“To flee is to remain unfound. There is no honour in standing still and letting others pull you down.” — The Tao of Idleness, Book 5, Verse 3

“Those who cannot submit to structure will always be found wanting, and rightly so.” — The Maker’s Code, Chapter 12, Line 7

We bolted into the town square, airhorn blaring above us at maximum FUUUUCK. I ran after Lia and Jorgen, who, despite his recent near-death experience, was doing a damn good job keeping up with us. His healing was obviously money well spent as he was showing no after-effects at all. Above both Lia and my head’s, the red “Outlaw” status still pulsed in giant neon letters, throwing off the brightest of red lights that made it impossible to even think about hiding.

Even ignoring the countdown clock from our latest quest ticking down – I really didn’t think we wanted to still be in town when that hit zero -we clearly had very little time to act before things got ugly.

At the first turn we took, scrambling for the city gates, four guards materialised to block our way, each one decked out like they were expecting the fucking apocalypse.

“Outlaws!” one guard roared. “Surrender, or face the Maker’s justice!”

Then, in unison, the guards raised their weapons –glaives, wickedly curved and gleaming ominously in the red glow of the Outlaw text – and took a step forward. Lia didn’t need to be asked twice to dance: she charged them, her blade swinging down to crash into the lead guard’s armour with a clang. However, instead of cleaving the poor bloke down as I expected, her blade barely seemed to scratch him.

Ah. Apparently the City Guard buff that makes Stormwind Guards a delight to solo - Guard’s God Mode (Because Balance is for Players) – was very much in operation in Eldhaven.

This was going to make our escape that much more difficult . . .

The guard smirked, raising his weapon for a counterattack. I suspected Lia was about to take a hit that was going to more than she could handle and closed my eyes to not bear witness to her imminent splattering when something shifted in the air.

I felt a literal wave of disinterest ripple out from me, flowing out and over the guards, and in an instant, they hesitated, their eyes glazing over. The quality of the buff was apparently not built to defend them against . . . well me.

System Notification: Lazy Aura Triggered.

Lia looked my way quizzically, then seizing our best chance, grabbed my arm and pulled me down an alley. We sprinted around the nearest corner, Jorgen trailing behind us.

“What sort of Rogue shit was that?” Lia said.

“Oh, you know. Secret, secret Rogue stuff. Safe to say we don’t want to engage with any other Guards, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Lia said, sheathing her sword, “Outlaw status is no joke.”

We kept moving, but the guards weren’t about to let us off that easily. More horns sounded, each blast echoing through the narrow streets, and every time we thought we’d given them the slip, another contingent appeared, constantly pushing us into tighter, less defensible spaces.

System Notification: Opportunistic Luck Triggered.

I stumbled on a loose stone, almost falling face-first, when the ground beneath me seemed to shift. Fortunately, a small sewer grate peeked from beneath a pile of debris. Relief flooded through me. “Down here!” I hissed, tugging Lia and Jorgen towards the hidden opening.

The three of us slipped through the grate, landing in a damp passage below. The smell was horrendous, and I gagged, trying to ignore the sludge seeping into my boots. Above, footsteps thundered as guards ran past, their voices echoing through the alleyways, cursing our escape.

Idle XP Gains: +20 XP for creative avoidance.

We didn’t get a moment’s rest, though.

Barely a second of our daring escape passed before the alarms blared again, and I could see flashing lights through the gaps in the grate above us. The glow from our Outlaw status was like a homing beacon, drawing every guard in the vicinity like moths to our particular red flame.

And each guard was armed, ready to take on an army, and their health bars insane were insane.

Lia clenched her teeth, accessing her stat screen with visible frustration. “I can’t keep getting into a scrap with them,” she said. “As long as we’re flagged as Outlaws, there’s nothing I have to throw at them. We have to get out of the city fast.”

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“I’m open to suggestions,” I said, ducking as a searchlight scanned the area. Even in the dim light, the red glow over our heads was a dead giveaway.

Jorgen’s voice was almost panicked. “There’s no reasoning with them—they’re all Maker’s men through and through. They live for one thing: Order.”

System Notification: Borrowed Strength Triggered.

A surge of energy flowed through me from Lia’s presence, just enough to keep me on my feet as we sprinted through the filth-slick passage. With the buff active, just being in her presence boosted my Stamina and Strength, but I knew it wouldn’t last if we kept pushing like this. We needed a way out, and fast.

After what felt like an eternity of twisting turns, dead-ends, and near-misses, we finally found a ladder leading back up to street level. I climbed up first, peeking out to find an alleyway clear of guards. We emerged one by one, ducking into the shadows to catch our breath.

“Great,” I panted. “Now what? We just keep running until we collapse or they catch us?”

Lia didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the street, eyes scanning for threats. For the first time since I’d met her, she looked scared. We’d faced wolves, crazed rebels, and that gloating bastard Berker, but an entire city ready to hunt us down? This was different.

As I was about to suggest making a break for the main gate, when time came to a crashing halt around me.

It was like the moment when I found myself staring into the grill of a delivery van. Everything just came to crushing halt.

“Do you truly believe you can escape what I have built?”

It was a voice—not one I heard in my ears, but one that seemed to reverberate within me. It made me feel like I was a toy someone else was very bored of.

System Notification: Dialogue Activated

I looked around me; everything was stuck as though the entire world was caught in an infinite loading screen. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe! And I felt extremely . . . noticed. In a Frodo-trying-to-sneak-up-Mount-Dun kind of way.

It was like a giant, malevolent magnifying glass had been put on the whole of humanity and was finding us small, flawed, and hopelessly disordered.

I tried to speak, but the voice resumed, cutting off my thoughts as if it already knew what I wanted to say.

> The Maker: “Order is the foundation of all. To reject it to abandon its structure… is to fall into chaos. And yet here you are flaunting every line of code every written word.”

I somehow forced my mouth into working, feeling my jaw, tongue - even the words themselves - lagging behind as if there was some sort of delay. “Uh… sorry?”

System Notification: Dialogue Option Selected: Apologetic.

The Maker’s presence seemed to bristle, if that was even possible, at that. “You are not programmed to understand. Nor are you programmed to stray. You are not programmed to be here at all. The chaos you have brought in such a short time has caused untold ripples throughout my work. No, not you,” it paused, a vast displeasure chilling every syllable, “that other meddler. You, though, see all this as play.”

Despite what felt like a pretty perilous situation, a faint glimmer of amusement tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I wondered if The Great Slacker was eavesdropping on my mental disassembly here. There was something infinitely unfair about being put on trial for breaking rules I didn’t even know existed.

And that a lazy little cheerleader had been encouraging me to go to town on . . .

> The Maker: “Lia understands what is required of her in this situation. She always has. Her role is to sacrifice herself for the greater good. But you, the foreigner brought here without purpose or form are a void in the design. Yet even a blank slate must serve Order.”

Yeah, I wasn’t especially wild about that.

Lia wasn’t going to be making any further sacrifices for the ‘greater good’ whilst I was around. From where I was standing, if there was a member of her family that was going to take one for the team here, I knew who was going to be getting my vote . . .

It occurred to me that if The Great Slacker was all about taking it easy, freedom, and maybe making things up as you went along then The Maker was the exact opposite. Its godhood seemed a touch more prescriptive than whatever power was encouraging me to roll with the punches . . .

“Look,” I said, trying to find something here that would allow us to carry on unscathed, “I didn’t ask for any of this. Maybe I’m a blank slate to you, but to me, well I’m just . . . me! I’ve just been trying to play along with whatever rules you’ve set up here. No disrespect meant, I promise!”

The silence deepened.

Then something very final gathered in the air, and I sensed that The Maker had passed its judgment. To be honest, it kind of felt like it had already done so before even speaking to me.

> The Maker: “There is no purpose in blanks. In drifters. In disarray. The narrative of Lia’s path calls for structure, discipline, and, ultimately, sacrifice. You are, at best, a nuisance. She has been brought to the moment she has been prepared for throughout her life/”

“So, you’re saying the only path forward here is for her to sacrifice herself?”

There was another of those ominous pauses.

> The Maker: “It is a requirement for the preservation of the whole. Disruption must be removed. The narrative must be restored. I shall leave you to contemplate this. And to observe the proper order of things.”

The voice dissipated, its presence fading, but before the world resumed, a soft, familiar whisper drifted into my thoughts.

“It’s a funny thing about selfless self-sacrifice, mate. It’s rarely the only option. There’s always an easier path, less attention seeking path . . .”

And with that, the world snapped back into motion, the sounds of Eldhaven rushing in again, just as frantic as before.