Nine months in.
The good news: I was mobile. The bad news: My mode of transportation looked less like "heroic stride" and more like "wounded caterpillar."
I was currently deployed on the living room rug. To my parents, this was a soft place for the baby to play. To me, this was the Safe Zone. The wool fibers offered high friction for my elbows, allowing me to drag my heavy, diaper-clad rear end forward with reasonable efficiency.
Beyond the rug lay the Hardwood Floor. That was the Wilds. Low friction, cold surface temperature, and patrolled by roaming mobs.
Stamina check, I thought, pausing to wipe a line of drool from my chin. Sixty percent. I need to work on my cardio.
I pushed myself up on my forearms. My arms shook. My [Strength] stat was creeping toward 0.6, which meant I could now lift my own head for extended periods without getting a neck cramp. It was the little victories.
"Garret, we can't sell the saw," my mother's voice floated down from the table above. "It's your livelihood."
"We don't have a choice, El," my father replied. His voice was heavy, like he was carrying a debuff he couldn't cleanse. "The peddler is coming tomorrow. The saw is the only thing worth enough to cover the tax hike."
I frowned, my tiny brow furrowing. Selling his main class item? That's a terrible play. That destroys his gold-per-hour efficiency in the long run.
I wanted to intervene. I wanted to slam my hand on the floor and shout, "Invest in high-yield crops! Diversify the portfolio!" But all that would come out was "Bah."
Besides, I had my own problems.
I scanned the perimeter of the Hardwood Floor. There. At my 2 o'clock position, near the table leg.
[Wolf Spider (Common)] Level: 1 HP: 2/2 Threat Level: Orange (Medium)
It was massive. Or at least, it looked massive from my perspective. It was a hairy, multi-legged tank the size of my fist. It moved with that jerky, unsettling speed that triggered primal fear in mammalian brains.
Target acquired, I thought, narrowing my eyes. You ugly little masterpiece.
I needed it.
The Druid class I'd picked—Circle of the Moon—was useless right now. I couldn't shape-shift because I hadn't studied any animals. I had zero forms in my database. If I wanted to turn into something, I had to kill it, dissect it (visually, at least), and absorb its essence.
This spider was my ticket to my first Wild Shape.
Operation: Pest Control is a go.
I looked at my weapon. The Wooden Horse. My trusty dumbbell. It was lying on the rug next to me. I grabbed it by the neck. It weighed 0.3 lbs. In my hands, it felt like a Zweihänder.
I began the crawl.
Left arm. Right knee. Drag. Left arm. Right knee. Drag.
The transition from rug to wood was jarring. My knees slipped. The cold floor shocked my skin.
Stealth check, I mentally whispered.
The spider froze. It sensed vibrations. I froze too, holding my breath.
Don't you look at me, I willed it. I'm just a harmless, immobile vegetable. Go back to eating flies.
The spider waited a beat, twitching its palps, then resumed its patrol. It was heading for the dark corner under the cupboard.
No you don't. That's outside my render distance.
I scrambled forward. The wooden horse clattered against the floor.
Clack.
The spider spun around. Eight eyes locked onto me.
Aggro drawn!
It didn't run away. It charged.
I panicked. Just for a second. The gamer brain stalled and the baby brain took over, screaming "GIANT BUG! GIANT BUG!"
It moved fast. Too fast. It covered the distance between the table leg and my face in two seconds. I could see the hairs on its legs. I could see the fangs.
Attack of Opportunity!
I didn't have the dexterity to swat it. If I swung and missed, I'd be wide open for a bite. A spider bite at my size? That's poison damage. That's a DoT (Damage over Time) effect my infant immune system couldn't handle.
I had one shot.
I pushed myself up on my left arm, raising my torso as high as I could—a wobbling, unstable tower of baby fat. I raised the Wooden Horse in my right hand, holding it like a hammer.
The spider skittered into the kill zone.
Gravity, I prayed. Don't fail me now.
I didn't swing. I just let go.
The wooden horse dropped.
THWACK.
It wasn't a clean hit. The horse's head clipped the spider's rear abdomen.
The spider hissed—actually hissed—and thrashed, two of its legs crumpled. It was stunned!
Finish it!
I threw my entire body weight forward. I face-planted directly onto the wooden horse, grinding it into the floorboards with my chest.
Crunch.
A disgusting sensation vibrated through my ribs. Wet. Crunchy. Gross.
I lay there for a second, smelling floor wax and spider guts.
[Combat Ended] [Target Eliminated: Wolf Spider] [XP Gained: 0.0005 XP] (Hell Mode Penalty Applied)
Five ten-thousandths of an experience point. I mentally spat on the floor. Stingy game.
But the XP wasn't the point.
I rolled off the weapon and looked at the mess. It was a smear. A gross, twitching smear.
I leaned in close, my nose almost touching the carnage. To anyone else, this was just a dead bug. To me, it was a schematic.
Analyze, I commanded, focusing my Mana Perception.
I looked at the hydraulic pressure in the legs. I looked at the structure of the exoskeleton. I looked at the venom sacs.
[Wild Shape Progress] Creature: Wolf Spider Anatomy Knowledge: 12% -> 15%
Fifteen percent. I sighed. I'd need to kill about thirty more of these to unlock the form.
"Caelum?"
I froze.
My mother, Elena, was standing over me. She looked horrified.
"Oh no! Garret! He found a spider!"
She swooped down and scooped me up. I dangled in the air, covered in floor dust, clutching my wooden horse.
"Is he bit?" Garret rushed over, dropping the tool he was holding. He grabbed my arms, checking me for marks. "Did it get him?"
"I don't think so," Elena said, wiping my face with her apron. She looked at the floor. "Look at that. He... he smashed it."
Garret looked at the spider pancake, then at the wooden horse in my hand. Then at me.
I looked him dead in the eye and gurgled. You're welcome. That was a level 1 threat.
A slow grin spread across Garret's tired face. He let out a laugh—a real one, the first I'd heard in weeks.
"Look at that, El! He's a hunter! He killed it with his toy!" Garret poked my belly. "You protecting the house, little man? You taking care of us?"
Someone has to, I thought, letting him bounce me.
"He's going to be strong," Garret said, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked at Elena. "We can't sell the saw. If he's going to be a fighter, I need to work. I need to earn so we can buy him proper gear someday."
Elena looked at me, then at Garret. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. We keep the saw. We'll find another way to pay the tax. Maybe I can sell some weaving."
I blinked.
Wait.Did I just... fix the economy subplot?
I looked at the dead spider on the floor.
I didn't just get 0.0005 XP. I just saved my dad's career.
I gripped the wooden horse tighter.
Grind on, I thought. Grind on.