Instead of the resigned trudge back towards the opulent prison cell he technically shared with Rosa, Lloyd found his feet carrying him in the opposite direction. Past the echoing marble hallways, beyond the stern gaze of Great-Uncle Theron the Belligerent (who definitely looked more belligerent today), and out into the manicured expanse of the Ferrum Estate gardens.
He blinked, slightly surprised at his own deviation from the norm. Nineteen-year-old Lloyd usually retreated after breakfast, seeking refuge in quiet corners or, more often than not, simply returning to the dreaded sofa-bed arrangement. But eighty-year-old Lloyd, the one currently piloting this youthful chassis, felt restless. He needed action. He needed… Coins.
Sunlight warmed his face, a pleasant sensation he hadn't properly appreciated in his stuffy second life dominated by artificial lighting and smog alerts. Birds chirped melodies that weren't synthesized ringtones. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colours, their scents rich and real. It was aggressively idyllic.
Alright, System, he thought, strolling deeper into the garden, past sculpted hedges and burbling fountains. Talk to me. What counts as a task around here? Pulling weeds? Appreciating the topiary? Scaring pigeons? Give me something. Anything. I need that shop access.
He remembered his Spirit. The one he'd barely acknowledged in his first life. The one deemed… underwhelming. Pathetic, even, by Ferrum standards. He hadn't even bothered summoning it much after the initial disappointment.
But now? Every potential avenue had to be explored.
He stopped in a relatively secluded clearing, shaded by an ancient, gnarled oak tree. Okay, let's see the little guy.
He reached instinctively for his hip, where a warrior might wear a sword. Nothing. Right. Spirit Stone. Where did nineteen-year-old me keep that thing? His hands patted his pockets, then his tunic. Ah. There. Tucked into an inner pocket, sewn into the lining perhaps, was a small, smooth stone, barely larger than his thumb. It felt cool to the touch.
He focused, channeling a minuscule thread of the nascent Spirit Power he possessed, pushing it into the stone. He remembered the basic principle: provide a flicker of energy, a connection point.
The air shimmered faintly beside him. Not with a grand explosion of light or a terrifying roar, but with a quiet sort of pop, like a damp firework deciding not to bother.
And there it stood.
Lloyd stared.
It was… well, it was a dog. A scruffy, medium-sized dog with dull grey fur, ribs faintly visible beneath its coat, and ears that drooped apologetically. It blinked large, brown, slightly bewildered eyes up at him, then yawned, showing surprisingly pointy teeth. Its tail gave a single, hesitant wag, more of a nervous twitch than a greeting.
This was his Spirit. The companion bound to his soul. A creature meant to embody his potential, his power. And it looked like it had lost a fight with a particularly aggressive tumbleweed.
Wait. Lloyd leaned closer, squinting. Those weren't quite dog ears. And the snout was a touch too long, too sharp. The pointy teeth suddenly seemed pointier.
It wasn't a dog. It was a wolf. A severely underfed, disappointingly unimpressive, decidedly weak-looking wolf.
"Huh," Lloyd murmured aloud. "Always thought you were a Springer Spaniel mix. My bad."
The wolf tilted its head, looking confused. Or maybe just hungry. Probably hungry.
Just as that thought crossed Lloyd's mind, a familiar blue screen flickered into existence in his vision, hovering beside the pathetic lupine specimen.
[New Task Assigned!]
[Task: Operation: Canine Cuisine Upgrade]
[Description: Your Spirit partner looks like it survives on dust bunnies and existential angst. Feed this decidedly wolf-like creature nutritious poultry (specifically, chicken) daily for 7 consecutive days. Goal: Make it less… depressing. Aim for 'vaguely robust'.]
[Reward: 5 System Coins (SC)]
[Note: Consistency is key. Don't skip leg day… or chicken day.]
Lloyd blinked. He read it again. Chicken. Seven days. Five Coins.
A memory surfaced. Hazy, indistinct. Nineteen-year-old Lloyd, seeing this exact screen, the strange symbols swimming before his eyes, utterly meaningless. He'd dismissed it as some weird magical static, a glitch in his underdeveloped Spirit connection. Then, on Earth, vague recollections of the idea of the System, but this specific task? Lost in the decades of data, buried under calculus and coffee-fueled all-nighters.
But now? It was crystal clear. And ridiculously simple. Feed the sad wolf some chicken. Get halfway to opening the cosmic shopping channel.
"Five coins," he breathed, a slow grin spreading across his face. "For chicken." This was almost too easy. Suspiciously easy. But he wasn't about to question his luck.
"Alright, Fang," Lloyd declared, deciding on a temporary, suitably dramatic name for the scrawny wolf. The wolf blinked again, clearly unimpressed. "Looks like your diet is about to get a serious upgrade."