Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B2 - Chapter 26: "They See Me Roamin'..."
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 03:26:56 +0000 UTCThe Tutorial Zone has been retroactively renamed “the Testing Grounds” on the suggestion of a few people, as it fits better with its purpose and generally sounds nicer. I’ve tried to hit every instance in previous chapters, but I'm sure I missed some.
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Jeremiah approached the edge of the clearing, boots sinking into the moss as he squinted through the wavering green at the place where the light thinned and the world grew strange. He could see the shimmer of the boundary now, a translucent film in the air just past a fan of arching ferns. It was less a wall and more a wrinkle, distorting the forest beyond so that everything inside seemed a shade too bright, a fraction too slow. It was as if the world itself had caught its breath.
The System prompt still hovered where he’d left it, letters gleaming in his vision:
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Please choose Tutorial Mission.
OR
Enter Testing Grounds — Free Roam.
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He licked his lips, torn between impulse and caution. The tutorial option was tempting. It would mean a mission, something clear and structured, with the promise of rewards — maybe a boost to his quantum marks, or even an item if he was lucky. He could finish the mission while scouting for new beasts. Two birds, one stone.
“Not so fast, shopkeep,” came Mero’s voice, as lazy as a summer afternoon but sharp enough to slice bread. The fairy drifted down from the crooked porch beam, wings buzzing a blue haze behind him. He circled Jeremiah’s head once, coming to rest on the fence post with a practiced flick. “If ya want my advice, pick Free Roam.”
Jeremiah cocked a brow, keeping his voice low. “And why’s that? Shouldn’t I be trying to knock out as many tutorials as I can? That’s part of what I Beta Tester should be testing right? Besides, it sounds like a better way to hunt for new stock than wandering around hoping to trip over something.”
Mero’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Yer not wrong, in a way, Jerry-boy. But in this particular instance, its a bit more… complicated. Here’s the thing; the Testing Grounds, it adapts to your needs, yeah, but also to your choices. Pick a tutorial, and what you get is a patch of the Grounds tuned just for that mission. Everything shifts — layout, critters, even the laws of physics, sometimes. If your goal is to, say, learn how to set a campfire, then what do you think you’ll find inside?” He made a show of glancing around the clearing, then shrugged. “Not much that bites, that’s for sure.”
Jeremiah frowned. “So if I picked, say, ‘Basic Survival’ or ‘Field Medicine’—”
Mero nodded. “You’d get just that. Plants to harvest, places to explore, maybe a ‘sick adventurer in need’. Stuff like that.”
Jeremiah shivered at the memory of the System clone, but Mero continued unabated.
“But ya won’t see many live beasts. Or, if ya do, they’ll be curated for the tasks at hand.” Mero gestured at the wavering boundary, his wings flickering in the green-gold light. “But Free Roam? That’s the Testing Grounds as they are. No leash, no safety rails, no clever tricks unless you bring them yourself. All the critters, the flora, the random odds and ends that end up drifting in from the Wilds… it’s the whole basket, not just a single egg.”
Jeremiah’s brow knit. “So, let me get this straight — if I pick a tutorial, I might end up in a place with no beasts at all? Or only the kinds the System thinks I need for the lesson?”
Mero grinned, sharp and pleased. “Spot on. Tutorials ‘prime’ the Grounds. Like winding up an old projector: you get the scenes you ask for, nothing more. Pick ‘Taming,’ and maybe you’ll see a dog, a docile bird. Nothing that’ll gut you for looking at it funny. But Free Roam… that’s where you find everything. Sometimes even the things the System doesn’t expect.”
A cold thread of unease worked its way down Jeremiah’s spine. “Which means Free Roam is more dangerous,” he said. “More beasts, more unpredictability. I could end up as lunch, just because I wanted to restock my adoption pen.”
Mero gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s the gamble, shopkeep. But it’s not just beasts. There are… other goodies, too. Stuff you’d never find in a tutorial. If you’re lucky, that is.” His eyes glinted.
Jeremiah eyed him. “What kind of ‘goodies’ are we talking about?”
Mero just grinned, slow and mysterious. “Where’s the fun if I spoil the surprise? Let’s just say, you’ll know it when you see it.” He folded his arms, wings giving a final buzz. “What’ll it be, Jerry-boy? Comfort and safety, or a shot at something… interesting?”
Jeremiah sighed. He could feel the decision settling in his chest, heavy and unavoidable. He shot one last look at the System prompt. Something didn’t sit well with the way Mero was trying to push him into Free Roam, despite the danger. At the same time, Mero had yet lead Jeremiah into anything he couldn’t actually handle — even if Jeremiah didn’t know it at the time. Besides, if he was going to make a name for himself, he needed more than cats and puppies and half-tame strays. He needed something nobody else had. Even if it meant rolling the dice.
He squared his shoulders, voice barely more than a breath. “All right. Free Roam it is.”
He reached out and selected the option with a flick of will. Instantly, the boundary shimmered, twisting like a silk scarf tugged through water. The world on the other side pulled and stretched, the colors bleeding into one another, warping in ways that hurt to look at. For a moment, Jeremiah’s stomach churned, his vision swimming with colors and shapes that made no sense — too many greens, too much distance crammed into too little space.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the world snapped back into place. The forest on the far side stilled, the wavering haze gone. Everything looked… sharper. The moss glowed with a richer green, the bark of the trees was etched with fine, intricate patterns he’d missed before. He could see dew beading on leaves, the shadow of a bird darting overhead. The air tasted cooler, cleaner. More real.
If before it had felt like he was looking at an ultra-realistice projection, this time he could tell that the forest in front of him was actually there. He could almost feel it humming in his bones.
Cautiously, Jeremiah reached out, waving his hand through the air where the boundary had been. Nothing. No resistance, no shimmer, only the cool touch of forest air. He glanced back at Mero, who nodded in silent approval.
“Billy! C’mere, buddy,” Jeremiah called, voice low. Billy zipped out of the sunbeams, his bubble glinting, and twined once around Jeremiah’s head before settling close by, eager for what came next.
Jeremiah took a breath, centering himself. He stepped forward, boots crossing from the soft moss of the clearing to the thicker tangle of the Testing Grounds beyond. The System responded at once, a window blooming before his eyes:
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Enter Testing Grounds: Origin Crater
Estimated Grade: G - F
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He let out a slow breath, heart thrumming. “Well,” he murmured, “here goes nothing.”
And with Billy at his side and the scent of earth and wild promise all around, Jeremiah Bridge vanished into the living forest, the safety of the clearing falling away behind him.
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Jeremiah pressed deeper into the forest, the hush behind him replaced by a chorus of layered sound: the rasp and whirr of hidden insects, the crisp snap of something small darting through undergrowth, the strange, piping call of a bird that seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once. The Testing Grounds pulsed with a living, breathing energy, green light shifting through the canopy overhead as he moved. Somewhere above, a distant branch creaked under its own weight, and in that moment, Jeremiah realized just how alone he felt — Mero had flitted off almost as soon as they’d crossed the threshold, vanishing into the blue shadows with a cryptic, “Try not to get eaten, shopkeep.”
In his absence, Billy had become a whirling streak of motion, his watery bubble ricocheting between branches, roots, and tangles of bramble with delighted abandon. Jeremiah watched the baby kraken’s exuberance with a mixture of amusement and resignation. How strange and fasinating a forest must be to a creature who should have spent their entire life deep in the ocean depths?
Billy zipped through shafts of sunlight, spinning slow somersaults in midair, occasionally sending startled clouds of gnats scattering. Once, Billy darted too close to a branch and knocked loose a shower of old, papery leaves; he squeaked in protest, then dove after them as if chasing butterflies.
No surprise that they hadn’t seen any larger creatures yet. With Billy barreling about, every beast in earshot had likely decided to give them a wide berth. Jeremiah couldn’t really blame them. And truthfully, he wasn’t in any rush to catch something unprepared. He had to remind himself — this wasn’t a zoo or a circus, and he wasn’t collecting trophies. Whatever animal he brought back had to be a good fit, not just for the shop, but for the people who’d one day try to make them part of their family.
He found himself mentally ruling out all the usual suspects: no bears, no wolves, not even a wildcat, no matter how docile they might become with the right contract. The average customer — family, student, elderly pensioner — wanted something soft, clever, maybe even cute, but above all, manageable. Something that wouldn’t outgrow a small apartment or require a dedicated freezer full of fresh meat. That meant rabbits, squirrels, or perhaps a bird — something gentle, something simple. Something that could thrive in a world of concrete and crowds.
Maybe one day he would be in a place to offer things like dragons and elementals, but that wouldn’t be today.
Billy shot past him in a blur, barely missing Jeremiah’s ear. The kraken’s excitement was infectious, and for a heartbeat, Jeremiah let himself grin. “You’re scaring off half the forest, you know,” he called, voice soft enough to vanish in the tangle of leaves. “Not that you’d care, huh?”
Billy gave a triumphant burble and vanished behind a fallen log, bubble gleaming like a soap orb in the shifting light.
Jeremiah shook his head, one hand on the strap of his pack, and pressed on. He squinted through the green gloom, trying to spot movement — anything that might be a potential companion, or even just a sign that he wasn’t wandering in circles. But saw only a patch of sunlight, a swirl of moss, and the occasional flicker of shadow.
He had almost settled into the rhythm of walking when a sharp shriek cut through the hush. Billy burst from the treeline, tentacles splayed wide, bubble wobbling dangerously as he arrowed toward Jeremiah at top speed. “Billy—?” Jeremiah started, but the kraken zipped past him, nearly clipping his arm, and hid behind the broad trunk of a nearby maple.
A moment later, a streak of brown flashed through the ferns, moving with a speed and purpose that made the hair stand up on Jeremiah’s neck. Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and drew the red Twin Boundaries pen, its surface warm against his palm. He dropped to one knee, planted the tip against the base of a nearby tree, and, with a practiced flick, drew a line through the leaf litter to another trunk. The pen left a glowing scarlet trail behind, burning bright even against the greens and browns of the forest floor.
The line snapped into place just as the blur broke from the brush — a living missile, roughly the size of a grapefruit. It slammed into the barrier with a force that made the barrier shudder, bounced once, and landed in a heap among the leaves.
For a heartbeat, all was still. Billy peeked around the trunk, eyes wide with mingled terror and curiosity.
Jeremiah let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He rose, brushing dirt from his knee, and peered through the red-glowing barrier. The creature was sprawled on its back, six segmented legs churning helplessly in the air, mandibles clicking in frustration.
He scanned it, the System overlay flickering into view:
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Goliath Bark Beetle
Grade: G - 0.755
Mental - (G): 0.05
Physical - (G): 0.75
Supernatural - (G): 0.00
Rarity: Common
Pedigree: ★★
Ecology: These enormous beetles spend most of their lives clinging motionless to tree trunks, blending in with their mottled, bark-like carapaces. When disturbed, they defend themselves by launching sudden, surprisingly powerful charges at would-be threats — usually sending predators tumbling or bruised, but rarely causing any serious harm. Their diet consists almost entirely of sap and the occasional patch of moss or lichen, which they scrape from the bark with blunt, grinding mandibles. Though intimidating in size, Goliath Bark Beetles are slow to anger and typically content to be left alone. In the wild, they serve as both camouflage artists and reluctant custodians, cleaning up dead wood and aerating the soil wherever they roam.
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Jeremiah couldn’t help a short laugh. “Let me guess,” he said, turning to the trembling kraken peeking from behind the tree. “You saw something that didn’t belong — maybe a lump of bark that moved just a little too much — and decided to poke it until it got annoyed?”
Billy’s bubble quivered. He shrank a bit further behind the tree, tentacles wrapped tight to his mantle.
Jeremiah shook his head, amusement warring with exasperation. “Don’t worry, buddy. No harm done. Though let this be a lesson to stay closer. Your bubble will protect you from most things around here, but this is still a wild forest. Besides, this is their home, and you’re a guest.”
Billy’s bubble drooped a little behind the tree, and Jeremiah could feel through their bond that Billy was at least reflecting a little.
He stepped around the barrier, careful not to disrupt the glowing line, and knelt beside the stunned insect. The beetle was impressive up close — bigger than both his fists together, its brown-and-black shell etched with tiny furrows and whorls give an impressive impersonation of aged bark. It clicked angrily at him, legs scrabbling to right itself, but Jeremiah wasn’t scared. He reached out, bracing himself, and carefully picked the creature up by the edges of its shell. It was heavy for a beetle — solid, dense, like a living stone. Its mouthparts were blunt and its legs, while strong, lacked any meaningful claws, with its primary means of defence being its charge.
That said, it was large and heavy enough that if the average G-Grade person got hit at full speed , it would still hurt quite a bit. But no more than if they’d gotten hit with a thrown ball. It might leave a small bruise, but it wasn’t dangerous. As it was now? Without space to build up speed, it was less dangrous than a mewing kitten who didn’t quite know their claws yet.
He turned it over in his hands, brushing bits of moss and dirt from its carapace. The beetle thrashed a little, then went limp, antennae drooping in sullen resignation.
“You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” Jeremiah murmured, his voice soft with amusement as he studied the beetle’s barky shell. “Now, the question is: what am I supposed to do with you?”
The beetle answered with another click, sharper this time, its stubby legs flailing in the air with a kind of indignant energy.
Jeremiah hesitated, feeling the creature’s weight shift in his palm. He couldn’t just set it loose here; the moment it righted itself, it would probably charge at the nearest moving thing, and the whole chase would begin again. He imagined Billy zipping through the trees, chased by this grapefruit-sized juggernaut, and nearly laughed aloud.
A flicker of memory surfaced — long summer days when neighborhood kids scoured the empty lots for beetles, though none as monstrous as this. They’d pit their finds against each other, cheering as shells clacked and legs scrabbled for purchase on makeshift battlefields. It was all rowdy fun until someone’s beetle lost, tempers flared, and a disgruntled kid hurled their champion away — only for it to whirl and charge right back at them in bug-eyed vengeance.
The memory tugged a grin from Jeremiah, nostalgia mixing with the wild unreality of his current situation.
And then, as if the thought itself were a spark, an idea took root — sudden and bright, so startling he drew in a sharp breath. Still cradling the beetle, Jeremiah straightened, his smile growing wider by the second.
Comments
aaron clark
TYFTC! Bugs, while not as popular as cats, dogs, and the like still have a dedicated fanbase. I mean, look no further than AntsCanada or any of the spider people.
