If the connection between blood, magic, and spirit is evident, does this mean there is a quality to one's spiritual essence? That one might be born with higher levels of spiritual essence than another, thus determining their potential in life before even that first breath? I highly doubt it. Spiritual essence is absolute. Set by the gods. Every mortal receives the same allotment of spiritual essence which they are free to do with as they will through their life. Quality might change -- relating, specifically, to the moral center of Goodness versus Evil -- but the baseline is collective. --72.8 Seconds Post-Integration.

  "Clark. A moment, please," Salsa asked just as everyone was leaving.

  The last thing he wanted to do was chit-chat with the instructor after he had messed himself, but he also didn't want to be rude. His upbringing took over and he walked toward the man. "Sir?"

  "You showed great hustle out there today. I didn't think Wasters had access to Dandies. You must have had a little preparation before today."

  Why was everyone so concerned with where he came from? Clark felt and was nasty. He needed that shower pronto. "We don't have Dandies out there, sir. Not really. I caught up on using them when I came to the Tower."

  "So, you did. You did well, boy. Keep it up. I take it you will want to take the next exam. It starts mid-evening, tonight."

  Tonight? Did he really want to do another League examination?

  As if to sweeten the deal, Salsa reminded him that "if you pass this exam, you will be able to start regular rotations of League work as part of your mandatory shifts. That comes with a raise, I think."

  That did it. "Sure! I will be there. Or, here, I guess. I don't want to be rude, but I need to scoot and shower. Like, badly..."

  "Ha! I know. I can smell ya! Don't give that a second thought. Happens to everyone. And I do mean everyone. As your body builds an immunity to dandies, 'Releases,' as such accidents are called, should happen less and less. Don't let anyone give you shet for it, either. As I said, it happens to everyone! Welp, I will see you soon, Clark!"

  Clark asked SIMP to take him back to his dorm using a route that would allow him to pass through as few people as possible.

  He stripped his clothes, cleaned them of 'soilage' and dumped them into his dorm's in-built washing machine before he jumped in the shower. He took an extra-long shower, desperate to clean himself of all the bodily oils (and worse) which seeped through his clothes.

  When he finished his shower, he wanted to remain productive. So, he figured now, in the hours before his third League exam, would be a good time to check his blue screen status window as he scarfed down some food.

  The first thing he had to do on this front was open his many Opportunity chests. Over the previous few months, he had accumulated a small horde of the chests. He opened some, sure, but still had far too many. He was about to open the first such crate when a System notification asked if he wanted to [Condense Opportunities?].

  "What's all this about?" he normally would've asked SIMP what this meant, but he thought against it this time since its meaning was apparent. Plus, he didn't want to get bogged down in another lengthy discussion about the ins and outs of Augustford. "Yes. Condense."

  [Select Rate Conversion: (A.) 50 Opportunities exchanges for ONE Silver Opportunity; or (B.) 100 Opportunities exchanges for ONE Gold Opportunity]

  This intrigued him. Conversion? He guessed why this hadn't come up before was because he never had enough Opportunities on him at any one time. Now, with his multi-month stockpile? He had a hundred Opportunities. He wanted to go with his gut instincts and do the two silver chests in exchange for all one hundred of his loot crates. Yet the gold chest intrigued him. He never had a gold chest before. Plus, he remembered how much better those premium loot crates were compared to the standard Opportunities. Was 'silver' another way of saying premium or was that a designation better than premium? If silver was better than even the premium chest he had gotten before, and gold was better than silver, than what kind of reward awaited him in a golden Opportunity?

  Screw it. "Exchange one hundred Opportunities for one gold Opportunity."

  [Exchange Complete]

  He watched his boxes tick from one hundred to one, the transition seamless as it meant only the two zeros at the end vanished. Next to the one, however, was a tiny gold medal denoting the box's rank.

  "Open golden Opportunity."

  An animation played on his blue screen. Trumpets blared as the chest top flung open unleashing golden banners bearing the icons for every Augustford resource, such golden scrolls, scepters, medal, and sporks, and the like. Coins spilled from the chest until a shimmering platinum pouch jutted up from the chest's depth. The pouch opened revealing three icons: a Golden Medal, Golden Leaves, a Golden Scepter, the icons for Judgement Points, Experience Points, and Promotion Points. Slowly, the award to each revealed itself as a number underneath their respective icon:

  [Judgement Points: +1000]

  [Experience Points: +100,000 XP ~Matriculating Award as Temporary Multiplier Bonus]

  [Promotion Points: +250 Promotion Points]

  He was speechless. Literally, speechless. He stared at the screen in disbelief. None of the rewards were anything like what he had seen before. "SIMP?" he stuttered. "Is this right? This isn't some kind of error or fluke, is it?"

  "It is neither an error or a fluke. Those are the rewards the System has generated for you at random. I'm impressed. What a difference a couple of ranks make!" SIMP said, clear awe in their tone of voice.

  "I would say -- wow, just wow!"

  Moments later, more notifications:

  [Congratulations! You've Earned a Promotion!]

  [Congratulations! You've Earned a Promotion!] ...

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The notification repeated several more times. Each time it repeated it meant he gained a new Rank with a new rate of pay. He was effectively receiving as many raises as 'rank ups.'

  Moments later, when he reviewed his status overall, it read as follows:

  [Associate Name: Cola Clark: Imbued Level 23]

  [Core Metrics: At-Base]

  [Rank and Payout Rate: Sub-Executive Associate Clerk: 22.5]

  Another instance he couldn't believe -- his compensation was almost twenty-three Standard Credits per hour! His head swam with what his earnings would give him. No more struggling with making the land grant payment! He could just work!

  Quickly, he checked his Resource sub-menu. He couldn't linger on one part of his blue screen all day, as alluring as his boosts had been.

  [Judgement Points: 1210]

  [XP: ~Matriculation Bonus Active]

  [Promotion Points: 10 / 175]

  [Incentive: 49 / 50]

  [Coupons: 44]

  [Culinary Credits: 202]

  [Standard Credits: 36]

  [Opportunities: 0]

  Clark impressed himself with how many Culinary Credits he managed to stockpile. He kept within his daily budget and then some, though there were times he had to use Standard Credits to augment his cheat days, which amounted to why he had so little funds in his bank account. Now that he had considered his number of Judgement Points, he realized a thousand points wasn't as much as he thought it initially was... not when ten points traded for a tenth of a single point. What he had now might bail him out of trouble a couple of times, but that would be it.

  With his meal done and body cleaned, Clark spent some time meditating. Lately, he had been getting back into the practice. He used to meditate daily back home but fell off when he became a Lifer. Dungeon Champion-ing, learning his jobs and many roles, heck, even just the monsters, all pushed to the wayside anything which wasn't acclimation to Augustford Central. "Breathe in, breathe out; focus on your breathing, not on what you can't control; you are doing nothing, you are with the world, not outside of it. You are in the here and now..."

  His meditation session ended after thirteen minutes. More than enough time for him to feel refreshed and focused. He spent the rest of the evening in quiet study. He caught up on his Dwarven reading material. After the hectic arse-covering he had to do last time the study group met, he didn't want a repeat. Especially not when his friends had volunteered their time in reading the harder books for him. Respecting their decision to help by doing his own reading was the least he could do as their Work Detail leader, though he still couldn't quite fathom he was in a leadership position.

  SIMP alerted him to the time. "If you don't leave now, you will not get to the stadium in time!"

  And he was off!

  A mad dash for the stadium later and Clark was ready for whatever Salsa threw at him. His feet skidded to a halt just as the first whistle blew.

  "Cutting it close, Clark," Salsa lamented. "But you made it. Anyhow, let's get started. Welcome one and all to League training. Everyone here has had me before, so I won't bother to introduce myself. The next half-hour will go by quickly. If you are sharp and have put what you've learned to the test, this exercise should be easy for you. So, what is the exercise? Simple -- defeat the monsters I will set upon you using only a Blessing Dandy and a Manipulation Dandy. No multi-tool or blessed weapon. Just a Blessing Dandy and whatever you can find in the stadium."

  Clark quickly scanned the arena. He saw no weapon racks. Or weapons lying inconspicuously on the ground. Only rocks and chunks of masonry.

  Salsa scanned those assembled. It was a larger group than Clark expected. "Clark. Since you were nearly late, you can be the first up."

  Nodding, he approached Salsa as the rest of the recruits went to the stands to sit and watch.

  "Here's you Dandies. Use them well," was all Salsa said before heading to the stands himself.

  Before Salsa blew his whistle, Clark had scanned the arena once more in case he missed anything. His second scan revealed nothing. "Okay," he queried himself. "I need a weapon. I have no weapon. Where is my weapon?" He considered. Then the whistle called, and the stadium gates opened. "Two slimes. I will have to make do with a rock!"

  Clark ran forward and took in hand the Blessing Dandy. He coated a medium-sized rock thoroughly thereby depleting the dandy. Two enemies. One dandy. One rock. "Let's see if I can't throw the rock against them!"

  He picked the rock up. His legs and arms groaned under its weight. "Jeez! I won't be able to use this thing for very long!"

  Not wanting to keep the rock on him any longer than he had to, Clark lumbered toward the slowly moving slimes. When he was close enough, he tossed, heaved, the rock against the slime with all his might. It slammed into the monster but did not kill it. He cursed. He downed the manipulation dandy. "If I can't use my muscles to slap the slimes around with my big, hard thing, I will just have to use magic to kick them to oblivion!"

  Having learned his endurance limits via the previous League tutorial, Clark knew how to manage his stamina. He shifted into an incantation stance, stretched his arm toward the enemy, and willed. He felt the connection to the rock. With a flick of his wrist -- albeit a flick which felt like he had dragged his limb in a surging river -- the rock obeyed and flung itself into the slime. Time and again, he flicked his wrist: one, two, three times, until he killed the first slime and made damage on his second.

  About to strike, Clark had to leap and roll out of the way of the slime's attack; the effort it took to destroy the first slime resulted in him having overextended himself, thus he had made himself vulnerable to assault. With the slime's lunge evaded, he scampered into his new position beside the rock-as-weapon. He panted and felt how severely his energy had dwindled. At this point, if he were to fail, it would be because of his core stamina. He had no stamina dandy, so if he couldn't get by with his body as it was now, he wouldn't be likely to pass this rank at all until he grew that core amount.

  "I don't want to re-do this!" His time was already valuable. His day already brimming with responsibility. Why add failed tests to that list?

  Clark channeled from within his core his last vestiges of resolve. Whatever petty amounts of mana his aura was capable of generating filled him.

  Clark shot forward his arm; he made connection to the rock; then turned upside down his outstretched arm. A rumble shook the arena as the rock flipped over with force from his magic. The flop caught the slime off-guard. Because he had dumped all his mana into the rock, it slammed into the slime with force, killing it instantly. The slime dematerialized into an incandescent haze as monsters always did upon death.

  "Yeah, bro!" Clark pumped his arms in a victory stance. The thrill of narrowly winning momentary set away his exhaustion.

  "Well done, Clark. You pass," Salsa said, his fingers making a quick movement on his device.

  [Congratulations! You've been given a League Promotion! Rank Transitioned from Y to X]

  He smiled and felt the 'happy feeling' in his head, making him a teensy-bit lightheaded.

  Clark took a place on the rafters as Salsa called the next recruit. They failed to destroy the slimes and had to be rescued by Salsa, who warded away the slimes from the endangered recruit by dumping between the recruit and the slimes an odd and powerful smelling botanical slurry.

  That recruit, a young girl, was not the exception. Clark saw most of the recruits fail the exam.

  To his surprise, those who passed the exam tended to be older by volumes to the number of young recruits who passed. Clark was only one among three youths who passed the exam. Compared to the twelve older recruits who passed.

  With a mighty whistle screech, Salsa brought an end to the tutorial exam. "Great bustle and hustle, everyone. Remember, failure is only one stop on the journey that is success. Don't stop training, don't stop pushing yourselves, otherwise, you're the one who makes failure a destination instead of a pitstop. Earn yourself people, keep that in your hearts and minds." Salsa's tone shifted on a dim from inspirational to drab. "For those who failed, times and dates for the next exam have been posted. Dismissed!"

  "Clark. Good show! I'm impressed with how you didn't crap yourself -- really, I am! I'm not being sarcastic. Most people are not so adaptable. Consider yourself lucky."

  "I shall, sir."

  Whether or not he was naturally adaptable, he felt like his progress could be faster. Though maybe that was only because he was impatient.

  Back in his dorm, he was half-way naked and on his way into bed when SIMP got him going with some remarks about the Dwarven Pod. "Clark. I have finally done it. I have gained access to the mainframe of the dwarven structure. I need your help."