Charlie and Tyler stood facing each other in that narrow doorway, their eyes locked in a moment of charged silence. Tyler looked almost like a different person—his face was swollen, his eye blackened, his expression a blend of depression and nervousness. For a fleeting second, Tyler's eyes flickered as if just then registering the changes in Charlie, his gaze tinged with something that looked like relief, or maybe hope.

But before either could break the silence, a loathsome voice clawed its way into the moment. "Ah, it's been a while, Spaz Attack. But Charlie can't come out to play. Now go and fuck off, you little freak, and get off my property while you still can."

Charlie turned around, a sickly familiarity washing over him. There was Sean, looming like a resurrected nightmare. He'd always been a giant of a man, but prison had chiselled that frame into something more menacing. Standing at 6'5", his musculature now screamed violence, the sort you'd expect from an NFL linebacker. Tattoos adorned his upper body: a snake curling around his forearm, barbed wire lining his biceps, and even what looked like a shiv inked just below his collarbone.

But what caught Charlie the most were Sean's eyes—those dark orbs oozing a sense of imminent violence, as if they were weapons themselves. As Sean's gaze swept over Charlie, a surprised yet still sneering grin crept onto his face. "Look at you," Sean taunted. "The cripple's finally growing up, huh? Almost taller than I expected." Charlie's insides were a battlefield of conflicting emotions. The old fear, honed through years of torment, urged him to recoil, to get out of there. But new emotions surged, too. Anger, sure, but also something like resolve. In the past weeks, he'd faced insurmountable horrors, things far worse than Sean could ever be.

As he stood there, locked eyes with Sean, the ridiculous thought came to him that the towering man in front of him was nothing more than a chihuahua. A little dog growling and showing its teeth, thinking itself fierce but completely unaware of how trivial it was. In his mind, the image was so absurd, so utterly comical, that he couldn't help but laugh. He could just imagine the incredulous expressions on Ellie and Carter's faces if he voiced the comparison out loud.

That thought emboldened him, cutting through the fear like a knife through butter. "Go and fuck yourself, Sean," he said, voice steady and eyes unwavering. "I would've thought dropping the soap the first time would've taught you some humility. But then again, you've always been a fucking wanker. You probably loved it."

Ellie and Carter, who'd been holding their collective breaths on the sidelines gasped, exchanged glances that mixed disbelief and terror. And Tyler, peering from behind the slightly ajar door, looked a chaotic blend of stunned, worried, and maybe—just maybe—relieved. Sean's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Charlie was unfazed. To him, the fierce, towering bully had been mentally reduced to a snarling little dog. The tension in the air was palpable, but it was Sean's move. For the first time, Charlie found himself not dreading it, but almost eagerly awaiting it.

In that stretched moment, as Sean's arm reared back for an overhand haymaker, Charlie found himself astonishingly alert. A heightened focus sharpened his senses as if the world had suddenly clicked into slow motion. A few weeks ago, he might have been the hapless target of a punch, like when he'd been blindsided by Ellie's brother, Max. But now, his instincts were razor-sharp.

He'd seen his brother execute this particular manoeuvre so many times in the ring: slip to the side, counter with a quick left hook to the ribs. It seemed so complicated then, but now, it felt almost child's play. Charlie dodged Sean's swinging fist with a deft side-step, leaving Sean momentarily off-balance and vulnerable. Taking advantage of the opening, Charlie dug his left hook deep into Sean's ribs.

The impact was satisfying—a tactile 'thud' as knuckles met flesh and muscle, accompanied by a surprised expulsion of air from Sean's lungs. Emboldened by the successful hit, Charlie kept the momentum going. He pivoted, whipping his body around to deliver a jarring elbow strike to the side of Sean's now-stooped head. With a satisfyingly heavy sound, like a ripe melon being thumped, the blow connected. Sean crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock and disorientation.

As Charlie stood over the crumpled form of Sean, a torrent of emotions swelled within him: years of fear, humiliation, and impotent rage. For a moment, he felt like an exposed electrical wire, sparking and ready to ignite. His eyes darted to his ring of holding. With a mere thought, he could summon his sword and end this nightmare forever. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumline accelerating towards a conclusion that seemed both horrifying and inevitable.

Just as his hand twitched, as if on the cusp of acting on years of suppressed fury, a gentle touch landed on his shoulder. It was Tyler, and the sadness in his eyes was almost unbearable. Tyler shook his head ever so subtly but unmistakably. It was as if Tyler had plucked him back from the edge of a cliff, and now the choice to step back—or jump—was his own. The decision loomed larger and more complex than he'd anticipated. What was the point of newfound power if he couldn't neutralize threats to himself and those he loved? He looked at Ellie and saw fear dilating her pupils. Not fear of Sean, but of him? of what he might become. Carter's eyes were round saucers, filled with a mix of awe and apprehension.

And then it hit him: a memory from just weeks ago when these abilities had first awakened within him. He'd vowed then that he would not become a murderer to level up. He would delve into dungeons, and fight creatures, but he wouldn't compromise his own humanity. That resolve steadied him now, cooled the molten anger into something more controllable. With a heavy sigh, the last traces of adrenaline drained away, leaving behind the familiar tremor in his hands. He looked at Carter, who seemed to understand, and then knelt beside the still-groaning Sean. For a brief moment, their eyes met. In Sean's gaze, he saw shock, but also a grudging respect.

Sean chuckled, wincing as he did so. "I thought you were going to kill me for a second there, Charlie-boy."

Charlie absorbed the moment, digesting the fact that Sean had used his name—his actual name, not some derogatory nickname. He tried to remember a time when that had happened before and realized he couldn't. Had the takedown changed something fundamental between them? The implicit threat in Sean's gaze had mellowed, replaced by a less malevolent, more calculating light.

"For a second, so did I," Charlie replied, locking eyes with Sean.

Sean's eyes flickered with a momentary flash of anger as if offended by the audacity of Charlie's admission. But Charlie quashed that spark before it could fan into a blaze. "Sean, listen," he said, his voice low but unyielding. "Today, Tyler stopped me. But understand this: if you ever lay a hand on him—or any of us—again, nothing will hold me back. Not Tyler, not my own reservations. We don't have to like each other, and frankly, I couldn't give a shit. But touch any of us again, and there's not a force currently on this planet that will stop me. Got it?"

With that, Charlie turned his back on Sean and began to walk away, leaving his friends scrambling to catch up. Carter was nearly bouncing with a manic sort of energy, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. "Dude, that was so fucking cool," he blurted out, catching up to Charlie.

Charlie grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting into a shaky but genuine smile. "Cool, huh?" Carter had exclaimed, but Charlie couldn't fully embrace the compliment. 'Cool' was one thing, but what had just transpired was also dangerous—a line almost crossed. He alone understood the abyss he had peered into, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd always have the strength to pull back.

His eyes shifted to Tyler. His friend seemed lighter as if a burdensome weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Hey, Ty, is your nan gonna be alright?" Tyler let out a weary sigh. "Yeah, she's fine. Sean wouldn't dare touch her. He's not sticking around, anyhow. He's in a bail hostel and has to check in with his probation officer every day."

"Good to hear. Look, I'll talk to my mom, but I reckon she'll be alright with you crashing at our place for a bit," Charlie offered, relieved that at least Tyler's family was somewhat shielded from Sean's toxicity. Tyler's face lit up in a grateful smile, but it faded just as quickly. His voice escalated as he said, "That's generous, mate, but don't you think it's time you told me WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Charlie winced. The volume of Tyler's voice wasn't the only thing that jarred him; it was the raw accusation lurking in those words. "Charlie, you've grown half a bloody foot taller and you just took Sean down in less than three seconds," Tyler continued, his voice tinged with a disbelief that was bordering on betrayal. "Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my mate, Charlie?"

Each word felt like a punch, but this time Charlie couldn't dodge. Tyler's question, laced with hurt, and tinged with anger, hung in the air, echoing the unspoken fears and questions of their tight-knit group. Ellie looked like she was holding her breath, her eyes wide and fearful. Carter's brows were scrunched, his face a canvas of concern.

"We'll talk when we get home," Charlie promised, locking eyes with his friend.

As they walked away, a realization hit Charlie: it was time to get it all out in the open. Tyler deserved an explanation, yes, but so did his parents. They'd notice the changes just like Tyler did, and their reaction was likely to be far more volatile. It was better to control when and where that revelation occurred.

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Charlie sat at the head of his family's large oak dining table, its rich grain reflecting the early evening light that streamed in from the open-plan kitchen's large windows. The table that had once been a battlefield of imagination, covered in D&D figurines and character sheets, now looked starkly empty. There was no clutter of gaming gear, no dice scattered around—only an uncomfortable silence that filled the room like fog.

It had only been a couple of weeks since their last D&D session, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. As he looked up, he saw the faces of those he loved the most, all focused on him, all waiting for him to continue his story. But the atmosphere was different now. The same faces that would usually be lit up with excitement at a well-timed spell or a critical hit now wore expressions of disbelief and concern. Gone were the dice, the character sheets, and the snacks. Now it was just him, his story, and an audience that seemed far less thrilled than they'd been about any of their previous adventures.

Charlie replayed the recent moments in his mind since he'd walked through that front door earlier. His mom had taken one glance at him, gasped, and her cup of tea had met the floor, splattering like a dramatic exclamation point to her shock. His dad had pulled him into a hug, strong arms tensed around him as if trying to confirm that this was still his son. Their eyes met, and Charlie saw the moisture there, a welling of emotion barely contained. That gaze was loaded, a silent query asking how this could be the same boy he'd seen just days ago—smaller, less robust, somehow less alive.

Now, having just narrated the astonishing tale of his escape from a Level Two dungeon, their shock had turned into an uncomfortable silence. The silence clung to the room like humidity on a summer day, dense and cloying. The disbelief on their faces made Charlie anxious, bordering on regretful. Had he made a mistake by revealing everything? Was this new, altered reality too alien for them to grasp? It was Tyler's voice that cut through his internal monologue.

"So, you're not shitting us? This isn't some elaborate prank?" Tyler's voice was edging towards incredulity, tinged with a sort of desperate hope. Charlie scanned the faces in front of him, picking up on his parent's wish that he'd shout, "Gotcha!" and everything would revert to normal. He saw their eyes, clouded with a blend of disbelief and terror. The notion that their previously disabled son might be battling in fantastical, deadly dungeons was a pill too large to swallow.

"A prank, Tyler? Really?" Ellie cut in, disdain framing her words. "You saw how he took Sean down, right? You were there. Did that look like a prank to you?"

Charlie watched as Tyler opened his mouth to retort. Ryan seemed on the brink of chiming in too. The chatter and arguments were about to crescendo into chaos. That's when Charlie remembered the ring on his finger and the loot chest it held that he had yet to open.

He felt a flicker of excitement; he could use the chest to prove his point. There was no need for words when he could show them raw, irrefutable evidence. As the bickering continued, punctuated by Ellie, Carter, and Ryan's attempts to bolster his credibility, Charlie slammed his hand down on the table and summoned the wooden loot chest into existence.

The intricately carved chest, with its dark wood and bronze metal bands, looked mesmerizing. A surreal artefact in an otherwise mundane setting. But there was a hitch—he had been in such a hurry while snatching the chest from the dungeon that he'd failed to notice the half of a Kobold corpse that had been draped over it. As the chest materialized, the remnants of the creature oozed viscera onto the table.

Gasps filled the room, and Tyler retched, face pale. Ellie let out an elongated, "Ewwwwww!" For a second, Charlie regretted not inspecting his loot more carefully. But as he looked at their faces, his parents' stricken expressions, Tyler's visible revulsion, Ellie's disgusted fascination. He realized no one was questioning the validity of his story now. The gruesome, visceral reality laid out on the kitchen table was, in its own twisted way, the proof they needed.

The tableau of shock broke as his mum let out a blood-curdling scream. Before anyone could react, she'd grabbed a rolling pin from the jar of cooking utensils on the counter. Charlie was torn between laughter and disbelief as she lunged at the table and commenced a vicious attack on the already-dead Kobold. Her strikes were so forceful that bits of bone and splatters of blood took flight, painting the kitchen in gruesome hues.

Before she could deliver another blow, Dad seized her arm in mid-air. "For fuck's sake, Michelle, it's already dead!"

She slumped against him for a moment, sobbing into his shoulder. Then, she made her way around the table to embrace Charlie. As his mother's arms enveloped him, Charlie felt the tension in her body, her grip simultaneously protective and desperately clinging. "I can't believe you're fighting those things," she said, her voice tinged with awe and a disconcerting amount of worry.

In response, Charlie hugged her back, putting a bit more strength into it than he used to. His mom let out a small grunt, surprised by the force. "It's okay, Mum. Honestly, those things are easier to handle than they look. There's probably worse to come, but I'll be ready," he assured her, trying to sound confident. "Sorry about the Kobold mess," he added sheepishly. "I grabbed the chest in a rush. Didn't notice the extra... accessory."

That's when Carter jumped in. "Wait, Charlie, you've had loot sitting around this entire time and you haven't opened it? What the hell's wrong with you?" The room filled with laughter, a brief but welcome respite from the tension that had gripped them all. Even in this strange new world, some things never changed, like Carter's notorious loot lust from their D&D days.

Charlie took that moment of levity to discreetly use his ring to remove the Kobold remains from the table. He'd dispose of it later when he returned to the dungeon. The last thing he needed was to spark some local scandal, especially knowing how eagerly the Mildrops next door would seize the opportunity to alert the media, turning the deceased creature into the town's newest spectacle.

Charlie turned his attention back to the loot chest, a grin breaking across his face. He'd noticed Carter's thwarted attempts to pry it open and couldn't help but chuckle. With a simple touch, the chest obediently sprung open for him, revealing its contents.

First out was a small sack of coins—another 100 gold and 50 silver. Charlie weighed them in his hand, considering their worth. He had no basis for comparison, no clue how they stacked up against the pound or even if they were "real" currency as opposed to some "system" specific money. With a shrug, he pocketed them into his ring where they joined his growing but still unused stash.

But it was the next item that truly caught his attention. A scroll, sealed and ancient, but radiating an unmistakable aura of power, his eyes widened as he read the description.

Arcane Bolt [Rank G]

Casting Time: Instantaneous

Range: 120 feet

Mana Cost: 10

This spell allows the caster to summon a single bolt of blue arcane energy. Upon casting, the bolt automatically seeks out a selected target within range, ignoring cover and other obstacles to hit it unerringly. As the spell ranks up, it gains the ability to conjure additional bolts and may acquire other enhancements.

Charlie's eyes darted over the arcane runes of the scroll, and he couldn't help but let out a triumphant yell, punctuated by an exuberant fist pump. The room seemed to respond; a gust that felt almost like wind swept through the kitchen, lifting strands of his hair and fluttering a stray newspaper on the table.

Glowing blue motes of energy erupted from the scroll, spiralling into the air before diving straight into him. It was a surreal experience, like bits of concentrated potential fusing directly with his very being. The entire phenomenon lasted only a few seconds, but the room remained charged with residual energy.

Turning toward the group, his eyes met a riot of expressions, awe, shock, and a bit of envy, especially from Carter. With a wide grin that struggled to contain his excitement, Charlie announced, "I've just bloody learned Magic Missile!"

Even though they all knew he'd changed, watching him actually channel arcane forces into his body just ratcheted up the 'Holy Shit' factor for everyone. Ellie and Carter, looked like they were torn between jealousy and awe. Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise. Tyler's previous scepticism seemed utterly obliterated.

His mum and dad? Well, if they weren't already convinced their son had plunged into a realm far beyond their understanding, this was the indisputable proof. They looked a bit horrified but also fascinated like they were trying to reconcile this new, upgraded version of their son with the boy they'd raised.

It was a turning point, a tangible testament to how radically different his life had become. And judging by the expressions around him, Charlie knew they were all beginning to grasp the weight of this new reality.