Tim woke up again on a soft medical examination table. However, this time he wasn’t bound. This time he was laying with a pillow under his head and bandages all over his body. The first thing he noticed was a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach. He sat up immediately to make sure he could move.

He got briefly dizzy and paused there for a moment with his legs hanging over the side. Now, as he faced the wall, he could see a mirror. He breathed an internal sigh of relief when he realized he was the same self that had woken up in here before. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and was rather ruggedly handsome, although with darker skin than he had ever had back on Earth. If he were guessing, there was a hint of Samoan in him. Combining that with the bulging muscles that were evident even beneath his chainmail shirt, he had to think that comparisons between himself and Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson would have come out favorably on his side.

Tim wasn’t vain at all. Realistically, he had always been pretty average in appearance. He worked out enough to stay fit, but his job and addiction to junk food kept him from ever excelling at that. Now, he was the type of hero that he felt he should be if he was gonna live out life in an isekai. It was definitely a vast improvement over the ancient body he had arrived in.

The thing was, if he could change like this once, then it could happen again. He was afraid that perhaps that was his Hyde to this Jekyll, or maybe it was the other way around. But since he didn’t have any way to test it, he just pushed that worry down. The best way to do that was to focus on something else. With that thought in mind, he opened up his character sheet to see the results.

Sure enough, he found the stat points had been applied as he had intended right before the test, and he had the increases in hit points and other secondary stats to go along with it. Most pleasantly he found that he now had the Grandmaster Swordsmanship skill, just as he had experienced in the test. So, at least part of the test was accurate.

The other changes were the faction drop that he had with Terra. It had been there before the test, but he had apparently lost 10 points in faction from 50 to 40. He didn’t know the relative value, but if this was going to be his country then any drop was a bad thing.

His best guess was that it had happened as a result of his blood magic running wild. It was frustrating since it had been beyond his control. The upside was that he felt more at home in this body. No one was going to care about excuses. If he were going to survive here, he would need to own what had happened.

He still had five of his seven skill/spell slots open. Hopefully, someone would come and check on him soon, and he could ask about that. Well, that and about getting some food. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week. The test must have taken a lot out of him. Since his character sheet now marked him as a probationary member of the Sojourner’s Guild, he had to believe that meant access to food and training.

In the meantime, as he waited, he looked at the bandages. Each one he checked showed small scars beneath them. Not the ugly, you’re a freak kind of scars, but more the kind chicks digged. The crazy thing was that each one was completely healed, but the bandages hadn’t been removed. That made him wonder how long he had been neglected in this room.

With each bandage that he pulled off, a sinking realization came to him. These were all in the exact spots that he had been injured during the testing. He pulled up his undamaged chainmail sleeve, and sure enough, along the top of his right arm was a much larger bandage. Once removed, it too revealed a long scar exactly where the wound that had crippled his arm had been.

This led to him taking his pants off and finding the bandage and scar along his hamstring. Neither his clothing nor his armor were damaged, and yet he had scars underneath. He ended up stripping down to just his boxers and found that every injury he remembered from the test was reflected on his body.

It was as he stood there in his skivvies, that a woman in pastel blue robes walked in. She must have been in her late thirties but was still quite attractive, and he felt oddly self-conscious about her finding him like this. At least, he did until he remembered he had rippling muscles and a body to be proud of.

The woman didn’t seem to notice at all and only spoke with a clinical detachment. “Oh, good you are awake. I was beginning to worry. Your test is the longest one I have ever witnessed.”

“How long could it have been? I feel like it just finished.”

“You have been in the test world created by the artifact for the past four days. As I said, that is very unusual, but where are my manners? I am Muriel, Alchemist and assistant to the Master Healer. I was sent to check on you and then report to the council about your status. Now, since you are awake, you will do so yourself.”

“Uh, well nice to meet you, Muriel, but I need to get dressed again, and would it be possible for me to get some food. I’m famished,” Tim asked.

“Of course. I will have a slave bring you some food. You don’t have to wear your armor if you don’t want to. About half of the active adventurers seem to wear it all the time, but I didn’t want you to think you had to,” Muriel said.

Tim winced at the mention of a slave, but he figured that he had more immediate issues to worry about. “That would be great, but can you answer one quick question for me?”

“I can try… if it is within my knowledge.”

“I thought the test was a magical rating system. I expected it would take like a second, and I certainly didn’t expect scars from it. So, what’s up with that, and isn’t there magical healing in this world?”

“The testing rarely takes more than a few minutes, but the artifact holds your mind in a state of suspended animation. If the trial is particularly grueling, then it can take over a day. The longest I have ever heard of was from a 1st gen a couple of years ago. He was a level 15 berserker, and the test took almost twenty-eight hours.” She seemed to look more and more confused as she answered his question.

“So, it is really unusual for my test to take four days?”

“Yes, as I understand it, one of the archivists is looking into if there are any records of this happening in the past.”

“Hmm, okay, but what about the scars? I mean, how did I get actual wounds from it, and why didn’t anyone heal me?”

“Oh that. That is a common misunderstanding. The magic of the artifact can make the wounds you experience during the test real. It is to bind what you learn in the test into your very being. The more you have to learn, the more serious the wounds can be. It is speculated that there are safeguards against dying, but no one really knows that for sure. Your test must have been profoundly serious because you had dozens of cuts and two significant wounds.”

Tim whistled. “Wow, would have been nice if someone had told me that death was a possibility. You still haven’t explained why no one healed me.”

Muriel had the good grace to at least look embarrassed. “Sorry, I keep thinking about other things. The wounds caused by the test can’t be healed. Again, it is speculated that it has something to do with the lessons you learned in the test being locked into your body through the wounds. Normal wounds can be healed by magic, whether that be spells or potions like I make. Even though we couldn’t heal your wounds magically, I’m sure you noticed you heal much faster here than on your homeworld.”

“Yeah, some of the cuts on my arm and the one on the back of my leg would have likely required surgery to repair,” Tim said.

“Surgery? What’s that?”

“Well, sometimes on my homeworld if you had a serious injury, the doctors had to cut you open and then cut away the bad tissue and maybe stitch parts of you back together.”

“Oh, by the first reaction, that sounds barbaric. I can’t imagine your people ever surviving without magic.”

“I guess, but it was the only thing we had. Wounds like this would have taken between days and months to heal depending on which one you are talking about.”

About that time, a young woman dressed in a toga with a collar around her neck came in with a wooden tray covered with food, producing a bowl of something like oatmeal along with bacon, eggs, and even some warm, buttered bread. Tim took the tray after finishing pulling his chainmail shirt on. “Thank you very much. What is your name?”

The girl blushed and then hid her face while looking at Muriel. “It’s okay, you can answer him.”

“Diana, sir. I hope that I have not offended you,” the slave girl said with her voice full of trepidation.

“No, did I scare you or something?” Tim asked.

Again, she lowered her eyes to the floor. “No, please don’t be offended. It would be an honor to serve you, Master.”

Tim turned to Muriel. “Did I say something to upset her?”

Muriel just laughed and said, “No, she is probably scared because stories about what you or whoever that was did in the courtyard with Simon have spread all over the guild. Well, that and a few of the male members tend to take liberties with the female slaves. It is frowned upon but not illegal, and by asking her name right away, she might think that you have that in mind.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to blush. “Diana, you never have to worry about that with me. I would never force myself onto anyone.”

She kept her head bowed as she said, “As it pleases the master.”

Finally, seeing that Tim was just as flustered as the slave, Muriel said, “That will be all. You may return to your other duties.”

“I gather you don’t have slaves on your homeworld?”

“Well, not legally. It is considered one of the most despicable things that humans can do to one another,” Tim answered.

“I would eat your breakfast and keep that opinion to yourself. The only people more important to the smooth running of our nation than the heroes who fight monsters are the slaves,” Muriel said gravely, and seeing her expression, Tim decided not to push it any further.