Part-64

  James stared, jaw sbsp; His own measly stats of 65 bined and a pathetic 23 in CHA paled in parison to his sister's near-mythiumbers. A wave of realization, mixed with a healthy dose of sibling rivalry, washed over him. No wonder everyone fawned over Lily ba high school – apparently, it wasn't just her baking prowess that earned her the title "school goddess." That absurdly high CHA stat expined everything, her beauty was on another level as well as her leadership.

  He couldn't help but snort, a sound that startled Lily out of her show-iranbsp; She finally turned, her brow furrowed in . "What's wrong, little bro? You look like someo on your lucky charm."

  James, still chug to himself at the image of his ent lucky charm being fttened, poi the TV. "Seriously, Lily? Fondant dragons? They're so st season."

  Lily's jaw dropped, a rare sight that almost made James fet his throbbing muscles. "Last season?! These are award-winning teiques, James! You wouldn't know cutting-edge cake art if it spped you in the face with a fondant rose!"

  James, reveling in the fact that he'd mao distract her from his suspicious behavirinned. Maybe this whole "enemy and ally" skill wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Emboldened by his sister's surprisingly high CHA and the delightful chaos it caused, James decided to extend his intel-gathering mission to the head honcho of the Khan household – his mother, Farzana Khan. She was currently holding court i, wielding a spatu with the practiced grace of a seasoned warrior queen, her brow furrowed in tration as she battled a particurly stubborn batch of dough.

  "Hey, Ma," James greeted cautiously, his voice still a touch raspy from the fight. "How's the, uh, ary quest going?"

  Farzana, ever the master of withering stares, shot him a look that could curdle milk at twenty paces. "Don't bother me, James. These samosas won't fold themselves, and unlike some people, I actually know how to cook." She jabbed a finger in the general dire of the living room, where Lily's discarded baking show still flickered on the s.

  James winced, both at the verbal jab and at the memory of his own pathetic ary skills. Taking a deep breath, he activated his "Know Your Enemy and Ally" skill, brag himself for another reality-shattering stat reveal. A translut blue box materialized o his mother's head, the numbers glowing with an almost intimidating iy:

  **Farzana Khan**

  **biats: 846**

  **CHA (Charisma): 313**

  James' jaw practically hit the floor. His mother? A secret powerhouse with stats that dwarfed even Lily's impressive numbers? Suddenly, the years of witheriures, the legendary "Farzana Smackdown," and the uny ability to throw a sandal with pinpoint accuracy at targets across the room all made perfect sense. This wasn't just a woman who could cook – this was a woman who could (and probably would) onize a spatu if the situation dema.

  A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. Maybe the System wasn't just handing out random skills – maybe it was giving him a glimpse into the hidden power dynamics of his own family. He could almost picture his mother, eyes bzing with righteous fury, her biat bar filling up as she unleashed the ultimate attack: "The Sandaled Doom."

  Lily, sensing his amusement, finally tore her gaze away from the TV. "What are you ughing at, James?" she asked, a suspicious glint in her eye.

  James, ever the strategist (or at least, aspiring strategist with a healthy dose of self-preservation), decided hoy was the best policy (or at least, the safest policy). "Just reminisg about some, uh, baking mishaps from my childhood," he stammered, gesturing vaguely towards the kit.

  Lily's eyes narrowed, but before she could unto a full-blown interrogation, Farzana emerged from the kit, a pte piled high with golden-brown samosas held triumphantly aloft. "Alright, sckers, dinner's ready. And James, if you even think about leaving crumbs on the floor, I swear…" She trailed off, but the steely glint in her eyes fihe sentence for him.

  For some reason, his mentle behavior, which had seemed like a joke before he knew her stats, now felt like a threat. Sweat began to pour profusely from his forehead.

  James, his stomach growling in protest, wisely decided to keep his newfound knowledge about his mother's stats a secret. Perhaps, just perhaps, some things were better left unlearned. Besides, the mental image of his mother as a secret warrior queen, armed with a spatu and a sandaled fury, was strangely f. After all, who wouldn't want a superhero mom, even if her superpower involved slightly burnt samosas and the occasional flying footwear?