Bully Lord

Part-64

James stared, jaw slack.  His own measly stats of 65 combined and a pathetic 23 in CHA paled in comparison to his sister's near-mythical numbers.  A wave of realization, mixed with a healthy dose of sibling rivalry, washed over him.  No wonder everyone fawned over Lily back in high school – apparently, it wasn't just her baking prowess that earned her the title "school goddess."  That absurdly high CHA stat explained 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-induced trance.  She finally turned, her brow furrowed in concern.  "What's wrong, little bro? You look like someone sat on your lucky charm."

James, still chuckling to himself at the image of his nonexistent lucky charm being flattened, pointed at the TV.  "Seriously, Lily?  Fondant dragons?  They're so last season."

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

James, reveling in the fact that he'd managed to distract her from his suspicious behavior, grinned.  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 in the kitchen, wielding a spatula with the practiced grace of a seasoned warrior queen, her brow furrowed in concentration as she battled a particularly stubborn batch of dough.

"Hey, Ma," James greeted cautiously, his voice still a touch raspy from the fight.  "How's the, uh, culinary conquest 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 direction of the living room, where Lily's discarded baking show still flickered on the screen.

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

**Farzana Khan**

**Combined Stats: 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 withering lectures, the legendary "Farzana Smackdown," and the uncanny 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) weaponize a spatula if the situation demanded it.

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 blazing with righteous fury, her combined stat 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 laughing 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 honesty was the best policy (or at least, the safest policy).  "Just reminiscing about some, uh, baking mishaps from my childhood," he stammered, gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen.

Lily's eyes narrowed, but before she could launch into a full-blown interrogation, Farzana emerged from the kitchen, a plate piled high with golden-brown samosas held triumphantly aloft.  "Alright, slackers, 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 finished the sentence for him.

For some reason, his mother's gentle 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 spatula and a sandaled fury, was strangely comforting.  After all, who wouldn't want a superhero mom, even if her superpower involved slightly burnt samosas and the occasional flying footwear?