The group had retreated down the road to the deserted, creepy, overly Englishified version of Lichfield. As these things went, there were worse locations to lick their wounds and compare level-up notes. It was still the sort of place where one might expect to find a witch selling curses alongside the scones and the slightly off-kilter vicar. However, as it appeared it was still 'instanced' to them - despite their defeat of the Chimera - it meant they were unlikely to come under attack from any other players.

In discussion, it became clear that Lorelei had received by far the most generous share of the available XP—none of the others had passed Level 10—but no one was complaining. Much. After all, there is a certain etiquette to these things, like trying not to look too disappointed when your Christmas present from your gran turns out to be a rather fetching pair of woolly socks.

"All I'm saying," muttered Hild, her voice low and simmering with resentment, "is that it's not like she killed the fucking thing herself, did she? Just because she has some sort of bullshit OP Skill that made every bad thing in the world that could happen, happen to the fucking snake doesn't necessarily mean it should count as her kill."

It seemed their brief rapprochement was over, Lorelei thought. Some relationships could be mended with a bit of time and a lot of mutual bloodshed. Others, apparently, were doomed to remain irredeemably snide.

On the other hand, Steffan and Chrissy were almost entirely silent. Lorelei didn’t exactly understand how it felt to have your summons melted in front of your eyes, but by their haunted expressions and careful, painful movements, it obviously wasn’t akin to being licked by a thousand kittens. There was a lot of trauma to unpack there. Nevertheless, the fact they were sat next to each other, Chrissy softly stroking the young man's arm, made her think they were probably going to find a way to work through it together. Mind you, she hoped the Necromancer had more about him than it seemed - the Chameleon Courtesan had the air of someone who would take quite a lot of . . . soothing.

By hook or by crook, though, the troll and CCMD had been the group's only casualties. At least physically, she thought, glancing at Michael, who was staring out into the distance with the baffled intensity of someone trying to remember if they'd left the oven on before the apocalypse began. The Veiled Stalker's sister had not left his side since they’d popped him out of the healing cocoon. If anyone had picked up a Therapist Skill during their level-ups, they’d have their first emergency patient right there.

On the other hand, Pete was showing no signs of being worse the wear despite having been pretty much reduced to a pancake by all the falling masonry. He had, however, noted that it was "Not me first time bein' under a heavy weight, if ye kna what I'm sayin'. Ah love us a big lass on top, like," and Lorelei really had very little to say to the grinning elderly tank after that.

"I do not think anyone has properly said 'thank you' yet," Zorrobar said, sliding his large form into one of the comically small teashop chairs. The painted wood protested with a creak that suggested it had been built for much lighter, more tea-focused activities.

Lorelei shrugged, "I'm not bothered. It was kind of my fault you all had to make the journey in the first place. I'm just glad it didn't turn out worse, that's all!"

"Indeed. What was the Quest called? Follow this lunatic, and half of you will die." The fire mage boomed out his hearty laugh, rattling the teashop’s delicate china. "Well, it wasn't a lie, was it?"

Lorelei grimaced, "I'm so sorry about everything that happened, Z. The System just seems quite psychotic where I am concerned."

Zorrobar clicked his fingers, and flames danced over his hand, the kind of idle display that had a way of turning sugar cubes into napalm. "You worry too much. Has not following you made us all strong? We all, even if we don't admit it, know you saved us from those Red Zone bastards. I was a squishy Level 3 two days ago with barely enough mana to light my farts. And look at me now!"

Lorelei smiled. By general consent, Zorrobar had picked up the Arcane Gem from the Loot they'd gathered from the corpse of the Chimera. That Epic Trinket had added 200 Intellect to the mage with a chance that each of his cast spells would restore 5% of his maximum mana. She didn't think he'd be running short of 'boom' energy soon.

The other bits of reward loot had quickly found appropriate homes. Pete and Hild had haggled over the Epic Cloak, Coiled Embrace, their argument veering dangerously close to a lovers' spat, except with more threats of bodily harm and less chance of reconciliation. Both were gagging for the 300 extra Stamina and 150 additional Spirit, but considering Hild still had the chest piece Lorelei had made for her and Pete, to all intents and purposes, was wandering around in common junk, the Valkyrie had reluctantly given way. Likewise, after what he’d gone through, it would have seemed churlish for anyone to refuse Michael the Venom Vial with its 50% poison resistance. Frankly, anyone who dared would likely have found themselves at the wrong end of Michelle's knives.

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Lorelei was a bit gutted they’d not picked up the special drop—Chimera’s Essence—but it didn’t really seem like the time to moan they hadn’t got lucky. And given how twisted Fortuna’s sense of humour could be, she wasn’t sure she wanted to gamble on pushing her “luck” any further than she already had.

True to its word, though, the Guide had given each surviving party member some decent gear, so even those who missed out on the Raid Boss drops didn't feel too much like the spare bridesmaid at an arranged wedding.

However, as the party settled into their awkwardly mismatched chairs, sipping tea that tasted suspiciously like regret and overcooked reality, they all were sharing the same unspoken thought: Was this really the victory they’d imagined? Or was it just another step in the System's long, winding, and deeply sadistic joke?

And, more importantly than that, what was next?

Kris sat down next to Zorrobar, flicking his attractively floppy hair out of his eyes. Lorelei smiled at that gesture and felt her mood lighten with his arrival. If anyone had been a real hero in the battle against the Chimera, it had been the . . .

Lorelei paused in her crushing. Did she actually know what Kris' Class was? Obviously, he had all sorts of healing Skills, but she didn't think she'd ever heard him speak about it.

"Ah, and you, my friend," Zorrobar said, dismissing his flames and crashing a meaty hand down on Kris' shoulder, "you are no less responsible for our success in battle. We each owe you our lives a hundred times over."

Kris grinned back, folding his arm to rest on the back of Lorelei's chair. She did not absolutely hate that at all. "No need for that. We all played our part, and I think we make a pretty good team. If it hadn't been for you burning away the poison pools, there wouldn't have been anything I could have done to keep us alive. You did as much as any of us."

Zorrobar laughed again and rose, winking at Lorelei as he did so. "Well, you are very kind and chivalrous. I'm sure our illustrious leader can think of a way to show appropriate appreciation." And then, as far as someone as large as him could, he slunk away to join the rest of the group on the far side of the tea shop.

"I mean it, you know. I think we make a good team," Kris said, moving his arm to nestle around Lorelei's shoulder.

She found herself beginning to nuzzle in, waves of comfort flowing through her. But then she sat bolt upright. "What's your Class?" she blurted out, face reddening.

***Help Message***

Look, I'm pretty pissed off at you right now, and I wasn't going to text for a bit, but I just needed to stop by and say SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTH . . .

Kris abruptly withdrew his arm and turned to face her, his own blush forming. "You know what I am. I'm a Healer."

"I know that, but are you just a common-or-garden one, or do you have something else going on?"

His lack of immediate answer started all of Lorelei's hard-earned 'Prick' antennae tingling. She put a little bit of iron in her voice and sat up a bit straighter "What's your Class, Kris?"

"Look, it's complicated. I don't want you to get the wrong idea and make a big deal out of it."

A tidal wave of conversations of years past rose above the beach of Lorelei's mind. Something was so crushingly familiar about the tone of voice and the too-direct eye contact. For many a year, she'd been bullshitted by a master, and Kris simply didn't have the chops. If a cute guy with decent hair and a nice smile thought she couldn't read the gaslighting signs, well . . .

"I would like to know your Class, Kris. Now."

"Fine. Look, just remember there wasn't an instruction manual when all this happened. I didn't even think it was really happening - did any of us? - so, I just picked something I thought would be cool. For a laugh!"

"Still not hearing a Class."

The atmosphere in the tea shop had changed. The others were looking over at what they had assumed would be a cute little pairing but was starting to look like the beginning of an epic scene.

"I'd never been much good with girls, and when I saw the options, I just thought that this would be a cool chance to reset the dial. I mean, I never thought it would be a real thing! I never intended for it to play out like this. I really do like you!"

***Help Message***

Look, if it helps, he is actually telling the truth . . .

Surprisingly, having a Guide who had been manifestly trying to kill her for most of the last few days in Kris's corner did very little for his cause.

"Kris, I'm going to ask one last time. And then we'll find out just how bad Chance's Gambit has impacted on my offensive casting. Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe you'll be reduced to your constituent atoms. You need to ask yourself something. Being as I'm a Level 13, the most powerful person in the room, and could pull your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"

"I'm a Charm Leech," he spluttered, eyes wide.

"Yes. Of course you are," Lorelei said.

And then she punched him straight in the face.