Meanwhile, days earlier, George was still struggling to understand where Luna actually was at any given moment.
Sometimes she talked inside his head.
Sometimes her voice would come from the goblin mouth.
Sometimes she talked while floating light followed him around.
Special Luna things, George learned.
Don’t think too hard.
But one thing was absolutely certain:
The goblin woman who stayed with him was definitely Not Luna.
Not Luna didn’t joke the same.
Not Luna didn’t make weird long words.
Not Luna didn’t say, “Hell yeah! Get some!” When landing devastating blows.
Matter of fact, Not Luna never even said “George.”
“Chief,” Not Luna said, snapping her eyes open. “Domain say big thing that way.”
George had learned to listen to Not Luna’s insights, especially when they involved her domain. Shaman things were almost as broken as summoner things.
He turned toward where she pointed just in time to watch a massive slithering shape materialize, being led by none other than glow Luna.
Glow Luna had brought many, many creatures.
Big things.
Ugly things.
Things made of other things, like rocks. (George did not know rocks could walk.)
Sadly, none were tribe worthy.
Which is how George had found himself covered in wounds while brandishing poison dripping claws.
“No hurt tribe!!” George yelled at the canoe sized monstrosity as he slashed with reckless abandon.
The snake struck like lightning, but Not Luna was already there, palm outstretched, blasting it with another curse. Black veins rippled across the serpent’s scales, each pulse of rot triggering another burst of necrotic energy.
George didn’t entirely understand how all the domain magic worked, but he definitely saw the effects.
Every curse hurt twice as much.
Every burst of necrotic damage hit like a boulder.
And every few seconds, warm healing washed through his body like someone dunking his bones into warm hearty soup.
He likes the soup feeling.
*Pound of Flesh
George HP: less dying
Not Luna HP: also less dying
The snake lunged again, fangs dripping venom.
George threw himself backwards to avoid the strike before redirecting himself with a planted clawed foot. George made his own fanged lunging strike at the side of the snakes face. He latched his jaws on and clung to the body of the creature dealing continuous damage. The snake, not having a good angle to bite the goblin at the moment, resulted in rolling on the ground to batter the warrior into the many rocks and logs in the environment.
All the while, Not Luna’s curses ate the creature from the inside.
Teamwork.
After several minutes of brutal exchanges and enough poison to kill a small army, the snake finally collapsed into a slumped, melting heap.
Not Luna calmly strode forward and inspected the creature before beginning to harvest the creature's fangs and scales.
George admired the technique.
He turned to inspect his own body and groaned.
“Glow Luna bring too big things,” he complained. “Want small ones. Nice ones. Not ‘eat tribe’ ones.”
Not Luna didn’t reply, she just stared at him with that neutral, slightly vacant expression.
George sighed and plopped down beside the fire.
It had been like this for many days.
A steady parade of creatures following glow Luna’s drifting light…
…and him and Not Luna fighting every single one of them, with her providing the bare minimum of dialogue.
“When real Luna come back?” he wondered aloud.
Not Luna blinked once and shrugged.
George just groaned again and laid himself down on the ground unsatisfied. He folded his hands behind his head and took in the wondrous night sky through the forest canopy.
Someday, they would have a tribe.
A big tribe.
Strong tribe.
Nice tribe.
Right now, though…
George was pretty sure Luna’s tribe finding bone was broken.
He closed his eyes.
…. More days passed in this way. Hunting, defending their growing village, and stargazing. George once again found himself recovering from a long days work just taking in the sky above.
“Hey, Chief.”
George sat up, startled at hearing an almost familiar phrase in the almost familiar voice.
“Hey… Not Luna,” he said cautiously.
Not Luna tilted her head.
“Where sun go at night?
George froze.
Not because of the question, Luna had explained this to him before, but because of who was asking.
Not Luna.
Not Luna, who almost never spoke more than was needed.
Not Luna, who had never once asked a question about the world.
George stared at her.
“…You want learn about the sky?” he asked slowly, eyes wide.
Not Luna blinked.
Then nodded.
George gasped softly.
She tilted her head. Patient. Expectant.
“Where sun go at night?” George repeated, preparing for his debut as a teacher to those who wonder about the sky.
George shot to a stand and puffed his chest out.
Luna had taught him this one.
“Well,” George began confidently, “Luna say we on… big round dirt.”
Not Luna stared.
George continued.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Dirt spin. Very fast. Like… like when George do dizzy spear practice.”
He demonstrated by rotating his whole body in a slow, wobbly spiral. “Sun stays here” George held out a fist with his outstretched arm while continuing to spin his body having to contort his shoulder to keep the fist in position.
Not Luna did not move, but her expression somehow conveyed deep scientific patience.
“So sun… not go anywhere,” George explained, tapping his temple. “We spinning. Dirt ball spinning. Sun stay but now we looking other way.”
He paused, letting this profound truth sink in.
Then added:
“Sun also very far. Like… many miles.”
He held his arms out wide, then wider, because miles were clearly enormous.
“Maybe thousands. Maybe millions. But Luna say “here” maybe different, so maybe millions small. Or miles big. George not know what she mean.”
Not Luna stared at him for a long moment.
“Okay,” she said at last, gesturing toward the bright night sky. “So where little suns go during day?”
That one… George did not know.
Thankfully, before he had to either admit his ignorance or make something up, a sound cut through the night:
A squeak.
Then another.
The distant glow of Luna’s wisp shimmered between the trees.
And behind it…
Three tiny silhouettes wobbling along on stubby legs.
George’s eyes widened to saucers.
“Not Luna…” he whispered, pointing as Not Luna followed his gaze. “Luna bring little tribe.”
…
Luna eased back into her goblin body like slipping into a familiar (slightly itchy) coat. Not Luna’s stiff posture loosened, the neutral stare softened, and Luna blinked fully into the world again. The first thing she did was gather the three exhausted Possumkin — Level 1 into a warm three walled building near the fire.
George greeted her and the three tiny creatures before wandering off to continue his work
On the other side of the fire, George had turned to continue working on some sort of carpentry project.
A… table?
A very large table
She sighed, affection swelling. Their little village was coming along.
George suddenly stopped his tinkering as his expression snapped to a flavor of something she had never seen on him:
Confusion.
Hurt.
Maybe a hint of… guilt?
She felt him stare, and finally he worked up the courage.
“Hey, No…” he started, then swallowed and tried again.
“Hey, Luna.”
“Hey, George,” she answered softly, still stroking the warm pile of fur and tiny paws sleeping against her.
“You gone a long time,” he said, not accusing, just… stating it.
“Yeah,” Luna admitted. “I was.”
She finally took the time to glance at his status.
Goblin Warrior — Level 13.
Her breath caught.
Her goblin summon, the shaman she’d left with him, had also passively leveled while fighting creatures Luna had dragged home.
Her own sheets reflected the gains as well.
Luna Caine
Summoner — Lv. 10
Goblin Shaman — Lv. 10
Mana: 100/100
She winced.
She had been so focused, obsessed really, on finding tribe members for George that she hadn’t even spent the Summoner points she’d earned. She hadn’t strengthened her goblin summon to her full potential. She hadn’t been present. She’d just… drifted around, lonely and determined, forgetting the gains she had made.
That guilt hit harder than the lion so many days ago.
“Being level 10,” she murmured, “I could, at the very least, give him more company.”
She sat cross legged, concentrating. Mana gathered around her fingers in soft ripples.
A new goblin shimmered into existence beside her: identical build, identical clothing, identical face, but with a different expression.
The new shaman blinked, then snapped her vision around until her eyes landed on George.
“Chief,” she said, with a frantic but convicted tone that Luna had not expected. “I want to stay.”
George’s ears perked. “Not Luna?”
“Yes, Chief,” the shaman confirmed with an exaggerated nodding of her head.
Luna’s goblin body froze.
Okay.
Now this was weird.
None of her previous summons had ever asked for anything. They mostly just meandered around not showing any needs let alone any wants.
Lunas head swam at the implication that the shaman had developed some sort of sense of self. How long had she been quietly forming this level of existence during Luna’s absence. Luna hadn’t noticed a thing, not that she had been paying very good attention.
The fire crackled low, popping occasionally as the silence dragged. The three Possumkin babies fed, warm, and sleepy breathed heavily in their pile..
George tore his gaze from “Not Luna” as he had called her and directed a questioning face at Luna like he was waiting for her input..
Luna snapped herself out of her moral spiral and smiled at the nervous goblin warrior. smiled—but she felt a tug inside her.
This wasn’t just what George wanted.
It was what he needed. What she had been working so hard to help him build.
A tribe.
Responsibility he could hold in his hands.
A family that needed him back.
She stood, nodding toward the trees.
“Not Luna, let’s take a walk.”
The shaman followed without hesitation.
They stepped a short distance away from the fire, close enough to see George illuminated in the glow, far enough to speak privately. The forest hummed softly with night insects, and the moonlit leaves cast shifting patterns across the ground.
Luna turned.
And Not Luna met her gaze.
Really met it.
That alone was new. The summon’s eyes were no longer vacant they carried focus, intention, and something creeping at fear. Fear towards her summoner, the woman that could snap her form out of existence with a thought.
“Alright,” Luna said quietly. “Let’s talk.”
Not Luna folded her hands behind her back, posture straight. “Chief strong. Good leader. And little ones…” she glanced back at the fire, seeming to be on the verge of breaking down.
“Yeah,” Luna exhaled. “I know.”
A long silence drifted between them before Luna continued.
“You… want to stay with them,” Luna said, testing the words.
“Yes,” Not Luna said immediately. “Chief need someone always here. Someone fight. Someone teach. Someone remind eat. Someone…”
She hesitated.
“…someone family.”
Luna’s throat tightened.
Because the summon wasn’t wrong.
George did need someone steady at his side. Someone physical. Someone grounded. Someone who could fight tooth and nail beside him and be there every day, not floating around who knows where doing who knows what.
Someone who wouldn’t vanish if Luna became frustrated enough to trigger a reset.
Someone who wasn’t… grieving. Grieving losses on stacked losses that she kept not addressing.
Luna glanced at George by the fire who had snuggled up to the Possumkin pile that had become squirmy at Luna’s absence.
He looked… complete.
“Not Luna,” Luna murmured, “you’ve become your own person and I respect that.”
“Thank you,” the shaman nodded intending slightly. “So Not Luna can stay?”
Luna swallowed, chest suddenly tightening even more. She knew what she had to do. She even wanted to do it, but it was going to result in another truckload of loss being dumped on her already overflowing pile.
She had been drifting through the motions for months.
White noise in the shape of a person. Working with George, working with the struggling couple, working endless hours moving endless boxes in a job she did mostly just to make sure she was too busy to experience the quiet moments where the sadness had time to be felt.
But right here, right now, looking into the ecstatic eyes of this person she had accidentally created, she was feeling it. God dammit it hurt.
Pushing through the tears, Luna made her decision.
Luna placed her hand on Not Luna’s shoulder. “Take care of him.” She managed to choke out
Not Luna nodded once, firm and certain. “I will.”
“And the little ones.”
Another nod. “Yes Luna.”
“And yourself,” Luna added, softer now. “You’re allowed to be whoever you want to be. Live your life. It’s short and it’s difficult, but it’s worth it..”
This time, Not Luna didn’t nod, she pulled her summoner into herself and held her tight.
Luna’s breath shook.
“Good,” she whispered. She took one last long look at the laying form of George as he snored lightly with three fuzzy bodies sprawled across his chest rising and falling in time with his breaths.
He looked peaceful.
Safe.
Home.
Feeling the form of Not Luna pressed tightly against hers, Luna felt the fleeting nature of her body. Not Luna, no matter how cognitively developed she became, would be limited by her form. In the end, she was just loose mana that without Luna maintaining her form, would just fade away.
“Thank you” Luna said taking in the sight of George and the sleeping furballs. She desperately worked to burn the scene into her memory before she activated a not oft used skill.
Activate Self-Sacrifice?
— Convert all levels into resources to gift to designated target(s), returning you to a Level 1 Nothing.
(Rerolls spawn location.)
…
Not Luna was suddenly standing alone. All that was left of the woman who gave her being was a single notification.
True soul effect received.
Source: Self-sacrifice — Summoner Lvl 10.
