“The wise man watches friends argue and learns much. Mostly, that staying quiet is the easiest way to avoid becoming part of the problem.” — The Tao of Idleness, Book 6, Verse 18.

You know when people say something like ‘tension crackled in the air’, and they’re being metaphorical? That phrase hits a little different when the air is literally alive with about a million summoned Abilities. I knew that Lia was an absolute powerhouse – the ease with which she had sent Berker packing proved that - but Scar and his band of very unmerry ladies and gentlemen looked like they fancied having a shot at being David in this little parable.

But none of them had moved Yet.

“So, Rogue,’ Scar asked me, his face tight, “Where’s Dema? The last message we have from her was that you’d defeated most of the Rebels, but that Berker still stood. We found that . . . surprising.”

Despite knowing I’d taken down the Rebels by the real-life equivalent of a Chuckle Brothers’ sketch, the sheer shock in Scar’s voice was a little hurtful. “Well, you know, when the chips are down, you’d be surprised as to the thunder I can bring.” Yeah, I’m not wild about how that sounded, either.

Be. Less. Awkward.

“She’s in the Medical Hut,” Lia said, obviously hoping to move the conversation on from my pathetic attempt to posture. “And she’s stable. For now.”

“’For now?’” Scar’s fists clenched at his sides. “What did you do to her!”

“Me! Hang on! I’m the only reason she’s still got any chance at all! If I hadn’t stepped in, this place would be a new Rebel stronghold. And one on an Accumulation Pool, no less! You’re the ones that left him -” Lia jerked her head in my direction, and I did my best to pretend like the derision on the word ‘him’ didn’t hurt – “to fight ten Rebels plus fucking Berker on his own. What did you expect was going to happen? There’s what, twenty of you? Looks to me that the girl in the Medical Hut is the only one of you worth a damn!”

“Watch your mouth, Imperial,” Scar stepped forward, and all that spicy tension in the air crackled even harder. Honestly, it was giving me a migraine. Which - now I think about it - I recognise might not be the most important thing going down at the moment. So awkward. “You might think you’re the saviour here, but we all know what you really are. Wherever the Dark Wren goes, blood follows.”

I laughed at that, which didn’t help the mood out much. I mean, it made sense that Lia might have her own brooding nickname in this world, but Dark Wren was objectively funny. Because she’s little, right? But, also, will absolutely fuck you up.

I should probably focus on the second part of that sentence a little more right now.

“And I suppose the Great and Glorious Scar is so much better?” Lia shot back, her hand gripping her sword hilt a little tighter. “You and your crew are just another group of thugs playing at their own version of rebellion. So, so proud of all their morals and their righteousness. Well, how is that working out for you? Skulking in the woods and waylaying anyone not strong enough to fight back? The world has moved on. Don’t think you have any right to comment on the choices those of us still fighting for the future.”

Scar’s nostrils flared, but before he could respond, I saw the rest of his crew shift behind him, their stances changing, a ripple of unease moving through them. These weren’t the kind of people who enjoyed listening to someone insult their leader, and I had the sneaking suspicion that the fight I thought was about to break out could get a lot messier before it got better.

I sensed I needed to cut in before everything escalated, but I worried all I had to offer to proceedings was a bit of light humour. Sometimes, it was better to be quiet.

I let their bickering fade into the background. The fight with Berker had been chaotic enough, but now we had all this on top of it? Whoever was running this universe just wouldn’t let me catch a break, would they? And then there was Dema, lying in the Medical Hut, “stable” but not improving. Maybe I should quit my pity party and see what I could do to improve that situation . . .

I swiped open my stat screen, the increasingly familiar display glowing before me. The notifications had been piling up since the battle, and now it was time to deal with them.

Name: James Brook

Level: 7 (1% Idle XP Gains)

Class: Freeloader

Health: 134

Mana: 0

Stamina: 54

Strength: 8

Agility: 21

Dexterity: 20

Constitution: 17

Endurance: 4

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 10

Charisma: 11

Luck: 20

Class Abilities:

Borrowed Strength: Your stats increase based on those around you. Find stronger allies to grow more powerful. Random Trigger Modifier.

Lazy Aura (Rank 2): Enemies within range are increasingly likely to lose interest in attacking if you do not engage. Additionally, enemies who become disinterested may leave Loot behind as they leave.

Loot Leech: You passively collect resources from your surroundings.

Passive Assistance (Rank 2): You have mastered the art of doing nothing, while everything happens around you. At this level, as well as reducing the cooldown for the Critical Hit buff to 30 minutes, your mere presence provides a slight boost to nearby allies' effectiveness.

Opportunistic Luck ( Rank 2): Your knack for unintentionally landing on your feet improves. You're now slightly better at blundering into good fortune without trying. Whether it's finding lost coins or dodging disaster, your luck just got a little sharper. Lucky Bystander: When in the presence of an ally their combat effectiveness increases by 5%. Duration: Permanent.

Skills:

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Stealth (Lvl2)

Game Player (Lvl1)

Dodge (Lvl2)

Unallocated points:

15

I was pretty happy to see I was finally getting some Skills – even if they did seem to be leaning a little heavily in the whole ‘Rogue’ thing. Someone up there (down there? I wasn’t sure where whoever was running this show resided) really wanted me to play that role, didn’t they? Stealth and Dodge had even both moved up a level during what I was going to charitably describe as the Battle of Lazytown.

I had 15 Unallocated points, which was cool and all and I’d be getting right to that soon. But first I needed to consider what new goodies I’d been offered. Because new is always better, right?

New Ability Options:

1. Freeloader’s Escape (Rank 1): Automatically dodge the first attack in any encounter. (5-minute cooldown).

2. XP Trickler (Rank 1): Gain XP every minute spent doing nothing in a combat zone. XP scales with danger level.

3. Slacker’s Guard (Rank 1): Redirect up to 10% of incoming damage to a nearby ally once per fight.

I looked over the new abilities, frowning at the options.

None of them were perfect, obviously, but all had their uses, depending on how I saw things playing out moving forward. “Freeloader’s Escape” could definitely save my skin in a fight, but it wasn’t exactly a long-term solution, was it? It felt more like an automatic panic button which would be useful in the moment, but then it would be off the table until its cooldown was off. And ‘first attack in an encounter’ felt like tricksy language. I could well imagine it triggering to save my arse, I escape, and then it wouldn’t be available five minutes later when the same dude catches up with me. “XP Trickler” was tempting, too—who wouldn’t want free XP for just standing around?—but I already felt I had that base covered. And if my encounter with the Rebels taught me nothing, it was that I needed more than just passive gains if I wanted to stay alive out here.

'Slacker’s Guard,' though . . . I needed to think about that a little more. I wasn’t sure about that one. The idea of passing off some of my damage to an ally wasn’t exactly the stuff of heroic myth, but it was practical. I was a Freeloader, after all: the whole point of my Class was the avoidance of effort, so maybe I should lean into that? But – the little voice in my head that wasn’t a complete dick chimed up - Dema had already taken enough damage for me in one day. Did I really want to make a choice that would shift even more pain on an ally’s shoulders?

Fuck. All of this was tough! Why couldn’t I get rewarded with something like, I don’t know, Freeloader’s Firearm, whereby I’d get an Uzi with unlimited ammo? I shook my head, deciding to put the Ability choice on hold for now. I wasn’t ready to commit to anything, and with everything else going on – Lia and Scar were still giving each other the old stink eye - I couldn’t afford to make the wrong decision.

I turned my attention to my unallocated points. Fifteen points was a cracking haul, but with my Abilities all over the place, it was like being handed a toolbox with no idea which wrench I actually needed. I tried to think back to the advice Scar had given me before:

Constitution, Agility, maybe even some Strength. Your Luck stat’s fine, but it won’t mean a damn thing if you get cornered. You won’t survive on sheer chance forever.

The problem with that was the only reason I was still alive was because I’d been the Luckiest son-of-bitch outside the dude who JLo called every time Ben Affleck broke up with her. I don’t think I’d even landed a genuine blow on any of the Rebels I’d ‘defeated’. It was pretty hard to do anything else but just pump them all into my awesome little stat that could . . .

However, Scar was the dude who actually lived in this world. So, let’s think this through. Agility. That was the obvious choice, right? Maybe with a bit of Dexterity thrown in? I was being led to lean heavily into the Rogue persona whether I liked it or not, and boosting those two would make me quicker on my feet, which couldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe they would let me dodge more than just the first attack? Yeah, fuck you, “Freeloader’s Escape.” Plus, investing there would mean I’d probably look way cooler dodging; like I was in one of those martial arts movies. Crouching Slacker, Falling Freeloader.

But then there was Constitution. I rubbed my chest, still feeling the phantom ache of Berker’s mace, the memory of that impact thudding through my body. Yeah, I might want to beef up my Health Pool, especially if I planned on sticking around in fights where people were actively trying to dismember me. Not dying seemed like a good long-term goal.

Endurance, though? That one had me stumped. My stamina was trash. Four measly points and an ongoing debuff that made me feel like I was running on fumes half the time. Should I put some points there, or was that just me trying to shovel water out of a sinking ship with a spoon? I wasn’t convinced I could dig myself out of that particular hole, but then again, if I never stuck anything in there, I wasn’t going to get any better, was I? And if Agility and Dexterity sped me, I was just going to start blowing even sooner.

I sighed, leaning against a tree while Scar and Lia continued to throw insults at each other. They were now circling each other like wolves, both too proud to back down but neither one making a real move.

Fuck it. Let’s be real. I’d be in this world for a couple of days, and Luck had saved my arse more times than I cared to count. Putting even more points into might make things even more likely to shake out my way, but did I really want to end up a one-trick pony? If I leaned too hard into Luck, I’d be stuck waiting for the universe to decide whether I survived each encounter, which was like rolling dice in a casino where the stakes were my continued existence.

But damn it, Luck had gotten me this far . . .

Then again, this wasn’t all doom and gloom, was it? I was a fucking Level 7 – the same as Scar. By basically pissing around, I’d gained a lifetime of hard-won XP. If my gains kept up like this, Lia was going to be my sidekick this time next week rather than the other way around. I could even look into playing the Rogue role properly. My Agility was already decent. A little more could make me even slipperier in a fight—especially with Dodge coming in clutch when I needed it. Dexterity? Yeah, that would help with aiming and reaction speed—stuff I hadn't fully tapped into yet. And then maybe a small Constitution boost, just so my squishy self didn’t fall apart the moment I took a hit.

I hovered over Endurance again, but nah. I was still too sceptical of that one. I wasn’t convinced it was worth throwing good points after bad when the system was dead-set on keeping me in Stamina hell.

A few more loud shouts came from Scar’s unmerry men; things were reaching boiling point. These 15 points weren’t going to spend themselves. Screw it, time to spread the love. I dropped 5 points each in Agility, Dexterity and Constitution.

That lovely sensation of a boost rippled through my body, and I felt a bit more sure-footed, a bit sturdier. Not bad. And hey, maybe this would stop me from getting pulverised the next time someone the size of a small country decided to hit me with a tree trunk. out to go full Mortal Kombat anytime soon.

I strolled back toward the group, feeling marginally better about my choices. They hadn’t noticed my brief mental absence: it was like watching two junkyard dogs sniffing around the same scrap of meat, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Look. Why don’t we all take a beat here?” I asked, stepping into the uneasy space between them.

Lia didn’t take her eyes off Scar. “Stay out of this, James.”

“Oh, sure, yeah, that’s exactly what I plan on doing,” I replied. “I’m just thinking, you know, maybe we could all take a few deep breaths, that’s all.”

“The Rogue of Eldhaven speaks sense.” Scar didn’t look at me either. “But I wonder if that’s because he’s worried about getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Listen, I don’t know what’s gone down between you two,” I said, trying to sound diplomatic, “but there’s a lot of crap coming our way, and we could probably use each other’s help instead of tearing each other apart. I mean, isn’t the enemy of my enemy supposed to be my friend?”

Both of them gave me the kind of look you’d give someone who just suggested drinking bleach to cure a stomach ache.

“That,” Scar eventually said, “is an awful saying.”

Lia nodded. “Terrible. Just… awful. Think about it. The enemy of my enemy? So, what, I’m suddenly best mates with every rebel who hates the Empire? That’s half the people I’ve killed!”

Scar took up the thread. “Exactly! It doesn’t account for context at all. It assumes one shared enemy is enough to overlook every other glaring reason not to trust each other. It’s like saying, ‘Oh hey, you hate carrots? Me too! Guess we’re soulmates now!’ It’s idiotic!”

Lia jumped in, faster now, like they were both feeding off the absurdity. “And don’t even get me started on the wider implications! What if I hate your enemy more than you do? Do I outrank you as a friend? What if I’m plotting to betray you, but we’ve got the same enemy for five minutes? Is that friendship?”

“Right!” Scar’s said. “It’s just reckless! What if the enemy of your enemy is also your enemy? Then what? Double betrayal? We all just stab each other for fun at this point?”

Lia wasn’t finished “Or maybe I’m friends with the enemy, and we’re just pretending to have a common enemy to lure you in. Now what? You’re basically signing up for your own ambush!”

Scar nodded, leaning in closer, a finger jabbing the air for emphasis. “You’ve got more enemies than friends in that scenario, and somehow you’re proud of it?”

They both stopped, staring at me like I’d just dropped a nuclear bomb of stupidity into the conversation.

I blinked. “Okay, fair points. So glad to bring you together on that point. How about we all go for a drink?”