Accidental Healer

An hour later I sit and admire my gains. Thirtyfour chaos Spawn down. My loot piles? Huge.

Pile One: Teeth, eyes, meat. Disgusting, but expected.

Pile Two: 14 more Chaos Fragments.

Pile Three: Weird random crap.

I scan the last pile. Crude Serpent Dagger, cast iron pot, wooden flute, broken ceramic plate.

…What the hell am I supposed to do with this stuff? Hopefully, stronger monsters drop better loot.

For now, it is what it is.

I still have 30 minutes before Wave two. There are two things I still need to handle. First, use the second Minor Chaos Shard. And second? Have a long-overdue heart-to-heart with Mischief.

Priorities first.

I grab the Crude Serpent Dagger and the Chaos Shard and repeat the process. Channel mana. Infuse the shard. Press it to the dagger.

Pop.

Zzzt.

Pain. Sharp, brutal, electric pain.

"MOTHER OF—"

I yell and drop the knife. My hand burns like I just grabbed a live wire.

What the hell just happened?! I shake out my fingers, glaring at the dagger. Did it just electrocute me?!

Heart pounding, I pull up my status screen and analyze the dagger in the dirt.

[Crude Serpent Dagger of Shocking: This dagger doesn't discriminate—it will shock any creature it contacts, including the wielder.]

…

What.

WHAT?!

What kind of absolute trash-tier upgrade is this?!

I glare at the dagger like it personally insulted my ancestors. This isn't an upgrade—this is sabotage! Is that even allowed?!

I think back to the Chaos Shard's description. What did it say again?

"Can be combined with items to produce unknown effects."

…Right. UNKNOWN effects. Nowhere did it promise "good" effects.

No safety net. No guarantees. No "Are you sure?" pop-ups. Just raw chaos.

And—stupidly enough—that actually sounds kind of fun.

I let out a sigh and gave my shocking snake dagger a rueful smile. Yeah I'm not touching that again.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With the shard spent and my "upgraded" dagger in time-out, that leaves one last issue before Wave 2.

Mischief.

Snatching my club up, I turn toward where I left the oversized menace—only to freeze. Mischief is no longer sprawled out, weak and dying.

He's sitting. Alert. Healthy. Watching me. My grip tightens around the club.

How? How is he already back to full strength?

I replay the last hour. I cast Weak Heal. Then Weak Regen. That's at least 17 HP recovered, maybe more since I boosted Intelligence.

That means Mischief has been at fighting strength for at least twenty minutes.

And he didn't move. I narrow my eyes. Mischief tilts his head slightly, watching me. Sizing me up.

I exhale slowly, but it's forced—like my body is trying to steady itself before my brain catches up. What the hell is going on here?

No reaction.

"Didn't you try to eat me earlier?" I press. "You… not hungry anymore?" I had left my back completely exposed to this natural predator at full health for at least 20 minutes, maybe longer.

It hadn't attacked.

I cross my arms. Fine. Let's see if this thing really understands anything.

"You saw what happened last time? Little creepy chaos dudes running all over?" Mischief's tail twitches but he doesn't move besides that.

"Another wave is coming." My voice is steady, but my pulse isn't. Am I really trying to communicate with a mountain lion?

I gesture my hand back and forth between us. "We fight, or we die."

Neither of us move.

I must be crazy. Do I really think any of this is getting through?

Mischief stands. I stay frozen. Mischief takes a cautious step forward–the tension in the air is suffocating.

My muscles coil, every instinct screaming at me to raise my weapon. But something—maybe our shared fate—tells me to hold my ground.

Step by measured step Mischief closes the gap. I hold my breath. Slowly he saunters up to me. So close now that I can hear his breath softly move in and out.

If I wanted I could reach out and rest my hand on his head. But something tells me taking the initiative and patting the large predator on the head isn't the right move.

I wait, one hand resting on my club the other hanging at my side. Mischief walks right past me but as he does his head moves just slightly.

Soft hair tickles my fingers.

Then, as if I don't exist, he pads to the loot pile, sniffing through the mess. He pauses at the meat, and actually looks back at me. Expectant?

I blink.

Is he asking for permission?

I hesitate. Then shrug. "Go ahead. I'm not exactly dying to eat gray, stinky monster meat."

Mischief doesn't wait. He leans down and tears into the Chaos Spawn flesh. The whole situation feels so strange. I know that my words likely mean nothing to this wild animal, and yet I felt a strange kinship.

I don't have time to dwell on this. For now I'm just happy it's eating the chaos spawn meat and not me. A system notification flashes.

[1 Minute Until Wave 2. Prepare Yourself.]

My stomach drops.

Mischief jumps slightly. His ears flick toward me. His tail twitches.

Did he just get the system notification? I narrow my eyes. "Did you see that?"

Mischief flicks his tail. Looks at me. Doesn't confirm or deny it. I mean what did I expect him to do?

If he did see it… what language did he get it in? Does the system adjust for him? Does he even think in words? This is all so weird.

I shake my head. No time for this.

"I'm moving to the flattened grass to fight—if you understand me, don't get too close." I swing my club in a wide arc to illustrate my point.

Mischief watches. Fine. That'll have to do.

It's an uneasy alliance. At least, I know I'm uneasy about it.

But what choice do I have? The wave is coming.

I jog back to the clearing. The once-tall grass has been trampled, leaving me with a rough 20-foot oval to work with.

It'll do.