It was a bright m despite the autumnal season, with hardly a cloud in the sky, a warm sunshihat felt pleasant on the skin—or chitin—and a gentle breeze that caressed the senses.

  It was the perfect weather for a walk, and on the old road betweeown of Ardville and a certain pond, a peculiar figure came along.

  Cardisoma gigas, also only known as a giant crab, or simply Balthazar to his friends.

  This magnifit spe, with his shiny gray carapad impressive pincers, was quite unique. For not only was he a talking crusta, but also a mert. Even more unusual for a crab, he was also gifted with a variety of friends.

  Three of those friends came along on the road with him on that particur m: Rye, Druma, and Blue.

  As Balthazar walked up the road to the neighb town, his shell filled up with questions, doubts, and worries. Despite having lived right o it his whole life, this would be his first time visiting that pce. Or any pce outside his pond, for that matter. Everythi new, exg… and also a little scary.

  He was now a crab on the road, looking for a baker, but his journey had started long ago, when he was a crab o a road, looking for a baker.

  To the untrained eye, it might seem like nothing much had ged, but that could not be furthest from the truth.

  Everything had ged.

  He now had friends, a family, even. He had purpose, pns that went beyond the nap uhe sun. Not only that, but he had found people and things he cared about, beyond just his colle of shiny stuff.

  He had learhat sometimes you only value something after you lose it.

  And it all started when the curious crab decided to touch a strange scroll.

  ***

  On that fateful day, anyone who might have been watg that unassuming pond in the middle of nowhere, o an old road leading to who knows where, could not be faulted for missing its main inhabitant’s presence, half buried uhe sand and water, casually bubbling away as he sunbathed.

  Balthazar, the biggest crab in that pond. And also the only one, making him the winner of that petition by default. Which was fine by him, because he liked it that way. No one else around, other thainy fish ier, but they were her friends nor petitors, merely his meal whehe crab felt peckish.

  The proud crusta also had visitors now and then, but none of them were ever invited guests, because if there was something Balthazar did not want, it was someone disturbing his pead quiet.

  Birds were one such type of visitor, and they most certainly did not care for the crab’s wishes of solitude. Loud, messy, and irritating, Balthazar detested them with great fervor. Especially when they would swoop down and steal his food, or even worse, soil his impeccable shell right after he was done shining it.

  The other type were humans. More precisely, adventurers. Also loud, often messy as well, and almost as irritating, this uype of biped seemed to always be in a hurry to get to their destination in order to do… something. What exactly, the crab did not know or care to find out, so long as they’d do it far away from his home. And for the most part, they usually did.

  Yet still, every so often, there would be those who’d stick their o the crab’s little slice of heaven, as if looking for something to do or loot. Most would quickly leave ohey cluded there was no treasure to take or moo sy, but sometimes there would be one who’d test Balthazar’s patience.

  That day had been one of those times.

  Down the road came a man, huffing and puffing, with his loot bag bursting at the seams. At first, the crab tried paying him no mind, but then the callous human did the ohing sure to set any peaceful crusta off: he stepped on the half buried crab as if he was just a stone on his path.

  In crab culture, this is sidered a grave disrespect.

  So, naturally, as any proper crusta would, he responded with a swift pinch.

  What followed, as any of Balthazar’s attorneys would remind you (had he any, which he doesn’t, because he’s definitely i), was ehe human’s fault.

  With the loot came the fall, as the extreme weight on his shoulders threw the adventurer off bance he felt the snapping cw of karma around his ankle.

  “Well, serves him right!” decred Balthazar, as he let go of the man’s leg.

  With his head meeting the rocks below, that one adventurer’s days questing and looting were over, leaving behind a mess of random items scattered all over the crab’s home, spilled from the stuffed pack.

  Among them was ohat caught the i crab’s eye: a rolled up scroll with a peculiar appeal to it.

  Ever the curious one, Balthazar dared touch it, and with a fright, his entire life would never be the same again.

  A mysterious system, straats, skills and levels, everything came barreling through the crab’s life like a speeding truck, and he did not even know what a truck was!

  Soon enough Balthazar found himself ing up not one, but two dead adventurers off his front door, because for some odd reason those bothersome dunces could not stop dying all over his property, and what was worse, the strange new system in the crab’s eyes insisted oing him for the deaths.

  On the bright side, they were leaving behind all manner of iing tris and baubles, none more captivating to the crab than the ones he would e to know as s. Shiny and golden, their glint appealed to the creature on a spiritual level. He loved and coveted them. A deep urge pelled him to acquire more of the beautiful circur things.

  But that would not be the crab’s only source of desire for long, for soon after Balthazar had his first taste of something that would forever ge his view of the world: pie.

  Sweet and delicious, the heavenly meal was also the very first time the crab traded something with humans, as he let go of a useless greatsword with a magical glow in exge for a slice of two days old pie.

  An excellent deal he would forever remember fondly as one of his fi.

  This seemingly small a would lead to a of events that ged not only Balthazar’s life, but the life of many more in his world.

  With the newly found goals in life of acquiring precious and delicious pie, the clever crusta put in motion the pn of starting a mertile business from his backyard, trading all the random ju from those silly adveo other equally silly adventurers at a profit, all while using that as a way to find the one he had learned could create the elusive pastries he so desired: a baker.

  With the aid of his new accessory, a fancy monocle he had retrieved—and definitely not looted—from one of the fallen adventurers, which allowed him to i and see information on both items and other beings, Balthazar carried on building his pile of junk and treasure.

  Soon enough the mert met Rye, a young archer adventurer, who involuntarily volunteered by the crab’s decree to go to the nearby town of Ardville and find the maker of pies.

  For you see, despite Balthazar’s ardent desire for pies, he still firmly believed that going out into the world was for suckers, as clearly shown by all those foolish adventurers he’d watch all day. The smart ones, like him, k best to just stay in your turf, your fort zone, and have the world e to you, on your terms.

  And so it was, the baker came down to the pond, and Balthazar finally met the one responsible for the mouth-watering delicacy he had been dreaming about sihat first day: Madeleine.

  Like butter on one of her pans, the young girl slowly softened up the hard-shelled crab with her sweet personality and equally sweet pastries, as he began seeing that perhaps not all humans were plete nuisances.

  With in his pocket and pie in his stomach, things were going smoothly for the aspiring mert, but he was still alone as the sole resident of that pond and its expanding stock of adventurer junk. Not that he would ever admit to that being a problem, not back then, at least. No, solitude suited him just fine.

  But a helping hand or two with all the hard work around the pce sure would e in handy. Especially sidering that was the ohing he cked: hands.

  Ehe goblin. Not a foul, nasty goblin throwing rocks off the cliffs above the pond, like the ones Balthazar was used to seeing sometimes. Or even a lone goblin that came willingly through the road. No, this goblin was not on the crab’s doorstep out of his own will, nor was he there to be hostile. This goblin, small, frail, and scared, came along with an adventurer. Not an aloof and goofy adventurer like all the others, this one was worse, much worse. A dark mage with silver in his hair and mali his eyes, the human had captured the goblin and ensved him with a magical colr, making the creature his pack mule to carry his loot.

  Balthazar had always cared little for anyone who wasn’t himself—i part because there had never been anyone else but himself in his life—but seeing the small creature in that sorry state, the hurt in his eyes, and the cruelty of someone who’d inflict it on someone else, it pelled the crab to do something about it.

  Were he one of those reckless adventurers, always thinking themselves the heroes, this would have been the part where he’d put his cws up and gotten into an honorable duel with the dark mage.

  And he would have likely been a dead crab.

  Thankfully, the mert was a shrewd businesscrab, and with a few waggles of his tongue he soon vihe mage to trade him the goblin in exge for some old spell tome the crab had no use for.

  “Crab free Druma from evil man,” the goblin said while dev the beef jerky the mert offered him. “If crab give Druma meat, Druma follow crab now.”

  And just like that, the crab found himself one loyal assistant called Druma, and the small goblin who was too weak to remain in his tribe found a new home with the mert, and soon after, all the meat pies he could eat from the baker.

  Not all would be sunshine and pastries, however, as more fiends would soon cross paths with Balthazar. None likely as despicable as the mert master of Ardville, Antoine.

  The irritating little man and his irritating little pencil mustache came strolling down the road one day. Pompous and with his nose held high, the local mert presented himself to the crab, who could tell from afar what kind of nuisance was ing his way.

  “I am Antoine, and as you must know by now, I am the rgest trader of goods in Ardville, owner of Antoine’s Emporium, as well as the local master of the Mert’s Guild.”

  “Never heard of you,” Balthazar casually said, much to the man’s ire.

  The bad forth tinued as Antoiempted to intimidate the crab, while Balthazar kept oly enjoying frustrating the arrogant mert.

  “I assure you, if you ever were to visit the emporium in town, you’d uand how none of… this really pare to a proper fiablishment. Not that the guardsmen would ever allow you through the gates, of course. Any unpleasant creatures attempting to ehe city would promptly be dealt with.”

  “Oh no, how will you ever go bae now,” Balthazar said, in his most casual and in no way sarcastie.

  After being thhly served by the crusta, the begrudging guildmaster eventually left, but not without ill iions, and as the crab would soon learn, Antoine was going to be a major pain in the shell.

  Thankfully, Balthazar would not have to face all those adversities alone, as his group of close friends tio grow and bee stronger. One could even say, as strong as stone.

  As used to seeing weird adventurers every day as the crab was, one partian still mao stand out as one of the strao ever visit his pond. The elderly man was a wizard, and as Balthazar would only much ter on learn, his name was Tweedus.

  Highly eid quite outspoken, Tweedus did not seem to py with a full deck, ahe crab could tell the loony old man had power like no other adventurer he had met before.

  After much rambling and shouting, the wizard departed just like he had arrived, out of thin air, leaving the crab totions lighter, but one Golem Core richer.

  At first, Balthazar was unsure what to do with the straifact, but after some p and book reading—a habit the crab had retly picked up and grown quite fond of—he set out to try using the odd orb on a boulder he water.

  This was no ordinary old rock, however. This boulder was Balthazar’s favorite spot in the whole wide world (which is to say, the pond and its immediate surroundings). Growing up, the crab had elected it the perfect spot to rest on while sunbathing, and alone as he always was, the small crusta had developed a habit of telling the lifeless hunk of mineral all about his day and his most ihoughts.

  The boulder had been his prete friend growing up, and soon it would bee his real best friend.

  With great focus and fond memories put into it, Balthazar ihe core into the rock, and with a rumble, a golem rose from the earth, formed by the stone and bound to the crab by friendship.

  His name was Bouldy, and he always said everything he hrough the single word he knew: “Friend.”

  With a goblin and a golem by his side, Balthazar had a party going. There was just one more member missing. Ohe mert did not expee into his life, but as is often the case with these things, a surprise child just happens.

  Not that the charismatic crab was out there c dy crabs aing up to some certain type of a, no, his only love is were the s hiddeh his sleeping spot. This child was not a baby crab, but rather a baby drake.

  Hatched from a petrified egg Balthazar purchased off a wandering adventurer, Blue, as he would e to name her due tnifit blue scales and his ck of creativity at naming things, was a small drakeling, barely rger than a rabbit the day she was born, who quickly grew in both size and attitude.

  Uh his two previous panions, Balthazar found himself having a much harder time getting along with his young ward. Perhaps unprepared to be a parental figure, or maybe just not used to dealing with someone as stubborn as him, their retionship started difficult and only after much headbutting and a little help from a wisely loony old wizard did they begin making progress through one of the surest ways to form a bond: a shared dislike for others they find displeasing.

  Little by little, the crab kept on earning the proud drake’s respect, just as he tio earn a reputation with adventurers all around the nd.

  But with fame also es trouble.

  There was Rob, the thief who tried to steal from the crab, and ended up receiving the harshest of punishments for it. Not the pinched hand when caught i, mind you, but the punishment of having to have to work for the crusta. Truly a heavy sentence, but ohe cowardly human who always appears hiding in a disguise bush eventually grew aced to, as he found that perhaps thieving wasn’t his real vocation.

  Then there was Velvet, the enthralling witch that mao make the crab flustered with her advances. Whether she truly sees the crab as a good catch or if the only thing she wants to catch are his legs for her cauldron, nobody really knows, but after nearly falling in her clutches, Balthazar wants nothing more than distance from the bck-an. Unfortunately for him, she does not seem like the type to give up easily.

  And if the crab did not already have enough non-pastries on his pte, even a group of meraries hired by Antoine came into the crab’s pond to frame him for dealing in stolen goods, with the whole debacle eventually turning into an attempt on the mert’s life. What they did not at for was a loyal goblin and a powerful golem to get in their way, and Balthazar came out of it all with his reputation as spotless as his new golden shell.

  A goldehat he got through an imbuing skill obtained from the strange system and its level ups, as the crab tio gain experie through monster sying or questing like all those foolish adventurers out in the world, but by staying home and trading as he finally found the one css that suited him: Mert.

  Annoying as its quirks often were, it was still hard even for the crab to deny how useful some of the system’s perks were.

  A golden carapacreasing his charisma attribute, a silver pihat gifted him with increased dexterity, and an iron cw that could crush things with great ease were just a few of the things Balthazar had gained in just a few weeks, along with the gift of speech, the ability to read, and so many other amazing things his past crab self would have never dreamed possible.

  As his levels increased and his business grew, the crusta’s mind opeo the world of possibilities out there. What it did not open to was the possibility to explore that vast world.

  Stubborn as always, Balthazar still refused to set foot outside his fortable territory, and while he tio find ways to prosper as a mert without ever leaving his trading post, sooner or ter something would happen that would force a choi the crab.

  That came the day tragedy struck his little er of paradise.

  Ever the skeptic, Balthazar had tinuously refused to aowledge the oddities that seemed to happen around him. First they seemed like pure ce, but over time it became apparent that far too often, things the crab simply made up as high tales to gullible adventurers would mysteriously turn out true.

  Almost as if the crab had some strange influence over the world around him…

  That unreized power proved dangerous the day a pack of wolves came prowling into the crab’s nds, and itle, his loyal goblin assistant became gravely wounded.

  At a loss for what to do, Balthazar scrambled for something or someohat could help his friend as the siess spread, but there was no oo turn to, out there, all alone in the middle of his lonesome domain.

  The crab would have to go out and find help himself.

  Finally, reality came crashing down on the proud crab: he had not refused to leave his pond all that time out of his own stubborn will, he had never left because he was simply uo.

  His legs firmly stu pce as if frozen, Balthazar was filled with a sense of dread and impending doom that kept him from leaving his pond’s area, even if to help his suffering friend Druma as he battled for his life bae.

  He k was nur fear or phobia, there was something more at py there. The system, the ever-present and frustrating system that had given him so much, was also responsible for maris. Not only on the crab, but oher locals and even adventurers of that world.

  Luckily for him—and especially the goblin—aid came from where he least expected: the orcs, whht their wise shaman to the pond.

  Ihe world was not just made up of crabs and humans, there were other races, some even nearly as intelligent as a crusta, if one believe such myths.

  Unsurprisingly, not all of them possess the same charm as Balthazar, which meant they were not well seen by the humans, and often were hunted by adventurers.

  Truly the savage races.

  The humans, that is.

  Orcs, for example, were quite civilized, as it turns out.

  It was with great surprise that Balthazar first met a talking skeleton with a funny bone. Cheerful and fond of crag jokes and joints, Tom was also a mert, although a very different kind pared to the crab.

  “Ah, fiddlesticks!” said the skeleton after having stumbled upon the crab’s trading post on a gloomy night. “I got lost again, didn’t I? Wait, did you say trading post? There’s a trader around these parts?”

  “Of course there is. It’s me!” said our crusta.

  “I’m a trader too!” said Tom, pointing a bony fiip at his own smiling skull.

  “A mert skeleton?” an incredulous Balthazar asked. “You ’t be serious?”

  “That’s rich, ing from a talking crab who also fancies himself a mert!”

  The emissary of a nearby dungeon, the undead mert was tasked with skulking through the night, visiting other non-humans unities, selling off the items that unlucky adventurers would leave behind in their halls, usually after also leaving their own lives during a foolish bid for more loot that sat across a very obvious spike trap or poison-filled moat.

  Game reizes game, or whatever some adventurers were fond of saying sometimes, and the crab could rete to the art of turning the junk adventurers shed on the daily into a profit, and sihe skeleton was hardly petition to him, they agreed to set on a mutually beneficial business retionship, whi time turned into a fond friendship.

  And with that door wide open, it was a matter of time until Balthazar established tacts with other races.

  Such as the orc tribe, in the form of their chieftain Khargol, ahe lizardfolk, through their envoy, J’ath.

  After some initial tension and the crab’s usual social awkwardness, they all came to respee another, and alliances were formed.

  The modest crab that started with a tarp on the grouo the road had quickly grown into a mertile giant, and his pce of work o match his status. Lovely as that home was, it was not the most suitable pce to do his business. Not when his business was making gold.

  And thus, John the carpenter arrived at Balthazar’s trading post.

  A local from Ardville, the semi-retired craftsman proved wise enough to instill some reason into the crab’s shell, as well as great curiosity as to how in the world the old man was building and upgrading the crab’s abode so quickly and without him ever seeing any of the actual work.

  A mystery still not fully uned, the pipe-smoking human came to be yet anure Balthazar respected enough t around whenever he needed his mastery.

  However, not all old humans that came around the mert’s pce would be as well received as the carpenter, for there was ohe crab feared. Oruly abominable being that represented what Balthazar could not even ceive in his worst nightmares: taxes.

  Abernathy, the taxman from Ardville, came down to the crab’s pond one dark day, tipped off by Antoine in one of his dirtiest plots.

  In a fright and sweating through the pores he did not even have, Balthazar shook in his shell, suddenly faced with someone iing his business and earnings up close, and threatening to take a k of them away.

  The bane of every mert, the spine-chilling taxman was a stiff, unpromising, and sharp figure, but Balthazar was not oo throw iowel so easily. Not only because he was no quitter, but because towels were valuable goods that you should always have around to sell, even if slightly used.

  Soon the shrewd crab found this dangerous oppo’s ot, which happeo be not too dissimir to his own: pastries.

  With a sweet tooth that could overe his better judgment, Abernathy quickly fell to taking Balthazar into his good graces for long enough to allow the crab troup and strategize.

  As fate would have it, his fears had been for naught, as his dreaded oppo's power had oal fw: territorial borders.

  Bound by their own ws, the human was left disarmed on his sed visit to the pond when the crab schooled him on geography and revealed to the taxman that the pce where they stood did not, in fact, belong to Ardville, or a all.

  Not as terrible as the mert initially thought, Abernathy honorably ceded to having beeed, and the two departed oer terms than the crab could have ever expected.

  Balthazar was, as he always had been, his own boss, his own governor, and the owner of his own fate.

  Or so he liked to think, but from a dy in ruby colors and a stranger in bck rags, to a dragon with red scales and a mage with dark iions, there was much yet to happen before Balthazar could finally take hold of his own fate a out of his little pond.

  And for it all to happen, the crab would have to get some answers from the mysterious scarlet entress…