“Micah, I have a plan,” Ryan said.

They stood to the side of the Climbers Guild's entrance, in front of one of the large windows looking in. Actually, Micah thought this was the exact window where he’d made the mistake of drinking comfort potion before going into the Tower his first time. Now, Ryan and Lisa were there with him.

And chaos was all around them.

“A plan?” Lisa asked, her small backpack squirming a little. She’d brought Sam along for some reason. Maybe moral support? Micah doubted anyone would notice or even care about it in this crowd. There were other summoned monsters on leashes around. Then again, Lisa didn’t seem to go anywhere without Sam if she could.

After three tortuous and somewhat awkward days of sleeping at Ryan’s place, doing as many chores as he could, and training for entrance exam types, it was finally Thursday morning.

It was time.

The Guild had posted the results of the first two entrance exams all throughout its six main halls and even a few branch houses an hour ago, but their group hadn’t gone in to see their results yet.

Others had. Some had been waiting inside when they got here, others outside on benches, or pacing in circles. Most of those had gone in and come out again; happy, scowling, or even crying. Accepted, disappointed, or rejected, Micah supposed. He hoped that wouldn’t be him soon.

Because they would go in. Soon. In a moment. Micah just needed a moment to … breathe first.

Ryan and Lisa looked a little anxious themselves. And they expressed it in the same way. They both were very still, though Ryan looked a little more brooding and Lisa like she would have gone in already, were she alone.

Actually, Micah wasn’t sure if they were nervous. Maybe Ryan was brooding and Lisa would have gone in already, were she alone? Was it just him?

“A plan for if you don’t make it in,” Ryan went on and Micah tried not to wince. “Here, apply as an Early Bird to the school Lang wants to go to. It offers basic alchemy, natural sciences, and Tower ecology classes. There’s still time to apply until next Monday. I got you a pamphlet.”

He took a much-folded pamphlet out of his back pocket while he spoke and handed it over.

Micah slowly took it and frowned as he leafed through the first two pages. He was looking at them, sure, but he wasn’t actually reading. He had no idea what the words on the pages said.

He needn’t have bothered, because Lisa ripped it out of his hand anyway and shoved it back at Ryan.

“You guys are being way too dramatic. Apples will have done fine. Can we go now, please, or do you want to drop by a tea shop first? To calm your nerves? Maybe find a spa, get a relaxing massage, face mask, hot stones, some acupuncture? Drop by a bar to smoke? Go for a swim? Have a picnic? Maybe duck into a back alley to buy some happy pills from a less than reput—”

“We get it,” Ryan said.

Micah chuckled, though. Lisa was right. They just had to get this over with. They had spent too much time already worrying over what might be today. Why were they delaying the inevitable?

“Okay, let’s go,” he said.

Ryan looked at him, nodded once, and took the lead.

If there was a crowd outside, it was nothing compared to the sea of bodies that filled the Guild. It would have been packed anyway, this early into the morning. But a spiderweb of teens had infested the place now, streaming in rivers along posting boards and gathering into pools in some places. Every single couch was taken.

One long line of boards began to the left of the entrance way; another right. Did they both say the same thing? In the distance, Micah thought he even saw two more such lines. He hoped they were duplicates.

Ryan pushed his way through the crowd, and they followed the gap he created to the closest board on the left. There, they found last names starting in the middle of the letter “A” and frowned.

Where were the participant numbers?

“They’re posting the results publically?” Ryan mumbled.

Micah knew schools usually just posted the numbers of those who had passed. Whether or not you could or couldn’t find yours decided your fate. More detailed results would be posted elsewhere later or had to be requested.

But the Guild was just putting them all out into the open? He glanced left and saw many, many more posting boards stretching into the distance. Oh. No wonder why they needed so many, then.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Lisa commented.

Neither could Micah, really. The school was funded by the Registrars after all. And they were all about lists and data. Ameryth had probably also had something in mind, like making this—

“It’s like a competition,” Ryan mumbled.

Exactly.

Micah could see a list of names he didn’t even know with what he assumed were their numbered scores. That meant others could see his score as well. Not that they would care. Just as he wondered whether or not anyone was bothering with copying the whole list, a woman with a small booklet shuffled past, making notes in a tiny scrawl.

“Split up?” Lisa asked. “I think I see ‘C’ back there. ‘P’ will be …” She turned down the hall. “All the way that way.”

"Right. Good luck," Ryan said.

Micah echoed him as they headed on and Lisa called, “Right back at you.”

They pushed through the clustered teens and slowly made their way over to the letter “P.”

Micah had to make a decision, then. Did he stick around to see his score and congratulate Ryan, meaning he would come with to see his score after, or did he want to see it in private?

In case he didn’t make it …

“Hey, I’m going on ahead, okay?”

“Oh. Are you sure?” Ryan asked him. He nodded and started walking away already. “Right, then. Good luck.”

“You, too,” Micah mumbled and slipped out of the crowd.

Unlike Ryan, he couldn’t just barrel his way through. So from behind it, he stretched to look over the heads of the people until he found the letter “S,” took a breath, and squeezed his way in there. He found the lists and searched for his name among them.

Sabrie … Scara … Sellflower … Micah skipped a few boards … Shala … Soto … Stacey … Stark … Stephenson … Stone … It should have been around here somewhere. Sundberg. He was too far. Micah stopped walking and looked the column up and down. Where was his name? Unless … had he failed?

Micah desperate searched the column again and—

There! He spotted it like a needle in a haystack.

Stranya, Micah.

And next to it, a bunch of numbers that didn’t tell him anything. 216/300. 72. 49. 399/561. 71. 203.

“What?”

He read them once more, and then again, and again, but each time they just seemed to blend more and more into nonsense. Which one of them was his score? Two of them were fractions. Were those his points on the tests?

He glanced at the top row instead, but the description just said the … left half? … of the numbers was for his physical aptitude test. Okay. That meant the right half was for the written exam.

Micah was about to tackle the numbers again when he heard someone mumbling near him, “Shala, Shala, Shala, Shala …”

A boy who looked a lot like Micah, actually—taller, though; his features were more angular, but his skin tone was almost the same—was running a finger down the list as he searched for his own name.

Shala? Hadn’t Micah just seen that somewhere? Where…?

“There,” he pointed before he could think about what he was doing.

The boy only glanced at him, but then he saw his own name and his eyes were glued to the row of numbers. Slowly, his lips curved into an ever wider-growing grin. He weighed his head a little once—in disappointment maybe?—but in the end, he pumped one fist and said, “Yes!”

So he knew what the numbers meant then?

The boy gave Micah a “Thanks” in passing and looked like he was about to head off when Micah tapped him on the shoulder.

“Uhm, do you know what the numbers mean?”

“Hm? Of course. Do you not?”

Micah shook his head.

“Oh. There are explanation sheets around, or you could go to the reception desks to ask …” he said and glanced away as if he wanted to leave. Micah was probably holding him up from going to tell his friends or family. Still, he stayed. “But— Hm. Here. Or rather, where is your row?”

Micah pointed and the boy stepped closer to see for himself, giving the numbers a brief once-over.

“It’s simple. It shows the number of points you achieved from the possible total, the equivalent percentage, and then your group ranking,” he explained. “So you earned two-hundred and sixteen from three hundred possible points, which is seventy-two percent and puts you at rank forty-nine. You’re in the top fifty. Impressive.”

Micah followed his words but needed a moment to catch up. Top fifty?

“ … From everyone?!” he asked.

Shala chuckled a little, but glanced away again. “No, from your group. They split the applicants into three groups. Those who want to skip years, those who are first attending school, and those who are repeating a year. Not to be rude, but I am guessing you are from the first of those groups?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I am.” Micah nodded. That made more sense. But that left one more question. Top fifty didn’t tell him much if he didn’t know how many others there were. “Do you know how many applicants were— I mean, are in my group?”

“Our group,” Shala corrected him, surprisingly. He looked old enough to have finished classroom already. “I think there were about three-hundred applicants who wanted to skip grades? Give or take a few silvers. I have to go now, though. Thank you for finding my name, Stranya.”

“Oh, thanks for explaining my numbers, Shala!” Micah called, as he had already headed off.

The guy pressed his way out of the crowd and towards another, even older boy who also looked similar to them … and who had what looked like a manservant waiting a few steps back. The two clasped arms in celebration and headed off, talking. And sure enough, the man in the suit followed after.

Rich people.

Micah shook his head and turned back to his board.

He had put it out of his mind during the conversation, but the physical aptitude test didn’t matter as long as he passed. He didn’t know Ryan’s score after all. What mattered was the written exam.

Slowly, Micah dragged his finger along the row of numbers, heart thumping in his throat.

He had 399 raw points of 561 possible ones on his written exam. That made 71 percent of the score and put him in rank 203 from about 300-ish applicants, according to Shala, whom he had just met.

71 percent. Micah had 71 percent.

70 percent was the cut-off line.

And Micah had 71—

“YES!” he shouted.

A pair of girls next to him scowled.

He clapped a hand over his grin, then turned, glancing over the crowd. He thought he saw Shala looking back at them. He knew he saw Ryan staring at him through the long crowd, past countless bodies that could have obstructed the view from where he stood in front of his own board.

A person pushed in front of him and the next time Micah saw him, they had both pressed closer and Ryan wore a shabby smile.

Micah kept on pressing through the crowd for a moment before he realized this was ridiculous. He pushed out instead and jogged along it. A moment later, he saw Ryan do the same.

“You passed?” he asked.

“I did!” Micah called and grabbed his arm. “Just barely.” He dragged him along the crowd and then through. The scowling girls were gone, but he wouldn’t have cared either way. He pointed. “There! Look! Look!”

Ryan quickly found the row. He scanned it once, twice, and grinned while everyone bustled around them.

“Congratulations, Micah!”

He turned with open arms, but Micah was already gone, headed for the board Ryan had stood in front of. Once he got there, he searched the boards, Payne, Payne, Payne. A finger appeared over his shoulder and pointed at the exact right one. Surprisingly, there were three more Paynes, two above and one below his name. Relatives? Or was the name just common?

Micah took a hold of Ryan’s arm behind him before it could flee and pulled him up close, then dragged his still-pointing finger along under the row, a huge grin on his face. Let’s see, he thought with anticipation …

Payne, Ryan. 300/300. 100. 8.

… What?

He got a perfect score? Wait, no, he got a perfect score but was still place eight? How? Wait, no, he got a perfect score?! More slowly now, Micah kept on dragging the finger with a little waver.

524/526. 99. 4.

… What?

He turned around and finally asked out loud, “What?”

Ryan was blushing something fierce as he pulled his arm free to rub his elbow. “I told you I did well.”

Then, freaking of course he scowled and said, “I made mistakes during the written exam, though. And there’s still seven people better than—”

“Two mistakes?!” Micah interrupted him. “You only made two mistakes! What? Did you forget to write your name on top of each page? You’re in the top ten on both accounts! Don’t you dare mention that there are people better than you when my score … my score is …”

Micah frowned and sprinted back to his section. There were gaps in some parts of the crowd now, thankfully, because he had forgotten his ranking already. He searched the list. Where was his name? Oh, wrong board. Micah shuffled over. There! He was spot 203 of his age group in the written exam.

“I’m rank 203!” he called back, knowing Ryan was there. And even if he wasn’t, he would still hear. “You don’t get to speak, Mr. Eight and Four! And you’re in the main group! Why didn’t you say you did so well?”

Ryan looked away, clearing not intending to answer, and shrugged a little.

Micah just breathed for a moment and then he called, “Ryan. Hey, Ryan. Ryan!”

He looked back. “What?”

“We passed.”

Micah grinned, threw his arms up, and starting dancing like an idiot.

Even if there were forty-eight and two hundred and two people better than him, Micah still had passed! And anyway, they were only better for now. There was still a third exam to come and Micah was totally going to prove himself then. And so was Ryan! He was going to do better than those seven and three and take rank one.

And so was—

“Lisa?” he asked out loud, looked at Ryan, who, in turn, had been staring at him dancing around like an idiot with a small smile.

They both seemed to have the same thought because they pushed their way through the crowd to find her.

Halfway there, she met them. “Hey, I was wondering where you two were—”

“I passed!” Micah shouted as he brushed past her. “And Ryan’s in the top ten. Where’s yours?”

“Ryan’s in the top ten?” she asked. “Oh, and congrat—”

“Where’s yours?”

“Found it!” Ryan called and gripped his arm to drag him through a group of people. Some scowled, but what did they care? Still, Micah called a fake, “Sorry.” Then his eyes were glued to the row as he crowded shoulder-to-shoulder next to him.

“Chandler, Lisa,” he read. “300 of 300. 100 and … place 1.”

They slowly turned on her.

“What did you do?” Micah asked.

Lisa shrugged. “I just kept on doing the exercises until I noticed the testers getting bored.”

Micah glanced at her arms again, wondering if he would ever catch up, and turned back to the board. Thankfully, the written exam wasn’t as good. “453/492. 92. 46,” he read. “Puh. You’re still human. Unlike Ryan over here.” He slapped him on the chest with the back of his hand and had a sudden thought. What about …?

“Seriously, top ten?” Lisa asked.

Ryan was scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Place eight and four,” he mumbled.

“Show me!” She dragged him off.

Micah followed, but halfway there, he broke off when he spotted a posting board with the letter “H.”

Anne was in his group, right?

He searched the boards slowly, until he bumped into a cluster of people who were staring at something. The name he was looking for was supposed to be somewhere around there, though, so Micah mumbled polite apologies as he tried to push through.

“What did you expect?” he heard someone say.

“Seriously?”

Micah finally managed to get a look at the papers and spotted her row. It wasn’t hard. Someone was pointing.

Heswaren, Annebeth. 300/300. 100. 1. 558/561. 99. 1.

Oh. Of course.

Anne was awesome.

Lisa showed up a moment later to see the score for herself and nodded, but didn’t say anything. Then she dragged Micah over to his own board, where she congratulated him on skimming his way past the cut-off line.

Finally, she dragged them along as she scouted out a few other scores from people she knew, including that Shala guy. Micah didn’t really care for that, though. He had just barely made it in and knew he would have to ace the last exam if he wanted to compete with any of them. He just hoped he would be ready in time. There were still more than half a dozen traditional dueling targets he hadn’t even fought yet.

“What now?” Lisa asked as they made their slow way through the crowd twenty minutes later.

“We go into the Tower,” Micah offered, “and train until we drop.”

For once, the other two seemed to agree completely with him.

Ryan started asking Lisa something about watches and the exam, but as they left the plaza, Micah spotted a boy hugging his parents and eavesdropped on them instead. They congratulated him loudly on his score and asking questions.

Micah had dropped by the bathhouse yesterday morning, just to say hi to everyone, but he hadn’t seen his parents in four days. Not even heard from them. Did they even care?

And more importantly, did he? Right now? He shook his head. No, he had an entrance exam in two days that he had to prepare for. Until then, everything else could wait.

----------------------------------------

“Ryan?” Micah asked as he struggled with putting his armor on. “Can you help me with my armguards? Somehow, I can’t …. get them … to go all the way up!Argh! I give up. Stupid armor. Did it shrink in the wash?”

He spoke of a figurative wash, since he cleaned his armor with a damp rag every day after they got out of the Tower, then dried, wrapped, and stored it with his other things in the treasure chests.

Surprisingly, Ryan chuckled as he walked over from where he was putting on his own equipment. Or at least, what equipment he had at home. A thick, almost padded shirt climbers like to wear, his growing boots, and long pants. Everything else he could only borrow from his old school thanks to Gardener.

“What are you chuckling about?” Micah grumbled as he inspected his arm.

Ryan undid the straps of the armguard and refit them again, a little looser this time. Was that a good idea? Then he tugged it up and Micah had to push down to not let his arm get wrenched up.

“I was just wondering what the opposite of shrinking in the wash would be,” Ryan said. “Stretching in the sun? You have been getting more sunlight this summer, right? I barely saw you around outside last year.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Micah snapped, a little self-conscious.

He had liked to think getting a level up would be worth spending all summer in his room on his own … without friends. But now … Would things have been different if he’d hung out with Ryan and the others from the start? Maybe he would have taken him into Tower had Micah just asked.

“Because,” Ryan said and turned his arm over to show the armguard, “the armor didn’t shrink, Micah. You grew. You’ve been growing all summer.”

Micah saw how the armor didn’t reach quite as high on his arm anymore and how Ryan had given the straps a little bit of more breathing room. He blinked. “Oh. Of course.”

“Haven’t you noticed? I’ve barely been gaining any height on you.”

He glanced up and noticed Ryan did look taller than when they had first met. Objectively speaking, Micah knew Ryan was always busy growing. It was almost like a part-time job for him. But he had barely noticed these last few weeks since he’d always seemed about the same height as before … because Micah had almost been keeping pace?

“Ohhh …” he said. “Awesome!”

He grinned and pressed himself close to Ryan to compare heights, who thankfully went rigid so he had a good measure of it. Micah’s head was at about equal height to his shoulders. If things went on like this, he might even have to—

“Oh no. Not awesome. I’ll have to buy new armor.”

“You can get it adjusted,” Ryan said, taking a step back. “Or sell it. You still have a few months until then, anyway.”

“Right.”

Micah nodded. Money. He needed money again, just like when this had all started. At least, he knew that wouldn’t change.

He looked over his equipment inside his backpack again and noticed how there was still a lot of space. Maybe if he carried some of his other stuff in one of his loot sacks...?

"Hey, Ryan? Can we drop my stuff by the bathhouse real quick before we go back to the Tower?"

"What?"

Micah went over to check in the treasure chest and picked out his clothes, the dirty ones almost as many as the clean ones now.

"My clothes and bedroll and stuff."

"But you passed the test."

Micah frowned. "And?"

"Why do you want to leave?"

"Yeah, but it is Thursday," he said. "I asked for permission to stay to Thursday and now it's Thursday. I'll stay at my sister's until school starts. Uhm, if I make it in. And we'll be spending all day in the Tower, so better I do it now than later when it's dark and we're tired, right?"

Micah didn't want to overstay his welcome.

"Don't you at least want to stay for dinner?"

"I guess if you want me to, but your dad is working late today, remember?"

Micah began piling his dirty clothes into the loot sack and put a towel in as a barrier for his clean ones, but Ryan hadn't said anything for a while, so he glanced back.

Ryan looked ... a little hurt. "Don't you want to stay?"

Of course, he did. But he also didn't.

"It's not a big deal, right? We spend all day together anyway," Micah said, remembering what his parents had told him when he'd asked to sleep over.

"We would lose time we could spend training," Ryan countered, "since we would have to meet up every morning on different schedules. And, uh, I'm not particularly looking forward to picking up the chores you've been doing. Why not stay and we can ask my parents later if it's okay? Or say you thought they meant Thursday, as in staying until Friday morning."

Micah wasn't going to lie to them like that. And he knew: "If I ask, you know they'll say yes."

The other guy didn't seem to see the issue. "And?"

And, would they say yes because they were good people or because they were great people?

Micah sighed. Of course, it was the second one. They probably didn't mind that he was here at all. He would just have to find some other way to thank them. A gift. And something small to show his gratitude until he could get them a proper present ...

"Do they like flowers?" Micah tried, thinking of a bouquet or some potted plant. Maybe something practical like basil for the kitchen?

"They love flowers," Ryan lied.

Micah was about to think of alternatives when he reminded himself, Entrance exam. As much as it pained him, everything else would have to way until Sunday. And maybe they really would say no and kick him out. It was a nice thought.

"Then I'll get them flowers or something."

Oh. What about groceries? That seemed like a better idea.

Micah dumped his clothes back in the treasure chest and they met back up with Lisa at the Tower, who had what looked like a cudgel instead of a quarterstaff with her this time. Micah frowned at it, but Ryan took the different weapon in stride.

“Did you bring the watches?” he asked.

Lisa shifted through her pocket and brought out two mismatched wrist watches for them. One of them was obviously Mave’s. The other he didn't recognize.

“What are we going to need them for? I thought we were going to look for monsters?”

“Maybe,” Ryan said and turned to Lisa. “Are you sure we can’t do that? I mean, there are still some monsters we have to practice fighting against. Micah hasn’t fought Myconids, Rathounds, Ink Golems, Stone Boars, and we haven’t found any Winged Honey Ants or River Crabs either.”

“Not fighting Myconids is a good thing. But Speedruns are a very likely possibility. All the rumormongers are saying it, at least.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Speedruns?”

Ryan sighed as he handed a wrist watch over and explained, “They’re a type of test where you have to get to the end of the third floor, usually, as quickly as possible, starting from the first. There are variations, of course.”

“Oh.” Micah frowned as he slipped the watch on. He cocked his head a little. “Is that safe?”

The last time Micah had run into the Tower, it hadn’t ended so well for him. It didn’t seem like a good idea for anyone.

“No,” Ryan grumbled. “It’s not safe. Using them as a test puts students under pressure, which leads to mistakes. And running through the Tower attracts hordes of monsters. Hordes of monsters and mistakes lead to dead kids. They’re rarely used in exams anymore. Especially not entrance exams. But since everyone is saying Ms. Denner is such a wild card ...”

Micah nodded. “Then we have to at least prepare.”

They only had today and tomorrow to do some last minute training. Hopefully, it would be enough. Unlike the last two tests, at least Micah would be able to improvise.

But when he looked around, other teens looked like they were preparing for Speedruns as well. Micah had thought it strange earlier, but now everyone jogging circles around lawns, warm-up exercises, and the people doing runners’ starts into the portal suddenly made sense. They were literally sprinting into the Tower.

… Was that wise?

Ryan followed his gaze and scowled. “Do not do that. Especially not on your first try, Micah. Either those guys have months, if not years, of experience doing Speedruns or they’re idiots, okay?”

Micah nodded, trusting Ryan for now. “Okay.”

“The best thing is to start out with is a slow jog at about the pace of a speedwalk,” Lisa told him as if reciting from a book. “That will get you used to the concept, allow you to keep an eye out for tell-tale signs of dangers, and give you time to react accordingly. It also helps you plan ahead and save your stamina. Then you can slowly increase your tempo with each attempt as you get used to it. You shouldn’t ever run so fast that you can’t react to an emergency.”

Ryan nodded, looking like a pleased guardian.

“... or you should run so fast, ambushes don’t matter to you,” Lisa added.

Ryan scowled.

“What’s a good time?”

They both looked uncertain.

“The Tower is too random to say for sure," Ryan said. "Two to three hours is probably considered average, depending on how lucky you get."

“I heard some schools even cast tracking spells on their students to measure exactly how far they run and then adjust their score accordingly," Lisa added. "But with almost two-thousands applicants left, I doubt they’ll do that.”

Ryan scrunched up his face in frustration. “I doubt they’ll use Speedruns at all, but … better safe than sorry, right?”

He looked uncertain.

“Right,” Micah assured him. “And on the topic of safe, I won’t do anything stupid or dangerous. I’ll keep a slow and steady tempo, carefully kill monsters I encounter, and try to remember the maps we’ve studied to plan ahead.”

Thankfully, that seemed to be exactly what Ryan wanted to hear because he relaxed as he sighed in relief.

“We’ll do some warm-up exercises first. Then, just, look at your watch before you go in and memorize your starting time. Wait for us if you get back out before either of us. You can practice forms on a lawn.”

Micah was a little surprised that Ryan thought he would get out before either of them, but the Tower was random, so it was a possibility. He glanced around at the crowded lawns, the groups of joggers circling like buzzards, people walking forms, practicing spells, talking with each other, and just generally being strangers who ignored personal space, and reluctantly mumbled, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Good, then—”

“Good luck,” Lisa interrupted him and headed for the portal.

“Aren’t you going to warm-up?” Ryan asked.

“I’ll do it on the go!” Lisa called back.

“Oh, then, good luck.”

“Good luck!” Micah echoed.

Five minutes later, they followed her.

“And remember, stay safe,” Ryan repeated again.

Micah nodded. He was going to take it slow and not make any mistakes. He had to get used to this first … before he did anything stupid. So he said good luck to Ryan, glanced at his watch, and ducked in.

----------------------------------------

Oh, please no, I made a mistake! Micah thought as he threw himself away from the beast. Huge freaking mistake. Not good, not good, not good.

He was soaked in Sewer water and smelled like it, but didn’t have much time to care when he rolled through the mud and to his feet. He ran a short distance, glanced back, and dodged just in time to avoid another pounce and the following swipe.

What the hell was that thing?

Micah had landed in the Sewers and started a slow run, killing Sewer Rats on the go and only fetching crystals if they wouldn’t break his stride. There hadn’t been any immediate stairs or tunnels, but then …

He had jogged by a bend and saw a crude, open sphere made out of mud and Sewer moss resting in a small cracked wall and remembered himself thinking: Huh. I wonder what that is?

Thinking back, it might have looked like a tunnel up or treasure from afar. Micah had gone to check it out.

But no. It wasn’t a tunnel. It wasn’t even treasure. It was the cubby-hole of a giant freaking mutant hybrid of a rat and a rottweiler that behaved like a cat.

Rathound, Micah remembered. At least now he could put an ugly ... ugly, face to the name. Its breath made his stomach churn on its own.

Micah had to evade its swipes, bites, and even tail that could trip him up while he tried to slash it with his dagger. But somehow, the beast’s body would shift whenever he attacked it. It moved so lithely, as if it could duck single parts of its body down to evade his attacks. It looked like a mixture between a dog and a rat, though. How was it even more agile than a cat?

The effect was that Micah had only landed glancing blows. He would have to commit to a stab if he wanted to hit it. Either that, or—

He was too close for his slingshot, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his ammunition.

As the beast tried to snap at him again, Micah dodged back and threw a white-dyed ball into its gaping maw. It bit down and the shell burst, filling its mouth from the inside out with watery glue. It coughed, and choked, and turned around to arch its back to wretch, then washed its mouth in the water.

Micah used that chance to attack. He charged forward and—

Its tail slapped him in the face like a backhand strike, breaking his stride.

For a second, Micah froze. It lashed out again and he ducked this time. It tried to strike a third time, low, and he stomped a boot down and set his blade against the naked skin. With a wrench, he lobbed the tail off and it thrashed around in the water for a moment before it burst into smoke.

The beast wailed and shot up from the water, bleeding light from its stump. But the sound was proof that it had washed out its mouth enough to wail as it turned to lunge at him. Micah elbowed it in the face and tried to stab it in the side.

Another, normal Sewer Rat jumped off the wall just then and onto his arm, gnawing at him. Micah flailed his right arm out to shake it off before he noticed the Rathound recover, so he brought the arm back and wrenched the Sewer Rat off with his left hand. Having a hand free to do stuff was useful after all.

Micah slapped a Rathound with a Sewer Rat.

Surprisingly, the bigger of the two bit down on its own kin and the Sewer Rat burst into smoke.

Perfect. Micah pushed through the cloud of cover and slapped it in the face with his knife, drawing a scar across its visage. While the beast winced at the wound, he used his left arm to block a swipe and the other to shove the knife in its throat.

He pulled the knife free and hopped back a safe distance. Now, it truly was suffocating. Micah pelted it with a few stones from his slingshot just to hurry the process along and then collected … a large flesh crystal.

Oh. That was disappointing.

Micah pocketed it, searched the cubby-hole for treasure, found none, and jogged away quicker than he came.

----------------------------------------

When Micah dragged himself out of the Tower two hours later, he found Lisa and Ryan already waiting on one of the crowded lawns in the distance and shuffled up to meet them.

Ryan was busy walking a form he didn’t recognize. Micah wasn’t even entirely sure it was a sword form. Lisa was busy meditating with Sam in her lap. It had a scratch along its right shoulder, but as Micah watched, the wound slowly knit itself together again. Extremely slowly.

Ryan turned for his form, noticed him, and wiped some sweat off his brow as he dropped his arm and stopped walking it.

"You're back," he greeted him.

Micah frowned and nudged his head in the direction of the slow healing process. Since when could Lisa heal Sam at all? Was it a new spell she had learned or a Skill from a level up, maybe?

But Ryan was busy with frowning at his arm once he had noticed it. He looked up, his face asking, What happened?

Micah repeated his nudge, the gesture saying, Tell me about Lisa first.

Ryan glanced at Lisa and sighed. He shrugged, Apparently, she learned how to do it, and when he saw Micah wanting for more, he added. “She said it takes a while, though, and described it as threading a hundred needles over and over.”

Huh. That was good news, right?

“Now, what happened to your arm?”

Micah plopped down on the grass and got his backpack onto his lap. He searched out water flask, cloth, bandages, a low-grade healing potion, and salve, and slowly got to dressing the slash wound.

In the distance, he saw others doing the same.

It wasn’t the only would Micah had, but everything else was just nicks, scrapes, and a small cut he had on his cheek from where a slingshot stone had ricocheted off a wall and hit him in the face. Not that he would mention it to anyone. It was far too embarrassing.

“I met a Rathound,” Micah explained. He had only noticed the wound a floor later, when he had taken a break on a staircase and the cuts had started itching and stinging. “At least, now I know what they are. Ugly and agile. How did your run go?”

“I timed an hour and fifty-two minutes, sixteen seconds,” Ryan said. “I guess only one slash from your first time fighting a Rathound is pretty good. Har far in were you that you fought one? And how did you time?”

“I don’t know?” Micah said honestly. He’d been a little bit too busy running to memorize his complete route through all three floors. “Ten bends? I timed two hours, twenty-two minutes, eight seconds.”

He frowned. It wasn’t that much worse than Ryan’s, considering how much faster the other guy could run. And if “average” was between two and three hours, Micah was on the better side of average. For his first time, that was a good start, right?

He decided that it was and smiled a little.

Jogging through the Tower, Micah had quickly learned, did not mean he was more likely to find a way up. Just that he would get to that way quicker if he happened to be on the right path. He was pretty sure it would be faster to take a few minutes to map out of a route than to systematically check every tunnel, but he hadn’t studied nearly enough maps for that. He didn’t know any spells like that, either. Wouldn't [Mages] who did have an unfair advantage?

“Ten bends is shallow for a Rathound,” Ryan mumbled.

It might have been twelve, Micah wanted to say when Lisa spoke up—

“One hour, fourteen seconds,” she offered, surprising them in more ways than one. When she noticed their prompting looks, she explained, “I’m not sure if I just got lucky or not. I did a cursory jog around to get an overview, made a few maps, and then sprinted, trimming the horde behind me by detonating a fire crystal. None of that is viable for you.”

Micah cursed.

Ryan looked at him reproachfully, so he smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. It’s just—” he started and looked for the right words to make him understand. “I have a chance now, you know? I barely made it past the first two tests, Ryan, so now I have to knock the third out of the park. And even if I didn’t, I want to do my best. If Lisa can get an hour, so can others”—Lisa frowned—”They can probably even do better.”

“Hey!”

Micah ignored her. “And there will definitely be people my age among them. I don’t know how many students they are going to allow to skip grades, but it won’t be that many. If they are going to accept five hundred and twenty students, they're probably only going to accept fifty-two who want to skip grades. At most. I placed two-hundred and three in the written exam.”

“And forty-nine in the physical one,” Ryan countered and pressed on before Micah could protest. “But yeah, I get your point. You need to be faster. Okay, so did you make any mistakes that you can fix next run?”

Micah thought it over as he rolled his bandages back up and put them in his backpack.

“A ton.”

He’d spent too much time fighting or maiming every single monster he met, too much time looking for treasure because he needed money, and too much time second-guessing himself about where to head.

He could switch to maiming primarily, fighting while moving, ignoring treasure, taking a predetermined route and … he guessed he could take shorter breaks in between floors. The ones he'd taken had already been pretty short, though.

“Then fix those mistakes first and up your tempo a little bit,” Ryan told him. “We’ll see how fast you can get. And if it’s still too little, we’ll try out something else. But if we try something dangerous, like running, we’ll do it as a group first before we try it on our own. Agreed?”

Micah nodded.

Lisa hesitated. “I’m already sprinting anyway …”

“And Sam got scratched,” Ryan pointed out.

She glared at him.

“Oh, sorry. Too far? But you’d help, right?”

“Sure. And Apples, you can try choosing a set number of bends to follow before you start searching perpendicularly rather than straight ahead. At around six to ten bends. That should give you a better chance of finding an exit, because ways up often appear around the same distance in.”

That … was actually great advice. “Thanks, Lisa!”

“Happy to help.”

Ryan sighed and got back up. “Again?”

“Again.”

----------------------------------------

A black shape was crawling into Micah’s mouth, using four legs to keep his jaw down and the other four to slither inside. Or at least, it wastrying to do those things. And were he wounded or panicking, it might have even succeeded.

He was neither of those things.

Micah bit down, biting its legs off. Then he slapped in front of his face as if to wave away a fly, but with much more force, smacking the spider that was latched onto him into a splash of ink.

Rather than burst into smoke, the globs of ink hit the ground of the tunnel and spread out into strange shapes that reminded Micah of mirrored birds taking flight. They blotted out the glittering blue specs in the stone and pulled themselves back together again to reform into smaller copies of the arachnid. One head-sized spider suddenly became five hand-sized ones.

One of those copies was still in his mouth, so Micah pulled his head back and spat it out, then got his water flask from his belt and swished his mouth out a few times, spitting the resultant mixtures at the Ink Golems that he passed.

He squashed two more tiny ones by simply stepping over them. There was one around here that would have a crystal inside of it. It was controlling all the little ones. Or the spirit inside it was.

Micah didn’t care for it, except for idly wondering if it was having fun. This was like a game to it, right? But everything he had just done, he had done while moving. He broke into a jog, leaving the spirit and its spiders behind.

Ink Golems, he couldn’t help but decide though, taste disgusting. They tried to climb down throats to suffocate people. It made Micah shiver. Poetic justice, he supposed, considering what he had done to that Rathound earlier.

He turned around a corner and another one jumped at his face.

----------------------------------------

“You’ve, uh, you got something … everywhere, Apples,” Lisa said as Micah dragged himself back to the lawn.

He had been the last one again? Dammit. He hadn’t stopped moving this time, too. His time was one hour, fifty-nine minutes, eight seconds. Still not as good as Ryan’s, but just above average. Maybe he would catch up if he just ran faster next time? What if he left his backpack behind?

He let himself fall into a thousand-hand-hug and made a face that said, Does anyone have water? I ran out of water washing spiders out of my mouth. But of course, Ryan couldn’t see his face so Micah had to ask it out loud instead.

“I’m guessing we can scratch Ink Golems off the list of monsters you haven’t fought yet?” Ryan asked as he handed him a waterskin.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“You’re, uh, covered in ink?”

“What?” Micah shot up. The smudges on him weren’t all mud and water? He checked and sure enough, some of them were ink and he hadn’t even noticed. That meant— “Aw, man. One of them was fully-formed?”

“You didn’t get it?” Ryan asked.

“No.”

Micah sat up and pulled his legs over one another, pouting. He’d fought a fully-formed Ink Golem and missed it. Stupid dark tunnels. He could really use a glowing wristband like the one Ryan had or a [Light] spell like Lisa knew. Hopefully, not from a level up though. He couldn't wait for mana manipulation classes.

Just then, one of the joggers running past abruptly stopped and stepped up onto the grass next to Micah, but caught her breath before saying anything. She had long, light blond hair tied into a ponytail and wore short clothes that reminded Micah of Ryan. She seemed to be about his age, too.

“Hey. Sorry for interrupting. I’m Saga,” she introduced herself and held out a hand to him. “I couldn’t help but overhear. And, uh, see? I take it you’re covered in Ink Golem innards?”

Micah glanced at Lisa and Ryan, but they just shrugged, so he gave her a surprisingly firm handshake and said, “Yeah?”

She crouched down to be at eye level. “I know the spell [Shape Liquid]. I could get some of it off of you if you agree to give me half. How about it? Want to strike a deal?”

Micah frowned at the sudden proposal. For one thing, she didn’t look like a [Mage]. And anyway—half? But it was his ink. He had killed the monster it had come from, marked himself in its blood. He’d earned it. Why should he give her half?

Then he mentally smacked himself. What kind of thought was that? If she didn’t help, he would have none … right?

He glanced at Lisa, but she shook her head as if to say, Don’t look at me. Drat. So she didn’t know that spell?

Micah smiled at the girl and said, “Uhm, sure? I mean, yes, please. Half is better than nothing.”

“Great! Hold still, then, kiddo. Like you’re at the barber’s shop or like you’re meditating, if you’ve even done that yet. Might not be old enough for a Path.”

She knelt down, shrugging off a skin-tight backpack while she spoke, and opened it up along a zipper rather than buttons or string to reveal a bunch of small bottles fit into folds beneath a pollster. They were all filled with various Tower materials, crystals, plants, stones, bark, monster parts. Micah glimpsed folds with knives, scalpels, and even hammer and chisel, too.

Was she an [Alchemist]?

She didn’t look like an [Alchemist] either, but everything she owned looked so neat and organized compared to Micah’s backpack, like it was all part of one huge custom-ordered set. She took out an empty bottle and, instead of a cork, screwed a cap off.

Fancy.

Micah was a little envious. And a small part of him wanted to back out of the deal just to spite her for having nice things.

“Hold still,” she reminded him in a friendly tone.

Micah held still instead.

Saga slowly moved around him and brushed her hand just past his clothes to pull away small droplets of ink, which she then led down her hand like dew down a leaf into the bottle. She did that over and over for a few minutes until she stopped. There were still stains in Micah’s clothes, but apparently, she had gotten as much as she could. It would certainly make washing his clothes easier on Sunday, Micah guessed.

“Done. Do you have a bottle?”

“I do,” Micah said, now that he could move again. “And I’m Micah, by the way.”

He turned away and used his body to half-shield the sight of his own sloppy backpack as he searched around for his Archertoad bottle. It only had a few dregs left in it, so he washed it out with a little bit of water, pushed a bit of cloth in to dry it, and held it out to her.

“Uhm, what do you need it for? The ink?”

He had read his recipe book back to back often enough now to know he had a single recipe that used Golem ink, and that was for a glow-in-the-dark substance Lisa told him some people used as markers on walls during expeditions, or that [Mages] could use to aid in spells.

Micah wanted to make that one day, sure, but …

“‘Writing a spellbook,” Saga commented as she held her own bottle up to her eye. She drew one thumb up alongside its glass and about half of its volume shifted to the top half. “That look about half to you?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Micah mumbled. The bottle itself had looked about half-full beforehand, too. So she wasn't an alchemist, but someone collecting materials for a spellbook? “Uhm, if you need it, do you want to buy the other half, too?”

“Huh?” She looked up and her concentration slipped. The ink fell back down.

Micah peered at the bottle. “How much does that fit?”

“50ml,” she said slowly. “You want to sell it?”

“Yeah.”

“You do?” Ryan asked.

Micah had almost forgotten that they were there because they hadn’t said a thing until now.

He nodded. “What’s the going rate for Golem ink? About 3 Iron Pennies per milliliter?”

He’d spotted bottles of the stuff while he was ingredients-shopping before. The price wasn’t too hard to figure out.

“It depends on the seller, but that sounds about right," Saga said.

“So … thirty-seven iron pennies, then?”

“Let me see …” She went back to her backpack, pulled out a small coin purse, and upended its meager contents into her palm. “I have three iron coins and pennies.”

So four iron pennies less than what Micah was proposing. Then again, without her, he wouldn’t have gotten anything at all.

“Is that your lunch money or what?” Lisa piped up.

Saga clutched the coins in her fist and looked defensive. “Yeah, it is. So what?”

“I’ll do it,” Micah decided. “You can have the ink. All of it.”

She glanced back down at the coins as if considering pulling out of the deal herself, but then thought better of it and dropped them into Micah’s hand, mumbling, “It is a good deal.”

He clenched his fist around the coins as well. One-eightieth of a gold coin. Every little bit counted.

Saga started organizing everything back into her backpack and slipped it on as she got up.

“Writing a spellbook,” Micah mumbled. “That must be expensive, too, though. You need a Candletail crystal, right?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m trying to find out a way to make one without them. But why the ‘too’?”

“Hm?”

“You said expensive, too.”

“Oh, I’m an [Alchemist],” Micah said.

“Huh. Brother in suffering, eh? Good luck, Micah the [Alchemist]. Thanks for doing business with me.”

“Right back at you, Saga the … [Spellbook Writer]?”

“Ha!” She jogged off.

“She’s weird,” Ryan mumbled.

“I like her,” Lisa said.

Micah looked back at the others with a smile and pocketed the coins. “Me, too. Again?”

They got up and went at it again.

----------------------------------------

The third time Micah crawled out of the Tower, he spotted Ryan on a lawn but no Lisa. The sight must have unlocked a hidden reserve of energy in him, because he broke into a jog and called, “No way! Lisa isn’t here yet? I'm not last?”

Ryan didn’t stop walking his form this time when he replied, “Nope. Maybe she got turned around?”

Micah’s time was good, too. One hour and fifty minutes, seventeen seconds. His best yet, though he doubted it would get any better today. He was at his limit. He’d been heaving by the time he saw the portal. He’d found another set of stairs before that didn’t have an exit, and so he had run through it with a final spurt of energy, just to save those few seconds, worried that he was late.

Apparently not. In exchange, he was going to have troubles walking back to Ryan’s place later.

Worth it.

Happily, he let himself fall in the grass and snuggled up to, then rolled out of the way Ryan got too close for his next step and piercing strike. Micah was already spattered with faint ink stains. Some grass wasn’t going to do too much harm.

He almost fell asleep when Lisa came out five minutes later, looking angry.

“I had to turn around twice because I found stairs leading to Myconids,” she vented at them. “Stupid freaking eldritch structure. Next time, I’ll just run through their floor and ignore them. How will it like that? I want to go again. I know I can get better than an hour. Hell, I could ten minutes if I just knew the way.”

“You’re happy to go again,” Ryan said. “But I think Micah’s at his limit.”

Micah frowned and sat up. Of course, he was at his limit, but he didn't want to accept that in the face of others. “Could you go again?”

He looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah, one more time, I bet.”

He was obviously being modest.

“Then I can go one more time, too!” Micah forced himself to stand up.

They both looked at him and unanimously decided, “No, you can’t.”

“Aw. But can we, like, at least try to duel some more monsters? One more monster? What about Stone Boars? How am I supposed to kill a stone golem with a knife? I’ve never even seen one before.”

“See? This is why we gotta train that, too,” Ryan said. He gave Micah an explanation on how fighting a stone golem with a dagger was a stupid idea and that he should restrain it first or ask for a different weapon. Apparently, they were immobile without momentum.

Lisa had to patch Sam up and replenish some mana first anyway, so Micah sat back down and listened while Ryan walked his form and talked. But by the time she was ready ten minutes later, he felt like he could go for a fourth Speedrun after all.

“It’s getting late,” Ryan said, glancing at the reddening sky.

“Just one more?” Micah pleaded. Speedruns didn’t earn nearly as much treasure as normal trips into the Tower could, but … they were kind of fun. They forced Micah to think ahead, put himself in danger, and do better, and he loved it.

Ryan looked unconvinced but still considering, so Micah looked at him pleadingly and even Lisa joined him once she realized.

“Fine!” he grumbled.

“Alright!” Lisa said.

An hour and a half later, Micah was lost and surrounded by glowing mushrooms, roots, and plants in a small earthy tunnel. He could barely stand upright and no idea where to go. He hadn’t found a way up yet.

The run had started out well. The first ten minutes he’d done perfectly, but then he’d suddenly lost his breath all at once, tripped over his own feet, and tumbled into a Tunnel Spider. He had the bite wounds to prove it.

And now, he had about half a dozen more bite wounds, had tripped two more times, and missed almost every shot he made with his slingshot. And he was surrounded by glowing fungus, some of which were actually Shroomish that wanted to bite his extremities off.

Micah hadn’t studied any maps of this floor at all. He had no idea where to go. So he sighed, got out his knife, and began to systematically clear the tunnel of its flora as he made his way back the way he’d came. He got a few Shroomish's crystals and killed a few crystalline Eye Slugs that you weren’t supposed to look at or you would see illusions—they just gave you a little headache in Micah’s opinion.

But when he got out, he found Lisa sitting on the lawn and no Ryan. Since he’d forfeited his run and it was Ryan, Micah didn’t cheer this time and instead dressed his wounds, cleaned up his backpack a little, and reorganized the sack full of loot while he waited.

Ten minutes later, Ryan came out with two fully-formed Honey Ants trapped in the nook of his arm, both dead already. He tossed them into the grass, saying, “Look at what I found,” and slumped down after them. Some of the blades of grass poked him when he lay there. It looked funny and made Micah want to poke him himself.

Instead, he dragged a Honey Ant over for inspection. Ryan had killed it by impaling its head. It looked a little heavily cracked though. Had he wounded it first to make sure the sword would pierce? Either way, both of their goop-filled middle and back sections were intact. Micah couldn’t help but think that Ryan had done that on purpose. It was the type of thing he would do.

“Can I have one?” he asked. “The goop, I mean. For next week’s healing potions?”

Ryan frowned at him. “Of course. They’re for you.”

Micah shook his head. “Thanks, but I only need the goop and a bit of shell.”

“Yeah, I mean, I know that,” Ryan said. “We’re going to sell the rest.”

Micah frowned a bit, tried to let it go, but couldn’t help himself. “You,” he corrected him.

Ryan frowned.

“You’re going to sell the rest,” Micah explained. “I mean, I’ll gladly do it for you, but they’re your ants.”

“You regularly make middle-grade and low-grade healing potions for us,” he said, bristling a little himself. “It’s not fair that you pull that out of your own share of the loot, like you did on Tuesday.”

“I’m an [Alchemist]," Micah said. "Making alchemicals is my contribution.”

“Your contribution? If that were all, you wouldn’t be coming into the Tower with us at all. You’re contributing just as much as we are in there.”

“I’m really not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I have a knife and a slingshot. You kill twice as many monsters as I do.”

“And what about the wolves?”

“What about the wolves?”

“You killed them all.”

“No, that was—”

“Enough!” Lisa shouted. “What the hell is your problem?“

“I don’t have a problem,” Ryan said, his tone betraying him. “Micah’s got a problem about money lately. He even offered my parents money to stay with us and now he wants to leave! We’re not some inn you can check into, Micah.”

“Of course, not,” Micah said. “That’s why I offered it. I need to give you all something as thanks.”

“You’ve thanked us! Repeatedly! That’s your thanks. Not to mention you’re doing all the chores in the house. We barely have anything left to do.“

“Being polite isn’t enough. Neither is making low grade-healing potions. I’m just saying, we already divide the end result of loot equally. My lack of contribution needs to be subtracted somewhere.”

Ryan opened his mouth but Lisa spoke first, “Why are we even discussing contributions? None of us have any problems with each other’s performances, right?” She looked at them both in turn. “There aren’t any complaints?”

Not about each other, Micah thought. No.

“I mean ... ” Ryan mumbled suddenly. So he had a problem with someone? “I think you’d be stronger without Sam, but I get that you still need to level as a [Summoner] before you become more powerful. And Sam has his uses, too …”

Lisa nodded. “Fair enough. What about Micah? Do you have any complaints about him?”

“None.”

Lisa turned to him. “Do you have any complaints about either of us?”

Micah frowned. “No. Of course not.”

“Really? None?”

“I mean … it’d be nice if Ryan trusted me a little more, but I get that I’m still making beginner’s mistakes.”

“Not for long,” he mumbled.

Micah shot him a confused glare.

“That’s fair, too,” Lisa said. “Now what’s the issue? Loot is divided equally among teams, right?”

She looked at them both in turn.

“Right?” she repeated.

“Right,” they both answered.

“So?”

“The Honey Ants are Ryan’s,” Micah said. “He got them himself, so he should get all their money.”

Lisa nodded. “Right.”

“Not right,” Ryan said. “Micah is making potions for us so we don’t have to buy them. I should be allowed to give him part of the loot.”

Micah wanted to protest, but Lisa did it for him.

“First of all, he’s making low-grade healing potions for us,” she said. “His middle-grade healing potions are only for emergencies. Technically, he shouldn’t be making them at all. We should be buying the healthier versions. And secondly, if you want to help the [Alchemist] on your team, Ryan, give him ingredients. Like that goop and shell he asked you for. Thirdly, of course, you can give a gift. But it has to be accepted. You can’t force him to take your money.”

Micah nodded, happy that Lisa was supporting him.

“But that’s ridiculous!” Ryan said. “He’s earning much less than we are.”

“No, I’m not,” Micah said. “Making healing potions don’t cost that much. And every other time I’ve tried to make something, it has been for experimentation and leveling reasons. I’m spending money on stuff I want, I’m not earning less money at all.”

“Yes, you are,” Lisa said.

“See— Wait, what?”

“A little bit. In addition to healing potions, you're also buying our bandages.”

Micah rolled his eyes. Like that counted. “But the few coins I pay each week for healing supplies are my contribution. They’re a requirement of my Class.”

“That’s stupid,” Ryan said. “You should become a [Healer] then, or a [White Mage], or something.”

Micah got one of the two remaining glue-balls out of his pouch and asked, “Can a [White Mage] make this?”

“Some of them know disabling spells,” Lisa offered.

Micah threw the glue-ball at her. Sam actually hissed at him when he did, so he pulled out the other and threw it at Ryan, who caught it, scowled, and threw it back. It hit Micah in the shoulder and burst, adding another stain he would have to clean.

Micah grinned. “Aha! Can a [White Mage] make a glue-ball his allies can use? What about healing potions? Nope.” He shook his head smugly.

Lisa opened her mouth as if to retort and Micah glared at her. She shut it again. A moment later, he let himself fall back into the grass with a groan.

They all just breathed for a second until Ryan sat down next to him and poked his burn mark idly. “I won’t force money on you,” he said. “At least, not unless it’s your shares when we go into the Tower or I’m paying you for some custom potion when you’re a big-shot alchemist who only takes custom requests.”

Micah smiled. “Thank you.”

“But if you ever do need help,” he went on. “Just ask, okay? Don’t think about debts too much. It’s unseemly. At least, I think so. I hate it.”

Micah sighed. “Okay. Then, actually, can you help me with something?”

“Anything.”

He said that so easily. “After the exam is over, I need a present for your parents,” Micah said. And for you, he thought, but he couldn’t say that.

Ryan laughed and lay down in the opposite direction. “You and me both.”

Oh, right. He had to get a present for his mom, didn't he? A moment later, Micah asked, "So you really want me to stay with you guys?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"What if your parents say no?"

"They won't."

"What if I can't find a good present for them?"

"What did I just tell you?"

"... Not to think about debts."

"How about this? If they say no, I'll stay at Prisha's for a few days. That'll balance things out, right? In your weird mind?"

"Mm ... Then we would both be indebted to Prisha, though."

"I am going to kick you."

Micah shut up.

“It just became apparent to me,” Lisa said. “That if we are talking about debts and contributions, I contribute the most to our efforts when we are inside the Tower, don’t I? And I’ve been teaching Apples twice weekly. And I provided him with learning material and focus potions back when we were cramming for the written exam. Aren’t I great? Shouldn’t you both feel indebted to me?”

Micah chuckled and added Lisa to the list of people he had to get a present for, soon. What would she even like? Probably nothing less than a magic item.

Ryan didn't say anything. Micah could imagine him rolling his eyes. All he could see were the clouds drifting past the Tower, though.

“That’s alright. I will await your worship patiently.”

Eventually, Micah said, “Ryan. Hey, Ryan. Ryan!”

He craned his head up. “What?”

“We passed.”

A chance. That was what Micah had been given, by the both of them. Now, he just had to make sure he did the rest on his own.