Ivor was somewhat off-put by this assertion about the state of the outer sect, and elder Worst’s statement about luck kind of confused him, but Ivor was determined to survive the beast wave, and for that, he needed cultivation resources. He had heard Ilbarin’s remarks about his resistance to mental effects, so he assumed he had a strong enough will, but he couldn’t be sure. Now that I think about it, who was Ilbarin? I should go ask him when I know I’m strong enough to resist the rock’s effect. It seems like it’s probably important that there are already cultivators on this island. Well, that’s a job for after I pass the tests.

Ivor smiled a little bit too wide after a few minutes spent pondering his choice, desperately holding a nervous chuckle from slipping through his lips while coming up with something to say, something containing wisdom which astounded him. “Even if the stairs were broken, even if I know I’ll go through hell, I’ll still join the outer sect. That’s willpower, right?”

Elder Worst’s hand shot to his chin and his eyes started to glaze over as he pondered along with a few more powerful individuals in the outer sect. After a few minutes, his eyes shot open wide in understanding. “That’s quite profound. I think you just had a small insight into the Dao of willpower. The sect might have known of that type of willpower, but I didn’t, so take this in thanks.”

Ivor stretched his hand out to meet Worst’s, and felt a sect contribution when their palms met, which he snatched and stuffed into his pocket faster than humanly possible. Ivor stood up straight and suppressed his smile. “Thank you, elder, for your generosity. It would be nice to begin the tests now that I’ve established my willpower. I would say that this’ll be fun, but I’m quite sure it won’t be.”

“Well… wait, what was your name? Well, I guess that doesn’t matter too much. Joining the outer sect requires a few things, but we had to jury-rig some new tests when we were transported here. We only still have Samsara city because Supreme Elder Epiphany can bring objects here from Earth through the Samsara. There’s a barrier to keep us from leaving, but nothing about keeping objects here. Anyways, normally you would be scheduled to take a test where you compete with other outer sect applicants to get one of ten keys to open the gate to the next test, and then have to navigate through a maze full of traps, or something like that, but we don’t have a dungeon in the middle of a forest, or any captive beasts. Our brilliant alternative solution is to measure a few important qualities to see if somebody is qualified for temporary admission, and they’ll have to take the test with the people who aren’t when we have an actual test set up. I guess I’ll measure your luck then - OH GOD OH NO!”

Elder Worst’s eyes exploded as he cried out profanity. “FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK! Anyways - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - I’ll have to - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - say you passed - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - that one, considering the only person in the sect who can luck check is - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - having his eyes burned when he tries to - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - luck check you. Don’t worry, I’m - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - fine. I’m going to go - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - report this to the higher-ups and - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - get myself some medical treatment. You can go now - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH - and I can come to your room when it’s time for you to take the other tests.”

Worst jumped out the window, leaving only bloodstains on the floor, and Ivor just stood there along with the rest of the building. Ivor’s shock corrected itself soon after, so he left while the rest of the room was frozen in stunned silence, heading to his room to cultivate with nobody in the state of mind to stop them.

After a brisk jog, Ivor stood at the doors to his room, entering and flopping down on his bed. He looked at the ceiling and wondered if his luck was why he had amused the Hobo, why he had found all of these things, and he came to the conclusion that it was. “Yay! I’m lucky… also, luck is a thing. Does that mean that fate exists or not… you know what, I’m not even going to think about that and just assume that I have free will, because I don’t want to have an existential crisis. God, this has been a long day. I should sleep…”

Ivor awoke in a place entirely different to where he had fallen asleep. He was in a room with its walls, ceiling, and floor formed out of a quilt. The colors of the quilt were brighter than anything he had seen before; the reds felt like they wanted to stab him, and the blues felt calm but smothering. The blacks felt all-consuming, the greens felt acidic, and the purples felt like a gentle covering to maliciousness behind their surface. The floor was entirely composed of a gray that let off a sense of stability and familiarity, in contrast to the murderous and strange walls and ceiling. There was a solidly built oak door, the only thing in the room other than Ivor that wasn’t made of quilt, in front of him, dark brown with a silvery metal handle, letting off a feeling of beckoning, but not one that felt like it wanted to entrap him. It felt like a beacon guiding him, telling him where to go next. Ivor felt like he saw some text on the door. “That says… ‘hello Ivor, you’ve been lucky recently. This is the price for all of that luck. Those quilts will shrink over the course of an hour. Come through the door and face your Karma.’ Well that’s ominous! This feels like really good timing. I found out about my strange luck and I’m paying a price for it immediately after? Well, maybe this is happening because I thought about my luck? Or maybe it was a… lucky coincidence, so to speak.”

Ivor walked to the door and swung it open, which revealed to him that he hadn’t been smelling anything as crisp air rushed into his nose from beyond the door and that his cultivation was being suppressed somehow. He could still feel his strength, but he couldn’t exert it. He was in a forest clearing - the same one he had found the strange boulder in. A growl resounded from behind him, quiet but menacing, and Ivor had a bright idea: “I should start running now, huAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH?!?!?!?!”

Ivor kicked off the ground and shot forward at a disappointingly low speed, managing to maintain his cool even as claws scraped across his back. Pain shot through him, and he felt… incohesive, like he was coming apart. He stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling over and seeing the source of the strange feeling: strands he could feel made of his own body were rising through the air, originating from a point behind him, seemingly the spot on his back where he had been cut. He also saw the creature that had cut him, a pitch black fox emitting violet light from gaps in the gooey material it was made of. That was when spikes of wood burst up from the ground and through Ivor’s stomach. “Well that’s just unfair! I should probably be more scared considering that I have pretty much no way to survive here. It’s not like this is a dream or anything - actually, that would make sense. It could be a dream where I’m processing my subconscious fears about paying a price for my luck. If this is a dream, or a nightmare, then I could survive, although I’m not sure why it would matter - AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

Ivor had spent too much time thinking about his situation and the strange goo-beast had cut him again (on his left arm this time), leaving his psyche in strands. “Note to self: talking is NOT a free action. But I guess I should try to survive because I doubt dying is pleasant, and this is more painful than real life, unless it is real life. Well then, praise be to lucid dreaming, I hope!”

As Ivor’s will flared, the spikes in him retracted into the ground as a pillar of stone shot upward, delivering him away from the beast’s third strike. It sunk its claws into the pillar and began to climb, but it was knocked away from the pillar by a concussive blast of air. What felt like hours went by with it charging towards the pillar over and over and being knocked away each time. The pillar collapsed a few times, but Ivor jumped to new ones he formed through much resistance. “Lucid dreaming never was so difficult before. I wonder if I’m being attacked by a dream beast or something that’s trying to control my dream. I sure as hell hope not! I better check the time.”

Ivor pulled a timer saying it had been fifty minutes since it was turned on out of his nonexistent pants pocket. “Oh, that long already? If this is my final cycle of REM then… oh come on, why can’t the timing be a bit more dra-”

Ivor woke up to the sound of a door opening. He felt intense pain in his left arm and upper back. When he examined his left arm, he saw a vigorously bleeding cut on it, prompting him to slam his right arm into the bed to air-roll over into pushup position, allowing him to see bloodstains on his bed, presumably originating from his back.