"Excuse me." My examiner all but fled the room.

Relief washed away most of my panic. Apparently [Mental Resistance] wasn't enough to help me hold my tongue, but if I could study my mental influencers... oh! Suppressing my Empathy, I similarly stifled a groan. I had to stop cutting myself on my own double-edged Skill. I also entered Meditation, circling my mana.

I was just returning my attention to the room's runes when an unfamiliar man entered. Unlike the previous charmer, this interviewer exuded danger and displeasure, the latter assumed from his deep-set scowl. He immediately questioned if I could read him; I confirmed I could not.

More importantly, I refrained from clarifying I referred only to my Empathy, which I hardly needed when he so openly displayed his emotions on his face. Yes, progress!

My new interviewer looked hilariously out of place, like he'd just come in from a pitched battle and barely cleaned off the bloodstains. He seemed to realize it too, delicately folding himself into the recently vacated chair and sliding a half-filled notepad and pencil out of a folder, all of which looked child-sized compared to him. Glowering at me under thick black brows, he said, "I will ask you a series of questions now." His voice even sounded deep and gruff. "These might be uncomfortable and intrusive. Answer anyway."

Well, that was different from his predecessor's disarming approach.

"Feel free to walk out," he continued as though daring me. "It'll just count as a permanent mark against you. You'll probably stay Bronze-Ranked the rest of your days. Understand?"

I stared into his serious expression. My mind was whirling, but I said only, "Yes?" This truth crystal was clearly of a higher quality, displaying a bright affirmative white despite my hesitation.

He resumed inspecting his notepad. I suddenly had the feeling he wasn't typically an interviewer when he lifted his gaze only to growl menacingly, "What is your name?"

We bizarrely first covered my identity and intentions. Yes, I took the test under my own name... yes, Rowena Loress was my name since birth... no, I did not harbor any ill intentions towards the guild or its members... no, I was not an agent seeking to infiltrate the guild... no, I'd never been convicted of any crimes... no, I did not have any significant interactions or connections with Mercenaries.

These were seriously standard questions? However, my baffled amusement vanished when the subject shifted onto my background. For a brief instant, I actually considered leaving the Adventurer's Guild and not looking back. But thinking of explaining this to my friends made me admit I was overreacting. Hadn't I decided to face my past for my future? This was uncomfortable and intrusive, but I told myself I had nothing to hide.

The key points of my life were quickly summarized, starting from my grandmother and ending with Wilton. When I glanced over, the gigantic man was frowning mightily. "The guild won't shelter a runaway slave."

"I'm not!" I said. "I was freed for services rendered."

My deliberately vague answer failed to satisfy. After several reassurances on his part under the truth crystal's steady glow, I reluctantly gave enough details to satisfy a background check. He fell silent, except for the scritch-scratch of his pencil, before asking, "Could you work civilly with him?"

"Who?" Then I straightened, realizing. "He's here?"

My voice rose in alarm. It couldn't be. I would have known! Sure, I'd suspected when adventuring became the newest noble fad, but... well, I had avoided such thoughts. "Shouldn't you be asking him that?"

"He's Silver already." My examiner's eyes were watchful.

When... How... I shook my head and answered truthfully, "I have no intention of bothering him. In fact, I plan to stay far, far away."

"That might be difficult when you share a Guildhall."

"Same problem whether I'm Bronze or Silver," I pointed out. "We've managed so far. Besides... I have a talent for avoidance."

"And if you do cross paths?"

"I will be polite... reasonable..." The truth stone wasn't buying it. Sighing, I said, "I'll probably duck and run." Which was perfectly reasonable behavior... wasn't it?

The pencil noted down my every fault, or so it felt. But to my relief, my interviewer transitioned to questioning when and why I'd considered becoming an adventurer. "And this test? What did you know of it beforehand?"

I frowned at his failed attempt at casualness. "Not much, why?"

"Facing the unknown is part of the test." He finished whatever he was writing. "If you'd known too much, you'd have a harder time passing."

"But that's unfair!" So that was why my friends hadn't warned me of this interview?

He seemed dismissive. "There's a secrecy spell."

"There is?" I thought about this for a moment. "The waivers we signed." I was embarrassed I hadn't noticed. But then I'd been distracted at the time and assumed any mana just came from the magical paper itself. Also: "That spell must be weak, more psychologically than magically enforced..." I trailed off when he looked up, his expression hard. "But of course I'll preserve exam secrecy."

Uh oh, he was writing something again. Personally, I didn't understand why the guild would bother keeping Silver candidates in the dark. I supposed 'better to be paranoid and prepared than a sorry sucker,' as my former master would say; maybe they were fishing for secret Mercenaries?

Next, we discussed my intended team and the test itself. Unfortunately, my attempts at vagueness once more fell flat, and he soon dragged out more of the story, making me repeatedly wince when it sounded less than flattering under scrutiny. The feeling I was under interrogation increased sharply; I felt like I was constantly on the defensive, trying to justify myself. Why I took the test? "Yes, I made my resolve for my friends, but I was also curious and could sense they meant well." Saved from a troll? "I might have managed, and anyway I made it past on my own the second time." My many items? "I Scribed my Scrolls myself! And I worked hard to gain all of what I have. At least I didn't bring an airboat."

He looked up. "That airboat could easily be replaced by its owner. Can you say the same? Retry the test tomorrow after losing your mage robe and staff?"

After a moment, I realized that wasn't a rhetorical question. "No."

He made some infernal note. "What happened next?"

I proudly recounted gaining [Running], but all too soon we reached the rusalka. "I previously met another water spirit," I said, "And thanks to [Intermediate Universal Translation] spoke to her underwater..."

Thankfully, he for once didn't demand more details, uninterested in Nailla except as she influenced my exam. "Could you have broken free of enthrallment on your own?"

"Not unless I'd already suppressed my Empathy," I admitted.

He made another note. I knew that was probably a bad sign, but I was too relieved when we moved on to the next encounter. After I described my escape, he questioned, "Why did you run from ribolers?"

"Because I could? I didn't want to fight if I didn't have to."

He frowned. "You know that pests should be destroyed on sight?"

"Yes... but..." I hesitated. This seemed like a monumentally bad time to mention I'd never so much as killed anything before today's test, or that I'd considered clearing pests to be the problem of other people, namely, adventurers. Instead I said, "I couldn't be sure of winning against their greater numbers. It seemed more prudent to seek out the exit."

"Even in a test for combat?"

"'Survival is the first priority of combat,' I should think." I quoted Cheating in Combat.

That accursed pencil made another doubtlessly uncomplimentary note. "You don't think you could survive combat against pests?"

"I think I would be taking an unnecessary risk against ribolers... except for the proctor," I hurriedly added, restoring the truth stone's whiteness. "Were my encounters usual? I can't imagine the average Silver-Ranker solo-killing a thunderbird or cyclops."

His thick brows lifted, and he consulted his notes. "But not the shadowcats?"

We hadn't spoken of those yet. I eyed his notes with renewed interest and trepidation. "Um. They're ambush predators," I said, "And pack-oriented. So if... well, if the prepared adventurer could significantly threaten even one..."

"You'd suggest using their cowardice?"

"Their intelligence," I countered.

Scritch-scratch went the pencil. "Then why didn't you?" I tried to make excuses, but he cut through them: "Do you only kill mindless monsters?"

"What's wrong with that?" I demanded. "Is that why you pitted me against the thunderbird and cyclops?"

"Not me," he said, "But your challenges do reflect your performance. Typically, we can evaluate or eliminate you within two rooms. But you avoided standing your ground and fighting."

Two? So if I'd managed to clear the ribolers or killed a single shadowcat...

We walked through the rest of my trials. He took more notes, asking how I'd felt and what I'd thought. I admitted while the earlier running had seemed to drag out, the later combat all happened so fast; I'd continually felt like I had no chance to process each encounter before I was thrown headlong into another.

"Yet you identified and knew how to handle your monsters," he said. "Do you feel lucky there?"

"No? I should know most every monster."

He scoffed. "There are thousands, easy. What, you claim knowledge on all of them?"

"Yes." He frowned at the solidly white truth stone. I clarified, "I memorize everything I read, and I've especially read many bestiaries."

"Hmm." He quizzed me a little on various unrelated monsters; I was happy to answer and wished the whole interview were like this. Alas, after scribbling some more notes -- which gave me hope he didn't only write terrible criticism -- he very obviously read aloud, "Any known or suspected affinities?"

"Empathy and Appraisal." I wondered if the question was strictly for pragmatic purposes or if the guild, like so many superstitious others, believed affinities somehow determined personalities or even destinies. He simply jotted more notes and asked, "What is your complete Skill Set?"

I couldn't help feeling slightly appalled. "You ask everyone that?"

"Yes. Standard procedure."

"Even the nobles?"

"Of course. We don't give out your personal information or even write down your specific Skills."

We both watched the truth stone glow steadily white. Reluctantly, I started listing them all out: "[Mana Shield], [Mana Barrier], [Mana Dome]. [Fireball], [Magic Hand], [Magic Missile]. [Mind Over Matter]. [Mental Resistance], [Intermediate Meditation]. [Intermediate Universal Translation], [Advanced Appraisal], [Advanced Empathy]. [Enhanced Scribe]..." I couldn't help savoring those two words. "That and [Running] I gained during this test."

I fell silent. When he said nothing, I added, "Ah, that's all?"

I had to marvel at my recent progress. In less than half a year I'd more than doubled my total number of Skills. My interviewer looked up from hopefully not copying down my complete Skill Set to stare at me strangely. I ventured, "I suppose mine's probably unusual?"

He gave a bark of laughter and to my surprise actually answered. "Most who take this test have over a dozen combat Skills, easy. But they'll be lucky to have one Intermediate. You, on the other hand, have a truly impressive Skill Set even before considering your age... but you're clearly not meant as an adventurer."

This was perhaps the most impassioned I'd heard him yet, and somehow I wasn't surprised it was due to my Skills. Most people seemed absurdly fixated on them and especially their upgrades, as though we were still worshipping the system.

But he'd finally, maybe inadvertently shown his hand. I didn't need working Empathy to sense, like his predecessor, he was inclined to fail me. And here was why: he didn't see me as an adventurer.

Honestly, I agreed with him. But still: "I know adventurers nowadays are nearly synonymous with monster slayers," I said, "In part because of the increasing number and importance of dungeons. But historically the Adventurer's Guild was founded by explorers. The most important qualification was and should still be the spirit of adventure. My Skills and abilities might not be the usual, but they and my desire to conduct field research are in keeping with the guild's original goals."

I thought this was a pretty and truthful speech, but I could tell I'd failed to convince him. He looked pitying, if anything, but at least he bent his pencil to taking notes.

The next questions were more open-ended but no less personal. I sometimes wouldn't have known my own answers without the truth compulsions helping bare them. Did I know any reasons I should fail? Yes... I didn't consider myself a combatant. Or crazy. Any crippling fears? "I'm afraid of lots? But nothing, um, 'crippling'... I think?" My single greatest strength and weakness? "I don't know," I said after sitting, stumped, for a long while. "Maybe my Empathy for both." What I wanted most in the world?

I opened my mouth to speak the Scholars' motto of discovery and knowledge, or perhaps to wish for the happiness and safety of me and mine. But what I said was:

"Hellsfell's destruction."

The two words dropped like stones into my stomach. Flushing, I looked down, feeling conflicted and almost ashamed to expose the secret wish of my heart.

After a short silence in which I stared at my hands, blinking rapidly, he asked his next question... which was a whopper. "Keeping in mind unauthorized consumption of a Dungeon Core will lead to expulsion from the guild and possible conscription, prosecution, or other retaliation, would you choose to consume a Core anyway given the chance?"

"No," I answered easily.

"What if you believed you wouldn't be caught?"

My brows furrowed. I pondered and said, "Still no, unless it was an unintelligent Developing Core and I found its controlling nation or organization morally repugnant."

He was actually suspicious at my thought-out answer! I denied considering the issue previously and added, "No matter what most people say, I don't think they'd be able to resist power served up on a silver platter. I at least believe, after due consideration, I actually wouldn't do so... except in a highly specific set of circumstances."

His pencil scribbled furiously. I sighed.

Under the constant stream of questioning I'd nearly forgotten about Duni, but then he asked: "Is there anything else we should know when considering your application?"

I shifted uncomfortably, trying not to think at all. "No?"

We both looked at the truth stone, which had gone ominously dark. Curse my overactive imagination. Thinking rapidly, I said, "I've worked for the guild? I was a special guest instructor."

He nodded, unsurprised. "Anything else?"

"No," I tried again and suppressed a groan at the evident lie. Well, we could be here all day with random assorted facts, buying me time to think. "I was also a Path Advisor. I have the details of 28,549 Skills memorized."

The pencil stopped scratching. "What?"

"I advised my friends-- team on their Paths."

I expected him to resume his previous line of questioning, but for some reason he scooped up my spilled bait. Yes, I had guided Team Multi-Movers, though I couldn't give any specific details without their permission... and this was before Team Multi-Movers.

Privately, I blamed my current predicament on them. They'd known I would be put to the truth test! Wait. Hadn't Bessie said... during the Artisans' party, what I'd taken for drunkenness...

My interviewer looked back up from his furious note-taking. "Anything else?"

"Yes, but it's restricted information!" I swore I wasn't usually this slow; it was hard to think fast when put on the spot. "I signed a confidentiality contract last month with the Scholar's Guild!"

He frowned as the truth stone confirmed my words. "I thought you're a Junior Scholar." Suddenly, his face darkened. "Who's your mentor?"

"Senior Andy Rubrik." I observed him curiously. "You know him?"

He was glaring at me, which made no sense, but then he said: "So you're the reason he's under disciplinary review?"

At first I thought I must have misheard him. "Disciplinary... review...?" I repeated. His face didn't change. "But... but why?" In a test full of revelatory surprises, this one felt the most shocking of all, coming out of nowhere.

"You didn't know?" He shook his head, his lip curled. "Ask him yourself. Not like he can trick your Empathy."

If my examiner wanted me off-balance, he'd succeeded. But when questioned if there was anything else not covered by magical contract, I informed him I wasn't sure and couldn't be too careful; did he want to know anything in particular?

So ended the threat from those open-ended questions, and shortly after, our interview.

Next was the team test. I wasn't sure whether to feel more gratified or indignant at my friends' astonishment. Hannah at least made an effort not to look it, whereas Blake came right out with: "You haven't failed yet? I thought the testers can't be bribed."

"I didn't bribe anyone!"

"What did you do?" Bessie said. "Are you super secretly a super battle-mage?"

"No wonder," Tom said.

"You avoid fights to hide your awesome powers!"

I sighed. "We're almost out of time. I just want to know... wasn't this what you wanted? For me to reach the truth test?"

"Oh, you figured it out?" She beamed. "Way we saw it, you have a closing window of opportunity. Just after signing that contract's your best and maybe only bet. Who knows how many more crazy things you'll get up to?"

Not that long ago, I would've laughed at such a notion. But now... well, I had to admit she had a right to be worried. I glanced down at my watch, which still only allowed the one minute.

"Everybody ready?" Bessie said.

"Should I go in first?" I said. They stared at me, and I flushed. "Um, never mind."

I didn't know what I was thinking... but apparently Bessie did, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "This is your test, but we're here now. The individual makes or breaks the team, but same's true the other way too... Rena?"

With the door open, I thought I knew what we were facing. That massive aura... "Cyclops," I said, just before we heard a crash.

Racing inside, we found the cyclops raising its foot, which it brought down in another thunderous explosion of noise. It noticed us, specifically me, and its one eye lit up. "SHEEP?"

Noticing the askance looks, I said, "Oh, um, I told it I was bringing sheep."

I felt absurdly guilty for deceiving an innocent... then again, it was only innocent in the sense it was gullible. But apparently I'd misunderstood my friends' surprise, as Hannah said, "You faced a cyclops? By yourself?"

"I didn't fight it."

"Still, that's... wow, I'm impressed, Rena."

"SHEEP! LIE!"

The cyclops seemed ready to take its pounds of flesh... but thankfully Blake did something to distract it. We rushed to hide in a copse of trees.

"Right, well, any ideas?" Bessie said. "Otherwise I think we have to fight it now."

I stared at her in shock and disbelief. Fight that? Then again, a single cyclops was assessed as a Silver-Ranked threat... but how?

My eyes darted to Blake, busy dodging the cyclops' repeated stomps, as Bessie said, "Go. I'll stay with Rena."

I thought most people, when confronted with a gigantic raging monster, would sensibly attempt to keep their distance. Hannah and Tom did the opposite, charging forward. I gasped. "But... but they're not as fast as Blake...!"

Bessie shrugged, unconcerned. "Normal tactics with big dumb monsters."

Despite Blake's efforts, the cyclops spotted their approach and kicked outwards. "[Stalwart Shield]!" That was Tom's voice. I remembered to breathe when they emerged unharmed, continuing to the cyclops' grounded foot. When it lifted, they shifted to the other.

"Let me guess, you're impressed?" Bessie said.

"Yes? But also horrified." I swallowed, listening to the cyclops' enraged bellows. "Can... can we not kill it? Please?"

"Capturing is a lot harder."

"But more impressive, right?"

"Sure," she said, "But we don't have anything that can hold a cyclops. Do you?"

I considered this seriously before shaking my head. "Um... I can't think of anything, but..."

"Rena." Bessie grabbed me by the shoulders, looking at me seriously. "What do you sense from it?"

"Anger... and hunger."

"Imagine we found it outside. What do you think we should do?"

I stared at her. "If it isn't near any humans..." My voice was weak. I wanted to suggest avoiding it, but I knew I was also trying to avoid the question. I didn't want to feel responsible for death. Yes, I understood a spared monster could live to terrorize and kill others... but in a world dominated by humans, did it really have better options?

Anyway, what made Nailla different? Because she'd let me go with no expectation of personal gain, whereas I couldn't conceive of this monster choosing the same? But maybe that was a product of its biology or upbringing. Or its circumstances: it could just be really hungry! The books were unfavorable toward cyclopes, but that was true for undines as well.

Meanwhile, it was still trying its hardest to kill my friends. I didn't have the time and distance to rationally determine my future action. Once again I felt rushed... except I wasn't alone. "I would try talking to it," I said, knowing I sounded foolish and idealistic.

"It's a monster, Rena. But if that's what you want to do, then go on."

This surprised me, but Bessie was dead serious. Swallowing, I emerged out of hiding, cupped my hands, and shouted, trying to gain the cyclops' attention. "Hello! Can we talk?"

For such a large form, it had acute senses, zeroing in on me instantly. In two strides that left bloodied footprints it disengaged from its opponents -- if it were smarter it would've tried that sooner -- and loomed over me, demanding, "SHEEP!"

It was much too close. I barely kept my voice from shaking as I asked, "When did you last eat?"

It stared at me, confused. Then its enormous face broke into a horrible leer. "Eat! Now!" And it reached for me.

"[Mana Dome]!" Bessie and I cast at the same time, which unfortunately offered as much advantage as two glasses swiped off a table instead of one. Our Domes shattered just the same.

"We need to work on our teamwork, huh?" How was she still so casual? She wasn't faking it either; if anything, she felt excited, anticipatory.

I was the opposite. "I-it... Bessie..."

As it simply grabbed for us again, she leapt up. Her sword flashed. "[Leaping Cat Strike]!"

For an instant, I thought it had her. But then she slipped nimbly between its fingers while blood sprayed. The cyclops howled, making me flinch and clap my hands over my ears; more importantly, it drew back.

Bessie landed, rolled to her feet, and sprinted to tug me back into the trees. I almost protested it was useless, but then I saw our friends had caught up and were harassing it from below again.

"Tell me cyclops have some fatal weakness?" Bessie was only breathing a little hard. "Fire or something?"

"First, the plural is cyclopes, and second, sort of?" I felt no guilt or conflict in sharing knowledge, and yes, this was perhaps irrational. "That one big eye?"

"Hannah!" Bessie pointed to her forehead, and the archer nodded, pointing nearly directly upwards while Tom guarded her. "[Perfect Aim]!"

She loosed. Proving it wasn't brainless, the cyclops closed its eye, causing the arrow to bounce off its eyelid.

Bessie turned to me with raised brows, and I shook my head. "That and gullibility are its only known weaknesses. Um, when its eye's closed it'll have trouble locating us?"

She nodded in thought. "Any ideas?"

I winced, watching as my friends fought for their lives. "Don't you?"

"Sure. Run up its arm, its body, its head and then stab it through the eye into the brain." I stared at her. "But it's your test. Can you think of some big flashy spell to impress the judges?"

"Ah... no. I can't think of anything."

"Really? Are you trying?"

I bit my lip and had to admit I wasn't. Without my friends here, I'd probably be plotting furiously and desperately for any way to escape, but Bessie's presence in particular was so reassuring I unfairly, inadvisably just wanted to leave defeating the cyclops to her.

Sighing, I made myself brainstorm. I could use my Scroll of Entangling Vines, try tripping it up... no, too complicated to pull off. Same for confusing it, paralyzing it, sending it to sleep; any 'big flashy spell' was likelier to injure, anger, and annoy rather than neutralize. Actually, I couldn't think of anything better than Bessie's frankly terrible idea requiring someone to scale the cyclops without getting shaken off and falling to their death.

I paused, considering. Maybe I could help with that?

Bessie was delighted by my suggestion, instantly volunteering to play the critical role. (Such a reasonable reaction to performing death-defying stunts. Honestly, adventurers.) Not that she wasn't without reservations: "Tier-3? Won't that take forever?"

"Before today, at least forty minutes. Hold on." I thought for a long moment, running the calculations, before Scribing a sample. Based on the drawing, I made some adjustments and cast again. Good enough.

Now for the moment of truth: "[Scribe]."

The verbalization remained the same, as with any casting, but my recent upgrade allowed me to not only repair runes but create them... including a whole circle all at once, so long as I could hold it in its entirety in my mind. This was by no means a normal application of the Skill, like reproducing a memorized book, but even more mana inefficient and costly.

I'd underestimated that cost and swayed, grateful when Bessie automatically supported me. "Whoa," she said. "You couldn't do that before. Could you?"

"No," I agreed and might've said more, but instead I straightened and started to cast. This still took a ghastly long time, many minutes, or they felt long with my low mana dipping ever lower. I couldn't do this twice in succession without a Meditation break. But finally, I was ready.

"Imbue Trait: Climbing Ant!"

The light from the circle spiraled around and settled into Bessie, who briefly glowed. She wasted no time, grinning, to rush headlong into battle. "Thanks!"

Supporting myself against a trunk, I watched anxiously as she defended against a vicious cyclopean kick, continued into its shadow, and then started climbing its foot. The monster didn't even notice. Cleverly, she'd chosen to scale its back, putting her out of my sight but not sense.

Higher and higher she went, and all the while it continued to rage against the three on the ground, stomping about like a child throwing a tantrum. I held my breath as its legs were flung wildly, but Bessie clung on and continued ascending without apparent difficulty. She was as the ant that could climb vertical walls or upside down on ceilings. I'd warned her she would only have ten minutes, maybe a little longer... but those minutes seemed to stretch on and on.

I was tempted to sit and rest while waiting for something to happen. But that couldn't be right? Not during a dangerous battle. Still, what could I do?

I ended up alternately staring at my watch, counting time.

Finally, she reached its head. Even then the cyclops didn't notice her at first. When it raised its hand, the motion had all the urgency of slapping a fly. But then it bellowed, looking back at its bleeding feet. As Bessie's emotions peaked in triumph, I took the opportunity to suppress my Empathy.

Almost simultaneously, the cyclops fell silent. I started to look away and stopped short. My heart jolted in horrified realization as it swayed, began to tip over... thankfully not in my direction.

Bessie! But there was absolutely nothing I could do, like watching a slow-motion crash. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears before impact, which was... The whole ground shook for a moment. Then stillness.

As I rushed out toward the crumpled behemoth, I wondered if I'd ever become inured to the awfulness of violence. I didn't think I wanted to, but maybe it was inevitable?

Wait. My steps stuttered and slowed. I felt like I'd lost something as I stared at the first uncontested sapient I'd helped kill. More than one thing, actually, but this test's very welcome gains had helped me downplay the losses. I... just needed some time to think. Now wasn't the time or place, but later... For a moment, I thought of the Meditation Maze, of filling my pockets with stones.

Then Bessie burst from the cyclops' skull. She looked mad, grinning and soaked in gore. I'd probably have screamed like Hannah and Tom -- first in shock, then relief -- if I hadn't sensed her since I suddenly remembered I could.

Whooping, she hopped down, her arms over her head like she'd just experienced the most exciting joyride. Staring at the cyclops slayer, I thought I would never understand adventurers... but I was really glad they were on my side.

Ten minutes later, Bessie was still cleaning up when I was called in for my final verdict. (To my surprise and relief, we'd only had the one test, even if it had been a big one.) Back in the warded room, my previous interviewer was accompanied by a woman I thought I recognized as a receptionist.

Following some pleasantries, my interviewer said bluntly: "In my judgment you've demonstrated solid abilities, particularly for escape, but you lack the mindset of an adventurer."

My stomach sank. (At least it wasn't my heart.) "However," the maybe-receptionist said, "We've agreed you might qualify for Silver under a team support role... if you agree to our conditions. We want you to serve as a Skill Advisor."

I blinked. "Like a Path Advisor?"

"Yes, but specifically for adventurers looking to refine their Paths. Same as your team."

"You're... requiring me to take a job?" So it was bribery after all. "Are you paying?"

"Of course. In coins and credits. You know Silver-Rankers are required to meet a quota? Our lawyers can discuss the specifics in greater detail." No doubt they would. "If you're amenable?"

I managed to say through a dry throat, "I am."

"Wonderful." She excused herself, leaving me with my former interviewer.

I waited, eyeing him and his disapproving scowl nervously... but what he said was, "I want you to consider seeing a Mind Healer."

I gaped. "You think I need counseling?"

"Maybe not right now." He folded his arms across his broad chest and stared me down. "But our test isn't just if you're capable, but also if you'll take well to the lifestyle. I don't believe you are ready, though I hope you prove me wrong."

Wow... I realized I'd completely misjudged him. "Thank you for your advice."

He flicked his fingers dismissively. "Try talking to your friends. Trust and communication are vital to all great teams. It's too early to tell for certain, but yours has potential. And finally..." He pointed a finger at me. "Keep working on your Path. I've met ten-year-olds with more combat Skills."

I nodded. He didn't seem done. But his last words were:

"Welcome to Silver."