It was a dark and stormy night within, but a bright and beautiful day outside as I approached the Adventurer's Guildhall that might become my guillotine and grave. In my current mood, I wasn't pleased to find Bessie awaiting me with a sunny smile and similar disposition. I grumbled, "Why are you so cheerful?"

"I heard a good tongue-twister," she said. "Are you ready? 'The Silver-Ranking test makes the Silver-Rank Silver-Rankers Silver-Ranked.' Say that ten times fast!"

I just stared at her. "Is this really the time?"

"Hey, you're the one who showed up twenty minutes early," she said. "What else is there to do, stand there biting your nails? Aren't you glad I came here even earlier to cheer you up and on?"

Oh. She was right. I took a deep inhale, exhaled, and said, "Thank you."

"No worries." She grinned. "Do you want to read your book?"

Truly, she was a queen among women. I had brought a book, and after a few minutes -- I'd just need to accustom myself to carrying a staff while reading -- I even succeeded in forgetting all my worldly distractions.

By the time I looked up again, the rest of my friends had arrived. Apparently their presence was not only for moral support but actually required, since I'd put them down as my team and Bessie had confirmed it. They'd be docked credits if they were absent when called upon... if they were called upon. I might flunk out first.

No, I shouldn't think like that. "Good luck!" Bessie said.

"Just do your best," Hannah said.

"Try not to fail," Tom said.

We all looked at Blake, who apparently had nothing to add. Bessie spoke again: "But sometimes you can learn just as much by failing!"

I frowned. Was she hinting at something? "Aren't you supposed to say that only after someone fails?"

"Oh... whoops?"

Sometimes my observation skills kicked in at the most inopportune times. As I eyed my friends, I suddenly realized: they didn't believe I could pass! I'd been aware my chances were low, of course, but not that they were this impossible.

Actually, back at that accursed party, hadn't someone mentioned preparing now for a future test?

I was suddenly more desirous than ever of succeeding so I could show them. But as I waved goodbye and turned to head inside, I both saw and sensed my probable competition streaming into the Guildhall, thickening the air with their collective nerves and anticipation. Just judging from the auras, they nearly all dwarfed or at least exceeded my combat potential. I couldn't help thinking, much as I would love to pretend at confidence, I'd settle for not embarrassing myself... or worse.

"Don't worry about anyone else," Bessie called after me. "Just go as far as you can! And don't give up!"

Inside, a harried receptionist asked my name, gave me a pencil and blank sheet of paper, and then waved me through. Following the crowd, I entered an unusual classroom resembling half a stadium with rows of seats facing a stage, currently empty but for a play orb. Silent sentinels stood unmoving to the sides of the room.

For lack of anything better to do, I continued looking around after sitting. There were all kinds gathered here, from younger children to a group of four that might be two sets of grandparents. One eye-catching crowd consisted of nobles and various hangers-on, including presumably their escorts or 'teammates.' I estimated around three-hundred people all told... and since this test was given four times a year and the Guildhall wasn't regularly flooded with new Silver-Rankers, I had to conclude the pass rate wasn't high. (My friends were incredible for making it on their first try!)

"It's a great opportunity with real stakes," Hannah had said, or something to that effect. How many were also here to learn and challenge themselves more than in the hopes of attaining Silver?

Just as it occurred to me I was one of the few here alone, instead of with a team, the doors closed and sealed. The last entrant darted stealthily to the front of the class and 'appeared' dramatically onstage to startled gasps. Then my eyes focused on his face and I gasped as well.

"Cursed fire," the man said in a gravelly voice, gesturing to the gruesome scars on his face. "Resists Healing. I can glamor them, but they never go away. They never stop hurting." He prowled the stage, glaring out at us, while the room stared in shock. "Think you want to be an adventurer? You better be prepared to lose everything. To bury your friends. To have your loved ones bury you... if they can find your body. Can't imagine it? Then you have no business being an adventurer."

I thought he looked right at the nobles as he said this last, but his gaze continued sweeping the room, never pausing for long. "Think I'm exaggerating? Ask any Gold-Ranker who they've lost. All of us have lost someone. Maybe you've heard some stories... but they aren't just stories. Not when you're an adventurer."

At his gesture, the play orb projected a blown-up image of two mangled bodies. I wasn't the only one who recoiled. Solemnly, he named them and described how they'd died in graphic detail before barking: "You look away again, you leave!"

I barely kept myself from gaping at him. Did he think we were completely clueless as to how dangerous adventuring was? But as the grisly slideshow continued, I did feel sick to my stomach. I imagined it would be much worse if I'd actually meant to devote myself to adventuring. Also, he was giving the sad stories his dramatic all, but as an Empath it was obvious he hadn't known any of the deceased; his words lacked true emotional depth.

The morbid procession of different but equally disturbing images finished, and he continued his demotivating speech. "Perhaps you think this has nothing to do with you here and now. Make no mistake. You will be risking your life today. Despite our numerous warnings and precautions, every year we lose people to our advancement tests, including adventurers much stronger, smarter, and braver than you. Don't believe me?" No, I really did, even without his burning conviction. "Some are Gold-Rankers trying for Platinum. But if you are absolutely sure, then read and complete the page in front of you to proceed with the exam."

I looked down to find my previously blank paper had indeed updated... to a liability release form. It was divided into three sections, first detailing the possible loss, damage, or destruction of my personal property; second the use of mind-influencing Skills, spells, artifacts, and creatures; and third the risk of incurring serious personal injuries, even including death. I was to initial each section to indicate my understanding and consent, print my name and the date, and finally, sign at the bottom.

"There is no shame in opting out. No harm in delaying until you feel ready."

The sudden gentleness in our examiner's voice was disarming. I glanced up, shifting uncomfortably in the tense silence that followed, when someone called out, "Do we get our money back?"

It wasn't that funny, but the tension broke and laughter spilled out. He didn't smile. "Is money worth more than your life?"

The laughter stopped, but the resolve in the room had already hardened. As for me, I didn't really want to accept these risks, but I did sign. Of course I signed. Who would back out at this late stage? A person either more brave or cowardly than me; I wasn't sure which.

Such a person apparently wasn't in the room. Our unsurprised examiner next instructed us to check our group letter; my page declared me in Group C. As I felt the rising consternation and dismay around the room, I realized they'd deliberately split the teams. I tried not to feel too glad over this fact, but at least I wouldn't remain a lone loner for the whole exam. Next, we were to present our paper to our corresponding proctor.

While we were dividing ourselves around the room, he continued speaking. "I hope you like running." Somebody who wasn't me groaned loudly and expressively. "You must each finish a predetermined but individually randomized succession of courses. You will receive a watch to track your progress and display your current course." As if on cue, I reached my proctor, who after quickly inspecting my page handed me a watch that displayed '00:00,' '00:00,' and 'C.' Strapping it on made me think of the Challenge Maze, and I wondered if one had been inspired by the other.

"You will automatically fail if you cross any black lines; these should be easily recognizable," our examiner said. "You will fail after thirty minutes without finishing a course, regardless of your previous performance. You will fail if you kill anyone or anything. Keep in mind your total time and any injuries sustained will be considered in your final evaluation. Finally, we're all adventurers here. I don't want to see anyone interfering with another's exam, is that understood? Now, are we ready?"

As the proctors assented, we finally left the classroom. Following my leader, I was surprised when we beelined for the private running trails, the ones that cost coin to access and more to reserve. Each one had a glowing white entrance labeled with a letter, running from A at least to G.

My group naturally headed for C. Our proctor had us enter one at a time. As each person swung open the door, I saw their watch's timers start running. In the pause as I waited out the three-dozen people ahead of me, I couldn't help my mind racing. To take thirty minutes, each course must be, what, around three miles long? And we were supposed to run multiple ones consecutively? I could only manage an hour at my own pace!

Nevertheless, I didn't hesitate to step forward when it was my turn. What else could I do? I started at the same pace I always used, ignoring how those before me drew further away and those after passed me by. As tempting as it was to run faster in reaction, I knew I'd only tire myself out sooner.

This running trail seemed to involve struggling through uneven underbrush up and down slopes. Looking around, I could scarcely believe we were still in the middle of Wilton. Space had been expertly folded and refolded so that I almost thought I'd been transported into the wilds, where the only semblance of a pathway came from the many footprints that had recently stampeded through this area.

Running here was exponentially more difficult than in Duni, but I gritted my teeth and persevered, wondering if I should be grateful or upset to have such a challenging course come first. Surely the rough terrain would seem that much worse if I were already worn out rather than starting fresh, but it didn't bode well I was already huffing and puffing and wondering if I could truly finish within thirty minutes.

Worse was the glum realization I was lagging behind literally everybody I could sense. Apparently these months of earnest exercise and even my new stamina-boosting robes couldn't make up for a lifetime of physical inactivity. The necessity of carrying my staff didn't help, though I did use it to help clear my path, switching hands occasionally.

Since I was keeping a sharp focus on my surroundings, both what I could see and what I could sense -- in part to distract myself -- I noticed immediately when somebody moved backwards toward me. No, towards another person? The latter felt distinctly pained and frustrated.

As they both moved off to the side, I guessed one was a proctor and the other a failed contestant. I made note of where the latter had fallen, and for that matter, paid more attention to every location where the other adventurers reacted. I couldn't pinpoint these potential pitfall areas with any real accuracy, but I was reassured by their few number and little apparent danger.

A new presence suddenly entered the course behind me. I assumed it must be another proctor at first until I felt the person's determination, excitement, and smugness. I looked at the time, stunned, to find only around six minutes had passed. Forcing myself to keep to my own time, I ignored the outlier until I'd crested the top of a difficult hill. Then I couldn't resist glancing back.

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My steps faltered and jaw dropped at the sight of... was that an airboat? How... Of course, the nobles must come equipped with storage items and every other artifact of convenience. Looking away, I resumed my run. I knew better than to complain of unfairness; there was no such thing as cheating, after all.

I even considered asking to hitch a ride, but the vehicle zoomed overhead and was gone.

The lead adventurers in the distance didn't feel so sanguine over this development, but I appreciated the early estimate of our exit's location. I could sense when and where the airboat's rider finished the course, after all, from how they disappeared to my senses. It was a relief to know the end was in sight -- or not really, but just over the horizon -- except checking the time, I found ten minutes had passed and I was less than a third of the way to the finish.

Reluctantly, I increased my speed, feeling a little desperate. A downhill slope had spots that easily gave way underfoot, twisting ankles or sending unfortunate runners tumbling. One adventurer was still limping away, pace slowed enough I could now overtake him. Another patch of ground was pockmarked with leaf-covered holes. I paid attention to my footing, the other examinees, and the time, and I powered through.

Ironically, all the people who kept coming from behind and passing me were very helpful. I reminded myself the only one I should compete with was myself... and this test itself, particularly its auto-fail condition.

Nearing the twenty-five minute mark, I grew alarmed by the continued distance to my destination. Despite myself, I was growing slower and wearier. These uphill slopes were the worst.

Facts were facts. At this rate, I wouldn't make it. Instead of second-guessing myself, I retrieved my stamina potion and gulped down nearly half the bottle, grimacing at the taste and necessity this early. But after the month I'd had, I refused to accomplish nothing and fail in the very first running course. Then I tucked the remaining potion away and grimly upped my pace (again).

At last! I saw a white glow through the trees. With the end in sight, I felt another burst of energy and started sprinting. I checked the time as I neared the door; a little more than a minute left. Despite the stamina potion I was burning, I decided to wait until the very last second to restart that thirty minute countdown, using this time to catch my breath.

The moment I stepped outside, my watch's two displayed times diverged, one resetting to '00:00' as though I'd already begun the next course. At the same time, 'C' changed to 'A.'

I hurriedly located and entered my new course, finding to my relief what appeared a normal outdoors running trail. No rocks over which to stumble or stub my toe, no shrubbery to shove through or disentangle from, no trees to go around or block my view. And best of all, no hills!

However, this welcome first impression was ruined when I felt others' presences fading off into the distance. In other words, the course was too long for even the range of my [Advanced Empathy].

I'd kept up my same even pace all this while, but now I sincerely doubted I could finish the course at my current speed. I adjusted upwards accordingly, sustaining my faster clip only thanks to my stamina potion. Of course, then it ran out. I tried soldiering on, but I felt unbelievably tired, almost like I was dying. I couldn't spare a single thought to all the others passing me, presumably on their third course if not more.

No, this was unbearable. Retrieving the stamina potion, I took a small sip, telling myself I would apportion it to carry me through the course. I just needed to hold on until the end was in sight, put on a final burst of speed, and just maybe, the test would end right there.

Nearing the halfway point, I encountered a bridge guarded by a troll. Black markers along the sides forbade avoidance, forcing us to cross both bridge and troll. A proctor hid nearby just out of sight.

While I slowed uncertainly and stared, two adventurers running together continued past me without pause. They went straight for the troll! It swung at them, but one with silver hair dodged under the blow while the other with dark hair actually skidded between its legs, rolling forward out of range.

They made it look so easy! And I couldn't just stand here forever. Inspired or desperate, I plunged forward after them and almost immediately regretted it, as the troll turned on me. Its one stride covered more ground than two of mine, and I... I couldn't dodge...

"[Mana Shield]!" One blow shattered my Shield, but the momentum was reduced enough the meaty hand more shoved than struck me to the ground. Unfortunately, I was now a sitting duck.

"[Mana Barrier]!" Again my defense broke on the first hit, but as I'd shifted it closer to the troll, it also stopped the attack entirely. Not that the troll couldn't just try again... which it did, too close for [Mana Dome].

"[Magic Hand]!" I cast desperately, but the troll didn't even seem to notice. I scrambled for my Scroll of Entangling Vines--

A fist smashed into the side of the troll's head, sending it sprawling. As surprised as I was, I didn't waste the opportunity to scramble to my feet and off the bridge, out of the troll's territory.

"T-Thank you!" I stammered to the silver-haired fighter who'd come back for me. He flashed me a smile over his shoulder as he hurried to catch up to his running mate.

Another adventurer hissed as he jogged past, "Fail!"

I jumped, so out of sorts I hadn't noticed him, but I couldn't argue. I knew I deserved to fail; I would make a terrible adventurer. What even was that? Was I insane, jumping onto a troll bridge without a single plan or backup plan? I could've died! If that troll had gotten its hands on me...

But I refused to quit. Not now, not like this. My heart still hammering in my chest, I started running again.

However, no matter what [Mind Over Matter] would have me believe, determination alone was not enough. I couldn't keep up this pace and soon knew I couldn't. Reluctantly, I uncapped and finished off my remaining stamina potion. I couldn't afford to hold back now.

It wasn't enough. I felt my boosted stamina trickle away all too soon. My spirits sank lower, but I didn't let my steps falter. I needed to do this. I couldn't drop out on the second course!

Twenty minutes had passed, I was two-thirds through, and I couldn't keep up my current pace. I reached into a sleeve and fetched my Scroll of Haste. Said sleeves were beautifully constructed, lightening the weight and shrinking the apparent size of the many Scrolls individually tucked within. By contrast, my Scroll was probably not worth much more than the paper it was Scribed on.

I cast Haste from it anyway. The Scroll failed to improve my perception, but that didn't matter on this flat expanse of ground. It didn't cushion me from the extra speed, but I pushed forward anyway, disregarding how my muscles strained and the air slapped my face. I was as fast as a horse!

And the spell sputtered out. I could only hope this would be enough.

With two minutes left, I scraped up the dregs of my energy reserves and sprinted. I felt lightheaded, my vision was growing blurry, but I ran as fast as my legs could carry me until I burst out the door and collapsed against the wall.

I don't know how long I spent there dragging in long, deep breaths before checking my watch. I'd done it! At least there was no sign I'd failed. Personally, I thought that run just now was one of the most difficult things I'd ever accomplished in my life.

My reward for this victory was yet another course. I stared at my watch blankly, seeing the seconds I'd already lost continue to tick upwards.

Course F involved either scaling the side of a mountain or running long loops around. I supposed it was fitting to have a real mountain to climb atop the metaphorical one ahead of me. I didn't have another stamina potion, not that I could safely drink a second, or another speed-enhancing Scroll. I was out of tricks, out of luck... and soon out of time.

I felt bone-tired. My steps were stumbling instead of surefooted. Sweat matted my hair and ran into my eyes. I was breathing hard, each one feeling dragged out from deep within me.

I... I just couldn't do it. There wasn't any chance I could run this course in time. With the realization I felt nearly at peace; at least my panic dissipated. I no longer felt pressured or guilty, my steps slowing further still, though I forced myself to keep walking instead of crumbling over.

My thoughts didn't stop working, and after an aimless minute it occurred to me I did have one relevant card left to play. It was rather risky and audacious, but... I thought the risk was manageable, the audacity less than riding a stored airboat. No such thing as cheating.

I waited until I was fairly confident of my destination and moment. The teleportation Scroll wasn't meant to be used half-blind, but as I concentrated and cast, I aimed for the same area so many had passed through, which I judged reasonably free of obstructions, and for now, people. I took my time with it too, ignoring the passing adventurers who stared curiously at me, double-checking for safety and stability and...

The casting finished with a jerking sensation and explosion of mana. I fell some short distance and stumbled, barely keeping on my feet, but I was gratified when I lifted my head and saw the glowing exit.

At this point, I was tempted to disregard all the advice I'd read and sit down just for a moment to rest, but my gifted memory wouldn't let me forget my muscles might seize up or I might faint and stupidly fail that way. Instead I took to pacing, or more like hobbling, and then stretching.

I supposed, instead of waiting out the remainder of thirty minutes, I might've continued after another ten or so, thus possibly improving my prospects if I reached the final evaluation. But honestly I wanted to delay as long as possible forcing myself through another thirty minute course.

'Try not to fail.' 'Just go as far as you can.' My friends' inane-sounding advice suddenly made a lot more sense.

For once I wasn't the only examinee lingering by the door. I tried to ignore my not-competition, including the one on a hoverboard or others riding their familiars. My friends had also been right that I'd probably be much better prepared if I ever retook this test, assuming it stayed similar. I just wished I could see what came after. I hadn't even used my new Skills...

Wait. Actually, I might still have one more trick up my sleeve... but not literally, more's the pity.

My fourth course took place in dimly lit tunnels that again reminded me of the Challenge Maze. I soon understood we were meant to slow at the corners, but I could sense the adventurer ahead of me, and more specifically, when she relaxed or tensed. Thus I was able to keep up despite her faster running speed; at one point she glanced back, likely realizing I was benefiting from her scouting, though she said nothing.

I found the mostly trap-like obstacles refreshing -- forewarned was forearmed, here -- mixed with the occasional narrow ledge to balance on or platform to jump across, easily achieved with the assistance of [Magic Hand] and [Mana Barrier]. When I felt tired, I implemented my new notion to cast cantrips and [Mind Over Matter], alleviating my physical discomforts in short bursts. I'd worried the cessation of fatigue would make its return only the more unbearable, but instead it was rather like... scratching an itch? I wasn't sure if this actually helped me or not, but this seemed to be a case where my perception was as important as the reality.

In any case, we comfortably reached the exit with five minutes to spare. At this point the uber helpful adventurer continued on without me, while I prayed for a similar course next.

Alas, course number five was the same as number two, or in other words, I once more had my worst run ahead of me. No, I would not give up. I would keep running until my time ran out and disqualified me.

At the midway bridge, my [Magic Hand] distracted the troll while I tossed my Scroll of Smoke Cloud. Then I slipped past. My heart was thudding hard the whole time, but it actually worked! I might be an early failure, but I was still learning.

As I ran on, I determinedly did not look at the time or focus on the uncrossed distance lying ahead. I simply let my steps lead me, occasionally flaring [Mind Over Matter]. I ran as though nothing else mattered and ran past a despondent dropout and kept running through the notification I'd gained [Running].

Now, this was nowhere near as desirable as a Passive Skill -- Tom might've even said I was gaining them in the wrong order -- but I was ecstatic nonetheless. Apparently Hannah was right, and the test was a great opportunity for breaking through! By activating the Skill, my steps carried me farther and tired me less. I also felt like I'd gained a second wind; who cared if that was just in my head?

The feeling along with my new Skill carried me all the way through to the exit, which I barely reached in time (again). My watch updated with yet another demand, and I was too tired to waste energy groaning.

How many more of these were there? Would the running never end?

My sixth course was another repeat, this time of my downhill-uphill C. I kept [Running] activated and Meditated while I ran. Even with my shiny new Skill, I was exhausted; I'd been right in my assumption this was much harder when already tired. My arms ached from carrying this bloody staff!

I kept myself going by promising myself this would be my last. I only needed to reach the exit, and if my watch dared suggest another course, I would rip it off. I kept repeating such nonsensical self-encouragements, and somehow, at exhaustive last, I reached the exit.

Surprisingly, I still had a little time. Walking back and forth while I caught my breath had become second nature to me by now. I even was able to persuade myself I could run another course after all... which apparently I would need, as my watch ruthlessly displayed a letter yet again. My shoulders and heart sank with immense disappointment.

To my surprise, I'd barely run three minutes into Course G when the trail abruptly dropped off, continuing as a long, thin rope bridge with black markers outlining it and the cliffs. The other end disappeared into what appeared a cave entrance. One person was currently crossing while another two waited, which puzzled me until, as I drew nearer, I saw a signpost reading: 'ONE AT A TIME.'

The trip didn't look particularly difficult or dangerous. Was this to test our ability to read simple instructions? To cooperate and wait our turn? To survive heights? Personally, I was grateful for any excuse to rest.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me spike with adrenaline and turned to the startling sight of an adventurer barreling towards me. He was wearing heavy armor and carrying a sword that was nearly bigger than me; I could hardly believe he was running while weighed down by all that. I shuffled off to the side, afraid he might crash into me and letting him pass, so he triumphantly reached the bridge first. But did twenty or thirty seconds really make such a difference?

As I thought this, one of the three before me started across the bridge. Weirdly, I could no longer sense the one who'd crossed. Just what was on the other side?

I waited patiently if anxiously as the adventurers ahead of me crossed one by one. Nobody new arrived during that time. Reassured they were at least fine until they reached the cave entrance, I started over the bridge myself, holding the ropes on either side for support.

I reached the end of the bridge and paused at the mouth of the cave, taking a deep breath. I'd just quickly duck my head in first...

And yet in a single instant, all other thoughts were wiped away as I saw -- and more importantly, heard -- someone so sweetly familiar.

I stared, dazed. "Nailla?"