Experiment Log 1: Removed soul from blade of typical field grass. Subject grew vibrantly green and began visibly growing, consuming provided fertilizer at a rapid rate. After approximately three minutes, subject released a dense cloud of seeds. Subject died of apparent starvation after consuming all fertilizer. Released seeds were later germinated and produced normal grass.

Experiment Log 2: Removed soul from mayfly. Subject began crashing rapidly into containment glass. Despite the strength of strikes, subject sustains no damage. At approximately the same time I noticed the lack of expected damage, the subject suddenly collapsed in on itself and died. Possible effects of outside observation?

Experiment Log 3: Removed soul from mouse. Subject began chewing through containment glass, making rapid progress despite the reinforced glass being too hard to chew through. At the moment I made this observation, the subject became unable to penetrate the glass. Subject continued to attempt escape until expiring several hours later when I wondered how long the oxygen in the container would last.

Experiment Log 4: Removed soul from dog. For this experiment, I will attempt to control the subject by carefully controlling my own thoughts and expectations. I believe the subject is unable to break the

-Notes recovered from an abandoned laboratory, unknown author.

Mud slid confidently into the Association building. On its back was a cross-shaped bundle wrapped in a vibrant pink fabric. The neon pink contrasted sharply with the black of Mud's robe, causing an odd juxtaposition.

The dining area was even more crowded than usual, filled with distinctive figures. For the first time, Mud even saw non-Sapients lounging in the area. A large bipedal reptile rested on the ground beside a man in a feather-covered leather harness. At a different table, a massive bear-like creature seemed to be holding a conversation with a human delver while eating from a heaping plate of meat.

Although the bar was packed, few were actually making use of the Association facilities. Closing the dungeon seems to have left many out of work, and there were no lines impeding the golem's progress to the Association employees. Mud decided to approach the old man he had spoken with last time he had visited the Association.

"Oh, hello there Mud. Delivering more monster bits are ya? Quite the night owl you are." The old man smiled down pleasantly. Mud wondered for a moment why so many old humans were missing teeth. Couldn't they repair that damage with spells? That wasn't important enough to inquire about, though.

"I wish to use the class change room."

The old man raised his eyebrows. "Hoh, did you already hit the limit? Or are you just unsatisfied with your choice?"

"What limit do you refer to?"

The old man stood up and walked around the counter. "The latter then." Waving Mud to follow, he led the golem along the familiar path to the class changing room. "Classes are like... you use magic right? You need to understand an Ideal form to corrupt your mana. A class is like shaping your own soul into an ideal shape."

Mud listened carefully to the old man's explanation. So far, it matched Mud's intuition of the process.

Opening the door to the inner halls of the building, the old man continued, waving his hands animatedly as he talked. "Well, it takes some time but eventually you're going to get your soul to perfectly match the ideal you picked. Then what do you do?"

Mud considered that scenario. It seemed a long way off for him to truly match his ideal vision of a Master Butler, but the idea of perfecting it was certainly not impossible. Extrapolating its current rates of refinement, it would probably take less than twenty levels before it would run out of things to improve.

"If I run out of ways to improve, I would need to acquire a more complex Ideal to shape myself with."

The old man smiled and nodded approvingly. "You're a sharp one. That's it exactly. This artifact we got in here," finally arriving at the destination, he knocked a knuckle against the wooden door. "It can help you out up to a point. It's got a lot of accumulated wisdom in it. But if you get good and strong someday, you may have to do things the hard way. Make a new path."

"Although, you're no stranger to coming up with new ideas, are you?" After saying that, the old man began looking around randomly. Mud recognized his motions immediately; it was Blind Spot Removal.

The old man gave a gap-toothed grin and held open the door. "Oh, don't look so surprised. For us clerks, information is our life. We know more than you think. Now... go in and give your sword a class."

Mud had more questions, but could only follow the order. As soon as it entered the room, the door slammed shut behind it.

The room was much the same as it was before, walls covered in shelves of reference books and lit by heated filaments set into the roof. Approaching the transparent orb on the central podium, Mud freed its sibling from its binding.

"Ego, touch the orb and select a class. A person should pick the class that matches their personality and preferences best, even if it's not as rare. Although if you see a few that all look good, pick the rarest."

With a feeling of complete trust in its sibling, Ego floated towards the orb and touched it. A series of emotions flowed through their bond. Surprise, fear, confusion, acceptance, and then consideration. After some time, the sword finally seemed to make its choice and returned to Mud's side. Although it appeared no different, its flight back towards Mud seemed subtly smoother.

Catching its returning sibling, Mud once again wrapped it in pink fabric and left the room. Receiving a kind wave from the clerk as it left the building, Mud moved on to its next destination.

Ingeit hammered joyfully on the chain link in its forge. This was the kind of unique and exciting idea it had come to the human lands to experience. As much as the dwarf valued tradition and the old ways, he had a different way of looking at them than most of his kind. Ingeit thought that at some point, the old ways were new ways.

Somebody had been the first to make dwarven plate, and the first to make a dwarven warhammer. What Ingeit wanted for his legacy was to expand the dwarven tradition. A new form of weapon that could be perfected by generation of dwarven smith. Many ideas had been attempted, and perhaps these automata would just be another failure. Still, receiving a new idea so soon after coming to Geltheas was even more than the smith had hoped for.

The only regret for Ingeit is that his dwarven pride demanded he thank Mud properly for inspiring him. Unfortunately, the little man had already left by the time the idea came to him, and he had no idea how to contact him.

A ringing came from the shop section. Carefully setting aside his work, Ingeit moved to the entrance. There, as if summoned by his thoughts, was Mud. And on his back, a garish lump of vibrant pink.

It seems he could pay his debt of gratitude quickly. Leaning forward and clicking his mechanical fingers on the desk, Ingeit smiled at the new arrival. "What can I do for my new favorite customer?"