The forest had gone quiet again — except for the faint crackling of a campfire and the occasional squelch as Sylas poked the Umbrajaguar corpses like a kid unwrapping a long-awaited birthday present.
Ember stretched, rubbing her temples. "Okay, so… I'm taking Belos back to the village before Sebastian lectures an entire town to death."
Belos waved from the deer's back, clutching both mini bears like plushies.
Ember sighed. "Bug and Spirit have probably turned the place into a zoo by now."
Then she looked back at the forest. "Try not to summon any more murder cats while I'm gone."
Nyxar and Vespera didn't respond. They were both crouched over his grimware like two cryptids reading a glowing iPad.
The narrator muttered, "Great. The sociopath book club's back in session."
Sylas was a few meters away, practically vibrating with joy. "Magnificent! Their bone density—fascinating! The bite pressure alone—oh, the evolutionary implications!"
He took notes. He measured things. He muttered "beautiful" at least five times.
If anyone walked by, they'd think he'd fallen in love with the corpses.
Meanwhile, Nyxar's eyes glowed faintly crimson as words scrolled across the grimware's page. "Jaguar," he said flatly.
The book pulsed once, and a shape began forming beside him — shadow, smoke, and muscle condensing into the sleek outline of a living Umbrajaguar.
Vespera immediately lunged halfway into a defensive stance, spider instincts flaring.
Nyxar raised a hand. "Chill. It's a summon."
Vespera straightened, unimpressed. "Cool. Can it do the same things?"
"I need to stress-test it first."
The narrator groaned, "Oh good, the murder scientist phase."
Nyxar turned his head toward Sylas, who was still kneeling by the original corpses, whispering something about "perfect evolutionary balance."
Nyxar said, completely monotone, "Go say hi."
The jaguar padded silently toward Sylas and stopped right behind him. It placed one giant paw gently on his shoulder.
Sylas, still distracted, said, "Hmm? What is it, guys?"
He turned his head.
Eye contact.
Man vs apex predator.
One long second of perfect mutual horror.
Then—thud.
Sylas hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Nyxar and Vespera both approached, peering down at the unmoving body.
"Is he dead?" Nyxar asked calmly.
Vespera crouched, poked his cheek, then checked his pulse with the curiosity of someone inspecting a bug. "No. He's… sleeping?"
The narrator's voice dripped with concern. "Ah yes. The good ol' 'poke the unconscious guy' medical check. Truly advanced diagnosis."
Nyxar nodded, satisfied. "Alright. Stress test continues."
He snapped his fingers, and Bella materialized — towering and armored. "Test strength," Nyxar ordered.
The jaguar pounced. The impact shook the ground. Bella skidded backward, hooves digging trenches, but held firm. The jaguar growled, tail twitching.
"Acceptable," Nyxar said.
Next, he pointed into the woods. "Run to the village and back."
The Umbrajaguar vanished.
Sixty seconds later, it reappeared from the opposite side, silent, calm, not even panting.
"Fast. Endurance high," Nyxar muttered, making mental notes only he understood.
He gestured toward a tree. "Climb."
The jaguar shot upward, scaling twenty feet in under two seconds. Its fur shimmered, adapting mid-motion to the green-black canopy.
"Stealth. Adaptive camouflage confirmed. Good bite, dig capability decent," Nyxar said, his voice unreadable.
Bella tilted her head like she was jealous.
"Balanced and versatile," Nyxar summarized. "Perfect specimen."
Vespera nodded once, equally monotone. "Cool."
Nyxar glanced at her. "Cool."
They stood there, two emotionless murder geniuses, staring at a new apex predator like it was a housecat.
Then Nyxar said, "Mini."
The Umbrajaguar shimmered, shrinking until it was the size of a kitten — fur still patterned in tiny shadow spots, tail flicking lazily.
Vespera blinked. "...Cute."
Nyxar nodded. "Agreed."
Both of them turned simultaneously to the still-unconscious Sylas.
"So," Vespera asked. "What do we do about him?"
Nyxar looked down, expression unreadable. "...Poke him again?"
The narrator sighed, exasperated. "Ladies and gentlemen, our healers. Truly, civilization is in safe hands."
Vespera leaned over Sylas's face. "Wake up."
No reaction.
She poked again. "Wake up."
Nothing.
The tiny jaguar climbed onto Sylas's chest and pawed at his chin.
Nyxar crossed his arms. "Still sleeping."
"Maybe dead now," Vespera offered helpfully.
"Unlikely," Nyxar replied.
"Fair."
The narrator deadpanned: "And thus concludes day two of the adventuring party — one fainted scholar, two emotionally bankrupt cryptids, and a cat that could kill God. Tune in next time to see if Sylas ever wakes up or if they just start using him as a pillow."