But hey, at least there was proof of progress.
I shifted on the bench, palm dragging across the smoothed grain. My work. My sweat. And for once, it didn’t look half bad.
Across the lake’s dark mirror, Sir Spudsworth and his midnight band of critters rustled and chirped, their laughter echoing in splashes and squeaks that only they understood. The world beyond the fire’s glow felt alive—watching, listening. Ember lay sprawled near the flames, limbs thrown out like she’d crashed mid-cartwheel, snoring like a dying lawnmower. I’d sent her out foraging earlier. She came back with meat. I didn’t ask where it came from. Wasn’t gonna.
Right on cue, Shaq’Rai’s voice coiled through the air—smooth as marble, smug as a cat with a fresh kill.
"Ah, the mortal hunger for lineage. That desperate itch to carve one’s name into eternity. Worry not, weary traveler—this world offers many paths to forge a dynasty."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. The pressure flared sharp, syncing with the pulse behind my eyes.
"I asked about adoption, not a dramatic monologue."
Her laugh dripped with honey and steel.
"And yet, here we are."
Bet she was smirking—wherever her invisible, all-knowing self hovered. I jabbed the fire with a stick. Sparks scattered skyward, glowing like insects fleeing the heat.
"Adopting an Autonomous-Organic Non-Player Character—or AO-NPC—marks the first step in building a family," she intoned, reverent like she was reading from scripture. "Over time, the bond evolves: from Clan, to House, to Grand House, to Confluency, to Ascendancy, and ultimately..."
Her voice dropped low, dramatic.
"Legacy."
I flicked a coal deeper into the fire. The ember hissed like it knew better.
"So… it’s like leveling up a family tree?"
"If you must oversimplify it—yes."
I leaned back, spine groaning, eyes drifting to the stars flung wide across the night like someone spilled glitter across the sky.
"Alright. But what’s it actually do? Perks? Bonuses? Magic family discounts?"
"Ah, a practical mind. Good."
She sounded far too pleased.
"As your lineage expands, so does its influence—improved resource gathering, stronger economies, superior combat ability, greater diplomatic weight. Each family thrives differently. A merchant dynasty won’t grow the same as a war-born line. Naturally… there are other ways to speed things up."
My brow furrowed, tension coiling behind my eyes.
"Define ‘other.’"
"Kidnapping. Forced conscription. Soul-binding—"
"Okay! Okay. Legal routes only."
"Legal is such a flexible term."
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Fine. Just adoption and marriage."
"A wise, if tediously predictable, choice."
She sighed—a long, deliberate exhale that felt heavier than the night itself. Like I’d disappointed some cosmic tax auditor who’d hoped for more chaos.
The fire popped. Ember twitched, one leg kicking at nothing. A thin line of drool gleamed on her cheek as she mumbled in her sleep, voice thick and slurred.
"More meat, Daddy… gimme more meat…"
I choked, coughing on nothing but air.
"The hell kinda dream is that?"
I shook my head, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, eyes locked on the flickering flames. My knuckles were scraped raw. My mind a mess—cluttered with strange relics, talking vegetables, and questions that chewed at me like rats in the dark.
Still… I smirked.
I scrubbed my palm down my face, rough against stubble.
"Alright, Shaq’Rai. Riddle me this—why the hell was I forced to adopt Ember in the first place?"
“It ties back to your Patron—Ishtar. Her Blessings, her Gifts,” Shaq’Rai murmured from the vambrace on my arm, her voice dripping velvet and amusement. “Also… probably because Ember’s a KS–AO-NPC.”
I squinted at the rune glowing faint and steady, like a heartbeat I didn’t trust. “And that means…?”
A pause. Long enough to make it obvious. She was savoring this, the way a cat plays with a mouse. I could almost see her smug grin stretching wider before she breathed in slow—syrup-thick and indulgent.
“A Kindred Spirit,” she announced, each word soaked in dramatic flair. “A rarity among rarities! A bond fated and unbreakable, spun from the very fabric of the cosmos itself! Unique—singular—among Autonomous Organic Non-Player Characters—”
A soft chime shimmered through the air. Sparks bloomed around the vambrace like glitter tossed at a birthday party I didn’t want.
I swatted them away. “Cut it out.”
Shaq’Rai gasped—mock horror, pure theater. “You are the death of joy, Grant.” The sparkles vanished like candles snuffed out. “Fine. I’ll dumb it down for your tragically bland tastes.”
“Much appreciated,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. The skin there felt hot, tight, like it remembered something I didn’t.
“So. What’s the deal with these Kindred Spirits?”
Her tone dipped into a sulky drawl, but the words still came. “Kindred Spirits are unique AO-NPCs. Ultra rare. Bonding with one? Nearly impossible. Usually there’s a whole process—trials, rites, rituals. Blood, sweat, tears. Bureaucracy, but mythic.”
I waved a hand. “So a nightmare with extra steps.”
“Exactly. But once the bond forms? It unlocks things. Family structures—adoption, marriage, sibling pacts. Power scales with the bond’s strength.”
I scratched my jaw, nails catching on rough stubble. “And AO-NPCs are…?”
“Autonomous Organic Non-Player Characters,” she said flatly. “The people of this world.” Her voice cooled. “Technically, Demi-Humans.”
The word hit like a stone in the gut. I already knew this world was strange, but that tone—there was weight behind it. Something she wasn’t saying outright.
And then she dropped it.
“As of now, based on the lore you’ve uncovered—or rather, what your sponsors allow you to know—you are the only human alive in this era.”
The fire cracked, spitting heat across my face, but it didn’t thaw the ice sliding into my chest.
Sparks shot up like they were trying to flee. The lake beyond lay still, glass-perfect, but I knew it was lying. Inside, a storm churned—tight, rising, vicious. My fists clenched. Jaw locked. Breath thin and slow.
I spoke through grit teeth. “What do you mean, I’m the only human? In this whole cursed era?”
Shaq’Rai, usually sharp as broken glass, softened. Her voice dipped low, like she was pressing gauze to a fresh wound.
“Oh, Grant. It’s simple. Your kind—humans—died out. Eons ago. Wiped clean from the world.”
My gut twisted, something deep pulling tight. The fire still burned, but it felt far away now. Like it wasn’t even mine.
The last human.
It didn’t feel heroic. Didn’t feel special. It felt like a tombstone someone else carved with my name.
Shaq’Rai must’ve sensed the spiral starting, because her tone flipped—playful, sly, deflecting.
“But hey—you could always make more, Grant.”
I blinked. My throat dried out. “…What?”
The vambrace pulsed, smug. If she had a face, I knew she’d be grinning like a trickster god throwing finger guns.
“Introducing—Family Slots! FS for short. A divine system, straight from Ishtar herself. Endless potential for romance, legacy, and—let’s be honest—plenty of baby-making. Time to build that dynasty, big guy!”
I groaned and dragged a hand down my face, skin rough beneath my palm. “Of course there’s a system for this.”
“And then,” she purred, voice syrup-thick again, “we have the Kindred Family Slots—KFS. Extra special. You, Grant, start with five. More can be earned by raising your Parenting Level, Family Level, and Bond Level. Infinite growth. Infinite potential.”