Rock’s Standing score is a positive five. Naturally, Rock is a very good girl. Sure, she might have been attacking other players, but she was only doing it to be a good girl! Rock’s supreme goodness is rewarded with a score fitting for a good girl.

“That’s my good girl,” Fenrir praises her before Thelmes leads the group into the next room.

Inside of the room are several odd constructs. There is a punching bag that looks like it is made out of slime, a simple golem made out of rock, and a pair of cuffs on a table that look like they’re supposed to measure somebody’s blood pressure.

“These will measure your average Strength, Health, and Mana. Please step forward in front of the punching bag when you are ready,” Thelmes explains.

Fenrir steps up first. “Alright, now what?” he asks.

“Now, punch it as hard as you can ten times.”

Fenrir follows the cat-goblin’s instructions and begins punching the slimy punching bag. Every single punch has the entirety of his strength poured into it, yet he barely manages to push into the slime with his attack. He doesn’t know if it’s just more resistant than it looks, or if he’s incredibly weak.

After the tenth punch, the goblin places a hand inside of the slime and looks as if he is measuring something. “Hmm. I see. Hmm, hmm… alright, you did an average of seven damage per punch. That puts you at E for Strength, but don’t worry! If you’re a new player then having such a low score is to be expected.”

Fenrir doesn’t have to look at Cassiel to know how she’s looking at him right now. At least Serra is here to pat him on the back in consolation.

Cassiel does the same thing he did.

“Splendid! Thirteen damage per punch will put you at D for Strength.”

Cassiel looks disappointed in herself even though she’s still stronger than Fenrir.

“How can you tell how much damage we did?” Fenrir asks.

“Everybody is always curious about our methods. Without going into too much of the boring details,” Cassiel lets out a sigh of relief, “we have assigned a health pool of five-hundred to this crafted device,” Thelmes says, looking at the punching bag. “We cannot tell exactly how much health it has, of course, but we are able to detect a rough… percentage of its condition. It takes a bit of guesswork and experience, but essentially, it comes down to the fact that you reduced its health by what I am estimating to be fourteen percent. That would put the device at four hundred and thirty health, and with ten punches, that puts your damage at seven on average.”

Serra looks like the only who completely understands what Thelmes is saying. Both Fenrir and Cassiel look lost.

“For your companion, just hold her up and command her to bite it ten times.”

Since Serra is already holding Rock again, she does Fenrir’s job for him and holds Rock up near the bag. Rock doesn’t wait to be commanded and chomps down into the slime. She makes a disgusted face every single time since she keeps getting slime stuck in her mouth. When she’s done, she shakes her head and does her best at spitting out all the slime.

“Splendid! Companions are always such a lovely surprise to measure. She performed an average of twenty-two damage per bite which will put her in the upper half of D for Strength.”

Cassiel and Fenrir both look over at Rock with surprised expressions. “Good girl,” Serra says, giving Rock a few pats on the head.

Fenrir looks at the cards now. There is a spider chart on the right side of the cards with the first stat being labeled “Strength,” and his chart barely shows it reaching toward the stat.

The Health measuring is just as simple but reversed from the first test. Rather than punch something over and over again, they are the ones getting punched. Fortunately, it is just by a weak golem that, according to Thelmes, only does one damage per hit. “I see, I see. Hmm. Splendid! You have roughly one hundred and thirty-seven Health, which is good growth for a new character! Everybody starts off at one-hundred, so to gain thirty-seven more points in a week is great growth! However, I am concerned about the sort of situations you are putting yourself in to gain so much Health so quickly.”

“I get beat up a lot,” Fenrir says as the number “137” appears at the top left of the card underneath his name.

Cassiel only has one-hundred and twenty-nine health. It makes sense when Fenrir remembers what Saya said about getting hit a lot to increase Health. Cassiel is a great fighter and capable of dodging almost all of his attacks, so she’s had fewer chances for her body to grow used to being injured.

As for Rock… Fenrir expected it since Rock is made out of – well, rock, but he didn’t think it would be so high. Rock’s Health is approximately one hundred and eighty-four. “Having an artificial companion made out of such a sturdy material certainly pays off!” Thelmes says.

Finally is the Mana test. Fenrir places his arms in the cuffs which strap him down to the table and drain him of all his innate mana. “Not interested in magic?” Thelmes asks.

“Not really,” Fenrir answers.

A “100” appears next to Fenrir’s Mana on his card. Cassiel gets one hundred and sixty-one, and Rock gets a one hundred just like her owner.

Thelmes leads them into the next room. It may be a room, but it just looks like a long hallway that loops around in a circle.

Do hallways technically count as rooms?

They are indoors and surrounded by walls, a floor, and ceiling. Fenrir doesn’t know if a hallway technically counts as a room, but it meets all the same conditions, so it counts. Wait, not all hallways have roofs. What if it’s an outdoor hallway? Do alleyways count as hallways?

Thelmes takes Fenrir out from his thoughts before he experiences too much existential dread over the classification of rooms and hallways. “Just step up to the line on the right and run until you make it to the line on the left. That’s all.” Thelmes explains. “Whenever you’re ready, please step up to the line and wait until I say to go.”

Fenrir steps up to the line. Thelmes counts down from three, shouts to go, and then Fenrir dashes from the starting position! Thelmes uses a small stopwatch to keep track of the time. It looks steampunk in design with its cogs which draws Serra’s eyes to it.

Steampunk and pirates go hand in hand, so of course she’s going to think it’s an awesome looking watch.

Thelmes stops the watch of stopping as soon as Fenrir completes the circuit by reaching the line to their left. “Splendid! Going by the time of your lap, your average Speed is seventeen.”

“D, right?” Fenrir asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath.

“Correct!”

Cassiel goes next. She only gets a fifteen.

She doesn’t have to look at Fenrir to know how he’s looking at her.

Rock is last.

While Rock may be strong and durable, she is very, very slow. It takes her roughly three times longer than Cassiel to eventually come running over the left line, and she collapses into a panting mess as soon as she does. Serra scoops up Rock and showers her in praise to reward her for trying so hard.

“Ah, well, artificial companions can’t be good at everything. She gets a four in Speed.”

The group is led back to the first room so that they may sit and rest for a break. This also gives Thelmes the opportunity to measure their Intelligence as it’s done the same way that their Standing was measured.

Fenrir gets an eight, Cassiel gets twelve, and Rock gets… two.

While Fenrir is disappointed in his low Intelligence, Rock doesn’t have the slightest care and just continues resting on Serra’s soft thighs.

Fenrir is jealous of Rock. Getting a lap pillow right now would be amazing, especially since she’s wearing thigh highs.

He looks down at Cassiel’s thighs. Too much armor is in the way.

“What do you think you’re looking at?” Cassiel asks, glaring at him.

“Disappointment,” Fenrir answers.

“I think this bastard here needs another Health test, preferably administered involving bullets,” Cassiel tells Thelmes.

“Ah, to be able to tease one another is a great aspect of friendship. Cherish it while it lasts! You never know when your best friend is going to accidentally blow themselves up in a freak accident involving monkeys and pigs,” Thelmes says as a couple of tears run from his eyes.

Seriously, why a pig and a monkey? Why?!

Fenrir gives up.

Whatever the reasoning behind trying to combine a pig and a monkey is, it is something that Fenrir knows he will most likely never learn about.

“Why a monkey and pig?” Serra asks.

Fenrir looks at her with wide eyes. How could she just… go and ask something like that?

“Ah, well, why not?” Thelmes answers her.

Fenrir has a feeling that “why not?” is the reasoning for much of what these scholars do.