These lights. They are from the Gods. I have been chosen... --3.1 Seconds Post-Integration.

  Clark's friends did not respond.

  He looked around. Reality had frozen in the instance following the monsters' demise. It was as though a cosmic painter sampled the moment so as to preserve it for posterity.

  Puffed clouds of gory black dotted the static landscape. His vision adjusted itself after a few moments though the odd landscape remained the same. This time, the answer to his question -- what was happening? -- found a response. Through the black-puffed viscera, a statue from earlier bent its knee to him and spoke.

  "We have only a moment," the stone face told him. "Even now, ancient and violent forces are on the hunt. For me. You do not know who I am. But I can sense what you are; and you, Clark, was no ordinary man, are you?"

  Clark had no clue what the statue was going on about and told it as much. It seemed not a rot bit unconcerned. "I think I am as ordinary as the next... who are you? And what is happening here?"

  The statue-spirit replied: "I do not have a name. Who I am is the Spirit-Consciousness of the Great Tower Dungeon; what you have witnessed is an unholy curse called plague."

  "Plague...?" the words barely came to him.

  The entity paid his question no heed and continued talking: "Plague is why monsters have stalked Augustford's realm since time immemorial and why, now, a great force of corruption has been birthed. If the defilement of the dungeon should continue, it, and everyone inside, will die."

  Death? Everyone in the tower? That has to be millions of people, Clark thought. More, even.

  "This plague is bad, granted. The giant inky blobs make that clear... How am I going to help it, though?" he said. "You said I have this power dwelling within me. I don't feel anything. How am I going to help the dungeon? What could I really do? I am not a warrior or priest..."

  "Your heart radiates warmth. And your soul resilience. If left unattended, the corruption of the dungeon will haunt your honest labor and the honest labors of everyone who claims this great tower home. From the moment your System profile matriculated, Clark, I sensed in you a sleeping giant. If you give proper consideration to this power, you will be more than the man everyone relies upon -- you will be my champion," the statue told him, bathed in holy eminence.

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  Clark felt the weight of the world more keenly than he ever thought he would... become a champion of the dungeon's spirit-consciousness? That all seemed so much and so fast. What would that mean for his day job? What would it mean for him as he acted as the champion? He wasn't one to shy away from a fight -- not when he had to. But this? This was the opposite of how he lived; this would be intentionally searching out fights. Was that moral?

  Sharing his concerns with the statue, whose expression, despite being cast in stone, seemed to soften, the statue-spirit-dungeon-consciousness... thing, told him: "If you become my champion, you will also become Augustford's champion. Should they even desire to take retaliatory action against your service to me, they will never be able to terminate you without due process. This is the first boon to being my champion."

  "Boons?" he asked, his attention piqued. Though he knew by all means, he should be unnerved by the liminal endlessness he found himself in while talking to a statue.

  "Champions do not fight against the darkness alone. They are given boons to help them in their crusade. The second boon I give my champion is the Power Suite: accept the burden of cleansing the corruption from the dungeon, and through my holy aura, feel your magical energies boil to new heights. A third boon I grant to my champion is an integrated bonus to your Augustford display," the statue-voice said.

  He asked the statue what they meant by an 'integrated bonus.' The explanation related to the Core Metrics concept he had learned not even an hour ago about: if he worked hard for the store and hit every aspect of the Core Metrics -- 'HE-SIN-V' -- then he would accrue Prime Standard level of perks, granting him a productivity bonus. Here, a 'cooldown' meant Prime Standard mode would last for a little longer than it would for the typical worker. Why? That was the bonus in action -- because the rate at which his Core Metrics fell from the Prime Standard, once hit, would be slower compared to a worker who wasn't a dungeon's champion.

  "These bonuses are just the most immediate boons. Should you decide to become my favored one, more boons, through continued performance under my banner, you will be granted if you are up to the challenge of pushing your talents to their very limit and well beyond. Knowing your survival outside of becoming my champion is slim, what say you, young man? Will you take up arms and serve my righteous cause?"

  Conflict brewed in his heart. He wanted to say, "Yes! I pledge myself eternally to your crusade!"

  He also wanted to say, "No. I have dedication to the store. I am no hero."

  More than anything, what he wanted to do when he really thought about just wanted to shout -- "What on earth is happening to me!?"

  He said none of these things.

  Instead, he calmed himself, thought of the danger he and his co-workers found themselves in, and found only one answer. Isn't this what I wanted? Bonuses, special services to the store. Making myself invaluable?

  Clark looked the statue square in its chipped eyes and faded paint: "Spirit... I will be your champion."

  Did You Have a Work Bestie?