“Lord Beast Slayer, how may I help you,” Anselm greeted friendly.

“Chief Deputy, before I depart, are you familiar with the Chief Expedition Coordinator?”

“Naturally, Chief Ironhide maintains official channels with us.”

“Hmm …” Carl pondered.

“May I know what this is about?” the official inquired.

“Well, Max shared some of his grievances with me, and I was thinking of how to address them.”

“Oh?” Anselm raised his brows. “And whom does he have a grievance with?”

“This generation.” Carl smiled wistfully. Satisfied with the bewildered reaction he provoked, he continued. “In my eyes, it's not at all void of merit, so don't discredit it just yet.”

“Tell me, then.” The refined man reclined in his chair and was now all ears.

“Max cares deeply about his people. He sees young mortals increasingly turn to misdemeanor, bury their passion and waste their potential. It worries him, that the arrival of my kin will expedite the process, and make your whole society dependent on us to tackle all the lethal challenges, as you simply cannot compete with us when such risks are involved.”

“And how could we amend that?” Anselm questioned, amused.

“He asked me, indirectly of course, if I could lead some of your promising adventurers into battle and help spark inspiration among others. Now, I am no leader of men, nor am I very experienced. But should they possess a spirit that is to my liking, I will have no qualms putting my expendable life on the line so that they could return home with theirs.”

The deputy said nothing. He was visibly taken aback.

“How do I fit into this picture, though?” he eventually asked. “You have a glorious title now, shouldn't you make an announcement through the Expedition Association or on a local forum?”

“Well, I knew that was a long shot.”

Carl looked on solemnly.

“I may try in the end. But how does that compare to your reach?”

“Hmm …” It was Anselm's turn to reflect, which he did by folding his palms into a triangle and supporting his chin with the thumbs. It took him a good while. “Why not? I don't see any harm in pinning your proclamation on the public message board.”

Carl smiled, holding back his joy.

“Should I write it now?”

“No need, we'll make an official draft for you. Free of charge, since you're being so gracious, Lord Beast Slayer,” Anselm generously declared. “You may then request changes to it, or leave it be if it's acceptable. You will find it later today on the ground floor in the main hall. Just tell me what exactly are you looking for?”

“Hmm? The AI doesn't want me to mess things up with my own writing? Intriguing mechanic …”

Carl wasn't merely seeking exceptional healers to supplement his style. He was more interested in finding hidden potential, and – incidentally – he knew exactly where that potential was hidden.

Virtue!

…

Done with all the formalities, it was time for Carl to go to sleep.

However, he was yet to buy a decent armor, and he couldn't stop himself from admiring the wares on his way back. He still had the 7 gold and 59 silver he got from his first run, so he was keen to invest it properly. He first picked up an adequate sheath for his Black Fang, then scoured the main marketplace for reinforced leathers of good quality, as this was the best he could get with his purse.

Large items had price tags that reflected the material and labor costs, and whole armors typically consisted of 9 distinct parts – boots, shin guards, thigh guards, chest piece, shoulder guards, arm guards, bracers, gloves, and helmet. Some would have less, some more, but generally armor sets cost an order of magnitude more than a weapon of similar caliber. Even a common quality set of light armor was bound to go for at least a couple Gold Crowns if it was made of durable materials.

Not willing to waste too much time, Carl bought the first leather armor that both suited him and caught his fancy. And since it cost only 5 gold, he also bought a few inferior potions. Now that he was ready, he strolled along the last few stalls, aiming for the temple to finally log off.

“Hmm? Is that … ?! Oh boy … why didn't I think of that?”

Carl grinned, unable to curb his enthusiasm.

…

Monday morning, Bellator Labs. A new week had begun.

Jin practiced his speech over and over on his way to work. He was never good with these things, and this one was of a big caliber to boot. He dragged his feet as much as he could, but it wasn't helping. Eventually, he overcame his angst and went for the office of his thesis advisor and direct superior.

“Let's just get this over with!”

He knocked on the door with a trembling heart, then went in after hearing the invitation.

“Good morning, Professor Caspari.”

“Good morning, Jin.” The woman scrutinized him intently, and Jin began sweating. He knew his face was betraying him every time he messed up. And the scholarly woman, who specialized in studying perception, was also excellent at reading body language. “Do you have something to tell me?” she asked casually. But Jin knew this was a demand.

“Yeah …”

He walked in, closing the door. He then sheepishly put down a little data storage on her desk.

“You should look at this, professor …”

And there it was. His entire speech down the drain.

Laura Caspari glanced at the tiny device, then scanned Jin again. He could tell she wasn't in a good mood. But it was too late to retreat now.

She connected the data bank and opened the contents on her AR glasses. Immediately, she scowled.

But she didn't turn to Jin once, she just put on her earphones and kept watching with a permanent frown. He could see her fast forwarding occasionally, but more often rewinding, her focus absolute. Jin stood there for good ten minutes, sweltering.

“Is that all of them?”

“N-no … it's just the first few …”

“How many was there?”

“…”

“Jin?” she pressed.

“Over a thousand …”

Laura faltered.

“All of them in one go?”

“Yes. All the way until I closed the lab …”

The professor stared at Jin oddly, and he didn't know what it meant.

“But I didn't let him go in with pain realism again. I locked the sliders after his first run,” he prudently added.

She kept staring.

Jin produced another data storage.

“That's all of them. You can see for yourself.”

And so the woman did, which took quite a while. Once again, she completely ignored Jin, as if he wasn't even there, fully consumed with her analysis.

“Last run says 7:55,” she finally spoke up. “You closed the lab at 8 sharp I see.”

“Yes … I–“

“You wiped the servers,” She said for him, noticing his hesitation.

“Yeah …” He confessed. That was a big no-no, with very harsh disciplinary action.

“Did you do a good job?” she fired, dumbfounding Jin.

“Thorough, professor. The main server and both backups. I've previously prepared a script for it at home.”

“Not a word of it to anyone, then. Understood?”

“Y-yes, absolutely,” Jin breathed out with sheer relief.

“Who is he?”

“Huh? Did you not recognize him? Or do you mean–”

“Wait,” she stumbled. “Is that the boy from two weeks ago? Open doors?”

“That's him.”

“He looked different in person …”

“Yes … his avatar doesn't show his condition as much …” Jin admitted.

“What condition?”

Jin sighed, then deflated. He produced a third data storage.

“Those are his medical files …”

Laura grabbed the flash drive impatiently and was soon rummaging through the confidential information. Her demeanor took an abrupt turn.

“You brought a terminally ill 17 year old to our lab to experiment on? And with full realism right away?”

Jin's choked and went red. He could feel the heat in his face.

“You don't know that …”

“Jin, I'm a neuro researcher, and this is a neurological disorder, I know what it looks like!”

“It was … his wish …”

Jin wanted to explain the whole process he had Carl go through, the initial bar he had set for the boy and all the preliminary tests he had him take – but he failed miserably to mention any of it.

His superior kept staring him down mercilessly.

“I mean … he was so happy, didn't you see?” he rationalized. “It was only a game to him!”

“Not in the first run,” the woman rebuked.

“Yes, but … look how his attitude changed midway. He conquered his fears, and the only thing he was afraid of was the pain anyway. Dying didn't scare him at all! And you didn't hear what he was telling me after–“

“Oh I heard. Something about his invalid will, about you risking your NDA, exposing our secrets, and making unsubstantiated promises. What did I miss?” the professor interrupted.

Jin balked momentarily. He could not have edit the recordings, this wouldn't have flied.

“… He said our test subjects had weak faith. That he recognizes this reality as temporary and tries to perceive a higher one instead. He speaks in a similar fashion to Conti …”

“And you think this will be enough to create a miracle?”

“I– … this is the best chance we can get, professor. Do you think another one like that will come around? Look how willing he is …”

The woman shook her head and berated Jin.

“Our careers may be over if this gets out. And you even implicated Professor Rousseau.”

“She doesn't know. After seeing his medical files, she was convinced he came to take part in our experimental recalibration treatments,” Jin defended.

Laura sighed deeply.

“I doubt we can help him. The scale of his condition is on a different level compared to those we try to tackle.”

“Professor … I don't think that's what he wants anyway …” Jin remarked.

The woman stared into the distance for a few seconds, then nodded slowly.

“You may go now.”

Jin dithered.

“What are we going–“

“I need to think about it,” she clarified.

“Oh, okay … I'm sorry for troubling you, professor. I'll … get back to work.”

Laura Caspari remained in her disconcerted disposition. She once more started the replay of Carl facing the lion on full realism. It was terrifying. When something seemed so real, it was almost impossible not to feel for the person involved. This time, however, she didn't have to. Because that person … didn't suffer.

That body language she was watching … it was a monster in human skin.

But at least now she understood. After all, this wasn't Carl's first run, but the one that survived in temporary files, which the system prompted her about before deleting when she first arrived.

…

It was 9:30 when Carl once more stood on the temple plaza, just past the main marketplace. He looked to his left, at the Colosseum. He couldn't afford to rest there now, as he only had one gold coin left. He looked to his right, at the Expedition Association. Soon, he was going to be all bloodied again. He looked ahead, at the Temple of Immortals, where he had to go to safely log off. Then, he looked at the uncountable masses flowing through the plaza in all directions.

He smiled to himself. The last 24 hours had turned his life around completely. Everything was in vivid colors again. Despite being utterly spent, he felt as light as a feather.

“I'm going to sleep like a baby now!”

He stepped forward.

“Lord Beatht Thlayer?”

“Aw, great …”