Kenji was helping Ismail fix a broken wooden fence on the edge of the village, and his internal battery was already flashing red at 1%.

Man, I miss my bed…

The carpet, too.

He tried to focus, line up the next plank.
But there it was again. That goat.
The same one that had been stalking them for like two days. Munching grass, judging everyone.

“Is that goat side-eyeing me?”

“Focus on your work,” Ismail said, leaning back against a log with a steaming cup of tea. “We have a lot of things to fix today, my friend.”

“But…”

“In my culture,” Ismail said, sipping tea, “we say: ‘He who eats kabab must earn it.’” Another sip. “So…”

“Alright, alright, I get it…” Kenji muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Man, I really miss that carpet.

He gripped the hammer tight and swung at the post anyway.

But he missed.

Faceplanted.

And lost 2 HP (and his whole self-confidence).

Ismail shook his head. “Seriously? Try again.”

“Bleh,” Kenji spat out a mouthful of grass.

CLANG-CLANG.

Steel echoed from the edge of the forest.

W-Where’s that goat?!

Three fat, armed bandits emerged from the bush.

Ismail rose without spilling a single drop of tea. His hand slid to the hilt of his curved scimitar.

“Trouble always finds a way, Kenji. Remember that.”

“T-Trouble?!”

The hammer nearly slipped through his sweaty hands.

The bandits barreled toward them, shouting something between battle-cries and off-key drunken karaoke.

The dagger guy sprinted toward Ismail as if he’d just downed a speed potion and a double espresso.

Ismail moved once.

SHHHK.

The bandit fell apart like a Jenga tower of bad decisions, sliced clean like discount salami.

The second one raised a massive battleaxe, before being incinerated in a whoosh of fire.

Did this guy just get uninstalled?!

The third took one look at his buddy’s pile of loot and noped back with a 180-degree turn.

“Don’t come back!” Ismail called after him, sheathing his blade with a satisfying thwip.

“In this world,” he said, adjusting his sleeve, “you level up either by honing your skills… or by emotional damage.”

Kenji just stood there, blinking.

So, I’m the side character who levels up through trauma?!

Ismail tossed him the dagger. “Take this. You’ll need it.”

Kenji caught it.

Cool. Now I can delay my death by like… five seconds.

“Uh… What happens if I get cut in half like that?”

Ismail shrugged. “No idea. Probably hurts. Anyway, back to work!”

Uggghhhh…

Kenji swung the hammer again.

It somehow worked.

+1XP appeared in the HUD.

When they finally got back home, Kenji crashed on the carpet like he paid rent.

Just as he hit the +3HP/min resting buff, a familiar voice hit him like an overpowered alarm spell.

“KENJIII!” Nasrin called from the kitchen window (channeling that unstoppable South-Asian mom energy), “Someone’s waiting for you in the courtyard — and take out the garbage while you’re up!”

Kenji groaned. His social battery was still cooked from last night’s guest party.

Maybe if I pretend to be asleep again…

Wait.

A-Akari?!

He peeled himself off the carpet like leftover naan and opened the door.