“Please, young immortal, I implore you to not be disrespectful in this sacred place,” the divine official pleaded tenderly, as if dealing with a little kid.

“But you just said I needn't be afraid to speak my mind … ?”

“Gah!”

“I can only help you with matters regarding the Immortal Frontier,” Nathaniel forbearingly explained.

“That's literally what it's about …”

“Unbelievable!”

“I may only remain here for a short while, so you should cherish this time if there's anything in this world that troubles you,” the angel warned in a friendly manner.

“Get a clue already!”

“Well … fine. I understand that I received the title of Beast Slayer for single-handedly killing a deadly beast. What does it really mean?”

“Phew!”

“I means you have defied fate and emerged victorious from a deadly challenge.”

“Is it only for full-realism– … I mean, for those immortals, who are fully attuned to this world?”

“Titles are often conferred for achieving success against all odds. One such example is a deadly encounter. And while the immortals who are not yet fully accustomed to this world – merely walking through it in a dream-like state – can begin to reshape their destiny, they won't possess much influence until they fully awaken,” the divine official elaborated.

“Oh, so they would need a bigger challenge to make a mark?”

“Precisely.”

“What about the honors?”

“While titles are bestowed upon you by those who acknowledge your feats, honors are your innate qualities, which manifest in times of need. In other words – while titles are bound to your body, honors are bound to your soul. As such, they are immutable.”

“Wait.” Carl hesitated. “You mean if I permanently lose or discard this body and then gain a different one, while the titles perish, my honors will remain?”

“Logical, isn't it?”

“That's … wow. Okay. But those are only for fully awakened immortals, right?”

Nathaniel flinched.

“That's good to know,” Carl remarked, seeing that.

“Aw, great …”

“My time here is nearing its end. Please, step into the basin and submerge yourself,” the angel requested with a level head.

“So fast? Mhh. Sure.”

Following which, Carl did as instructed, and he was soon embraced by a purifying warmth. This beatific feeling was so calming and relieving, that he could bathe in it for hours on end. Alas, it was evanescent, only lasting about half a minute, which regrettably seemed like mere seconds.

Upon resurfacing, Carl could see that his body and apparel were pristine, and while the gear remained ruined, his injuries were gone.

“How are you?” Nathaniel smiled.

“I could get used to this.”

“This blessing is a one-time opportunity, Heroic Spirit, treasure it.”

“I know, right?” Carl wholly agreed. “A thousand Gold Crowns … you guys are ruthless! No wonder nobody comes here. It's far more efficient to revive in a new, somewhat weaker body and take it easy for a day, even for the elites who have legions supporting them!”

“All the prices are justified, as these miracles are not performed on a whim,” the angel guaranteed.

Carl shook his head dejectedly.

“So that's it? I officially have the honor now?”

“You misunderstand. You had the honor all along. As I already stated – it's your innate quality.”

“Why am I here, then?” Carl racked his brain.

“To receive a Heavenly Favor.” Nathaniel beamed graciously.

“Oh?”

“To aid you on your way, we can grant you a discount on a temple service of your choice.”

Carl raised his brows with interest.

“I don't know, even with a discount, it still is …”

“You ungrateful … !”

“You should know that the prices here adjust for the realm you have attained. Each one is an order of magnitude more expensive to treat,” the angel revealed.

Carl gaped inconsolably.

“You mean … ten times more for the evolved realm?”

Nathaniel nodded.

“And a hundred times more for ascended realm?”

“And a thousand times more for the majestic realm,” the divine official finished.

Carl wanted to laugh, but he felt powerless to utter a single word. Simple blood transfusion cost an equivalent fraction of a Gold Crown, say 20 Silver Sterlings if one lost a fifth of it, about a liter for an average human. That would practically mean hundreds of gold coins per run for a grade 3 body … and thousands for mending broken or misaligned bones … and a million gold for a sacramental bath …

“Beginning with the immortal realm, however, you should learn to fully restore yourself, albeit this will likewise cost you time and resources. I'm sure now you will appreciate this gift.” The angel gave a kind-hearted smirk.

“O–okay. How much discount are we talking about?”

“One realm.”

“90%?!”

Nathaniel nodded once more.

“Holy Smokes! For real? Will this even be fair?” Carl teetered, holding his head.

“Worry not.” The divine official chuckled. “With your disposition, the temple should not lose out on this concession.”

“But … didn't you say that all the prices here are justified?”

“They are.” Nathaniel didn't know where Carl was going with this.

“So … the temple will lose, no?”

“How so? A cheaper service means you'll be likely to use it far more often, doesn't it?” the angel asked in puzzlement.

Carl goggled.

“Just what kind of margins are you running in this place?”

“Ugh. What is wrong with you?!”

“The miracles performed here are paid with the sweat and blood of saints.” The divine official recovered, quite satisfied with his quick wit.

“Sooo … the more I visit, the more undue suffering I will cause?”

“Do you want the discount or not?!”

Carl reeled back.

“Oh great! Just great …”

For a moment, Drew Bailey felt like he reached the end of his line. He tried so hard, for so, so long. This project was his passion, and pretty much everything he had in his life for the past years. Together with his colleagues they created something otherworldly. Something that was supposed to change everything. Instead, what did they get for it? Some people were just impossible. Maybe this particular job wasn't for him?

“Err … my apologies. I shouldn't have … snapped like that.”

“Tough weekend, huh?”

Nathaniel sighed deeply and exhaustedly.

“You have no idea …”

“Okay, just so you know – ludicrously magnificent game.” Carl grinned and gave double thumbs up for encouragement. “Unreal. Incredible effort. Only the announcer … anyway, please don't make it any easier. If anything – the opposite. And ignore all the outrage. After all, were you making Immortal Frontier for these vile people, or for those who are wholeheartedly supporting you?”

“Ekhem. What service would you like to have discounted, Charles Lionheart?” Nathaniel reclaimed his cool all of a sudden.

“This one, obviously.” Carl pointed at the font, causing the divine official to falter.

“You may have misinterpreted my explanation,” the man began, but Carl was quick to interject.

“No-no, I understand it will not be free for the mortal realm, but instead cost ten times less, meaning a hundred gold.”

“Really? I would strongly recommend blood transfusion or bone mending, or even item binding …”

“I don't think so. This should be cheaper in the long run for me.”

The angel looked at the hero tentatively for a good several seconds.

“I'm sure, don't worry.” Carl smiled. He was well aware of how many injuries and scars he was going to stack up in the future. Pile illnesses, curses, and all other debuffs on top of that, and his bill would be just as high. Instead of running to the temple after every hunt, he might as well save time on a full package treatment once in a while, being careful not to lose blood or get in over his head. And if he had any singular debilitating traumas that prevented him from normal functioning, he could always take the regular service.

“Very well. If that is your wish, it shall be so.”

“System prompt: Your Beatific Restoration costs have been reduced by one grade. Current cost: 100 Gold Crowns.”

Carl sighed wistfully. Making money was not going to be so easy after all.

…

Switzerland, International Neuroscientific Research Complex, Cybercore HQ.

“Boss? Do you have a minute?”

“I can't deal with that right now, Bailey.” Ignacio Aguilar, Director General in charge of Immortal Frontier, was swamped with work without end in sight. He was putting out fires during the whole weekend, barely getting a few hours of sleep. At this point, he was utterly spent, barely keeping it together. And Drew knew it. Everyone did.

“I'm aware, boss, I'm sorry, but … I messed up a bit …”

Ignacio, who was sitting behind his desk and multitasking via augmented reality contact lenses, with several calls on hold, sighed weakly and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. The merciless displays, unfortunately, still haunted him.

“What did you do?”

“So … it's like this … a player has attained the Heroic Spirit–”

“What?! Are you pulling my leg?! I have no time for jokes!” Ignacio jumped up angrily, giving Drew a fright.

“No! He has killed–”

“Name!”

“… Charles Lionheart. I've met him for officially bestowing his blessing, and I slipped up …”

Ignacio was rapidly operating his interface. It was as if he didn't hear the second sentence.

Richard Hart, 81.

“Haven't you finished the acting course we've sent you on?”

Drew was startled. This tone … was too sedate.

“Yes, but he tricked me …”

“What do you mean he tricked you?”

“He immediately realized I was a Cybercore official … I have no clue what gave it away …”

“What did you reveal?”

Drew braced himself. The boss was always so insightful, it was a bad idea to hide anything from him – the man was currently focused on what he saw in the AR lenses, but it seemed as if he was watching Drew. Quite … disturbing.

“He asked if the honors are only for full-realism players, and I hesitated for a moment. He knows …”

“Only this? That's nothing, then.” Ignacio dismissed the mistake as trivial, almost absentminded.

“But we weren't supposed to reveal that, right?”

“It's fine if he knows.” Ignacio waved his hand.

“He also mentioned the announcer …”

While Drew was talking, Ignacio's face kept changing ever so slightly. He began frowning solemnly.

“Just what have you been through in your life, old man?”

“What courage! What a mighty roar! What a bold statement!”

“Hmm, the announcer? Let me hear.” Soon, he was scowling fiercely. “I want Vogel and his team here, stat!”

“Err … who exactly?”

“All of them!”

“… Right away. Anyway, he's delighted with the game and even said he'd like it more difficult. He also told us … to ignore all the outrage.”

“Ha! In their face!”

“Boss?” Drew was at a loss. His superior was behaving very strangely. He was probably at his wit's end.

“To hell with them, bunch of snowflakes. They should all grow a pair!” Ignacio grinned widely.

“We've gone to such extreme lengths, Bailey … we've poured our hearts out until they bled … but here comes a man and laughs in our faces?”

The conditions for attaining Heroic Spirit were just absurd. As perks that would persist through account reset, the honors were a whole league above titles, and this one was among the most glorious and most distinguished of them all. It wasn't based on performance alone, but mainly on behavioral patterns.

Titles like Beast Slayer were almost like a lottery. With a billion people playing the game, many were bound to get lucky and complete a challenge of a deadly or impossible standard. Honors, on the other hand, were designed to not allow flukes. They had their counterpart in stigma, which didn't require one to play on any realism at all – but both recognized the individuals for what they were representing while roleplaying.

Heroic Spirit was a legendary honor. Ignacio predicted it might take years before one appears, if ever. And here was a player in the third day of the tutorial achieving it? Ignacio was beside himself with joy, which he relished surreptitiously.

Drew was speechless. Was he so consumed with work, that he forgot why he was doing it all in the first place?

“We're going with our initial plan, Bailey, together with my previously rejected suggestions,” Ignacio declared matter-of-factly.

“Boss … ?!” Drew gaped and goggled. “We can't do that!”

“We can and we will. My word in this department is final.”

“But the board … they won't be happy …”

“The board members were all born with a silver spoon. They're proud of all they accomplished through hard work and sacrifices, but they've never known real adversity. Do you doubt my judgment?”

“I …”

“How many chances do you think we'll get to see meaningful data from players on full realism in the tutorial? We better do it right, so we don't have to change anything after the full service goes live. And I'll handle the board.”

As Drew reluctantly nodded and left the office, he was already preparing himself for what was coming. They were now merely in the eye of the storm, and they were soon going to get battered once again …

“Charles Lionheart, eh? What an apt name.” Ignacio reclined in his smart armchair and felt great relief, as if most of his burdens were just alleviated.

“Show me how you like them apples, Charlie boy!”