Slipstream was quite famous in these parts, as far as Isaac was aware. The people of Zumarr had always struggled keeping their population stable on their desert world, and an unfortunate combination of draught, imported pests, and some deep space monster disrupting trade routes made for one of the worst famines this sector had ever seen.

Slipstream had earned his nickname through a terraforming initiative on Zumarr that reversed a high-altitude air stream, bringing new, moist air from the ocean over the desertic landmass.

He was still imagining that he was reading the article on his brick when he was startled awake by the screeching of horny bugs and the coos and cackles of kookaburras hidden in the treetops.

“Look at my feathers; they are great. Hear my song — so masculine, such depth and breadth. I fear neither lightning nor the tall-things below. Watch, as I take from them what is rightfully mine.”

Isaac was still blinking the sleep from his eyes when Bird hopped in through the tent flaps Chessica was guarding. She didn’t even twitch, though her lid opened ever so slightly and without a sound. Bird meanwhile hopped all the way onto Isaac’s chest so he could stare right into his eyes.

“I require a snack.”

“For the ‘babes’?” Isaac asked.

“It is like a magic trick. To them, you are just a bunch of big, scary creatures. If I return with spoils, I will be like a hero.” He gave him a chunk of fishcake, which was still dry because he kept it in a plastic bag together with some clothes. “Much appreciated.”

He watched Bird hop back out before turning to Andri, who was rummaging around in Isaac’s backpack again.

“Am I out of food?” he asked jokingly.

<>

<>

<>

He grimaced, remembering where he had forgotten it.

<<...nevermind.>>

“Are seeds part of your boon?”

<>

Andri turned away. The text had come practically instantaneously. Isaac smirked. He was onto him. Something with plants, that was what his boon was about.

<>

“Me too.” As he peeked out of their tent, he noticed that parts of the camp had moved while they had slept. There was a big fire pit now where madame Alis had casually failed two hundred people yesterday.

Thinking about that stung. It was stupid to worry whether the examiners were going to go back on their promise or not. But he still worried, and once he was done with that, he worried what the day’s trials would bring with them.

He got a ping on his brick. The retake of the second test was starting in ten minutes. Soon enough, the entire camp had woken up and crawled out of their clammy resting places. If people were more rested and thereby less grumpy after this catnap, they didn’t show it. The way the air tasted, it could go sour at any moment.

The tension reached a new height when Madame Alis walked up to the podium. She took her place next to O-BEE in a silent grimace, while Miss Miff tinkered with some sort of adventuring device.

It was… odd-looking. A sort of mix of pipes and wires leading nowhere, rock-like readout-screens and random ventilation ducks, all hooked up to what was the most obviously magical orb Isaac had ever seen. The blue orb was as large as a human chest, and yet even with that and junk surrounding it, Miss Miff just lifted it up like it was a bag of laundry and placed it on the podium before stepping down.

There was a crackle that didn’t seem to originate from anywhere, followed by the feeling of Isaac’s ears popping.

All of a sudden, a young man’s face popped up on the surface of the orb. If not for his prominent scaling and dagger-shaped eyes, Isaac would have mistaken him for a human. As it stood, he had some Bloodline lizard, not much, but not little either.

The ball seemed to bulge and hum. Then, suddenly, his entire body slipped out, and it was as if he was standing right among them.

Isaac squinted. He was wearing a cargo vest with nothing underneath and swim pants. But the lighting was ever so slightly off. Still, it was more impressive than a farspeaker, and likely a lot more expensive.

“Is the connection stable? Yes? Awesome. Heyyy, what’s up my examinees? I’m Izzikit W’lak, but you probably know me as Slipstream. I’m your new examiner for the second test.”

There was a murmur, and some over dramatic person gasped.

Slipstream was a rather popular adventurer, judging by the amount of merch that could be found just about anywhere. He had shot up the tiers, and last thing people knew he was at the peak of Tier 22, and he specialized in things that flowed. The element didn’t matter to him, whether it was a river that needed to be diverted, a stream of magma, an avalanche, he could always do something with it.

He was also a galaxy-renowned chef in his off-time. But Isaac was pretty sure bothering someone as high tier as Slipstream was complete overkill for an adventurer exam. Not that Slipstream seemed bothered. He was even allowing people to ask questions.

“No, I cannot give you an autograph from this far away. What am I doing at the moment?” He scratched his head. “Weeell, it’s not public yet, but it’s also not confidential, and you are a million lightyears away… there was a lover’s spat on a pair of Tier 21’s honeymoon, and they cracked a mountain causing the ocean to pour into this really nice set of freshwater lakes here. An absolute ecological catastrophe let me tell you, so the association sent me as a stopgap measure.”

Whatever camera he was using on his end swerved around to show the mountain beside him. An absolutely gargantuan mass of water was running down what looked like a ravine that had been sliced into the mountain, but before it hit the lake below, it turned left, then turned again, and casually flowed back up the mountain.

The examinees were all stunned, and even Madame Alis seemed to watch with a begrudging sense of respect.

I wonder how he doesn’t run out of mana. I wonder what the rates are for interplanetary holographic messages.

“Anyways, time is short, so here’s the deal: I’m not an evil examiner. I don’t know the first thing about what it is you’re expected to do. Every exam is different. I did mine over a five hundred years ago, so—”

“Five hundred!?” someone yelled.

“Officially. That being said, you’ve all skipped dinner, and if I stall any longer our little granny is going to give me a scolding afterwards,” he said with a grin. Madame Alis scoffed. “So, first off, you were supposed to hunt your own food? Seems fair to me, learning to live off the land is a skill every adventurer should have. But really, Alis, latin? Just tell them they’re supposed to hunt bald rabbits.”

A small figure materialized next to him, the shape clearly made of water as it wobbled around. It was a rabbit, and it did look very bald, and very angry.

“They look like this. Note the hard skull cap. That’s a weapon, and make no mistake: these buggers can hurt. They usually don’t live to see the second Tier, but the notes say that this area has an unusually high concentration of them. They’re pests, they eat crops and when introduced into a new environment, they can often kill or maim predators with strong headbutts. They’re as belligerent as they are territorial, which should make hunting them easy.” The conjured water-rabbit mimed jumping at a tree, shaking it to the core. “They love the sugary yum-roots the most. Those should grow around here, right?”

“They were supposed to discover this on their own,” Madame Alis said, staring daggers at his projection. “This test is about gathering information.”

Slipstream just shrugged. “I can leave if you’d like. No? Then let me cook. We’re making a potluck today.” He turned to the other examinees. “Hunt the rabbits and get some yum roots. Ten points for the first catch, ten again for the first person to hand in five rabbits or five roots. We will stop accepting them after a hundred rabbits have been caught. People who didn’t catch one, don’t worry, you can’t fail this part of the test. Now go, go and catch some breakfast.”

People needed little more motivation than that. Groups streamed out while individuals raced ahead, eager to prove themselves the best hunter of rabbits.

Andri looked ready to shoot off.

“Don’t worry about us. They didn’t say anything about staying together as a team. Go get ‘em.”

He gave him a small nod and shot off into the forest as the rest of yesterday’s impromptu team approached. Sophia looked tired as anybody, and though Tom was trying not to show it, the way he walked implied massively sore muscles.

“You hurt?” Isaac asked.

“[Steam engine] gives energy. It does nothing about torn muscle fibers.” He took a sheaf of what looked to be green wheat, and pulled it through his teeth before chewing on it. “Are we going after rabbits or roots?”

“We could just wait,” Sophia groaned, flopping against Isaac dramatically. Isaac took one step back, and Sophia flopped onto the ground, right in front of Chessica.

“I am good at waiting,” she purred. She poked her tongue out and it took Isaac a second to realize she was trying to help Sophia stand up instead of eating her. “Sorry. No hands.”

Sophia hesitated. And then, she took her offered tongue and pulled herself up. It was such a brave move. He was going to have to tell the little ones all about it later.

“I know we don’t technically have to do anything,” Isaac said. “But I’d like to catch at least one.”

+++

“There it is.”

“I gooot it — I don’t gooot it.”

“Come at me, little rabbit warrior, and I will meet you eye to eye, forehead to forehead, like the forefathers int—”

“It got Tom! Minotaur down, minotaur down!”

“The beast is coming for you Isaac.”

“It’s not faster than a pok-ball. It’s not faster than a pok-ball!”

“Isaaaac!”

+++

The campgrounds were slowly filling with the moaning and groaning of the lucky and unlucky alike. For all his candidness, Slipstream had failed to mention how damn fast the little buggers could be. With a cultivation of Tier two and a focus on speed and explosive power, the rabbits used their entire bodies like living and supremely accurate bullets.

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“Ugh,” said Sophia as she slumped against Isaac, and he slumped right back against her. “I can feel my everything.”

“This is a place of no honor,” Tom grumbled, massaging his forehead.

“We might have to use our healing potion,” Isaac said.

Everyone had at least a dozen bruises, but they had done it. They had caught one entire rabbit through sheer stubbornness, a bit of reckless endangerment, and luck. Up ahead, the line of people waiting to deposit their catch didn’t look much better. Most caught one rabbit, some two, and only one had an entire three. He looked around before waving down a very smug looking Andri.

“Any luck?” he asked.

Andri proudly jingled a full pouch of extra points. People who’d gone beyond already got their coins.

“Wow. You make it look easy.”

<>

<>

<>

His smugness was reaching overbearing levels.

There was a commotion from up ahead. One of the captured rabbits had been knocked out instead of killed, and came too. It rocketed right past an angry mage, looking for an easy way out before finding one in Sophia.

It hopped on a solid rock, then rocketed right forward. Isaac was there, and before he knew what was happening, his pok-ball bat connected with a massive crack with its hard head. The hit rang through his arm injured and knocked him over. It whizzed through the air with a wiring sound as he deflected it.

Andri made a split, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as the rabbit-sized missile passed within inches of his head.

“Sorry,” Isaac whispered, as the responsible group chased after their quarry.

All in all, catching lethal rabbits was on the level of what Isaac expected adventurers to handle on the daily. He was convinced setting the goal of five rabbits was a red herring for overachievers when long and short-knight plopped down a grand total of six.

The shorter of the two suddenly turned around, scrutinizing him through her pointy visor.

Short, reinforced chest armor, leather leggings, the hint of a riffled dress poking out from the Tasset. A girl?

“Need healing?”

Definitely sounds like a girl.

“Uh, yeah.” He rolled his shoulder, wincing at the pain. “Shoulder for me.”

“Your friends too?”

Isaac nodded.

She stuck out an open palm. “Full heal, one point per person. No organ regrowth, no bone-mending, scarring guaranteed.”

That was less expensive than a healing potion. They all looked to Andri, who was quickly regretting being so smug about his victory.

<>

“We’d appreciate some sharing.”

“Nnnh,” he groaned. He was in the middle of slowly counting out the points when Chessica slapped a slobbery bag of points on short-knight’s hands.

“From last round,” she said. “I can’t use them for much aaanyways. Most of the magical gear doesn’t fit my chest size…”

“Thank you,” Isaac said. “I promise I’ll help you find something for you. Maybe some…” He looked her up and down. “Varnish?” he said carefully.

“Yeees.”

“Maybe a bow?” Sophia asked. “Something pretty to mark you as our friendly mimic?”

“Friendship badges. Yeees. This is acceptable.”

Short-knight went to work immediately. It was the first time Isaac had seen a healer work up close. Getting a healing skill alone was a herculean endeavor. On Wett, those with rare healing talents were quickly lifted out of the low tiers, so they could better put their abilities to use in healing more people. That didn’t leave many healers on Wett.

There goes some of our budget again. But at least she’s offering it for cheap.

“And you won’t run out of mana doing this?” Isaac asked. It was a reasonable worry, since healing was just about the most important skill to have going forward.

“Don’t worry,” she said, muffled through her knight helmet. “Josy got me many mana crystals. She has lots.”

“But those cost like ten thousand each, and they’re poisonous to the average person.”

“Yeah,” she said as she took one out of her bag, then crunched down on it like it was some kind of candy. “And?”

Healers really are a different breed.

He was still contemplating how she could digest a crystal filled with so much foreign mana when short-knight pointed at his sister’s injury, then doused it with a high-pressure jet of water. The way Sophia bit her teeth together as she healed a head-sized purple bruise on her stomach, it wasn’t exactly painless. But within the half minute that passed, the bruise had turned from deeply colored purple into a barely perceptible yellow.

“Now it is your turn to scream,” she said, raising dripping fingers at Isaac in barely restrained glee.

“Are medical professionals supposed to look forward to inflicting pain?”

“Who ever said I’m a professional?” she asked and started blasting.

It was a lot more uncomfortable than it looked.

+++

There was a common idea that adventurers were all over the place all the time. With tech like the thing projecting Slipstream all the way here, it was almost believable. And in a way they were omnipresent through movies and books and all kinds of media.

It lent them a feeling of awesomeness, of being special and untouchable.

Slipstream was… oddly approachable, even if he was literally a hologram. He walked back and forth as the adventurers peeled the sweet-roots and potatoes, giving tips and ethereal pats on the back as he went. Soon enough, roots and radishes were cleaned and an incredibly long table that had appeared out of nowhere was set. One group was set aside and was being taught how to dress bald rabbits, cutting them up into various parts.

“Is this small enough?” His neighbor, a rather nervous looking canid guy asked Isaac.

Isaac peeked over while keeping up his own cutting.

“You’ll want to make them a tad larger so they don’t dissolve in the pot.”

“Right. Thanks.” The sound of chopping filled the quiet for a while. “You’re awfully good at this.”

“I help out a lot at home. Claire has to cook for over twenty mouths after all.”

He seemed to keep on staring at Isaac’s T-shirt, which for once didn’t have a deranged message, just a picture of half an orange and half a lemon kissing over the blurb ‘I’ll be your clementine’.

“Claire’s Orphanage? That Claire?”

What’s with that tone?

“You make it sound like that’s something special.”

“I heard fishmen and women are, like, freaky. Sex wise. ‘Cause they’re all infertile, except the queens. Is it true they have, ‘y’know… with their cousins?”

Isaac gave him the most ‘what-the-hell’ look as he cut through the rest of the root. How the heck was he supposed to answer that without making it super awkward, or falsely incriminating himself through an overly specific ‘um, actually’.

Besides, that was a pod-thing. It wasn’t exactly polite of an outsider to ask.

“No.” Isaac said and went back to cutting, trying to ignore how his neighbor was sneaking glances as much as sneaking bites of rabbit chunks when he thought Isaas wasn’t looking.

I don’t think you’re supposed to eat them raw, man. And who the heck starts a conversation like that?

He put the awkward encounter out of his mind, and forgot about it soon enough. There was a lot of cutting to be done anyway. By the time midday rolled past, everyone was absolutely rabid for food. The table was set, multiple pots of carnivorous and vegetarian stew were busily steaming away next to potato gratins and reddish sweet-beet pastes that was probably some sort of dessert.

It wasn’t raining anymore, thankfully, and once everyone was seated, food was plated. The smell that wafted forth from Isaac’s bowl smelled heavenly.

“Now that’s a potluck like Granny Goldengrain used to make,” said Slipstream as he looked on in forlorn envy. He strolled along the table, pretending to sample the smells of every dish. Then he floated up a bit, gathering attention from all around. “Remember, if you become an adventurer, you will always eat well. It’s the least on offer, but in my humble opinion, the most important part of all this. Without further ado, dig in.”

People did. The air was filled with the sounds of hungry people going at it, devouring food and just as quickly going for seconds. Their fervor agreed with Isaac, as all too soon he was scraping the bottom of his first bowl of chunky brown stew that tasted like a wholesome mix of paprika and sweet onion. Someone passed Isaac bread. He dunked it in the dregs of the stew, then cleaned off his dish with it before going for another helping.

So good.

“Well, you sure are filled with spunk,” said the flying hologram to noone in particular. “But don’t forget, the second test isn’t over.”

The sounds of clinking and feverous eating turned so quiet Isaac could hear someone choking on their food ten seats over.

“Madame Alis is right, gathering information is quite an important skill. So, how about this: You all should try to get to know each other. When I clap, move one seat to the right. You will speak to the person sitting opposite of you for one minute, and you will have to remember their name as well as three things about them. No note taking, no augs. Everyone who can accurately write down these features for ten people afterwards gets a pass. Everyone else, sorry, but maybe try some word-puzzles in between now and the next exam.”

He clapped, and it took one second for the collective examinees to realize that that was the starting shot. Isaac hurried onto the chair next to him with a mouthful of bread he almost choked on when he saw who it was.

“You,” said the girl with knife-eyes and a very sore looking nose.

“Me.” He rubbed where a phantom ache lingered in his arm. “You stabbed me.”

“I cut you, barely.”

“Big difference.” The stare off continued for another second before the other side relented.

“Mona Song. I live in the community housing around Wett-C. My favorite color is magenta. I collect knives and I don’t particularly care for selfless busybodies like you.”

Mona. V-shaped face, harsh eyes. Has a knife collection. Not afraid of confrontation.

“Isaac Quillson. I’m an orphan. I lost the tip of my pinkie in a rift. My adoptive mother is Claire.”

“You’re from Claire’s?”

“Why does everyone immediately know that? It’s not that uncommon of a name. It’s not weird, is it?”

She snorted. “Depends. Are the rumors—”

“No.” He had to deflect before she started asking. “What’s it like living in community housing? That’s like, a single city-sized building, no?”

“It’s alright, if you don’t mind living at the whim of minimal social benefits, the smell of ten thousand people, or the racketeers, or people dumping trash directly from the top floor. It’s no adventurer-sponsored island paradise,” she said as if paradise was a bad thing, “so I wouldn’t know what life’s like for you. You do know you’ve got it well—”

“Oh, that’s the signal. Sorry, gotta go, dog-kicker.”

“Oh no you don’t, you motherfucker.” He was already getting up with a big bite of bread in his mouth. “Do you know how big direwolves get, how expensive they are? The guy we were harassing was a noble brat! You’re supporting the establishment, you class traitor, screw youuu!”

The next person at least appeared a little more friendly. It was a human guy, looking a bit younger than Isaac, though that could just have been his face.

“Hey, I’m Richard of Ralia, son of the count of Ralia, but you can call me Richy. I’m from Numa 2, though everyone just calls it The Numa. I love delving, it’s like the one thing I’ve done since I was twelve, and ever since I got my boon, it’s been great! I specialize in [Mana slash], or, well, I want to, but I need to get to Tier 7 first, since that’s a second realm skill. [Pseudo mana slash] is almost as good though. It works great with my boon. Wanna see?”

Isaac was still sorting things in his mind when he pulled out a sword that probably cost more than Isaac’s entire collection of gear. The man and woman flanking him were likely his retainers, and by the looks on their faces they really didn’t like their liege sharing so much of his skillset.

“I don’t think I need a demonstration,” Isaac said and then hastily counted the most boring aspects of his life.

“Wow. You grew up around merpeople? Like, underwater? That’s so cool! I always thought that it was unfair that they could breathe air and water, but everyone else can only breathe air, but it sounds like you managed to work around that. Ooh, did you see one of the fat low tier titans? Your planet has those, right? I’ve always wanted to see one of their fake gods from up close, but—”

“Fake gods?”

There was a clap and a shuffle.

Mister mana slash. Likes swords. Talks a lot. A bit too open about his skills.

Isaac was still reeling from that conversation when every hair on his body stood on end. He looked like an ageless tall man whose body was covered head to toe in silver needles that seemed to grow from his pores. He was wearing a smile and expression that looked to be tailored to be exactly a bit too serene and happy. When Isaac looked closer, he realized that the needles were actually sewing needles, and that what he thought was skin was just incredibly finely woven cloth of some sort.

“Uh, hi,” Isaac said. “Pinhead?”

The man didn’t say a word.

“I’m Isaac. I live on an island. My favorite color is… anything but blue. I can speak P’cleek moderately well on land.”

The man slowly inclined his head forward. In a whisper like that of a dead man, he said only a handful of words.

“Pinhead. Like food. Dislike apples. Pastime: sewing.”

“Uh-huh. Nice to meet you.” They sat staring at each other for an awkward few seconds before the next clap rang out.

Whatever the next test is, if I meet him alone in the forest, I’m running.

Isaac only hoped that there weren’t that many other people like him. He was creepy as hell, and that minute robbed him of a year of his life. He slumped down on the next chair, raising his hand before his opponent could even start talking.

“I’m Isaac. I’m an orphan. I live on an island. I fucking love Claire’s fishcakes.”

The red ogrekin snapped his fingers at Isaac. “You’re the weird fish guy who can’t swim!”

“I’m not weird!”