Strength Based Wizard

Chapter 28

Muscle Man's Self-Improvement Guide, Part I

I mentally tap the option to “See Ally Information,” and my interface floods with windows, cascading like someone’s airdropped a stack of spreadsheets on my brain. The first window looks like my own User Profile.

Name: Jelly Boy

Race: Blue Slime (Ooze)

Discipline: Harvester

Class: Currently Unavailable

Level: 6

Health Points (HP): 55 [Current: 55]

Mana Points (MP): 12 [Current: 12]

Stamina: 10 [Current: 10]

See Ally Statistics?...

I select ‘yes’ and am met with a haptic tingling in my brain as the interface accepts the selection and pulls up the requested information.

Ally Statistics:

PHYSICAL STATISTICS:

Strength: 2

Dexterity: 2

Constitution: 6

MAGICAL STATISTICS:

Intelligence: 8

Willpower: 6

Spirit: 3

My eyes immediately clock Jelly Boy’s Intelligence stat. “Eight!?” I blurt. “You little brainiac.”

Jelly Boy jiggles smugly, like he’s been waiting for this validation. Yes, grovel before me and my oozey superior form!

Sure, I know Intelligence in this new System-integrated world is tied to things like mana regeneration and magical aptitude—not raw IQ—but it still feels like the System just reached out and slapped me in the face. I mean, I’ve been running around thinking I’m the big guy here, and here’s this squishy pile of goo with twice my Intelligence. And his other stats are well-balanced and nothing to sniff at.

“You win this round,” I mutter.

I check out some of the other information the System generated for Jelly Boy.

Trait: Gelatinous Body

Description: As an ooze, your gelatinous form provides you with natural protection from certain types of harm.

Damage Immunities: Acid, Poison, Psychic

Damage Resistances: Fire, Ice, Lightning, Light, Dark, Physical

You are immune to the following conditions: Blinded, Charmed, Deafened, Silenced

You have a 50% chance of succeeding against any attempt at being restrained or grappled.

“Well, you’re a tanky little bastard,” I say, whistling.

Jelly Boy gurgles. A pseudopod extends from his jelly-like mass like he’s flexing nonexistent muscles.

The next window outlines his Skills.

SKILLS:

[Consume (Tier 2)]

[Description: User is capable of consuming practically anything, though it takes a while to digest. Side effects may vary.]

Interesting… If a little terrifying.

The next window:

ABILITIES:

[Absorb Spell Component]

[Description: The user’s body is capable of absorbing and storing components of magical spells. This process is slow and not always efficient and is better suited towards static spell elements and components.]

I instantly think of Jelly Boy absorbing my Light cantrip, or gobbling up the Spell residue left in the skeletons’ bone dust during the Castle Dungeon. Or… was he Consuming the bone dust? Thinking back on it, I’m not sure it was clear which he was using at the time. And I still don’t know the side effects.

[Pseudopod (Beginner)]

[Description: Can extend temporary arm-like projections from the user's body. At this level, the pseudopods have limited functionality and are mostly capable of low-level motility.]

I suspect this is a relatively new ability, as I’ve only recently noticed him using it. Unless he was simply doing so with a little more comfort. He does need to change his streaming services throughout the day somehow…

I check his Equipment listing. Empty.

No slime-sized swords, no tiny helmets, not even a leftover bone from the massacre back in the Castle. I’m curious if he was even capable of equipping anything.

I focus a bit harder on the Equipment interface and the screen changes, shifting in a brief flash to the outline of a small slime, similar to my detailed interface that has a humanoid outline. A few lines branch off from oblong slime caricature. So, he’s got a fraction of the equipment slots that I have. Helps to have appendages, I guess.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

But it seemed like he was capable of equipping some things. I can’t help but imagine my little slime guy in a small matching wizard’s hat. Too cute!

Jelly Boy vibrates at me angrily, black eyes somehow furrowed, as though declaring that he is in fact not cute and is rather the embodiment of manliness. I chuckle and give him a little pat on the top of his body.

I check the last window the System had summoned: Jelly Boy’s Inventory. I expect to see nothing there, just like his Equipment. I’m surprised when there is a single occupied slot.

Gate Ticket (Bronze) (x1)

[Description: A dimensional ticket capable of opening an auspicious Gate. Think twice before using this Gate Ticket.]

This Item has one potential Enhancement available.

[Bronze Gate Ticket Enhancement: Combine (1 of 4)]

[Description: This is a Ticket Enhancement with the ‘Combine’ attribute. It must be activated in conjunction with a Bronze Gate Ticket. When used, this Enhancement is capable of combining Bronze Gate Tickets into a single Gate Ticket. Requires all component parts of the Enhancement to be used simultaneously. Using this item expends the Enhancement.]

He has a Bronze Gate Ticket. And a Ticket Enhancement. The exact same ‘Combine’ enhancement I have for my Bronze Gate Ticket. Same as Clyde and Veronica.

“What the actual hell…” I mutter.

Jelly Boy vibrates innocently, like he doesn’t know he’s holding the missing puzzle piece to a game-changing artifact.

This is bad. Or good? No, it’s probably bad. Our fourth party member is a slime from another Realm. But he’s also adorable and the only real friend I have at this point (which I try not to think about too hard).

I close the window, trying to quiet the internal alarms blaring in my head. I stare down at the little blob of semi-sentient Jell-O.

“Welcome to the party, my guy,” I say, voice a little shaky. Wait til the others hear about this!

Jelly Boy wiggles like a bowl of gelatin in an earthquake.

Alright. Time to bail. I need to get home, text Clyde and Veronica, and have a full-on panic attack in the comfort of my own bed. The Bronze Gate, Class Selection, and the ominous warning in the Gate Ticket’s description all seem suddenly closer.

I sling Jelly Boy into my backpack, zip him halfway in—leaving enough of an opening to let air into the backpack, though I’m still not sure Jelly Boy actually needs it—and turn to leave.

That’s when it hits me. The tingling at the base of my skull. Like ice water sliding down my spine.

I freeze, scanning the junkyard. The sky is drenched in the bruised swaths of starless darkness. The blinking red light of a plane moves through the firmament, across the backdrop of a dull, waning moon.

The twisted silhouettes of rusted cars and scrap metal seem sharper, somehow. More sinister. Piles of junk become an intent audience. The wind snakes between broken appliances, whistling like it’s trying to whisper secrets. Something in the back of my brain screams ‘You’re being watched!’

Nope. Nope-nope-nope!

I shake it off and start hoofing it, pretending the pit in my stomach isn’t turning into a full-blown crater.

Nothing followed me out of the Castle… right? Walter would’ve said something. He’d have noticed while rounding up his promotion-ready crew, filed the proper paperwork, probably handed me a carbon copy.

Still, I don’t stop speed-walking until I’m back at my beat-up car, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles go white.

Only when I’m halfway home, city lights starting to flicker on around me, does that bone-deep chill start to fade.

And even then…it doesn’t really go away.

I pull into the driveway, killing the engine with a sigh that feels like it comes from deep in my spine. Before I even unbuckle, I remember to unequip the Lumberjack Boots. They disappear in a flash of pixelated light, swapping out for my worn-out sneakers. As soon as they materialize, I can almost feel my arches breathe a sigh of relief.

The night is quiet, heavy. The hum of distant streetlights and the whisper of wind rustling bare branches make for an eerie soundtrack as I walk around to the side door. My fingers are cold against the key, and when I finally step into the foyer, I’m greeted by near-darkness. Just the stove light and a lonely, dim yellow lamp in the kitchen nook cast a soft glow, throwing long, stretched shadows against the walls.

My stomach growls like a feral animal, gnawing at my insides. Food first. Then, I can slink downstairs and text Clyde and Veronica about Jelly Boy’s little inventory surprise.

But when I step fully inside, careful not to squeak the door too loudly, I see him. Dad. Sitting at the nook, elbows on the table like he’s part of some old painting. There’s an empty plate in front of him, littered with crumbs, and his phone is tilted just right so I can hear the soft murmur of sports highlights.

“Dad, you’re still up?” I ask, voice low but laced with surprise.

He looks up, eyes tired but warm. “Hey, son. Yeah. Got home late. Just ate and catching up on some games… You just get home?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to act like I’m not hiding a squirming sentient slime in my backpack.

Jelly Boy shifts subtly, a faint buzz from the bag making my dad’s eyebrows twitch. He probably chalks it up to phone vibrations. I set the backpack down quietly and walk toward the nook.

“You need to get a second plate,” I say. “You’re looking skinny lately.”

He chuckles, but waves me off. “Grab a plate. Come sit with me,” he says.

I grin and jab him lightly in the arm. “I’m serious. You need to put some meat on those bones!”

He laughs, pushing his chair back slightly with a satisfied groan. “Feels like I just swallowed a bowling ball. I might be sick if I tried to take another bite. Don’t even think I’ve got room for rice pudding.”

“Mom made rice pudding?” I ask, not bothering to hide the excitement in my voice. I might need to snag a quick, creamy, cinnamon-covered bite before fixing myself a real plate.

I drift into the kitchen, the soft creak of the old wooden floor keeping me grounded. On the counter, under plastic wrap, Mom’s left a feast like some benevolent food fairy. Fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, greens. The works.

Normally, I’d avoid the fried chicken at this hour, but hunger overrules my usual pickiness and sensitivities to empty macros. I pile on two servings worth. The chicken’s cold, but there’s no time for zapping it. Besides, cold fried chicken has its own crispy charm.

I join my dad at the nook, plate practically overflowing, and stab a forkful of mac-n-cheese. He’s already back to half-watching highlights, the soft murmur of commentary blending with the quiet of the house.

And for a second, just a second, I forget about the creeping feeling from the junkyard, castles filled with skeletons, and the Gates to other Realms.

I stab the mac and cheese and shovel it into my mouth, the cheese is clumpy due to cooling off, but it might as well be the best damned mac I’ve ever had. Dad leans back, tired but comfortable, phone in hand. We trade mundane chatter: how was work, how’s Mom been, sports talk (the Cleveland Cavalier’s playoff run). Then, without fanfare, he drops a bomb on me.

He looks up from his phone, locking eyes with me across the table.

“So how long have you been going into those Gates?”

My fork freezes midair, halfway to my mouth. Mac and cheese trembles. I lower the utensil slowly, the bite forgotten, and swallow a lump in my throat.

“How’d you know?”

His eyes, usually so relaxed, lock onto me like twin searchlights. “Your eyes, son. They’re just like that first day you came home after going into a portal. The day the System arrived. They were this strange blue. Faded over time, back to the eyes of my boy. But I’m looking into them right now. Blue.”

I blink. Hard. My tongue runs across suddenly dry lips. Blue? My interface never mentioned it. How had I not noticed it before? I don’t even know what this means.

There’s no point in hiding anything from him. Secrets only hurt people in the end. “It’s my first day. I decided to try it… wanted to explore what the System’s offering instead of chasing another job in Finance.”

His gaze softens, and he smiles, all creases and worn warmth. He reaches across the table and his hand settles on my shoulder, firm and fatherly.

“As long as you’re happy, son. But you need to be careful. Your mom couldn’t handle it if something were to happen to either you or your sister. Okay?”

“Yeah, Dad… Of course.”

He yawns wide enough I think his jaw might unhinge. “I’m calling it a night.” He stands, closing out the sports highlights with a swipe.

I rise too, pulling him into a hug. He really is getting skinny. He’s light. Lighter than I remember. Or maybe it’s me. The stat boosts. The enhanced body. His frame feels smaller in my arms.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

He gives me a few pats on the back and slinks out of the kitchen, footsteps fading down the hall.

I don’t waste time. The rest of the fried chicken disappears in record speed. I swipe the last of the mac and greens into my mouth, then grab a bowl of rice pudding on my way down to the basement.

I collapse into my desk chair, flick on the desk lamp, and alternate between spooning pudding into my mouth and dropping clumps into Jelly Boy. The slime hums happily, slurping the treats into his goopy form.

Phone out, I tap into the group chat with Clyde and Veronica.

>Joseph: You guys won’t believe what I just discovered.

Send.