Micheal had spent a lot of time contemplating his role.

Both his purpose, according to his Class, and the actual role it forced him to take in fights.

His Class was odd, obviously. It was called Damsel In Distress.

But from a design perspective, his Class differed from a typical support. In most games, a support healed, enhanced, or hampered enemy movements.

Micheal did all of that to different degrees, but most of his enhancing was at the start of a fight.

Usually, a support had things to throw out across the entire battle. That was going by game design logic, but it had stayed consistent with much of what he had seen.

Del wasn’t a pure support. Her buffs were shorter duration but also had shorter cooldowns. They called for action continuously instead of just occasionally throwing something out when things heated up.

That wasn’t a bad thing on his end. His buff was strong and incredibly long-lasting, but it was strange.

Micheal felt like things cleared up a bit upon reaching level 10.

More than just a buff at the start of a fight, he was a distraction both because of his build, but also because of information.

Their opponents didn’t know everything he could do. And unless they did, they couldn’t afford to ignore him altogether.

So, as his friends and friends of convenience fought around him, Micheal made himself damn distracting.

He ran from Lily and the paint guy, angling towards Doris.

The woman dodged around bolts of flame, her motions shockingly quick.

As she ducked under a foot-wide arc of flame, she dug around in her pocket and came out with a cookie. She ate the whole thing in one bite and went back to dodging.

What could Micheal do to even her odds?

His taunt was always an option. But he wanted to keep that in his back pocket as an emergency save.

Well, just running at the fucker was also on the table.

The guy's attention was firmly locked on Doris. He wasn’t even glancing at his surroundings.

As Micheal contemplated tackling the man from behind, a portal opened between the guy's legs, and a rock flew out.

It nailed Doris in the cheek, and she stumbled. More rocks flew, but shields met them.

Micheal took off, hurtling a stand of jeans as he came up at the man from his blind spot.

Doris saw him coming and didn’t gawk, thankfully, turning her attention to the target.

The target in question hurled a wide fan of flame at the woman. From what Micheal had seen, he could call flame from any part of his body. And they ranged in size from fist-thick bolts to wide arcs that had to be at least 3 feet across.

The guy's aim wasn’t great, and how he refused to close with Doris suggested he didn’t have any physical skills. But fire was dangerous. He didn’t need any particularly fancy effects to kill them.

Just before Micheal reached the man, a woman’s voice sounded through the portal. “Oh no, you don’t!“

A hand snaked through the portal and slammed the ground.

A larger portal opened up under their feet, and all three of them dropped through.

Micheal’s stomach lurched, but before he could yell, they landed in a tangle of limbs.

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Before Micheal could get his bearings, fire blasted to his left.

His arm lit up with pain, and a second later, it literally lit up. The fire spread along his shirt, and he frantically rolled away from the others.

The fire quickly went out. His arm throbbed with pain as he scrambled to his feet.

Doris was already standing.

Fire guy was still on his back, but he was 10 feet away from them.

That flame must’ve been him launching away from us.

Micheal took the opportunity to use identify on the man.

Wester Caramoor.

Thresholds passed: two

Background: far from a noble paladin sent to rescue princesses, Wester is closer to a rat and a thief –

Micheal stopped reading.

The man hadn’t reached level 15, not that that was a reasonable concern to have. Micheal had seen a few people online claiming they were level 13 and a few saying they were 14. But he didn’t even believe those.

So far, every level cost a significantly greater amount of experience than the one before. And that jump only grew larger after passing a Threshold.

The guy was around their level and, according to the System, was a bit of a rat.

Micheal glanced around. They were in the food court. Behind him was the ice rink, to his right was a set of escalators, and in front of him was a line of restaurants lining the alcove with chairs and tables.

It was dated, the chairs looking like they’d been pulled right from the 80s with white metal backs and green cushions.

Wester gave them both an odd look. “The last group I fought had all kinds of crazy elemental resistance. I guess that was getting in my head a little bit.“ he raised a finger towards Micheal.

“But you burn just fine.“

He wiped his hand through greasy locks and grinned. “What a relief. All right then, that makes me feel way better!“

And with that, he hurled a fireball at Micheal‘s head.

Micheal hurled himself to the side. I Will Not Be Running, activating briefly to give him a burst of speed.

Wester scrambled to his feet and threw two more fireballs at Doris

Doris cursed and ran to the side.

She grabbed Micheal‘s arm as he climbed to his feet and pulled him into a run beside her.

Wester continued to hurl fire, mixing it up with wide arcs and the occasional smaller, faster bolt.

“One of these restaurants has to have working equipment, right? Doris asked.

Micheal gawked at her as they dodged a thin line of flame.

“What?“

“An oven or some other kind of kitchen aid. Do you think some have food in them? Doesn’t matter.“

Doris dug in her pocket and handed Micheal a cookie. “I need hot food. The hotter, the better. That cookie will work in a pinch, but it would be better if it’s something like a scorching hot soup or something like that. Something that's supposed to be hot.“

Micheal’s brain stalled for a beat before catching and roaring to life. “Fire resistance?“

She nodded frantically as the fire continued to rain down on them.

Micheal’s arm hurt so bad it made his eyes water, but he couldn’t hesitate. Not if he wanted to remain uncooked.

As he scanned the restaurants, he closed in on the Mom and Pop Hawaiian BBQ. Bingo.

He pointed, and Doris nodded. They booked it for the store, weaving between the stools and tables as Wester chased them.

The man growled and slid to a stop.

Fire began to gather around his midsection. It looked like he was crafting it into something solid.

After a second, they almost reached the restaurant, and Wester hurled the attack.

A jet of flame two feet across and three feet tall screamed toward them.

Micheal dove straight over the counter while Doris ran to one side. The fireball hit, and the counter melted. An awful smell invaded his nose, and he gagged.

This guy must’ve been in a pretty bad fucking headspace if he hadn’t done this earlier.

I thought he was a chump!

“Keep him busy!“ He snarled.

“I am trying!“ Doris snapped back. Micheal turned his attention back to the kitchen.

All he had to do was find food, figure out a way to heat it up, get it to Doris, and do all that before either of them burned to death.

“I fucking hate the apocalypse.“