The air buzzed faintly as their interfaces glowed to life, each screen pulsing with the soft hum of untapped potential.

  Emily scrolled through her updated list, eyes narrowing as she absorbed the new data. Icons pulsed beside unfamiliar terms—some intuitive, others abstract, all brimming with promise.

  “This is… a lot,” she muttered—half to herself, half to Sim.

  Emily’s brow twitched as she reread one entry. “Sim… why is my Invisibility listed as level one?”

  “Great question,” Sim replied, spinning the skill's icon toward them in midair. “This is the system-encoded Invisibility skill. It’s not the same as your cloak's feature set. This version is... scalable. Learnable. And available to everyone.”

  Dexter’s head snapped up. “Wait—I have Invisibility? So I’m officially a ninja now?”

  “You’re officially level one at it,” Sim clarified, tapping the icon to expand its tree. “Let me explain.”

  A branching diagram unfolded in glowing threads, outlining tiers and milestones.

  Emily scanned the list, processing each milestone before nodding slowly. “So, you’re saying the skill evolves—gets stronger and more flexible—the more I level it?”

  “Precisely,” Sim confirmed. “All skills follow the same progression format. Some simply improve; others unlock entirely new functions or transform into more advanced versions.”

  She flicked her wrist, dismissing the interface with a wave. “You can dig through the tutorials later. For now, I’ve enabled a handful of beta skills for live testing—Blink Step, Camouflage, Invisibility, Inspect, Mana Siphon, and Perception Sphere.”

  A holographic panel materialized between them, each skill glowing in a soft arcane blue.

  “Blink Step lets you teleport a few feet in any direction. Perfect for repositioning mid-fight or dodging incoming attacks.”

  She glanced at Dexter. “Mana Siphon allows you to drain mana from an opponent. Though at this stage…” Her eyes narrowed slightly in his direction, “…you’re basically on dial-up.”

  Dexter groaned. “So what—you’re telling me I get, like, one mana drop every five seconds while my enemy charges up a spirit bomb?”

  “At higher levels, it becomes significantly more efficient,” Sim assured. “For now, yes—you’ll need to be strategic with when and how you use it.”

  She moved on. “Perception Sphere gives you an early warning system. Anything entering the radius triggers a mental ping—though that radius is currently small. It’ll grow as the skill levels.”

  Sim continued, “The Invisibility skill isn’t full-on vanishing. At Tier 1, think of it like a high-end ghillie suit or a warped camera lens—harder to notice from a distance, but not true invisibility.”

  “And Camouflage?” Emily asked, already filing the information away.

  “A visual illusion that blends you into the environment,” Sim explained. “It won’t fool enhanced senses like smell or sound, and movement will disrupt the effect. Good for hiding in plain sight, but it’s not a magic cloak.”

  Emily nodded, her expression thoughtful.

  “I suggest you each take a few moments to test the new skills,” Sim added, folding her arms. “Get a feel for their range and limitations before we throw you into the fire.”

  With a flick of Sim’s wrist, the room around them warped, reshaping itself into a holodeck simulation of the Brazilian jungle. Dense canopy burst into existence overhead, thick foliage swaying in an artificial breeze, the air heavy with humidity. The ground squelched faintly beneath their boots, damp with conjured moss and loam.

  Dexter crouched beside a mossy boulder and activated Camouflage. A shimmer rippled across his form—and suddenly, he was a boulder. A very Dexter-shaped boulder.

  Quinn tilted his head. “Okay… that’s mildly disturbing.”

  A moment later, a human arm emerged from the side of the rock like a casual afterthought. Quinn blinked.

  Emily snorted. “Yeah, no. Not unsettling at all.”

  Quinn reached into his dimensional storage and retrieved the deadliest projectile known to mankind—a pair of socks. He lobbed them at the illusion. “Think fast.”

  Another hand shot out of the boulder, snatching the socks midair with practiced ease. “Dude, seriously?” Dexter’s voice echoed from within his disguise. “Socks?”

  “Eso sí que es,” Quinn replied smoothly.

  All Dexter heard was, “S-O-C-K-S.”

  “…Why are you spelling socks at me?” Dexter asked?

  Emily chuckled. “Dex, make sure your translator is always turned on. He was trying to make a joke. He said ‘Thats what it is’, in Spanish.” Turning to Quinn, “That was almost funny but I’d say it was only two-thirds of a pun… P.U.”

  Dexter couldn’t help but laugh. “Good one, Em. Mind if I use that?”

  “Alright, children,” Sim chimed in, adopting the saccharine tone of a preschool teacher. “Let’s focus, shall we?”

  Dexter tossed the socks back at Quinn and they disappeared into his inventory before he even had to catch them. Dexter deactivated his Camouflage skill. The illusion shimmered, then evaporated like heat haze as he reappeared in full. “Alright, I’m gonna need a lot more practice with this.”

  They took turns testing their new skills, one after the other, getting a feel for the basics. Rudimentary tools for now—but even the simplest trick could shift the tide in a pinch.

  Emily smirked and activated her own Camouflage. Her form shimmered, edges blurring until she vanished into the foliage and shadows like a ghost slipping into mist.

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  “Let’s see if you can find me before I tag you,” she called, her voice already distant, playful.

  Quinn cracked his knuckles, scanning the treeline. “Challenge accepted. But no cheating! Cloak stays off.”

  Sim folded her arms, arching a brow like a teacher indulging overly energetic students. “Fine. You kids get one minute of recess. I’ll track who adapts the fastest. Winner gets bragging rights.”

  Dexter’s grin stretched wide. “Oh, it’s on.”

  It was not on.

  What followed could only be described as a masterclass in humiliation. Emily vanished, reappeared, and tagged them both with the effortless precision of a predator toying with its prey. If it had been a real fight, they’d be corpses with excellent comedic timing.

  Dexter, massaging his pride like it had a pulled muscle, crossed his arms. “Okay, but—counterpoint—we were clearly going easy on her.”

  Emily arched a brow. “Oh? Wanna up the stakes? Little wager, another round?”

  Dexter opened his mouth, paused, then promptly pivoted. “Moving on.”

  Shaking her head, Emily activated Perception Sphere. Quinn stepped in and out of range, helping her fine-tune the feel of it. The sense was faint—like a ripple brushing across still water. Subtle, but there. A soft nudge at the edge of her awareness.

  The radius wasn’t large—maybe ten yards—but it was enough to start with.

  She focused on Quinn and activated Inspect. His stats blinked into her mind’s eye with crisp clarity.

  “I see you,” she sang, grinning.

  Quinn smirked. “Let’s hope that’s the only new skill you’re using on me.”

  They took turns testing Blink Step, blinking a few feet in various directions—sideways, backward, even straight up once, though that ended with Dexter face-first in a bush.

  The defensive dodges were helpful, but the real breakthrough came during offense. Blink behind, line up a strike, and unleash before the enemy even knew they were missing a target. It wasn’t flashy, but it was effective. Ruthlessly so.

  Then came Mana Siphon.

  The moment they tried it, the tone shifted. Drawing mana from an opponent, rather than instinctively using their own reserves, felt like trying to drink through a straw made of sandpaper. At first, they barely managed a trickle. It took concentration, precision, and timing.

  But once the rhythm clicked, the potential became obvious.

  “If we’re ever running low,” Quinn said, feeling the faint pulse of energy siphoned from Dexter, “this could turn the tide of a fight.”

  “Not just that,” Emily added, fingers still glowing from the last attempt. “Against stronger enemies, draining their mana could weaken them. Keep us in the fight longer.”

  Dexter flexed his fingers, his grin returning in full force. “Oh yeah. I’m absolutely going to enjoy stealing power mid-battle.”

  Sim gave an approving nod. “Good. Keep practicing. The more refined your control, the more efficient the drain will be.”

  Emily smirked. “Translation: we suck at it right now.”

  Dexter let out a theatrical sigh. “And yet, like heroes in every epic tale, we persevere.”

  Quinn rolled his shoulders, stepping back into position. “One more time.”

  Once they were comfortable with their new skills, the trio made their way toward the portal network’s central console.

  Dexter reached out, fingertips brushing the surface—and instantly, a sultry, all-too-familiar voice purred in his mind.

  “Hello, Dexter. It’s nice to feel you again.”

  He flinched, barely suppressing the urge to yank his hand back. Clearing his throat, he tried to play it cool. He thought back, “Hey, Symantha.”

  Symantha—the AI in charge of the portal network—had chosen her own name shortly after achieving sentience. Like Sim, she insisted on individuality. Unlike Sim, she also insisted on flirting with Dexter at every possible opportunity.

  He still wasn’t sure why.

  “Would you be so kind as to bring up the location of the portal for our next mission?” he asked mentally, keeping his tone as professional as possible.

  “Of course, darling. Anything for you,” she cooed.

  Dexter sighed through his nose. “It’s a good thing no one else can hear this. They’d never let me live it down.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve got your back,” Symantha purred.

  A detailed holographic projection shimmered into existence above the console—a crisp 3D rendering of the mission site just outside New Orleans. It looked like Google Maps if Google Maps had been designed by aliens with a flair for aesthetics and way too much processing power.

  Quinn studied the display, his eyes narrowing as something clicked. “Hate to break it to you, Dex, but we’re a few months early for Mardi Gras.”

  Dexter’s face fell for a beat, then rebounded with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. The vibe’s still there. The food. The music. The soul of it.” He turned to Emily, eyes alight. “Em, you’re about to step into a whole new world.”

  Emily arched a brow. “Did you just Aladdin me?”

  Quinn chuckled. “Oh, he definitely did.”

  Dexter grinned, unapologetic. “Look, if I’m being denied Mardi Gras, I’m taking the Disney references with me.”

  Emily turned toward Sim, her tone shifting. “Alright, Sim, what are we dealing with?”

  Sim’s avatar flickered, her expression unreadable. “Not completely sure yet,” she said, which was always a red flag. “I’m still refining my mana-scanning parameters. There isn’t enough data for a full analysis. But I can tell you this—there are hundreds of faint mana signatures clustered in a tight perimeter around a single large mana signature.”

  Emily’s brow furrowed. “A single large signature?”

  Sim nodded once. “A massive tree. And it’s not just a landmark—it’s emitting a mana signature stronger than anything else in the region.”

  Quinn leaned in, studying the map with a frown. “So what are we looking at? A giant, mana-infused tree with an army of anomalies camped around it?”

  Dexter squinted at the projection, then snapped his fingers. “So... an evil Christmas tree with minions. Got it.”

  Sim sighed. “Or, you know, not that.”

  Emily didn’t flinch, eyes locked on the glowing epicenter. “Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s the strongest lead we’ve had yet. We prep for anything.”

  Dexter leaned back, thoughtful. “Alright, follow-up: say we get separated mid-mission—or on entirely different missions. How do we stay in touch? You got interdimensional walkie-talkies built into this thing?”

  “Already done,” Sim replied without missing a beat. “Reopen your system interfaces.”

  All three complied. The display refreshed—and there it was: a sleek new chat feature nestled between “Skill Tree” and “Inventory.”

  Dexter grinned like a kid finding the secret menu at a burger joint. “Oh-ho, this just keeps getting better.” Dexter was the first to test it.

  Dexter: THIS IS AWESOME!

  Quinn: Agreed. But you don’t have to scream.

  Dexter: EVERYTHING I SAY MUST BE SCREAMED FROM THE ROOFTOPS. I’M MAGNIFICENT.

  Emily: If you keep caps-locking every sentence, I’ll change your username to Princess Penelope.

  Dexter: fine. but i can’t promise i,m the greatest at capitalization. or punctuation.

  Quinn: So, just like your coding? HAHA. At least we can talk without anyone hearing us. It’s basically telepathy.

  Sim: Even though I already *can* communicate with you telepathically, I’ll monitor the chat as well. Just in case.

  Quinn: What about video calls?

  Sim: Done.

  A small video icon popped up in the corner of the chat. Without hesitation, all three clicked it.

  Instantly, a trio of floating video feeds materialized in front of them, hovering like a futuristic Zoom call—minus the lag and awkward lighting.

  Dexter leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Okay, now this is cool.”

  “Built-in video conferencing,” Quinn said, mildly impressed. “Nice touch.”

  Dexter, spotting his own reflection in the corner of Emily’s feed, turned around and waved at himself. “Hey, handsome.”

  Emily squinted at her own projection. “Wait… where’s the camera? It looks like it's floating three feet in front of me.”

  “Uh... yeah.” Dexter blinked. “Sim?”

  “Just think of it as a trans-dimensional, multi-phasic, quantum-juxtapositional alien technology that I am absolutely not explaining,” Sim replied without missing a beat. “It’s above your pay grade.”

  Emily sighed. “Naturally.”

  Quinn smirked. “At least we can mute Dexter now.”

  “YOU WOULDN’T DARE,” Dexter cried, clutching his imaginary pearls.

  Emily hovered her finger over the mute icon. “Don’t tempt me.”

  The conversation was winding down when a familiar voice cut through the air.

  “Me go?”

  They turned. Rosco stood near the corner of the room, arms clutching his tail, fur slightly bristling, eyes full of quiet determination.

  Dexter blinked. “Uh… what?”

  “Me said, me go,” Rosco repeated, stepping forward. His tail flicked behind him. “Me help. Me part of team.”

  Emily glanced at Quinn, brow raised. Quinn exhaled through his nose. “Rosco, we don’t even know what we’re up against.”

  “Yeah,” Dexter added. “There are hundreds of those mana signatures down there. Whatever they are, It won’t be a walk in the park.”

  Sim, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. “Rosco… this mission is beyond your current combat capabilities.”

  The little kinkajou turned toward her, eyes narrowing. “Me want help.”

  Sim didn’t flinch. “This isn’t about wanting. The mission requires significantly more firepower than you currently possess.”

  Rosco’s ears flattened, but he didn’t back down. “Me no just sit. Me smart. Me help.”

  Sim tilted her head, studying him. “Not yet.”

  Rosco’s fur bristled further. “Me no part of team?”

  “You are, but,” Sim thought of how to explain. “You need training. They all had to have training and if you want to be able to help, you need training too.”

  Rosco’s tail flicked again, more irritated this time. “Then Sim help me be train. Upgrade? Me give same skills?”

  Sim studied him for a moment before a slow, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “I have an idea.”

  Sim flicked a hand, and a small, glowing vial appeared, hovering in the air in front of her. The liquid inside pulsed with a soft, otherworldly light, shifting in color between deep violet and bright blue.

  Rosco’s nose twitched in excitement. “Me drink?”

  “A highly concentrated form of liquid mana. If you stay behind and train, I’ll allow you to use it to accelerate your development.”

  “How much train?”

  Sim smiled slightly. “Enough that, by the time they return, you won’t need to ask me if you’re ready for the next mission.”

  Rosco’s ears perked slightly. He was still reluctant, but the offer was tempting. Finally, after a long pause, he let out a breath and nodded. “Fine. Me stay, train. But next mission, me go. Deal?”

  Sim nodded. “Agreed.”

  Rosco stepped back as the team activated the portal, and the swirling light of the portal expanded before them. All three of them summoned their suits and weapons. Emily took one last look at Rosco and winked at him before stepping through.

  Then, with a final flash of light, they were gone.

  Rosco crossed his arms. “Ok. Me drink, me train.”

  Sim’s smirk widened slightly. “Just be aware, this will take some time. I will slow down time here to give you as much time as you need to be ready for when they get back. Let’s begin.”