It should be a truth universally acknowledged that any claims made or promises given while under the influence of intoxicants and social pressure were rendered null and void upon achieving sobriety. I should not even have to say a word, and anything I did not explicitly reacknowledge should be politely buried six-feet deep and swept under a rug.

On this cheerful thought, I actually felt rather good upon awakening and downing my hangover potion, dispensed at the door last night... this morning? Since the brew was relatively cheap and easy to produce with its single-day shelf life, this little token of thoughtfulness, while highly appreciated, was nowhere near as extravagant as the party itself.

I shook my head, remembering. What a party! I'd heard higher-ranked Artisans were practically worshipped within their guild, and no wonder, if their genius and generosity trickled down to such affairs benefiting all but the lowliest Novices. My dress would need to be cleaned (...hadn't I met its maker?); all that remained of the once-animated penguin paint was dried flakes, and where did that stain come from?

Well, no matter. I was looking forward to a library day in my Scholar robes.

Alas, my fantasy of post-party social convention was shattered upon Bessie's arrival at my mentor's quarters. Smiling, she said, "Don't forget deadline's tonight!"

"Bessie..." My stomach sank. "I'm not sure..."

"You resolved to take the test," she said. "If you're totally incapable, you can drop out... so long as you try." Why, oh why did she have to sound so reasonable? "We just want you to try your hardest, Rena."

I hesitated. "But don't people die in these tests?"

"Psh, the last one was years ago. You're more likely to die from falling down the stairs!"

"How many years ago? Two? You have no idea, do you?" Groaning, I declared, "I am never attending another party. Ever."

"Wasn't it the best? Adventurer parties are all just about drinking and dancing. Those Artisans, though!"

In the face of her insistent cheer, my protestations petered out, and I found myself letting her accompany me to the Adventurer's Guildhall. The whole exam registration form consisted of a single one-sided sheet of paper. I turned it over and questioned the receptionist, but that was seriously it. One page. I made short work of it, filling out my personal information, checking the box for 'I am with a team' and writing down 'Multi-Movers,' then reluctantly handing over five of my hard-earned silvers. Just like that, I was committed. (Or I should be... to a lunatic asylum.)

On the walk over to Georgina's, I tried to calm my mind by making a list. In no particular order, I needed to have my robe done, gain [Mind Over Matter], obtain a focus, and oh, learn how to fight for real. No, before that I needed a practicable way of fighting. Maybe another offensive Skill? And actually, I should improve my physical fitness too, so I didn't drop out of the running from sheer exhaustion.

Completing all the above items would hardly save me from making a complete fool of myself (or worse), but it was a start, the bare minimum. Oh, who was I fooling? The test was in less than a month. I was hounded by doubts I could achieve this much, never mind anything more.

I'd only just turned in my application, and already I regretted everything.

Still, I hoped to cross one off my list this very same day. After all, I wasn't the only one who should be afflicted with morning-after moaning.

To the Artisans' credit, not one attempted backing out of the 'budget focus' contest Georgina had talked them into joining. But as I systematically perused their offerings, traveling from store to workshop at their convenience, I realized our situations couldn't compare. We'd all drunkenly stumbled into a contest, yes, but mine was an official exam risking life and limb for which I was woefully underprepared! Meanwhile, mage foci were these people's life work and they were in constant unofficial competition with one another anyway, or so I gathered from their unsolicited opinions on their rivals' craftsmanship and characters.

As I'd been instructed by Georgina, I listened attentively, nodded gravely, and otherwise endeavored to show no reaction as I perused each wand, staff, or the rare gauntlet. Privately, I was gratified to find the Artisans' offerings ranged in quality from slightly to significantly better than the average merchants', but outwardly, I said only, "Hm. I see. Is that so," and made other such noncommittal noises, letting the suspense build. Georgina was likewise polite, pleasant, and remote. Unlike her, I wasn't thrilled to leave nervous devastation in our wake... but she was right any feedback should be reserved for afterwards.

Fortunately, we did not need to keep them waiting long. As soon as we'd finished our first inspections, I knew my choice of winner.

"Congratulations!" Georgina said warmly; I echoed her sentiments after a beat. In the end, we'd returned full circle to the same Adept we'd first approached at the party. His self-assurance wasn't as endearing as the other contestants' hopefulness and insecurity, but he had cause to be proud. I'd barely suppressed my excitement from showing when he'd laid out his wide selection of quality craftwork, which included our winner.

It was a polished oaken staff nearly five feet in length that curved at its head around a mana-infused green gemstone. All right, so it was downright stereotypical in its construction and appearance, but more importantly it had a substantial mana reservoir, multi-casting support, and solid durability for its price tag of two gold and two silver. Its power-boosting and control-enhancing properties were basically nonexistent, but I considered this tradeoff more than fair. Not like I specialized in any combat Skills or spells anyway.

After I'd purchased my shiny new staff and we'd assured its maker we would announce his victory to all his rivals, we proceeded to do just that... politely. Thanking each of the participants in turn, I made sure to offer specific praise or critique where merited and repeatedly emphasized the winner was based on my personal preferences. In one workshop, I asked and received permission to reserve a pair of ruby-studded gauntlets for Bessie. I was sure she could afford them within the agreed-upon month -- even if it took temporarily borrowing coin -- and that she'd appreciate the inbuilt blasting bonuses.

Feeling quite satisfied, I thanked Georgina profusely for all her help on our way to her home. She was also satisfied after I handed over nearly all my remaining silver to continue funding my robe. With her permission, I left off the handcuffs, and between threading our mana worked on my Scrolls. The exam rules didn't prohibit outside items, though they, along with everything else, apparently, would be taken into consideration in our final evaluation. Just reaching said evaluation would be a triumph, so I was eager to grab any advantage and who cared how it looked: there was no such thing as cheating.

"That's it for today," Georgina said, glancing at her wall clock. "I have another client coming soon."

"Will it be done in time?"

I tried not to look overly anxious, but my fidgeting might've given me away. Georgina pursed her lips and said, "Yes. Barring any more long trips or other unforeseen delays. Now off you go."

Returning to the library, I steeled myself for a confrontation with Senior Grace. But after I'd explained the whole situation, she didn't scold me for a risk-taking fool or lament my wasted talents. She just asked, "What's that have to do with Scrolls?"

"Um," I said. "I need to make more? Trade quality for quantity, maybe?"

Instead of the expected disapproval, she seemed... pleased? "Good," she said. "About time you gained some motivation!"

I thought I'd been plenty motivated before, but I had to admit to a new sense of focus and urgency with my impending exam. Also, Senior Grace completely changed the way she taught me.

Whereas she'd previously demanded impossible perfection, now she seemingly wanted only speed. I was to rush out each Scroll as though running a race, a possibly impossible feat again if not for my [Intermediate Universal Translation]. Whenever I paused or even slowed to consider rune creation or placement, she would smack the table, jolting me once more into decisive action. I felt like I'd been told to sit down and write out an entire short story without stopping; outlining, drafting, and editing were all permissible so long as the work flowed visibly and continuously without disruption.

The result was mortifyingly sloppy work, some of which failed to function entirely and a majority of which couldn't be sold to any reputable merchant. However, since I'd made these garbage Scrolls, I intuitively understood them. My Scroll of Smoke Cloud, for instance, would only send out smoke in a limited amount at a particular angle, but as I could accurately gauge both, it was preferable to no smokescreen at all.

Most importantly, the more Scrolls I churned out, the better my success rate and those successes themselves. After so long spent creating and removing runes with little in the way of observable results, my small stack of newly created Scrolls felt like a treasure hoard. I almost wanted to ask why we hadn't done this sooner... until I realized my earlier repetitive drills on precision were a great help to me now. If I hadn't learned how to remove runes and reinsert them relatively cleanly, my task would be magnitudes more difficult, like writing for publication with absolutely no hesitation or edits at all.

Though working on Scrolls occupied most of my first week, this was by no means all I did. In theory, my next easiest item on my list was learning how to fight for real, which conveniently was best achieved in the same location as improving my physical fitness. Happily, the new Gold-Ranked guard team was friendly and amenable. At one point they came inside to observe me running and shouted out encouragements.

I was rather proud of myself for my progress over these past months. I'd only started exercising in... either late September or early October, I remembered the others celebrating the Autumn Festival... after first encountering Duni in August. In just around three months, I'd gone from running at a walking pace and tiring near instantly to maintaining a solid jogging speed for a whole uninterrupted hour.

That said, I understood I still wasn't at the level of a true Silver-Ranked adventurer. I would be hard-pressed to reach said level in a few more months, let alone one... but the combat-training books had warned me against overtaxing my muscles or otherwise causing self-injury from overzealousness. Thus, I felt perfectly justified continuing to make incremental gains throughout the month, though I tried adding a final sprint at the end of each run. I had to hope it would be enough.

More concerning by far was attempting to experience a 'real' fight. "Crush them. Break some bones. Come on, it's less painful if you get it over with quickly!"

But Bessie's words couldn't break through to me. I'd been handling my Empathy during dungeon runs more or less by suppressing and redirecting it. I could still sense our surroundings, but I'd managed to focus on me and my friends. I had refused to feel affected even surrounded by monsters and their fear, pain, and aggression.

It was different when I was targeting one myself. Somehow the direct interaction made me not only take notice but connect with the other, and before I knew it I'd again flung the minion away instead of pulverizing its ankles or otherwise using [Magic Hand] economically to incapacitate. If I couldn't so much as deal an injury, how would I ever manage combat?

After the first frustrating session, I borrowed Georgina's handcuffs and finally could bring myself to neutralize an attacker. But it didn't feel like a victory over my foes. It felt like I was invading their territory, hiding behind my more powerful friends, and beating Duni's minions until they lay broken, utilizing [Magic Hand] on the first floor and Magic Missile on the second. Then I went to greet Duni as though this was all perfectly normal, which I supposed it was.

At least King Rat could consent to our fights and the attendant risk of injuries. Our early battles devolved into semi-stalemates as I refused to let it close, keeping up [Mana Dome] while it kept dodging my [Magic Hand], and unfortunately, the loser in our battles of attrition was eventually, inevitably me.

After giving my difficulties some thought, I tried a new tactic one night. While casting [Mana Dome], I started chalking a circle within the shielding spell. I couldn't quite squeeze in all six feet required for Tier-2, but Tier-1 was an easy fit. The more basic spells had even more difficulty immobilizing rather than injuring, so I resorted to a Sound Blast to disorient before swooping in with [Magic Hand]... and catching King Rat in one blue, see-through, disembodied hand fair and square.

I'd scored a real victory! The best part was my new strategy's adaptability; I could change up whichever spell I cast while protected under [Mana Dome]. Working with my new staff allowed me to hold the three simultaneous castings easily.

During this time, though it felt like I was simply salving my conscience, I also started taking Nailla's advice... and bringing cheese. We'd been discussing Duni, and I'd mentioned King Rat's continued hostility and my wish to somehow change that. "Easy," Nailla had said. "Why don't you feed him?"

"What? I'm not about to let it eat me!"

She'd looked at me like I was particularly slow and said, "Humans are not the sole food source for anything."

After mulling over her words, I'd brought her a whole fish on my next visit, paying large coppers -- carrying it while running had not been fun, but I'd persevered to the river -- and she'd definitely seemed pleased.

Anyway, I tried offering cheese to King Rat first, and following its usual dramatics -- what even would be the point of poisoning it? -- it'd nibbled then gobbled up the offered wedge. "Do not think my loyalties can be bought so easily!" it squeaked after licking its forepaws, which I took to mean it liked the cheese.

I started similarly tossing bits of cheese to the other minions before leaving. The first time I did this, we returned to discover the first-floor minions swarming again. Apparently they'd overcome their fear of pain in their quest for cheese. They could clearly smell the treats I was carrying. I had quite the successful session with Magic Missile before distributing some of the goods and continuing on to King Rat.

After a week of such productive activity, I reluctantly had to acknowledge I was procrastinating. But I was reminded why when I once more tried studying the Book for [Mind Over Matter]. The exercise was as frustrating as it was exhausting. It felt like untangling a constantly reweaving knot, except this knot was everything around me and also me, myself, or the essence I encapsulated.

Clearly, it was difficult to describe. I used all twenty-four allowable hours wherein I only tangled myself into further knots, shook loose from the Book, and then repeated these steps all over again. This was my fifth turn on my SES, meaning I had three more weeks and five more uses, or in other words, I should devote the entirety of one day out of every four to this headache-inducing task. But in addition, I needed to rest and recover after every use, so it was even more time-consuming than that. And of course using up my SES in no way guaranteed the desired -- the required -- result.

The sense of urgency and pressure hadn't made the experience any easier. It was like trying to undo a physical knot with shaking hands and an ominous countdown. I believed what I needed was to study the Book while feeling perfectly steady in my self... which only made me more anxious and self-conscious.

When I brought this issue to my friends, Bessie said, "Sure you're not looking at this the wrong way? I mean if you treat this test as an embarrassing ordeal to endure, of course you'll tie yourself up in knots over it."

"How else should I see it?"

"As an opportunity. A meaningful challenge with real stakes."

"But I don't want to be an adventurer!"

She didn't blink. "Why not?"

I hesitated. The answer to that question used to be simple: I associated adventuring with risk, power, and violence, three things I wasn't comfortable with. However, I now knew adventurers did far more than that. Just judging from my three quests, adventuring could be about making money, doing good work, or exploring new places and resources, three things I was interested in.

As though she'd read my thoughts, Bessie said, "We can choose our quests and even drop them. I won't say adventuring isn't risky, but we can manage our risks."

"Maybe you can," I said, "But I'm not comfortable with combat. I'm not cool-headed in a crisis like you. I'm afraid of... of burdening and endangering the team."

"Fair," she said. "But what if you were an asset? If you were confident you could hold your own? Even then, would you still not want to be an adventurer?"

I struggled to imagine the scenario she described. But maybe that was my true difficulty. I couldn't except as some wishful fantasy.

"If you could pass the Silver-Ranking test... it would mean you're capable in the field."

I couldn't deny feeling a surge of want, but I shook my head. "I can't possibly change that much. Not in so little time."

"So you might not be ready," Hannah said. "Want to know a little secret? I didn't feel ready when I took the test either."

Tom nodded in agreement. "There's not any one moment where you suddenly become ready. Or maybe there is, but it's more in your head. Like growing up."

"You're ready when you're ready!" Bessie said, clapping her hands. "And somehow I don't think you'll reach that point without a push. But lucky you have us! Just try to go as far as you can in this one month. Maybe you'll surprise yourself."

They hadn't called me out on it, but I was aware I'd dodged their earlier questioning. What if I could be prepared? If I were capable in combat? In that farfetched hypothetical scenario... maybe I wouldn't mind joining my friends more. Adventurers generally made me think of bravery but also stupidity, finally leading to meaningless death. I didn't want that for my friends... but they were adventurers, with or without me. If I could help balance them out with my caution or cowardice, well, I still couldn't see myself as such a reliable person under fire. But if I was, I thought there were worse reasons for becoming an adventurer than to share time and risks with friends.

Naturally, this was when King Rat reminded me never to become complacent. Removing my cuffs, I found the boss excited and determined. However, I was still wholly unprepared to feel its presence dive into the ground as I began chalking my circle. I jerked to my feet, staring at the empty hole where it'd been. It was coming at me, fast! Too fast to be digging a fresh tunnel. Dropping [Mana Dome], I ran back to my friends just in time to see the boss burst out of the ground. After an awkward moment of staring, I tossed it congratulatory cheese.

"What do I even do?" I asked my friends. "I don't have [Mana Sphere]!"

"You know where it's coming out, right?" Blake answered promptly. "Drop a [Fireball] on it."

"What?" I was aghast. "That would--" But I bit back the rest of my protest, knowing Blake would ruthlessly take apart my qualms.

"Your Empathy could be a huge advantage in combat," he said anyway, "Telling you where your opponent is and maybe what they're planning. But instead you're letting it cripple you."

"Could you attack somebody while feeling everything they're feeling?"

"Yes."

Right, wrong person to ask. But Bessie said, "I do think you need experience actually hurting a monster with your Empathy on, Rena. Why don't you ask King Rat?" she added at my obvious reluctance. "Maybe he'll be offended you've been holding back."

As it turned out, the boss was both curious and eager to experience pain. "This unworthy one must learn all things. This one is not afraid of pain or death in service to the Great Creator!"

Which reminded me. "Can you ask your creator for permission? I'll try not to kill you, but just in case."

"This matter is too small for the Great Creator."

"I disagree. I gave it my word I would avoid killing its minions." The boss lashed its tail in agitation, and I realized: "You can't, can you? Your communication is one-way." Remembering when Duni's presence had descended, the disapproval that had blared like a siren, I said, "Or can it even be called communication?"

"The Great Creator makes its will known! If there is any uncertainty, it is this one's inability that is to blame!"

Well, that explained why dungeons communicated through their Avatars and Contractors... and their Cores, though they understandably discouraged approaching the vulnerable last.

I attempted bringing the matter to Duni myself, and when we encountered our usual communication issues, to aid comprehension with a mock spar in its core room. Duni felt interested but also confused. I thought it understood we were play-fighting but not how this applied to it or its minions.

Finally, I resolved to take extra care with King Rat, testing the waters by hurling [Fireball] to its side. Except it promptly leapt into the attack with a total lack of fear or caution.

Unlike Tom, it lacked [Pain Resistance] or any apparent knowledge of pain at all. The boss shrieked, thrashing on the floor with its body partially blackened and smoking.

I froze in shock and horror until Bessie ushered me out. "The dungeon can heal him when we're gone."

She was right, though I still felt like a coward as I fled from its pain. What a disaster. I wasn't sure how I'd ever cast [Fireball] again.

I returned the next night to apologize and check up on the boss, but to my surprise it requested a repeat. "I would learn once more."

I stared. Not just from the words, but... for the first time it wasn't telling its whole truth. Where its emotions had once been pure, the boss now had doubts. Losing to my friends had provoked only naked outrage; experiencing hurt had taken some of its previously unshakable confidence. King Rat was no longer quite so innocent.

I was a little sorry I was the cause or catalyst, even if as a boss this change was likely as inevitable as growing up.

Still, I shook my head. I would not fire upon King Rat while it trembled inside. "No. No more of this. I don't want to hurt you."

"You must!" It gnashed its teeth. "Invader!"

"[Mana Dome]," I cast as it rushed forward, watching it bounce harmlessly off. "[Magic Hand]."

It was too distracted to react in time. As the translucent blue hand grabbed it tight, it felt a flash of relief that transmuted quickly into fury. I started to hurry my friends out, ignoring the sounds of it shrieking insults, and then stopped to leave behind some consolation cheese.

As I maybe avoided the boss by diving back into [Mind Over Matter], it was two nights later I saw King Rat again. It stood calmly and watched us enter its room before speaking. "This one wishes to learn with pain again."

I could sense its renewed resolve. "Why?" I asked and then interrupted its 'Great Creator' mantra. "No, what changed? Aren't you afraid?"

"I am," it said, though it felt overwhelmingly determined. "But more afraid of failing the Great Creator." I waited. There had to be more to it than that. "It was thought this one should learn," it admitted. "Then I knew learning is also what this one wants."

The words were simple, but they impacted me nonetheless. My own resolve wavered as I made excuses, knowing I'd been pressured into the upcoming test. But that was no way to prepare.

Fine, I felt conflicted regarding the Silver Rank and its test, but what did I want? Not to hurt others. I hated having to respect King Rat's wishes, though at least the boss dodged my [Fireball] instead of leaping into the fire this time.

I wanted... to avoid injury or hurt. In other words, I desperately needed [Mind Over Matter], since it was intended to compensate for my lack of [Pain Resistance]. Desperation didn't lend itself to a productive mindset for studying the Book... but hopefully determination would.

My seventh session with [Mind Over Matter], I felt like I was just starting to grasp the strands of the all-permeating knot with some success when my time was called. Those twenty-four hours were contrarily so long they were exhausting and so short I felt like the time had slipped away.

I slept, rehydrated, and refueled -- though I'd also taken short breaks studying the Book, typically replenishing myself while Meditating -- and then, leaving a note at my usual desk for my mentor and friends, went right back in for another consecutive use. This time it didn't take me twelve hours to fumble for the end of the knot and another twelve to just begin unknotting. I submerged myself fully in the zone and came to see the futility of unweaving everything; my very existence created tiny new tangles I could not fully smooth out without erasing myself.

Instead, I began to continually reweave even as I unraveled. My goal was not as I'd first imagined to unknot but merely to grasp the ever-shifting pattern. As some elusive concept seemed to dance just at the far reaches of my perception, my time ended.

I nearly used my SES to hop straight back into the Book again, but on the way out I realized I was wobbling on my feet, lightheaded with sleep deprivation. It almost felt like I was drunk!

Reluctantly, I returned to my room to sleep. On waking I was no longer brimming with energy but instead simmering with anxiety. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep, to forget that stupid test, to lose myself to sleep-deprived or drunken surety. I reasoned I only had two more chances with this SES; I should probably save it for a moment that felt truly right.

On the other hand, my insights into the Skill Book were still relatively fresh... and meanwhile my time was ticking down. Could I be sure I would ever feel prepared? Were my friends right that we made ourselves ready regardless? "Mind over matter," I told myself and trudged back to the library.

I hesitated all the way to turning in my SES, but the moment the slip left my hands, a bolt of adrenaline shot through me. One moment I was tired and shaky, and the next I felt energized, thinking this was it.

Slipping into the Book felt simultaneously familiar and confusing as ever. But I didn't try to understand. Instead I latched onto my confusion and wove more knots into the already tangled skein, then as I felt again that pattern, that sense of comprehensibility, I began both twisting and untwisting, unknotting and reknotting, reestablishing my rhythm.

I didn't check the time or admire the runes or overthink. I truly took in the Book. My weariness was just a state of mind, my reluctance to force through it another, and sometimes change came simply by starting or committing, like twisting a knot further to gain comprehension, willing the world to make a way. For an instant I glimpsed such insight--

I backed out of the Book. I started casting cantrips, watching the way even these harmless spells loosened the subtle rules of reality, tiny threads that could be knotted together further to divert distant actors, or unknotted to relieve physical discomforts. And then I cast again.

[Mind Over Matter].

Rats sailed past me as though sucked around by some invisible force. I sent [Fireball] into the largest group, gritting my teeth against the secondhand pain, while [Mana Shield] and [Mana Barrier] covered me from behind. My [Magic Hand] put a stop to the more cautious approaches.

Working with my staff, I could now hold up to five casts simultaneously. With [Fireball] still on cooldown and [Magic Missile] ready on reserve, I hurriedly continued chalking. I dropped Shield and Barrier before the Skills expired and cast: "[Mana Dome]!"

Only a little longer now. Georgina had outdone herself; without the support of her robes, I'd have drained myself dry of mana long before this point. At last, I repaired the outside runes broken by scrabbling claws and cast: "Entangling Vines!"

The rats cried out in helpless horror as they were engulfed. Wow, with these robes to manage my Empathy, that felt incredibly satisfying.

Once more I wondered if I should've gone all-in training Entangling Vines instead of building up to gain [Magic Missile]. But no, I'd had to be realistic. After spending five days straight studying [Mind Over Matter] and recovering from said study, I'd only had a week left to prepare. That wasn't nearly long enough to gain the Tier-3 [Entangling Vines], especially since -- unlike [Mind Over Matter] -- it would require as much practice and application as Book study. I should count my blessings I'd successfully gained [Magic Missile]; unlike [Fireball] and [Magic Hand], [Magic Missile] shot out multiple projectiles at once, and the impact on the psyche wasn't as devastating as the former... I'd badly needed it to round out my offensive repertoire.

Looking around at the Entangled rats in satisfaction, I opened my satchel and started delivering my cheese. "Well?" I asked.

"I wonder what the cheesemonger thinks you're doing with all that cheese," Bessie said. I leaned on my staff, waiting, and her smile turned serious. "You look like a real combat mage now."

"But am I ready?"

My friends glanced at each other before Tom said, "Only you can answer that."

"Look at you!" Hannah said. "Could you imagine yourself like this four weeks ago?"

Bessie grinned and asked, "So are you ready?"

Fingering my solid oaken staff, I looked down at my beautifully simplistic mage robe -- elegantly dark with fine silver stitching -- and supposed they were right. I had succeeded in checking off every item on my list. I carried the cumulative efforts of months making Scrolls, though nearly all of them came from this month.

Such progress was unimaginable without a looming deadline. As desperation bred innovation, so necessity forced adaptability.

I didn't feel ready. But I remembered Georgina's advice, squared my shoulders, and said anyway, "I am."

After all, time wouldn't wait. The test was tomorrow. I still wasn't ready...

But I was resolved.