Kaede Tanaka's Perspective
My universe had been measured in heartbeats—the steady, mocking rhythm of the monitor by my hospital bed—and in pixels—the vibrant, controllable chaos of Summoner's War on my phone screen. For five years, as my body slowly betrayed me, the world of Sky Arena became my true reality. I knew the precise turn order to topple a Guardian-tier Arena defense. I felt a visceral thrill when a Legendary Rune rolled perfectly into Speed. The names Lushen, Verad, and Tian Lang were more familiar to me than the faces of most of my nurses.
The pain that day was a familiar, dull throb in my bones, a constant reminder of my cage of flesh. To escape, I was scrolling through my monster storage, admiring the fully-skilled, rune-mastered team I had built from nothing, when the package arrived. No postage, no sender, just a plain black box left on my bedside table. Inside, nestled in midnight velvet, was the crystal. It was the size of a quail's egg, its interior swirling with nebulae of sapphire, emerald, and amethyst light. It seemed to pulse in time with my own weak heartbeat.
Against all logic, I reached for it. The moment my skin made contact, the world of sterile white and electronic beeps was obliterated.
Not by sound, but by a silence so profound it was a noise in itself. Then, a sensation of being siphoned away, not through a tunnel, but unfolded—like a page being smoothed flat, my consciousness stretched across an infinite lattice of stars and shimmering, runic symbols. I saw galaxies shaped like the icons for Energy and Swift runes, cosmic rivers that flowed with the hues of Magic Elemental Power. For a timeless moment, I was the code, the logic, the very algorithm of that game I loved.
And then, I was crammed.
Consciousness returned not with a gentle fade-in, but with the violent immediacy of a slammed door. Sensations, alien and overwhelming, assaulted me.
Smell: Damp soil, rotting leaves, the crisp, clean scent of pine, and underlying it all, a metallic tang like ozone after a storm.
Sound: The rustle of leaves in a breeze, the distant call of an unfamiliar bird, the crunch of footsteps on gravel.
Touch: A strange, full-body awareness of coarse hair, of light paws resting on cool earth, of a tail I could feel twitching nervously behind me.
I tried to open my eyes—my eyes—and found the perspective all wrong. The ground was too close. I tried to raise a hand to my throbbing temple, but what moved into my field of vision was a limb of grey-blue fur, ending in three dextrous, black-clawed fingers.
A cold, liquid dread poured down my spine.
No. No, no, no.
I stumbled forward, my new body unnervingly agile and light. Before me, a rain-filled depression in a rock offered a murky reflection. Leaning over it, the world stopped.
A pair of large, intelligent eyes the color of a stormy sky stared back, set in a furry, feral face. Long, pointed ears twitched independently. A small, black nose wrigbled above a mouth full of sharp, but tiny, teeth. It was cartoonish, yet utterly real. I knew this face. I had fed hundreds of them to empower other monsters.
I was a Wind Elemental, Imp. A two-star monster. Common fodder.
The mental stats I'd internalized for years auto-fired: *Wind Attribute. Base ATK 135, Base DEF 77, Base HP 1,080. Max Level 20 (unawakened). Skills: Rage Shot (Single target), Team-Up (Calls a random ally).*
"This is a hallucination," I chittered, the sound a high-pitched, guttural rasp. My voice. "The new medication. It has to be. A stress-induced, hyper-realistic psychotic break."
"Hey! New pull! Stop admiring yourself and fall in line! We're moving!"
The voice was human, sharp with impatience. I whirled around, my new body moving with a predator's instinct I didn't own. A man stood ten feet away, dressed in worn but serviceable leather armor, a short sword at his hip. He looked to be in his late twenties, with a face hardened by sun and survival. But it wasn't him that held my gaze.
Floating serenely beside him was a Water Fairy, her translucent wings shedding droplets of cool light. To his left, a Wind Garuda pecked at the ground with its metallic beak, its eyes glowing with a dim green intelligence. Beside it, another Imp, this one with rust-red fur and a smoldering tail, glared at me with unmistakable hostility. A Fire Imp.
And above the man, like a ghostly tag in an augmented reality game, shimmered faint, silver script: <
The final piece of my old reality shattered. This wasn't a dream. The interface. The monster types. The terminology. It was a perfect translation of the game into a living, breathing world. The Fairy's light cast real shadows. The Garuda's feathers rustled in the wind. The smell of the Fire Imp was like a smoldering coal.
Rael strode over, his boots crunching loudly. He looked me up and down with the appraisal of a man checking a tool, not a living being. "Another Imp. Figures. My summoning luck is cursed. Crystal gave a green glow, hoped for a Griffon or even a decent Salamander." He sighed, a sound of profound resignation. "Well, Wind is better than another Fire. You're with us. You're fodder—I mean, you're support. Your only job is to use Team-Up when I say. Target what the Fairy targets. You're faster than her, so wait for my command. Understood?"
I could only nod my furry head, my mind reeling. He sees me as a thing. A skill with legs.
"Good. You're in the back. Stay behind Grunt here." He jerked a thumb at the Garuda. "One hit from anything bigger than a slime will dust you. Let's go. The Telain Forest dungeon entrance is another hour's hike, and I want to farm a few Swift runes before dusk."
Telain Forest. Swift runes. Stage 2, maybe 3 for his level. My player-mind, a separate entity from my current panic, began analyzing automatically. *He's using a Water Fairy (leader skill: 15% HP to Water allies… useless for this team), a Wind Garuda (healer and reviver), and two Imps (single-target damage). No defense break, no attack buff, no speed buff. This team composition is terrible. His runes are probably a mismatched mess of 1 and 2-star leftovers.*
As we moved into the deeper woods, the social dynamic became clear. The Water Fairy, who Rael called "Belle," flitted near his head, occasionally chiming with a sound like tinkling glass. She was the favorite. The Garuda, "Grunt," was the reliable tank, plodding ahead. The Fire Imp, whom Rael had named "Cinder," marched with a resentful swagger, shooting me looks of pure malice. I was the unwanted newcomer, a direct competitor for the already-scarce resources of his attention and… whatever passed for energy in this world.
"Why do you listen to him?"
The thought-voice startled me. It wasn't sound, but a concept that appeared directly in my mind, gritty and hot like embers. It came from Cinder. I realized I could feel his presence, a faint, fiery signature next to my own whirling wind.
You can communicate? I thought back, tentatively.
All monsters of a Summoner can, in the link, Cinder's mental voice sneered. You really are a blank slate, a newborn. He holds our crystals. Our essence is tied to him. Disobey, and he can choose not to summon us again. We fade into the storage space—a nothingness for eternity. Or worse, he can use us as evolution material.
The casual horror of it stuck in my non-existent throat. Evolution material. In the game, it was a mechanic. Here, it was a death sentence.
So we fight for him, I sent back.
We fight to be useful, Cinder corrected, his mental gaze fixed on Rael's back. Useful monsters get summoned. Get experience. Get stronger. Maybe, one day, get a good rune. Useless ones… get fed. You're Wind. You're competition. Watch your back, newbie.
The conversation died as Rael held up a fist. "Contact! Forest Keepers. Standard formation!"
Ahead, three lumbering humanoid figures made of gnarled wood and vibrant moss shifted from the treeline. Their eyes glowed with a slow, green malevolence. <
My body tensed automatically. This wasn't a turn-based menu screen. There was no "Ready" button. Adrenaline, sharp and clean, flooded my system. My claws itched.
"Grunt, Provoke the big one! Belle, shield on Grunt! Cinder, hit the left one! Wind Imp—you, what's your name? Doesn't matter—get ready to Team-Up!"
The battle erupted in a chaos of splintering wood and flashes of light. Grunt let out a metallic shriek, a wave of taunting energy pulsing from him. The level 11 Keeper turned, its massive branch-arm slamming into the Garuda with a sickening thud. Grunt skidded back but held, a shimmering bubble of water-energy—Belle's shield—absorbing part of the blow.
Cinder shrieked, launching a fireball from his palms. It scorched the bark of his target but didn't kill it. The Keepers were slow but incredibly tanky.
"Now, Wind Imp! With Belle, on Cinder's target!"
The command triggered something deep within me. A circuit closed. I felt a connection to Belle, a silvery-blue thread of potential. I focused on it, willed myself to act alongside her. Skill 2: Team-Up.
My world became a blur of motion. Wind gathered at my claws, howling. I wasn't in control; my body executed the skill with ingrained perfection. I shot forward, a blue-grey streak, crossing the distance in an instant. At the same moment, Belle raised her hands, and a lance of pressurized water shot forth. Our attacks—my ripping claws and her piercing water jet—struck the wounded Forest Keeper in unison.
There was a tremendous crack. The creature didn't just fall; it disintegrated, exploding into a shower of luminescent green motes that hung in the air before flowing outward. Most streamed toward Rael, but a tiny, faint trickle arced toward me, Cinder, Belle, and Grunt.
Warmth. A surge of pure, vibrant energy that seeped into my very core. It was minuscule, but undeniable. I felt… firmer. More present. A notification, silent but understood, echoed in my being: <
The remaining Keepers fell quickly to our combined assaults. As the last one dissolved, a soft, grey-white light coalesced on the forest floor. Rael strode over and picked it up—a flat, circular stone etched with a simple, angular symbol.
<
"Hmph. Flat primary in slot 4. Garbage." He tossed it into a small leather pouch at his belt with a look of disgust. "Maybe I can sell it for a bit of mana."
I stared. That rune, in the early game, was not garbage. On a damage dealer like Cinder, even a 1-star ATK% rune in slot 4 was a massive power spike compared to a flat ATK rune. Rael's ignorance wasn't just frustrating; it was dangerous. He was leading us into battles with suboptimal gear, risking our lives—our existences—because he didn't understand the fundamental math.
As we resumed our march, the reality of my existence settled upon me with the weight of a mountain. I was frail, disposable, and owned by someone who saw me as a number. But within that despair, a spark ignited. The spark was knowledge.
I knew that a well-runed, well-paced team of low-star monsters could clear content that challenged poorly-built teams of natural four-stars. I knew the value of every single percent on a rune. I knew synergy he couldn't even dream of.
Cinder's warning echoed in my mind. Useful monsters survive.
Rael looked back, annoyed I'd stopped. "Keep up, Imp! Daylight's wasting!"
I looked at my small, clawed hands, then at his retreating back. A fierce, quiet resolve calcified in my heart. This was not my end. This was my summoning.
You see a two-star Imp, I thought, my new eyes narrowing with borrowed cunning. But I am a strategist of the Conqueror rank. I will learn this world's rules. I will optimize, adapt, and overcome. I will make this frail, wind-attributed body into a legend.
And I will find out who, or what, pulled me here.
With a chitter that was no longer just a sound of fear, but one of nascent purpose, I hurried after my Summoner, my mind already racing with plans, calculations, and the first steps toward an impossible evolution.