The level-up chi faded.
Aweso.
But the stink of sli guts was still there.
So was the cold, hard fact that we were still naked and covered in goo.
I glanced over at the Woven-Thorn Bramble bush.
Our quest objective.
Our salvation.
"Well?" Yael grumbled, her voice sounding like gravel.
"Are you gonna stand there admiring your new mana bar, or are we gonna fix... this?"
She waved a hand at her body like it was sothing she’d stepped in.
"This whole situation is a disaster."
I ignored her.
My raid leader brain was already kicking in.
"Plan."
"We need a plan," I said, marching to the bush.
"This isn’t just about getting dressed."
"This is about establishing our new character identities."
"My identity is pissed off," she snapped, trailing behind .
"And sticky."
I got to the bush and yanked off a leaf.
It was tough, like cheap leather.
The System wasn’t lying.
This would work.
"Okay," I said, my shot-caller voice on full blast.
"I’ll gather leaves."
"You find so vines to tie them together."
"Resource acquisition, Yael."
"Basic stuff."
She stared at , her eyes bugging out.
"Are you serious?"
"You want to play arts and crafts?"
"?!"
"I’m a tank, dumbass."
"I hit things!"
"I don’t weave pretty little leaf-dresses!"
"You’re not a tank anymore," I said flatly, snapping another leaf off its stem.
"You’re a high-dex, high-charisma pain in the ass."
"Your new job is utility."
"Now go find so vines before I put you on latrine duty."
She looked like she was about to explode, but years of yelling at her during raids kicked in.
With a groan that sounded like a dying bear, she stomped into the woods, muttering stuff that would probably get her chat-banned.
I worked fast.
My new strength stat ant the thorns didn’t even scratch .
Level two.
A new skill.
This world had rules I understood.
That was a huge leg up.
Yael ca back a few minutes later and threw a coil of vines at my feet like they were poisonous snakes.
"Here’s your stupid string."
"Now what, Mr. Fashion Designer?"
The next twenty minutes were, hands down, the most humiliating of my life.
My attempt?
A joke.
A leafy loincloth and so kind of harness that made look like a Rambo wannabe who got lost in a salad bar.
It worked, but I had zero style points.
Yael’s was worse.
She tried to make pants and ended up with a lopsided leaf-kilt that barely covered anything.
She gave up and just tied a few leaves over her chest.
A pathetic, disaster-of-a-leaf bikini.
"I look like a rejected druid," she seethed, tugging at the vine.
"This is a major debuff to my dignity."
"Dignity is a luxury stat," I said, adjusting my own leafy sha-cloth.
"Focus."
"We need to find a town."
We washed off in a stream—the water was so cold I thought my HP bar was going to drop—and finally started walking.
I picked a direction and hoped for the best.
As we walked, I pulled up my stats.
Weaponized Charm.
What the hell kind of attribute is that?
I had a feeling it was going to be a problem.
"So," Yael said.
"That level-up."
"What’d you get?"
"Five points in Intelligence," I said.
"Unlocked Mana Bolt."
"Standard mage crap."
"You?"
She scowled.
"System said my core aspects are ’Unquestioning Loyalty’ and ’Stubborn Resilience’."
"So I got a passive called ’Guardian’s Vow’."
"I get a speed boost when I’m near you."
Her scowl got deeper.
"It basically hard-coded ’at shield’ onto my character sheet."
"It’s efficient," I said.
"It’s bullshit," she shot back.
"I put all my points into Dexterity."
"If I can’t be a tank, I’m gonna be a dodge-tank."
Smart.
Maybe there was hope for her yet.
We walked for what felt like hours.
Up ahead, I saw it.
Torches.
A settlent.
Finally.
We found the newbie village.
It was built into these massive trees, all fancy bridges and glowing lights.
Scread ’elf starting zone’.
As we stepped out of the woods, the first elves saw us.
And everything went to hell.
So elf girl was watering glowing flowers or whatever, and when her eyes landed on , she just... stopped.
Dropped her watering can, mouth hanging open like an idiot.
Then another one saw .
Sa thing.
It was like a virus.
Every girl who looked at just froze and stared, blushing like they’d been caught ninja-ing loot.
"What the hell is this?" Yael hissed.
My Weaponized Charm attribute.
Crap.
It was working, and I hated it.
A few of them walked over, led by the blonde one.
"Welco, traveler," she whispered, her eyes glued to my face.
She completely ignored Yael.
"You look tired."
"We have fruit..."
"We’re fine," I said.
This much attention was making my skin crawl.
I’m the guy in the back, calling the shots.
Not the shiny tank in the front drawing all the aggro.
"Oh, but you must," another one said.
"A strong man like you..."
Strong man?
I’m a high-charisma avatar piloted by a dying girl.
Get it right.
While I was getting mobbed, so guy with a smug look on his face sauntered over to Yael.
"Don’t see many beauties like you coming out of the woods," he said, all smooth.
"Especially so... rustically dressed."
Yael just glared.
"What do you want?"
The guy’s smirk flickered.
He clearly wasn’t used to getting shut down.
"Just offering a friendly greeting..."
"I can find my own way," she snapped, crossing her arms.
The leaf-bikini top shifted, and the guy’s eyes practically popped out of his head before he caught himself.
He looked baffled, which only seed to make him more interested.
This was a total party wipe.
We were supposed to be a mysterious mage and his bodyguard.
Instead, we were a confused pretty-boy with a fan club and his angry, half-naked girlfriend.
Just as I was about to use a Terrifying Roar I didn’t have, another voice cut in.
"Well now, what’s all this?"
A red-headed elf pushed through the crowd.
She was taller, more confident, and she wasn’t blushing.
She was sizing up like a rare epic drop.
Her eyes went from my face, down my ridiculous leafy harness, to my legs.
She didn’t even look at Yael.
"You’re new," she said, a slow, predatory smile on her face.
"And you look like you could use a real al and a soft bed."
"I’m Lyra."
She gestured vaguely.
"My house is right up there."
"Way better than standing out here."
Okay, this was different.
This was a quest-giver.
My brain switched back to raid-leader mode.
We were holess, broke, and dressed like morons.
Her offer was the most efficient path forward.
Even if she was looking at like I was a steak.
"We would be grateful," I said, making sure to say ’we’.
Lyra’s smile didn’t move, but she finally glanced at Yael with an annoyed look, like she’d just noticed a bug on her screen.
"Of course," she said, her voice dripping with fake politeness.
"Your... friend... is welco too."
Yael looked like she was about to punch sothing.
I shot her the look.
The ’don’t-you-dare-roll-need-on-this-and-screw-us-all’ look.
She’d seen it a thousand tis.
She clenched her jaw and gave a stiff nod.
"Wonderful," Lyra purred, and hooked her arm in mine.
Her touch felt like a debuff.
"Let’s go."
"I’ll have a servant run you a hot bath."
She led away, and the other girls parted with sad little sighs.
Yael stomped along behind us, forgotten and fuming.
She looked exactly like she was supposed to: my pissed-off bodyguard, forced to watch so pushy girl drag off.
Hey.
The cover story was working.
Just not how I’d planned.
Crap.
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