Sim’s avatar strolled toward the trio, now decked out in a crisp white lab coat—buttoned to perfection, glasses perched low like she was preparing to verbally incinerate a doctoral thesis. “Alright, team,” she began, tone smooth and surgical. “Before we bring in Quinn’s family, let's talk about your jaguar mission. Specifically, how you could’ve been faster, smarter, and generally… less terrible.” Her gaze zeroed in on Dexter.

  Dexter clutched his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “Less terrible?” he repeated, scandalized. “We captured all three jaguars and didn’t die. That’s a gold-star day in my book. Actually—no—platinum star. I was magnificent.” He struck a heroic pose, one foot on an invisible pedestal, chin lifted like he was being painted for a mural.

  Emily didn’t blink. She shifted her weight, arms crossed, posture full of calm, ruthless judgment. Silence stretched. Then, the death blow:

  “Dexter, you got your hammer stolen by a squid-cat.”

  Dexter pointed a finger at her, feigning indignation. “And you nearly got flattened by that same squid-cat. If it weren’t for your cloak, you’d be a pancake. Let’s not pretend that thing isn’t secretly plot armor.” He grinned, enjoying the banter.

  Sim lifted a hand, cutting off whatever Quinn was about to say. “Alright, alright. Jokes aside, you were all impressive,” she admitted, her tone softening. “Your teamwork exceeded expectations. You adapted well to an unpredictable environment. You’re adjusting to your mana channels faster than expected, and the data I’ve gathered is invaluable. We’re starting to understand how mana interacts with humans, animals—even plant life.”

  She paused just long enough for that to land, then continued, voice regaining its clinical edge. “That said, there’s a lot of room for improvement. Cleaner tactics, broader skills, tighter execution.” She waved a hand, conjuring a glowing, hovering list beside her. “I want to use this as a teaching moment. I’d like to use this opportunity to review your choices and, ideally, build out new skill branches for the system.”

  The air around them shimmered, pixelated edges peeling away as the astral dimension dissolved into thick jungle heat. Leaves rustled. Distant growls echoed from the trees. The scent of damp earth and danger settled into the air. They weren’t really there—just ghosts retracing their steps. The simulation rendered every branch, every footprint, every mistake in crystal clarity.

  Dexter’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. He blinked rapidly.

  “NO. WAY.”

  He started vibrating like a kid with a sugar IV, then immediately forced himself into a dramatic lean of cool indifference. “First of all,” he said, arms crossed, pretending not to explode with joy, “can we just pause to appreciate what’s happening here?” He turned to Sim, barely holding it together. “YOU BUILT A FREAKIN’ HOLODECK. You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

  Sim just smiled.

  “And second,” Dexter said, practically bouncing, “you didn’t tell us we were being recorded. A little heads-up would’ve been nice. I would’ve added a backflip. Maybe a heroic monologue. This is good, but it could’ve been legendary.”

  Quinn leaned in toward Emily, his eyes fixed on the unfolding simulation. “This is really cool.”

  Emily nodded slowly, her gaze scanning the recreated jungle. “No joke. The detail’s insane.”

  “Spit-spot,” Sim cut in, her voice adopting a flawless Mary Poppins accent. She clapped her hands together, her lab coat swishing with the motion, eyes gleaming with mischief and authority. “Let’s put those big, beautiful brains to work. Think about what you could have done differently—what skills might have made this mission smoother, faster, or, dare I say, less chaotic?”

  The simulation flickered into motion. Their entrance into the jungle played out in perfect clarity—humidity in the air, every leaf rustling with ambient realism. Emily flipped through the portal first landing in a Black widow pose. Her instincts kicked in instantly; without a word, her hood was up and she vanished into shadow.

  A beat later, Dexter and Quinn followed. The second Quinn hit the clearing, he noticed something was wrong. The silence was unnatural.

  Sim froze the scene mid-breath. Jungle bugs paused in flight. Leaves hung suspended.

  “Alright,” she said, stepping through the suspended scene like a museum tour guide. “Let’s dissect the moment. Quinn, Emily—you both sensed something was off. Your instincts were on point.”

  Her eyes slid to Dexter with exaggerated patience. “And you… were about as perceptive as a decorative houseplant.”

  Dexter sputtered. “A houseplant? I’ll have you know, I am very perceptive. I just choose to focus on what matters, like being awesome.”

  Sim arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Fascinating strategy. How’d that work out for you? So tell me, Dexter—what could have helped you detect the jaguars before you needed your drones to bail you out?”

  Dexter stroked his chin like a philosopher deep in thought. “Well… if I were Spider-Man, my 'Spidey-senses' would’ve started tingling the moment we landed.”

  Sim let out a long-suffering sigh, though a flicker of amusement tugged at her lips. “So… enhanced perception, then. Something that alerts you when a threat enters your vicinity?”

  With a flick of her wrist, a whiteboard shimmered into existence beside her, complete with glowing markers that floated midair. “Let’s call it a Perception Sphere—a passive skill that pings your awareness whenever something enters your radius. Think magical sonar, minus the annoying beeping.”

  She scribbled it on the board, then fast-forwarded through their encounter with Isadora and their efforts to lure the jaguar away from the village and paused again as they first approached the locals.

  Sim froze the image, folding her arms. “And here’s another opportunity. The villagers weren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat.”

  Dexter shrugged. “Yeah, but the second they saw Isadora safe, they were totally cool with us.”

  Quinn, catching the rhythm of the analysis, tilted his head. “Sure, but imagine if we’d walked in and they trusted us from the get-go. Higher Charisma might’ve cut through the skepticism.”

  Sim snapped her fingers. CHARISMA appeared on the board in glowing gold letters.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Social stats matter. You can punch a jaguar, sure—but try negotiating with one. Or convincing a terrified village you’re not the bad guys.”

  Dexter leaned in to squint at the board. “So basically, you’re saying I need to be even more awesome?”

  Emily didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s the takeaway here.”

  “You all see where this is going?” Sim asked, her gaze drifting across the trio. The glint in their eyes said it all—they were hooked.

  The simulation resumed. The jungle shifted again, this time capturing the tense moment as they rushed back toward the clearing. Dexter’s drones buzzed ahead like eager scouts, guiding the jaguar toward their trap.

  Quinn pointed to a frozen frame of their past selves mid-sprint. “That perception skill would’ve been nice here. If we’d known there were three jaguars instead of just one, we might’ve, you know… not walked into an ambush.”

  Emily nodded, arms crossed, analyzing the image. “And not just perception. We needed data. Strengths, weaknesses, abilities—anything that would've given us an edge.”

  Sim made a sweeping motion with one hand, and glowing text shimmered onto the list:

  Analysis / Inspect – "An ability to scan targets for detailed stats, traits, and vulnerabilities." she explained. “The ability gather intel in real-time. Scan a creature, learn its tricks before it teaches them to you the hard way.”

  Dexter raised a hand like a student with a half-baked idea. “So… like a magical Pokédex?”

  Sim blinked. “Sure. Except your monsters fight you.”

  Dexter leaned in, tapping his chin. “Yeah, those things weren’t level one mobs. If we’d known how strong they were, we could’ve prepped better. I mean, Rosco is more of a level one creature.”

  From the recliner, Rosco’s head popped up like a gopher. “Me no level one! Me at least five,” he declared, fluffing his fur with indignation.

  Emily smiled at him. “He wasn’t talking about wisdom, cuteness, or raw chaos energy, Rosco. He meant toughness, attitude, general murder vibes.”

  Rosco blinked, processed, then gave a little huff. “Okay. Me one meanness.” He gave a dignified nod, flopped back into his nest of cushions, and resumed napping like he hadn’t just been insulted.

  Sim added 'Levels, Tiers, Ranks' to the ever-growing board. “Scaling difficulty is definitely something we need to implement.”

  They continued watching the encounter unfold, pausing here and there to add more skills, abilities, and spells to the list. When the footage reached the moment Dexter lost his hammer, Sim froze the scene.

  She let the silence linger for a beat, one brow raised, before gesturing to the mid-air image of Dexter’s past self flailing helplessly. “Let’s take a closer look, shall we? Dexter, care to explain how this happened?”

  Dexter scoffed, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. “It was a mana-mutated monster. With tentacles. And malice.” He mimed claws swiping through the air with one hand while the other wiggled like writhing tentacles. “How exactly was I supposed to predict its moves?” He leaned forward, eyes wide with mock incredulity. “It adapted on the fly!” Then, straightening, he spread his arms dramatically as if presenting a grand revelation. “I didn’t get a manual titled ‘So You’re Fighting a Mana-Mutated Squid-Kitty.’”

  Sim arched a single eyebrow. “And yet, here we are. Any thoughts on what might’ve helped you avoid this... tactical embarrassment?”

  Dexter exhaled, rubbing his chin like a philosopher on the verge of enlightenment. “Oh, sure. Tons of things. Pretty much anything. Teleportation, time dilation, mind control, stealing its mana to weaken it, shifting out of phase with reality, shapeshifting into a massive ogre, distracting it with illusions—heck, even breathing fire. The possibilities are endless.”

  Sim silently began jotting down each suggestion on the growing list, her face unreadable.

  She tapped the board without looking up. “So basically, you want every power imaginable?”

  Dexter shrugged. “I mean, why not? If I’m going to lose my hammer to a tentacle-cat, I’d at least like the option to fight back in the most ridiculous way possible.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Quinn folded his arms, clearly unimpressed. “You realize half of those would break the system.”

  Emily nodded. “Yeah, we’re building a skill tree, not a cheat menu.”

  Still scribbling, Sim’s tone was calm. “Relax. Most of these would require absurd training, rare resources, or high-tier unlocks. No one’s getting overpowered just because they asked nicely.”

  Dexter let out a theatrical sigh. “Fine. But I’m just saying—if I could’ve turned into a fire-breathing ogre, that jaguar wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  Emily smirked. “If you turned into an ogre, the jaguar probably would’ve just laughed.”

  “Me laugh too. Dexter make ugly ogre,” Rosco added from the recliner, not even opening his eyes.

  Quinn smirked but was more methodical, his brain already assembling the pieces like a tactical puzzle. “What if you could predict its moves before it even acted?”

  Dexter arched a brow. “You mean, like mind reading?”

  Quinn shook his head. “Not exactly. More like sensing its intent based on micro-movements—an ability that lets you anticipate instead of react.”

  Dexter crossed his arms, squinting in thought. “Isn’t that just knowing the future? And, last I checked, the future isn’t set in stone.”

  Emily leaned forward slightly, her tone thoughtful. “True. Quantum physics already tells us that observation changes outcomes. Just looking at something can shift the result.”

  Quinn nodded. “Exactly. I’m not talking precognition—I’m talking about predictive perception. Real-time probability calculations. Reading the battlefield as a living equation.”

  Sim’s eyes flickered, her processors kicking into overdrive. “So... a combat heuristic engine layered onto your natural awareness. Reading subtle cues—weight shifts, eye flickers, muscle tension—and projecting likely outcomes before they happen.”

  Dexter’s eyes narrowed as he processed it. “So… super thinking?”

  “More like forecasting probabilities,” Quinn clarified. “The jaguar only had so many options once it committed to the attack. What if you could predict the most likely one and react before it happened?”

  Emily’s brow furrowed as a thought sparked. “Sim, you’ve said before that energy moves in waves. Could probability be tracked the same way? Are probability waves even a thing?”

  Sim’s avatar flickered, pausing as if the very question caused fate herself to unlocked something in the data packet. Streams of data shimmered into view, cascading through her eyes like a revelation.

  “Well,” she murmured, intrigued, “look at that. They do exist. Fascinating.”

  Her posture straightened, tone sharpening. “A probability wave analysis… it’s complicated, but not impossible. If I combine micro-movements, environmental factors, and mana fluctuations, I can map projected outcomes in real time. You wouldn’t be reading minds—you’d be reading likelihoods.”

  Dexter crossed his arms, expression deeply skeptical. “Okay, but now we’re getting into the ‘quantum voodoo’ corner of sci-fi.”

  Sim’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Dexter, you’re standing in an astral pocket dimension, within a time dilation bubble, reviewing a battle with mana-mutated jaguars inside a holodeck combat simulator. We passed ‘sci-fi’ five chapters ago.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Hard to argue with that.”

  Dexter tapped his chin, squinting at the frozen battle scene. “Alright, I see the value in it,” he said slowly. “But what if—now hear me out—I didn’t dodge?”

  Emily sighed, the kind of sigh reserved for people who regularly broke the laws of logic and common sense. “Of course.”

  Unfazed, Dexter grinned and gestured at the holographic version of himself mid-charge, hammer crackling with energy. “What if, instead of sidestepping, I just let the jaguar hit me—absorb the impact—and then unload a counterattack strong enough to crater the earth? A skill that turns damage into power.”

  Sim tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “A reactive defense system… absorbing kinetic energy and converting it into offensive output. That’s viable.”

  Emily’s brows knit together. “You’re asking for a skill that rewards you for getting pummeled?”

  Dexter shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “Look, I’m gonna take hits either way. Might as well make them regret it.”

  Sim’s avatar flickered for a heartbeat before responding. “I could design a skill that converts incoming force into a temporary power boost. The more damage you absorb, the stronger your next strike becomes.”

  Dexter’s grin widened like he’d just been handed a cheat code. “So… basically a real-life Black Panther suit? Yes, please." He turned to Emily, "His was awesome.”

  Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “And this won’t just turn him into an unhinged battering ram?”

  Sim paused. “...That risk is... not zero. It’ll need testing.”

  Quinn, wisely ignoring Dexter’s self-satisfied smirk, steered the conversation forward. “Okay, but what about Emily’s mobility?”

  Emily arched a brow, folded her arms and gave him a death stare. “Go on.”

  “Oh, this ought to be good,” Dexter muttered, stepping back like a man preparing for splash damage. “Careful, lover boy.”

  Sim rewound the battle, slowing the exact moment Emily narrowly dodged a jaguar’s lunge. “You rely on stealth and precision,” she said. “But what if I gave you a short-range teleport? Just enough distance to sidestep danger or reposition mid-fight.”

  Emily’s brows lifted, interest piqued. “Blink movement?”

  Dexter snapped his fingers. “Ooh, I like that. What about Blink Step?”

  “Exactly,” Sim confirmed. “Just a fraction of a second—enough to stay ahead of an attack without fully disengaging.”

  A smirk curved across Emily’s lips as she imagined the maneuver. “Yeah… I could work with that.”

  The simulation resumed, rewinding to the same moment. This time, golden trajectory lines shimmered in the air around her past self, each one tracing a potential escape route.

  “This is what I mean,” Sim said, pointing to the path where Emily blinked out of danger a heartbeat before the jaguar’s claws would’ve connected. “With blink movement, you rely on precision instead of pure speed.”

  Emily tilted her head, eyes tracking the path. “That would be a game-changer.”

  Dexter crossed his arms, tapping his bicep with a single finger. “Alright, but if we’re talking upgrades, let’s talk recovery too. Mana drain nearly wrecked us last time.”

  Sim nodded. “Agreed. Which brings us to resource management. If I integrate a mana restoration system, you’ll need consumables—potions, energy capsules—something to keep your levels up mid-fight.”

  “So... alchemy?” Emily asked, one brow raised.

  Sim shrugged. “Simplified term, but sure. And for stamina restoration—say you're relying on bursts of speed and agility—a potion that counteracts fatigue would keep you at peak performance longer.”

  Dexter’s grin resurfaced like a shark sensing blood. “And let’s not forget health restoration. I’d rather not lean on Quinn’s Biomancy every time I get clocked.”

  Sim smirked. “Duly noted. I’ll implement a basic system for crafting restorative items. But you’ll need to collect the right ingredients in the field. No guarantees what will work, so... expect trial and error.”

  Dexter groaned. “Great. We’re foraging now? Next thing you know, I’ll be barefoot in a mushroom circle chanting for crit healing herbs.” He sighed, then perked up. “But I’m calling dibs on naming the potions.”

  All three turned to him in immediate protest.

  Quinn shook his head. “Dex, no one wants to drink something called Kickapow-Joy-Joy Juice.”

  Emily folded her arms. “Or Dex’s Mega Miracle Elixir. We’re trying to save lives, not start a Saturday morning cartoon.”

  Dexter pointed at her, entirely unfazed. “First of all—that name slaps. Second, fine. But if I find a mana-infused banana, I’m calling it Rosco’s Rocket Fuel. That one’s non-negotiable.”

  “Me approve,” came Rosco’s sleepy voice from the recliner, muffled by what sounded suspiciously like a yawn and a crumb-covered paw.

  Sim, shaking her head with an exasperated smile, chose to ignore Dexter and pressed on. “I’ll provide blueprints for basic restorative potions. But more advanced variants will require rare components. The more mana-infused ingredients we collect, the better chance I’ll have at formulating something effective.”

  Quinn folded his arms and nodded. “That adds another layer to resource management. I like it.”

  With a crisp clap, Sim shifted the scene once more. The jungle rewound, flashing back to a moment where Quinn and Emily were battling on opposite flanks while Dexter wrestled with his own jaguar.

  “You were all fighting independently,” Sim said, stepping aside as the combat replay unfolded around them. “It worked, technically. But what if you had coordination skills?”

  Dexter raised a brow. “You mean like synchronized dance moves? Because I’ve got jazz hands locked and loaded.”

  Sim’s eyes sparkled. “More like team buffs. Shared abilities that enhance each other’s combat potential.”

  Emily leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “You mean like linked attacks? Passive effects when we’re close or executing combos together?”

  “Exactly,” Sim confirmed, swiping her hand to bring up glowing examples. “If Quinn’s Biomancy aura is active, standing within range could grant a regeneration boost. If Dexter triggers a defensive skill, he could project a temporary shield boost to allies within proximity.”

  Dexter snapped his fingers. “So if Emily marks a target, it boosts the damage Quinn and I dish out?”

  Sim nodded. “That’s another possibility.”

  Quinn exhaled slowly, his mind already spinning through implications. “That’s huge. We’d actually be fighting as a coordinated unit—not just three people swinging at the same problem.”

  Emily smirked, tilting her head. “You mean actual teamwork? Shocking.”

  Dexter bumped her shoulder with his elbow, his grin stretching wide. “I love this. I’m gonna be unstoppable.”

  Emily shot him a flat look. “You mean WE are going to be unstoppable.”

  Dexter’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open like he’d just solved cold fusion with crayons. “Sim! Pull up the holodeck footage from when Emily stopped the jaguar midair.”

  Without a word, Sim complied. The scene materialized—Emily frozen in a moment of raw power, the jaguar suspended in mid-pounce.

  Dexter jumped to his feet, practically vibrating. “Okay—okay, hear me out.”

  Quinn groaned. “Oh boy. Here it comes.”

  “What if…” Dexter leaned forward, arms flailing like a mad inventor unveiling his masterpiece. “What if Emily’s power isn’t actually telekinesis?”

  Emily blinked. “Come again?”

  “What if,” he pressed on, eyes gleaming, “her real ability is that she’s bonded to some kind of out-of-phase, interdimensional monster that does her bidding—and it just looks like telekinesis?”

  Silence.

  “And!” Dexter continued, undeterred by the stunned looks, “that’s what caught the squid-kitty. Not Emily. The monster.”

  Sim, always ready to escalate chaos, projected a translucent overlay onto the playback—a towering, 12-foot shadow-beast flickering into view to the side of the jaguar with its arms wrapped around it. Eerie and massive, its clawed hands frozen around the jaguar’s midsection.

  Emily stared at the looming abomination. “Dexter. First of all—ew. Second, what is wrong with your brain?”

  Quinn chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? This just solidifies my conclusions about you.”

  But Dexter only looked more convinced. “No, think about it! A symbiotic bond. The more she levels up, the stronger the creature gets. It’s her… interdimensional spirit animal.”

  Sim tilted her head, analyzing. “Hmm. Noted. Adding ‘Void-Familiar Class Speculation’ to the brainstorm board. No idea is a bad idea. Well, maybe.”

  Then her tone dropped an octave, all levity gone. “But until we find actual evidence of extradimensional monster pets, let’s assume Emily’s mind is doing the heavy lifting. Not your fictional delusions.

  Dexter raised a finger. “Hey. I’m just saying—it’s not impossible.”

  “That is, unfortunately, true,” Sim conceded, her voice growing more deliberate. Her avatar’s expression sharpened, posture straightening like a general about to brief a war council. “Which brings me to something else—something important. It’s time we start designing formal class structures.”

  Quinn’s brows pulled together. “You mean… predefined roles?”

  Dexter immediately straightened, one hand shooting up like a kid in school. “I call Tank! Mine. No take-backs.”

  Sim gave a nod, her tone dry. “Yes, Dexter, you’re the Tank. Congratulations on your lifelong dream come true.”

  Dexter gave a satisfied fist pump.

  “Quinn,” Sim continued, “you’re evolving into a Support-Fighter Hybrid—something that leans into Biomancy, close-range combat, and healing utility. And Emily fits naturally into a ranged Stealth-DPS role. Precision, agility, cloak-and-strike tactics.”

  Emily raised a brow and smirked. “Sounds about right.”

  With a flick of her wrist, Sim summoned a translucent interface mid-air displaying branching skill paths and progression options.

  “You’ll have specialization paths within your core roles,” she explained. “Each time you level up, new branches will appear. One might focus on survivability. Another on speed. Another on raw, unfiltered power. But you only get to pick one per tier.”

  Emily crossed her arms, studying the glowing map of choices. “And we have to choose?”

  “Yes,” Sim replied, her tone matter-of-fact but not unkind. “Just like in life, mastery requires focus. You can’t be an expert in everything. With each level-up, new branches will appear—skills, disciplines, affinities—but you’ll only be able to pick one per tier. Your choices define your progression.”

  Emily gave a slow nod, chewing on that. “Makes sense.”

  Dexter let out a low whistle. “No pressure or anything,” he said, flashing a crooked grin. “Just casually deciding our magical destinies. Totally chill.”

  Sim’s voice dipped into something playful. “It keeps things interesting.”

  Quinn exhaled, his shoulders squaring. “Alright. I like it.”

  Dexter cracked his knuckles with glee, practically buzzing with anticipation. “So… when do we start unlocking all this juicy power?”

  Before Sim could respond, her avatar flickered—her eyes igniting with a sharp electric blue. A new interface snapped into existence before her, lines of cascading data scrolling faster than human eyes could follow.

  “Actually,” she said, her tone shifting to something crisp and urgent. “You’re going to want to suit up. I just detected multiple mana anomalies.”

  Emily straightened, hand already conjuring her bow in a flash of shimmering light. “Where?”

  Sim’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “How do you feel about gumbo and jambalaya?”