"An enemy may fight with all his strength, but a wise man only fights when it’s comfortable. Even then, why bother? Victory is overrated." — The Tao of Idleness, Book 3, Verse 19

The Well loomed before us – which, I must tell you, is something of an achievement for what is effectively a small hole in the ground with delusions of grandeur. Looking at its concentric stone-circle smugness, I felt an odd mix of fear and irritation. Irritation because—let’s face it—this is a fucking ridiculous situation in which I find myself. There’s no getting away from it, is there? Just the other day, the biggest problem in my life was deciding just how much shit I would have to eat in order to persuade my ‘Work Coach’ not to withhold a few measly quid from my pizza fund. Now? Well, today’s ‘’to-do’ list includes cosplaying as a Rogue in the middle of a haunted fucking wood, and I’m about to face down an evil alchemist. Who, let’s us remember, ladies and gentlemen, I’m not actually sure is an evil alchemist. In fact, there’s every chance that I’m all suited and booted in my fascistic finery here in order to try and lay the smackdown on someone fighting on the side of the angels.

Which is . . . a vibe.

On the other hand, fear is pretty damn prominent in my mind because the guy standing in front of the Well looks like he could crush me with one flick of his moustache. And oh, my, what a glorious fucking moustache it is.

Funnily enough, the ridiculously overdone appearance of this guy sort of helps with my moral qualms over which side of this conflict I seem to have ended up on. You see, this dude has committed to the full-service package from Supervillains R Us. Dark robes, sinister glowing vials strapped to his belt, a staff that looked like it had been crafted from the spine of a tortured victim, and—of course—a glorious, curled, waxed and preened, utterly villainous moustache. Matey-boy even cackled when he saw us approaching. And we’re talking some proper maniacal stuff. Like he’d been rehearsing it in front of a mirror for a solid few hours. The Revolution appears not so much to be being televised as full on pantomied . . .

"Ah, the infamous Rogue of Eldhaven!" his voice boomed out across the clearing. "I have heard much about you. And, what is this? Why, I do declare, have the Elders sent Lia Jorgensdottir to finally put an end to me? I feel positively honoured. Your father’s debts must be nearing termination point for you to deign to make an appearance!"

I glanced at Lia, who was spinning her sword in between her hands, eyes fixed on the alchemist with a venom that made me very glad I wasn’t on her shit list.

For his part, the alchemist continued to twirl his moustache, leaning on his staff like he was in a bad stage play. "Do the two of you really think you can stop me? I, Balethor the Magnificent, shall reduce you to dust! You have wandered into my domain, and - with your deaths - the Well of Ascension and the barrier between worlds is mine to control!"

Ding.

New Objective: Survive the battle with Balethor.

Reward: ???

Failure: Death.

Oh, fucking hell. There’s proper stakes to this and everything.

Without even a cursory effort to come up with a shared plan of action – which I tried not to take personally – Lia charged. I’m not going to lie, she looked fucking good doing it. So much so that I even had the momentary urge to follow her into battle. Of course, as I wasn’t absolutely sure how much help me and my trusty stick would be in melee combat, I made the heroic choice to hover at the back, trying to figure out what exactly I was supposed to be doing. I mean, I wasn’t a fighter. Clearly. I was literally levelling up by doing nothing. And yet, here we were, in yet another Boss Battle, this time facing a villain straight out of a Hammer Horror film. But there had to be some reason I was here, right?

Balethor – not loving the name, to be honest - raised his staff, and the veil between worlds (I mean, I'm guessing. I don't know. But contextually? Sure) shimmered around us. It was like pressure was being put on superheated glass, causing it to distort and bulge in strange and unusual ways. Shapes flickered in and out of existence, shadows of things that I really think were better on their side of the line than they would be on mine. As I watched, splintered realities seemed to blur together at the very edges of my vision, merging, combining and then splitting apart. Think ‘Nightmare Lava Lamp’ if you are still struggling for an exact visual. You’re welcome. Any time.

Lia, showing no interest in standing and staring at the Cthulhu-inspired light show, swung her sword straight at the dude’s head – subtle-like - but Balethor was apparently much faster than he looked. He dodged effortlessly, sweeping his staff to the side and sending a torrent of black energy back at her, striking Lia in the chest. The thundering impact sent her flying back, crashing her into a nearby tree with a sickening thud. Then, the black light spread outwards to completely engulf her, and, in moments, Lia was utterly cocooned.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

This felt sub-optimal to my general well-being.

"Shit!" I cursed, somewhat impotently, taking a step back in order to . . . nope. I had nothing. Not a sausage. If one shot from that staff had taken Lia off the board, then taking a hit like that was definitely not high on my list of Christmas presents.

Idle XP Gains: +25 XP from watching someone else get their arse handed to them.

Was it just me, or was there a . . . tone there? What, are these supposed to be guilt gains? The Great Passive Aggressor much?

Fortunately, I was saved coming up with a plan of action by an almost immediate low rumble from the treeline, and the black cocoon shattered, revealing a rather grim-looking Lia. I'm not going to lie; if she ever looked at me the way she was glaring at this dude, I’d probably kill myself to save her the trouble. You know, in the hope she’d calm down and go easy on my corpse. Even so, though, I couldn’t help but think this fight didn’t seem to be going our way.

"Stay back!" she shouted, launching herself at Balethor again. Yep. On it. No worries on that score. All over it.

Lia’s sword met Balethor’s staff with a clash of energy, sparks flying in a pretty satisfying way: not quite Anakin v Dooku, but getting there. However, while Lia was all grit and determination, Balethor fought like someone who had all the cards up his sleeves. His movements, despite the arching flashes of the Warrior’s blade, were fluid, precise, and annoyingly theatrical. He was toying with her.

"You think you can stop me?" Balethor sneered at her, sending another wave of energy crashing into Lia, knocking her to her knees "The barrier between theworlds is mine to exploit. Once it is torn open, there will be nothing your precious Elders will be able to do to withstand the Rebellion!" He flicked his fingers and sent Lia spiralling back into the air, this time hitting the stone of the Well itself with a crack.

Ding.

Passive Assistance Activated: Critical Hit Buff applied to Lia.

Oh. Right. Well, that’s something. As if she’d seen the message herself, Lia charged back in, swinging, and this time – with my buff active on her - her blade connected with Balethor’s staff with a deafening crack. The alchemist stumbled back, his moustache twitching in annoyance as he looked down at his splintered weapon.

"You... insignificant worm!" Balethor snarled, his voice rising in pitch as he waved his hands again. The air around us shimmered, and the liquid monsters at the edge of my vision began to solidify, creeping forward like twisted wraiths.

Idle XP Gains: +50 XP from watching the chaos unfold.

"James!" Lia’s voice cut through the din. "You need to stop him from collapsing the veil!"

“Sure!” I called back, my voice higher than usual. “How?!”

Balethor laughed, his moustache quivering with each chuckle. "Fools! You think you can challenge me? I am the master of the Well of Ascension. You will kneel before my power before being consumed by the void!"

Ding.

Idle XP Gains: +100 XP from not dying... yet.

Flapping like a rusty gate, I watched helplessly as Lia began to fend off the creeping shadows attacking her, each strike of her sword barely keeping them on their side of the barrier. Meanwhile, Balethor stood in the centre of the swirling chaos, the end of his broken staff glowing darkly as he began casting something that I couldn't help but feel was going to be some serious smackdown shit. The morphing shadows were more than just wisps of smoke now: they were increasingly solid, their forms shifting and writhing as they lashed out at Lia, their inky tendrils piercing through barrier, leaving deep, gaping wounds on her where they touched her skin.

Shit was getting real. Blood spattered the ground, red and vibrant, as it mixed with the dirt. For the moment, Lia was holding her own, but it was clear she couldn’t keep this up much longer. "Come on, James," I hissed to myself, my hands shaking as I fumbled through my inventory. There had to be something in here. Something useful.

Loot Leech Activated: Found *Rotting Apple* (Junk).

Of course. Useless. Fucking useless. "Lia!" I shouted, panic rising in my throat. "I’m really sorry about this! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to help!"

She glanced back at me, her eyes filled with frustration and pain as the monsters cut her to pieces. And Balethor continued summoning his Ultimate Attack.

Ding.

Passive Assistance Activated: Cooldown reduced.

Okay, maybe there was hope yet. I wasn’t about to start swinging a sword anytime soon, but if I could keep the buffs coming on Lia, maybe we stood a chance? Maybe. Sure. My moment of hope wasn’t helped to keep going by Balethor laughing again, his moustache curling up at the ends in glee. "Pathetic. You think you can defeat me with such pitiful tricks? I will tear reality apart and remake it in my image!"

Lia stumbled towards Balethor, another violent downward swing meeting his snapped staff, and for a moment, it seemed like she might overpower him. But then, with a flick of his wrist, Balethor sent another wave of energy crashing into her, knocking her to the ground. I watched in horror as Lia struggled to rise, blood pouring from the deep cuts that crisscrossed her arms and legs. Her eyes had lost focus for a moment, and though - with a shake of her head - she was able to line up on the alchemist again, I didn't think there was much more she had to give.

Ding.

Quest Update: Survive the battle with Balethor.

Progress: 50%.

50% through? Fuck. We weren’t going to survive this, were we?