—Zeta—

  Looking like a corpse had its uses.

  Somehow, I’d managed to get myself transported most of the way here without expending much effort.

  Almost broke my neck… several times, yeah. Almost drowned, several times—truth. But…

  Minimal exertion. Maximum piggybacking.

  A personal victory, if I believed in such things.

  Which I don’t.

  The problem, as always, was the destination.

  And my consistently shitty luck.

  It was time to wake up and prove my miraculous recovery—

  When the thud came.

  Something slammed into D’s foot, pinning him to the floorboards of this damp, hidden hovel.

  Shit.

  "Lorens?" Lyra gasped, her eyes wide as she stared past us—toward the shadowed nook near a stack of weathered supplies.

  D, meanwhile, was having a moment.

  His face twisted into a fascinating rictus of agony and… something else.

  Excitement?

  It was hard to tell, but the flash in his eyes—sharp, almost gleeful—made me second-guess for a split second.

  Like it wasn't just pain getting to him.

  "A friend of yours?" Jay asked, his voice dry as week-old toast. He hadn't moved an inch, a statue of cynical disapproval, arms crossed.

  "Lorens?" Lyra repeated, ignoring Jay, her voice a mixture of disbelief and something else I couldn't quite place. Hope?

  A figure stepped out of the shadows, lingering by the narrow entrance.

  Male. Mid-twenties, maybe.

  The beginnings of a beard, patchy and uneven, like it hadn’t quite committed to existing—more mangy animal than respectable stubble.

  His hair, the color of ripe wheat, was pulled back into a messy ponytail—one that looked like it had lost a brutal fight with a thorny bush and barely crawled away alive.

  His sharp blue eyes, marked by a thin scar slicing through his eyebrow, scanned the interior—then locked onto Lyra.

  Shit.

  The guy looked like the protagonist of a video game with way too many toxic fans.

  He was about D’s height, but broader.

  And his arms? Definitely not built for napping or philosophizing about the futility of existence.

  "Lyra? You're… alive?" The man’s voice was rough with incredulity. He dropped something that looked vaguely like a compact crossbow onto the dirt floor with a clatter.

  Then they were moving. Lyra darted forward. He met her halfway.

  They collided in an embrace that spoke of desperation and relief. And then they were kissing. Passionately. Tongues and everything. The works.

  Great. Just what a near-death experience needed: a front-row seat to a poorly timed, excessively moist romantic reunion.

  I glanced sideways at D. He was still pinned to the floor, but his gaze was fixed on the couple. Tears welled in his eyes, actual tears, streaming down his face. I wasn't sure if it was from the arrow still embedded in his foot or the sheer, unadulterated schmaltz of the scene unfolding before us. Probably both. Emotional bastard.

  Jay cleared his throat. Subtly at first, a polite little rumble. Then, with more force, a rasping cough that could have dislodged a lung, or perhaps signaled the onset of a terminal illness. Effective, either way.

  The two lovebirds finally broke apart, breathing heavily, their faces flushed. They looked at Jay with annoyance, then their eyes fell on D, still impaled, and me, probably looking like I was contemplating the sweet release of oblivion, or at least a very long nap.

  "Who are these… clowns?" the newcomer, Lorens, asked, his arm still possessively around Lyra's waist. His tone suggested he found our continued existence personally offensive.

  I saw Jay open his mouth, no doubt to deliver one of his meticulously crafted, condescending explanations. He never got the chance.

  A soft, almost ethereal chime resonated, not in the cabin, but inside my skull. It was quickly becoming my least favorite sound in this, or any other, world.

  [Quest Completed: Fly, You Fools!]

  Objective 1: Escape Oakhaven Town. Completed!

  Objective 2: Take Arian with you (Optional). FAILED!

  Time Limit: 4 Standard Terrestrial Hours. Expired.

  Rewards: 40 Experience Points

  Oh, fantastic.

  Impeccable timing, as always, System.

  And Arian? Who the hell was Arian?

  Did we leave someone behind?

  Given our track record, probably.

  Then—

  Another system message popped up.

  [Congratulations. You have achieved Level 2.]

  [You have gained 3 attribute points. Try not to squander them on something utterly useless. Though, knowing you lot…]

  Oh, shit. Level 2. More opportunities for disappointment. And was that a hint of sarcasm from the System? Or was I just projecting my own cynicism onto its bland, bureaucratic pronouncements? Probably the latter. Still, three points.

  I sat up from where Jay had thrown me.

  Or rather, half-dragged, half-dumped me near the hearth with a surprising amount of care—given that his usual tone toward me was either irritation or begrudging acknowledgment. Maybe he wasn’t the cold bastard I thought he was.

  "What?" Lorens demanded, seeing the three of us suddenly staring blankly into the middle distance like we’d collectively suffered a debilitating stroke.

  Before anyone could demand an explanation for my sudden bout of vacantness, I focused on the ‘Z’ on my palm. Status.

  The familiar, translucent text flickered into view, superimposed on the already depressing scene.

  [Z - Level 2]

  Designation: Subject Z-4N8A

  Health Points (HP): 45/45

  Stamina Points (SP): 12/38 (Fatigued)

  Mana Points (MP): 44/44 (Untapped)

  Attributes:

  Strength (STR): 6

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Dexterity (DEX): 5

  Constitution (CON): 15

  Intelligence (INT): 11

  Wisdom (WIS): 8

  Charisma (CHA): 3 (Socially Detrimental)

  Skills:

  Passive Skills:

  - One Last Farce

  [Once per day, any single instance of damage or effect that would result in incapacitation or death can be entirely negated as if it never occurred. User experiences momentary phantom sensations of the negated trauma]

  Right. Time to make some… improvements. Or, more accurately, shore up my weaknesses before something else tried to kill me.

  So.

  How the fuck do I actually do this? Thinking about it? Nope. Didn’t work.

  I glanced at D.

  He was moving his right hand in front of him, fingers twitching like he was touching a screen that wasn’t there.

  I pressed my finger over the attributes I wanted to improve.

  I dumped all three points into Constitution. Yeah. Why not? There. Done.

  For a brief moment, the System message flickered, like it was consulting some unseen bureaucratic rulebook, debating whether to grant me the request or deny me on technicalities.

  Then—

  The numbers shifted.

  [Z - Level 2]

  Designation: Subject Z-4N8A

  Health Points (HP): 54/54

  Stamina Points (SP): 12/45 (Fatigued)

  Mana Points (MP): 44/44 (Untapped)

  Attributes:

  Strength (STR): 6

  Dexterity (DEX): 5

  Constitution (CON): 18

  Intelligence (INT): 11

  Wisdom (WIS): 8

  Charisma (CHA): 3 (Socially Detrimental)

  It worked.

  Okay, so Health Points at 54—

  Strength × Constitution / 2, so that’s 6 × 18 / 2 = 54.

  The calculation checks out.

  Stamina is 45—

  CON × DEX / 2, so 18 × 5 / 2 = 45.

  Good. At least Constitution was pulling its weight.

  Still fatigued, though.

  And where the hell did all that Stamina go? I didn’t feel less tired.

  Just another case of shitty game shenanigans.

  I sighed, letting the screen fade.

  I don’t think there’s a system in existence that’s ever going to let me win.

  As the numbers faded, I refocused on the real world—which, admittedly, wasn’t much of an improvement.

  I glanced at D. Again.

  The agony on his face had vanished, replaced by a wide, idiotic grin stretching ear to ear—despite the arrow still jutting from his foot like some kind of twisted accessory.

  Who even was this guy?

  Or better yet—was he right in the head?

  The System’s Pavlovian conditioning was clearly working wonders on him.

  "What in the blighted hells is wrong with these morons?" Lorens continued, his voice laced with growing irritation. He looked from D’s ecstatic, impaled form to Jay’s stoic, vaguely murderous expression, and then to me, presumably the picture of weary indifference.

  I saw Lyra out of the corner of my eye, already launching into an explanation for her… lover? Boyfriend? Designated tonsil-hockey partner? Whatever he was. She was gesturing, her voice low and urgent, occasionally glancing our way with an expression that was part apology, part "don't mind these idiots."

  She was probably telling him how we, in our infinite wisdom and grace, had 'helped' her escape the Oakhaven jail. Helped in the sense that a runaway boulder 'helps' clear a path.

  While Lyra was placating her resurrected beau, Jay was staring intently at the air in front of him, no doubt meticulously analyzing his own stat increase with the joyless precision of a tax auditor. D, meanwhile, was actually giggling, wiggling his toes on his uninjured foot. The arrow in his other foot seemed to be little more than a festive, pointy decoration at this point.

  No. Wait—a bolt, not an arrow.

  That made way more sense, given the weapon was a crossbow.

  For some reason, realizing that made me feel a little better.

  Not that it changed the situation, but hey—small victories.

  "So, I was thinking," D said, his voice bright and chipper, addressing Jay. "Maybe one point in Strength, for carrying capacity, right? And then two in Dexterity? For, you know, dodging stuff? Or should I go for Charisma? I feel like my Charisma is underrated by the System…"

  Jay just grunted—a sound that could mean anything from "Fascinating insight, D." to "If you don’t shut up, I will use that projectile to pin your tongue to the floor."

  My money was on the latter.

  Eventually, the passionate reunion and the subsequent awkwardness subsided. Lorens, after Lyra’s no doubt heavily edited explanation, seemed to accept our presence with a sort of grudging resignation. He even helped Lyra tend to D's foot. The bolt extraction was… loud. D screamed like a banshee gargling with broken glass. Then he passed out. Blissful silence, for a moment.

  When D regained consciousness, we were all gathered around the crude table, a hunk of something that might have once been bread and some dried meat between us.

  The atmosphere was still thick enough to cut with a blunt knife, but at least no one was actively bleeding or making out. Small mercies.

  "So," Jay began, breaking the silence once D had stopped groaning. "What's the current catastrophe we've stumbled into? Besides your… enthusiastic greeting." He directed the last part at Lorens, who scowled.

  Lorens took a swig from his waterskin before speaking.

  "You picked a hell of a time to go sightseeing. Or whatever it is you three were doing."

  He spat the next word like it was poison—

  "Elbaria."

  His jaw tensed.

  "Has officially declared war on Solmara. As of twelve days ago."

  He surveyed our ragged forms. "The King has ordered a full mobilization. Border garrisons are on high alert – Oakhaven being one of them. Every road is watched. Every stranger is a potential spy or saboteur. You're lucky that bolt was just a warning shot from me, thinking you were more Oakhaven thugs.

  "He gave Lyra a look that was far too tender for my liking.

  "Anyway, thanks for helping my girl." He put a lot of emphasis on those last words.

  I frowned.

  "I was looking for her. No one seemed to know what had happened..." Lorens took a slow swig from his waterskin, his jaw tightening.

  "A witch, huh?" His expression darkened. "What a load of crap."

  Jay’s glare sharpened, fixed squarely on Lorens.

  "So now you're gonna say you're just hardworking, honest villagers?"

  His tone dripped with mockery.

  "Because normal people definitely have secret hideouts in the mountains."

  Lorens' expression shifted.

  "Maybe they’re heroes—like Batman from the '60s! The Adam West one!" D said, as enthusiastic as ever, his foot wrapped in bandages beneath the table. "Secret hideouts in the mountains—just like the Batcave, huh?"

  I let out a short breath, scanning the room.

  "I believed that was where the similarities ended," I said, gesturing around.

  This place looked far less like a Batcave—and more like a bandit’s hideout.

  I swept a hand toward the crates stacked haphazardly, some half-open, revealing supplies. Then to the weapons scattered everywhere—swords, daggers, and more.

  "Anyway," Jay continued, his tone flat.

  "We really don’t care about your circumstances. But we’d be grateful if you gave us some information."

  "Yes! Info-dumping time!" D cut in, way too eager, earning a sharp glare from Jay.

  I exhaled. Shit.

  All I wanted was to sleep.

  "I hate to say this, but we owe them," Lyra said, placing a hand on Lorens’ shoulders.

  She hesitated for a moment, then added, "After all, even if it was… messy, they helped me escape that damned prison."

  Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not that I was an expert on smiles—or eyes, for that matter.

  Lorens ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "Fuck. Fine. What do you guys want to know?"

  Jay didn’t hesitate. "So, about the 'Mystic Sword' delegation," he pressed. "They’re coming because of this war?"

  Lorens nodded grimly. "The Ten Mystic Swords are the King’s elite. They're being dispatched to bolster key positions, investigate threats, and make examples of anyone causing trouble. If they thought you were Elbarian agents…" He let the sentence hang, the implication clear enough even for D.

  A state of war. Fantastic. Just when I thought things couldn't get more inconvenient. Another apocalypse to add to the collection.

  "I don’t think so," D interrupted. "The lady who captured us in the forest, Captain Valerius, said we didn’t look or sound Elbarian."

  Jay crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "What are you trying to say, D?"

  D hesitated, then leaned forward.

  "Something tells me they know about us. About our unique predicament. About the System."

  "What system?" Lorens asked.

  Lyra just shook her head, jaw tight.

  I felt the same, but kept my mouth shut.

  Of course, it was highly probable there were more people like us.

  More players in this fucked-up, shitty game.

  Wonderful.

  And of course, there’s a war. There’s always a damn war.

  Just. Wonderful.