skill, Jamie had to read them aloud for her.
“First is Cleric. It's a support class that specializes in healing spells.”
Jamie paused briefly before continuing.
“Next is Siphon Mage.” Jamie leaned forward slightly as she read the description. “Okay, this one's interesting. It lets you temporarily steal attributes from your opponents and siphon them to yourself or your allies.”
Ember's ears immediately perked.
Jamie noticed.
“Yeah, I thought you might like that one.”
Take strength from enemy?
“Looks like it.”
Make enemy weaker. Make us stronger.
“That's what it says.”
Ember's tail gave a slow, interested sweep behind her.
Jamie moved on. “Third is Guardian. That one's pretty straightforward. Defensive shields for allies and temporary buff spells.”
Ember's interest dropped almost immediately.
Jamie chuckled. “Didn't think that one was going to beat stealing people's stats.”
“And last—but not least—we have Trickster. Another mage class, but this one specializes in illusion magic.”
Ember's ears came forward again.
Jamie paused.
“Oh. You like that one too.”
Illusion?
Jamie thought about how best to explain it. “Magic that fools the senses. Making someone see something that isn't really there, hiding something that is there, making yourself look like you're somewhere you're not. That kind of thing.”
Ember went very still.
Can make enemy see me… there?
“Look, I get the excitement about the mage classes, but I think having a Cleric in the group would be the best choice,” Jamie suggested, hoping Ember would agree.
Not Cleric. Healing boring.
Jamie sighed. She'd known it was a hopeless cause before the words even left her lips, but she had to give it at least one try before giving up on the idea.
“Got it. Healer is out.”
Ember thought for a moment.
Can I take both mage classes? she sent. You have two classes.
Huh.
That was true. Jamie had a subclass, but could Ember get one too?
Is there a help menu? Jamie thought.
HELP MENU
Jamie blinked.
Crap. There is one.
She focused on the question, and the system responded immediately. The answer was considerably more detailed than Jamie expected, but after working her way through it, the whole thing boiled down to one very disappointing word.
No.
Jamie's subclass wasn't something everyone had access to. She only had one because of the Goddess's blessing.
“Sorry,” Jamie said. “Apparently I'm cheating.”
The news did not go over well with Ember.
Her ears drooped, her tail lowered, and somehow the little fox managed to pout with her entire body.
Jamie stared at her.
Damn it. That was unfairly cute.
For half a second, she actually considered asking the Help Menu again, as though the system might take one look at Ember and reconsider its position. Unfortunately, Jamie was pretty sure magical game interfaces weren't susceptible to adorable fox pouting.
“Don't look at me like that. I didn't make the rules.”
Ember continued looking at her exactly like that.
Jamie sighed. “You're still only getting one.”
The little fox sat still for several seconds, her tail swaying slowly as she considered her options with the gravity of someone making a life-altering decision… or deciding what to eat next.
Finally, Ember looked up at Jamie.
I choose Siphon Mage.
Jamie blinked. “Mind if I ask why?”
Trickster I understand, Ember replied after a moment. Siphon Mage unknown to you.
Jamie raised an eyebrow.
I like that.
Of course she did.
After another moment, Ember added, Also… feels like great potential.
Jamie couldn't really argue with that. Trickster sounded incredibly useful, but they understood what illusions were and roughly what Ember would be capable of doing with them. Neither of them knew exactly where Siphon Mage could eventually lead.
“Alright. Siphon Mage it is.”
The moment Jamie confirmed the choice, the air around Ember shifted.
It wasn't dramatic at first—no explosion or blinding flash of light—but Jamie felt it immediately, like the change in pressure before a storm. Ember froze beside the fire, her tail stiffening and ears flicking as though she'd suddenly heard something far beyond Jamie's ability to perceive.
Something happening, Ember sent, excitement bleeding through the thought.
A faint glow seeped into her fur, subtle at first, then slowly intensified. Threads of pale violet light traced their way along her limbs and up her spine before gathering at the base of her tail. The glow pulsed once… then again.
Ember gave a startled little yelp.
Her single tail split.
Jamie's eyes widened.
There was no tearing, no blood, and apparently no pain. The change happened smoothly, almost impossibly so, like light refracting through crystal. One tail became two, and then two became three. For a heartbeat the new tails remained translucent, formed almost entirely from violet light, before color and fur spread through them and they solidified into full, plush reality.
Ember immediately twisted around in a tight circle, trying to get a look at what had just happened to her backside.
She stopped.
…I have more butt.
Jamie snorted. “That's one way to put it.”
Ember experimented with the new additions, and Jamie watched in fascination as all three tails began moving independently. Faint sigils flickered along their lengths, pulsing with the same indigo light that now glimmered in Ember's eyes.
Jamie felt it then.
After unlocking her own magic, she could sense it more easily now. The power gathering in Ember's tails felt remarkably similar to what Jamie had felt inside her wand.
They were conduits.
Jamie's wand gave her mana somewhere to go, something through which it could be channeled and shaped into a spell. Ember's tails seemed to serve the same purpose. All three carried that same sense of waiting potential Jamie had felt from the holly wand.
Ember lifted one experimentally, and the air around its tip warped slightly, like heat rising from stone.
These feel… important, she sent.
“Yeah,” Jamie said slowly. “Pretty sure those are how you cast spells.”
Ember flicked one of her new tails, and the sigils along its length brightened in response.
Convenient, she replied. Was wondering where magic supposed to come out.
A second pulse rolled outward—stronger this time—and Jamie felt a gentle tug somewhere inside her chest. It wasn't painful, and she didn't feel any weaker.
Just… aware.
Ember turned toward her, eyes widening.
I can feel you, she sent. Not you-you. Just…
The mana, Jamie sent, helping Ember finish the thought.
Yes. The mana. I can feel it.
Interesting.
Apparently Siphon Mage wasn't just a name. Whatever Ember's new class had done to her, she could now sense the thing she was eventually supposed to steal.
The glow gradually faded, leaving Ember looking mostly the same—still small, still fluffy—but undeniably different. Her presence felt heavier somehow, as though the world paid slightly more attention to her than it had before. Ember rose and took a few experimental steps around the fire, all three tails swaying in careful coordination as she adjusted to the change in her balance.
I like this, Ember sent. This feels dangerous.
Jamie sighed.
“Sooo… does this mean I need to be the sensible one when it comes to running toward danger now?”
Ember considered that.
Maybe.
“We're going to die.”
Once Ember finished experimenting with her new balance, she returned to her place beside the fire and sat down.
That reminded Jamie they weren't finished yet.
Unspent points, Ember sent.
“Right. Numbers. My favorite.”
This was the addictive part.
Jamie started with their attributes, plugging Ember's points in first before moving on to her own. A little more Stamina, a little more Constitution, and enough Spirit to make sure their growing collection of magic didn't leave either of them unconscious after a handful of spells.
Survivability first. Everything else could wait.
Balanced. Sensible. Boring.
Which meant it was probably correct.
That left their skill points. Jamie had twelve to work with, while Ember also had twelve.
Since Ember had very clearly opted out of the whole healing is fun philosophy, that responsibility had landed squarely in Jamie's lap.
“Alright,” Jamie muttered. “Guess I'm the medic now.”
Unlocking a new skill cost four points. Jamie spent the first four.
New Skill Acquired: Regenerative FlowNature Spell — Lv. 1
Applies sustained healing over time to self or allies.
“That should keep us from bleeding out between fights.”
She spent another four.
New Skill Acquired: Cure CursesDruid Spell — Lv. 1
Removes moderate and major curse effects.
Jamie leaned back slightly, satisfied with that one. Anyone who had ever played an RPG knew curses sucked the big one, and unlike healing, a curse wasn't necessarily something she could fix by waiting for her health to regenerate.
That left Jamie with four skill points.
Not enough to improve either spell.
She'd learned that active skills could reach level ten, but improving one was considerably more expensive than unlocking it. Every increase cost ten skill points for a single level. Passives were locked at base level and could not be improved.
For now, she banked the four remaining points. She could use those point to pick another skill, but Jamie wanted to level the healing over time spell ASAP.
The part that bothered her more was the slots.
Jamie had started with twenty skill slots thanks to the Goddess. Seven of those had already been occupied before she'd even opened her eyes in this world. Field Dressing had taken another, and the two spells she'd just purchased brought her remaining open slots down to ten.
Ten.
And Jamie was one of the lucky ones. Ember would only ever have ten skill slots total.
Jamie looked at the little fox's status sheet again.
Suddenly, Ember's skill choices felt a hell of a lot more consequential than Jamie's. She only got ten. There wasn't much room for mistakes.
“Alright,” Jamie said, closing her screen. “Your turn.”
She pulled Ember's skills back up. “Time to pick two spells.”
I want three, Ember sent decisively.
Jamie looked at her. “Three?”
Siphon spells, Ember clarified.
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “All three?”
Ember's tails swayed behind her.
“You know that only leaves you with three open slots for other skills, right?”
And?
Jamie waited.
I support by making enemies weaker, Ember replied. This is efficient.
Jamie considered that and couldn't really argue with her logic. Ember had chosen Siphon Mage. If she was going to commit to it, she might as well actually be good at siphoning things.
“Alright. Your slots.”
One by one, Ember told Jamie which spells she wanted to lock in.
Siphon Strength — Lv. 1
Temporarily drains Strength from the target, reducing physical damage output.
Siphon Vitality — Lv. 1
Leeches Constitution from the target, causing gradual health loss and reducing physical resilience.
Siphon Spirit — Lv. 1
Leeches Spirit from the target, reducing mana regeneration and disrupting spell control.
As each spell finalized, the sigils along Ember's new tails flared to life, one tail responding to each siphon. The air hummed softly around her as mana flowed through the three new conduits.
Ember flicked her tails, clearly satisfied.
Now I steal from enemies and give to us, she sent. I like teamwork.
Jamie snorted. “Of course that's your definition of teamwork.”
Ember looked entirely unapologetic.
“Yeah,” Jamie said, smiling. “I think we're going to make this work.”
With the last of their points spent, Jamie closed the screens and looked around their quiet little campsite. The fire had burned low, throwing a warm orange glow across the clearing, while Ember settled beside her with all three tails curled around her body. Apparently, in addition to being magical conduits capable of stealing someone's attributes, they also doubled as a very effective fluffy blanket.
Lucky fox.
Jamie's smile slowly faded as she remembered what came next.
Dinner was finished. Their points were spent. Ember had already declared the campsite safe. There was officially nothing left standing between Jamie and that bath. Jamie looked toward the quiet pool.
Right.
The bath.
Getting clean was going to require getting naked, which meant Jamie was about to find out exactly how bathing worked when the body in question belonged to one crazy-hot female Dryad.
Jamie slowly looked upward toward the darkening heavens.
"Goddess, give me strength."