The New World
Copyright© 2024 by Dark Apostle
Chapter 5: Systems
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 5: Systems - The story follows James Smith, a man who dies and finds himself in a surreal afterlife courtroom, where his life is judged as "zero sum"—neither good nor evil, just utterly average. Dissatisfied with being consigned to eternal mediocrity, he manipulates the cosmic bureaucracy into granting him a second chance in a new world, where he is reincarnated as a child with his memories intact and perks... - edited by my lovely Steven.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Mult Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fan Fiction Farming High Fantasy Rags To Riches Restart Alternate History DoOver Extra Sensory Perception Body Swap Furry Magic Incest Mother Sister Politics Royalty Violence AI Generated
James mused and pressed on the first combination. It pinged, and a red exclamation mark blinked into view on his HUD, hovering in the corner like something straight out of an old-school RPG. God, it really was like a game—he couldn’t help but grin as he slid off the branch, landing on the forest floor with a soft thud. He actually chuckled aloud at the feeling. In his older years, even a drop like that would’ve had him rolling around on the floor in agony, clutching his back or knees and screaming like a bitch, like a soccer player faking an injury. Now, it was nothing—his body just soaked up the impact, steady and sure, no aches, no pain, completely unremarkable except for the memories from his first life.
The exclamation mark pulsed softly at the edge of his vision. He took a moment to study it, appreciating how much this world really did mirror the logic of a game. His HUD, barely visible to anyone else, flickered with faint menus—his status bar hovering with small, pixelated hearts for health, a faded blue line for stamina, and little icons he could only half-guess at. Every so often, a faint “ding” would sound, subtle enough that only he could hear it, marking an invisible achievement or notifying him of a background event.
He flicked his mental focus toward the icon, feeling a now-familiar shift as his ‘cursor’ hovered over it. The interface seemed basic compared to games back home, but it was responsive in a way no controller ever could be. A panel slid open, displaying a log: Combination Discovered: Sense + Appraisal.
Perk Unlocked: Area Scan
Effect: User and tamed monsters can now identify nearby items, threats, or hidden creatures within a certain radius. Precision depends on focus and skill.
He grinned, almost expecting to see an experience bar inch forward or a “Quest Complete” window pop up. The mechanics were different, but the dopamine hit felt the same. He found himself idly wishing for a minimap, or at least an inventory screen with drag-and-drop slots—so far, the system only showed basic info, but he suspected more would unlock as he leveled up or experimented.
A rush of possibility filled him. If the system allowed this kind of combo, what else might be possible? Could he unlock crafting recipes? Would rare loot glow or sparkle in the underbrush? Could he stack perks for passive bonuses, or set triggers for when monsters entered his radius? The possibilities were endless, and the isekai thrill of min-maxing, theory crafting, and exploiting every loophole burned bright in his chest.
He looked around, the world suddenly sharper, every detail—every rustle of leaves, every glint of hidden stone—seeming filled with meaning. For the first time, he truly felt the tug of adventure, not just survival. In this world, gaming instincts weren’t just a hobby—they were his best weapon. He walked over to a small clearing, drawn by the pulse of curiosity and the faint, impossible sense of something calling out to him. Kneeling, he spotted it almost immediately: nestled in the moss, half-hidden under a curling fern, was a small blue ball. It was slightly bigger than a tennis ball, just sitting there as if it had been waiting for him all along.
James reached out, hesitating for just a moment, feeling the cool damp of the earth against his palm. The ball’s surface shimmered faintly, a swirl of blue and silver that caught the last light of the evening. But as he looked closer, he realized it wasn’t just an object—the thing was quivering, its whole round shape trembling in fear. Two white eyes stared up at him, wide and terrified, watching his every move.
It didn’t look like anything from home—or anything that belonged in a peasant’s field, for that matter. His heart thudded, excitement prickling along his skin as the creature tried to make itself smaller, almost pressing into the moss. Was it some kind of magical slime? An egg? Or just another test from this world’s twisted sense of humor? Whatever it was, it was his to discover.
“Hello.” The ball stopped quivering, its wide, white eyes blinking up at him. “My name is James,” he said, as gently as he could, “I won’t hurt you.”
For a second, the creature didn’t move, just stared at him as if weighing the truth of his words. Then, with a slow, hesitant blink, something shifted. A faint warmth tingled at the edge of James’s vision, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Contract accepted, Monster tamed: Baby Slime XP gained.
The message flashed across his HUD, glowing for a moment before fading out. James’s breath caught. “Wow,” he whispered, barely able to believe it.
The slime blinked back at him, as if equally surprised, then wobbled, testing the air. In a sudden, awkward burst of movement, it bounced up onto James’s outstretched hand. Its touch was odd—cool, almost clammy, but not wet. There was a faint give to it, like a balloon full of air or thick jelly. He felt its weight settle into his palm, light but unmistakably real.
Before he could do more than marvel, the baby slime gave a hopeful little hop and landed squarely on his shoulder. He flinched, expecting the thing to slide off, but it held fast, nestling into the curve of his neck with surprising confidence.
James grinned, wonder flooding through him. He’d done it. His first monster—tamed, just like that. The adventure, it seemed, was only just beginning.
Finding a log, he walked over and sat down, the baby slime wobbling at his feet. He wondered if any of this would really be useful. Now what? The slime was his to do with as he pleased, but what good was a baby slime, really? It wasn’t strong or scary, just a quivering ball of nerves and eyes. He mulled it over, then pressed appraisal, sliding it over the slime. Combination accepted. He did the same with sense, the same gentle ping. Could it forage? Food was always scarce, and the idea of the slime sniffing out edible mushrooms or berries made him hopeful.
But another thought struck him—how would it even carry the haul? Most things would get squished, soaked, or ruined if stuffed inside a regular slime, at least in the games he remembered. He glanced at the creature and spoke softly, “Can you store things inside you, without damaging them?”
The slime stared back, blinking those wide white eyes, then rippled and opened a small seam in its side—like a mouth, but gentler. James picked a twig and, cautiously, slid it into the opening. The slime closed around it, holding the stick suspended in the center of its body. After a moment, the slime pushed the twig back out, perfectly dry, not even a scratch on it.
James’s eyebrows shot up. So, it could store things safely—no crushing, no soaking, just suspended, almost like it had its own little pocket dimension inside. His mind buzzed with ideas. The baby slime could bring back food, herbs, or anything useful, all without damage. For a moment, the possibilities felt endless—and suddenly, a baby slime seemed a lot more valuable than he’d ever imagined.
That was useful.
He grinned, feeling a genuine thrill at just how much possibility this new world had tucked away. “Okay, we’re going to start you off small,” James said, leaning forward and speaking softly to the little slime. “Forage for mushrooms first. Use appraisal to check if they’re poisonous to humans. Gather up as much as you can until nightfall or until you have reached your ability to carry. Don’t stay out after dark—I don’t want to lose my new friend.”
James’s mind spun with more possibilities, so he pressed on. “Berries, too. If you find any good ones, bring them back. Metal from discarded items—old stirrups, knives, nails—anything that could be sold to the town blacksmith. Dropped coins, bounty from any solo traveler who died out here, food items like roots, wild vegetables, even small animals if you can manage it—the pigs will eat anything.” He chuckled at that last part. “Lots of wild root veggies. Probably not enough to harvest for sale, but enough to keep us from going hungry. If it is too big, come find me and I will follow you back.”
The slime—he’d already started calling it Bob in his head—blinked once, as if processing the torrent of instructions. Then, with a quick wiggle, it spun around and launched itself into the grass, vanishing almost instantly as it dove into its work. James watched the grass ripple behind Bob’s passage, the faintest shimmer tracing the slime’s path as it began to comb the underbrush.
James stood up, feeling the ache in his legs and the heavy fatigue that came from a day of hard work in a young body. The farm awaited, and there was never a shortage of chores. He trudged back through the edge of the woods, boots kicking up little clumps of earth, his thoughts spinning with anticipation for Bob’s return.
The day wound down as he worked—sweeping the yard, gathering eggs, hauling water for the animals. He stole glances at the forest’s edge whenever he could, wondering what treasures the baby slime might find. Maybe Bob would come back with a belly full of mushrooms, or a handful of lost coins, or some weird relic buried under the roots of an ancient oak. It was a gamble, but one that made the grind of peasant life suddenly feel a lot less hopeless.
He found himself daydreaming about what could change if Bob kept up this level of success. The family wouldn’t starve. They might even eat better than the neighbors. And if they had extra, James could barter, trade, or just squirrel away a little secret stash. The whole thing made him grin like a fool, a rare and simple hope stirring in his chest.
As the last light faded and the farm settled into the hush of dusk, James paused at the doorway, glancing back at the woods. Somewhere out there, his new companion was working, and for the first time since arriving in this strange world, James felt like maybe—just maybe—he’d found his advantage. But was companion the correct term? Was Bob a slave, a minion with its own capabilities, or a boon companion and friend? James guessed that time would tell. That evening, James crawled under his parents’ bed and collapsed, exhaustion washing over him. Every muscle in his little body ached after a day of chores and new discoveries. Bob, his baby slime, hadn’t returned yet, so James drifted off to sleep, hoping his new friend would make it back safely.
He woke to something cool and squishy nestled against his side. Blinking groggily, James grinned when he saw Bob curled up next to him, sleeping with the limp, content sprawl of a cat. He reached out, gave the slime a gentle poke, and Bob’s big white eyes blinked open, full of sleepy curiosity.
“Find anything?” James asked, voice low so as not to wake his parents.
Bob perked up, bounced in place, and then turned and rolled off toward the edge of the bed. James scooped him up, feeling a little thrill of pride, and placed him on his shoulder. Together, they crept to the kitchen.
His mother, busy at the stove, stopped in her tracks when she saw them. Her tits jiggled as she turned sharply, nearly spilling out the top of her loose shirt. “James, you’ve got a slime on your shoulder.”
“I know, he’s my friend,” James said, grinning.
“They’re wild animals,” she said, frowning and glancing at Bob as though he might suddenly attack.
“He’s fine,” James promised. “I’ve named him Bob.”
She snorted. “Bob the slime. Only you, James.”
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