Tom woke up in his childhood bed. This time, he was alone. It was warm under the covers, but he rolled out. Immediately, he spotted a silver bell. It was on the desk, and looked completely out of place amongst all of his familiar belongings. Cautiously, he approached it and then read the note underneath it.

Ring when you’re ready to leave. – April

It was brief, but the calligraphy was perfect. If he wasn’t in a trial, he would have been tempted to take it as a keepsake, because, with the penmanship, it was almost a piece of art. Unfortunately, there was no point even trying. There was no way to bring it with him, as the rules of the trial forbade it.

He glanced at the note once more and shifted uneasily on-the-spot, courtesy of his full bladder. He needed to go to the toilet, and the instructions on the note implied there was more here than just his room. Unbidden, his eyes were drawn to the door. It was closed, but his gut told him that the imaginary bedroom construction he was in was part of a larger house. Driven by his bladder, he pulled the door open with a familiar, but slight squeak. It revealed the bedroom hallway of his old house, complete with the poor lighting, bookshelves down the side, and peeling wallpaper.

Tom’s breath hitched at the memories it provoked.

Rather than going straight to the communal bathroom, he peeked into his sister’s room. It was messy as always, light blue bedsheets and Molly, her precious doll, resting as she normally did on the pillow.

Tom sniffed and pulled away sharply. He wiped the tears away and leant against the wall. That’s why he was doing this. That’s why he would push through any barriers that he faced. For Em and other kids like her. To give them a chance for a future. He wanted to ring the bell immediately, but his full bladder argued otherwise.

The re-creation of his family home was no longer a gift. He didn’t want to explore any further and provoke any more memories. He used the toilet, and, once he had washed his hands, rang the bell. To his disappointment, he appeared in the café and without a spear in his hands.

After him seeing his family home after so long, his blood was boiling. He was inspired to get stronger.

“Send me to a fight.”

“No,” April said flatly. “Absolutely not. Not today. You might feel good, but you’re not.”

Tom slid off the seat and did a couple of basic stretches. For someone his size, there was plenty of room. When his head moved too quickly, he could feel the strain. He might try to deny it, but she was right. He was not fixed.

“How long do I have left in the trial?”

“Four hours.”

“Café rest for half, and then…” he attempted to propose.

“No. I said absolutely not today. Do you understand the meaning of those words?” She waved her hand. A plate of food appeared in front of him, together with a glass of Coke and a full pint of beer. “Have some food and a drink instead.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at the alcohol.

“You know I’m four.”

“Almost five,” she quipped. “Besides, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I believe underaged drinking has health implications.”

That excuse made her double over in laughter.

“Come on, Tom, you can find a better reason than that. You’re in a trial under a GOD’s shield. Nothing here will affect you outside the trial. Sit, drink, and enjoy.”

“No. I’d prefer to wait out the skill exhaustion and do something productive afterwards. If there’s four hours at a minimum, I should be able to get an hour of light duties at the end of it. Even if it’s not a fight against monsters, everything counts.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

April was suddenly holding her own pint of the dark beer:

“You’ve had a big success today. You need to take a moment to celebrate.” She winked and then skoaled the massive glass of liquid in a single motion. She just tipped it up and drained it. She finished, burped, and wiped her lips triumphally. He was incredibly impressed, and then remembered that she was far more than the flesh and blood that sat with him. She was the trial administrator, and, in here, she was as good as a minor god. She could have teleported the drink away the moment it hit her throat, and he would be none the wiser.

He remembered why exactly he was in the competition. The recent memory of Molly lying on the bedsheets steeled his resolve. While drinking would be fun, it was not efficient.

“I don’t want to waste any time.” He told her firmly, “I have to go train.”

Her casual manner vanished:

“No, Tom. You have a skill exhaustion. The two hours of forced sleep helped, and you might feel better, but basically all that’s done has bandaged up your cuts, metaphorical as they are. If you do too much, they’re all going to start bleeding again. You may feel like your body and soul are willing, but they’re not. The rules I need to follow state that you get returned to Existentia in the same state you entered. I require time to heal the remaining damage. I can do that with you unconscious or with you awake, right here, while drinking beer. You choose which of those options you want. Because, if I see you flex a single skill, I’m going to knock you out cold, and the next thing you’ll experience will be walking away from the trial, wondering where four hours went and lamenting your failure to take the olive branch when it was offered.”

“I won’t practice my new skills, I promise, but surely simple spear katas have to be safe?”

“No, you’ve had spear skills in the past. I can see it. Your soul still tries to use them when you’re fighting, even if they always fail. You’re sentenced to bed or drinking rest. I’m not offering anything else.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk? Because I have to say, the wings don’t do it for me.”

She snorted:

“Because I’d find a baby like you attractive.”

“I’m older than this body.”

“What the? That’s disgusting. I wasn’t referring to your physical shell.”

The world shivered.

Everything had changed. April was far more petite than he had expected. The table that had seemed large and intimidating was small, and his hands were heavily tanned and calloused from spear work.

Tom stared at his fingers and palms in amazement.

For a moment he was himself again.

He stretched, appreciating the speed and fluidity that he could move with. He was restored to his old body, and he realised why she had caused the transformation. To something like April, his physical state was irrelevant, and, when she called him a baby, she was referring to his mental age and not the shell he currently possessed.

“I take your point.” He stopped, surprised by how deep his voice was. Then he felt dizzy. He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, everything had returned to normal.

“I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s fine. I was being an arse.”

“Yeah, you were.”

Tom took a sip of the beer and spat it out. It was disgusting. He wanted to drink a litre of water to clear the taste away.

“Oh, lordy,” he cursed, channelling Michael. “That’s terrible. Why’s it so bitter?”

She laughed. “You’re four years old. You have different taste buds.”

The beer in front of him changed to a light-yellow colour. When he sipped it, the flavour was pleasant.

“The adult you would never have touched that.” She told him. “It’s a girly drink. A flavoured fruity beer.”

Tom shrugged. “Don’t care. It tastes nice.”

Five minutes later he realised that there were more changes to his body than just those to do with the taste buds. He had only gone through a third of the glass but was feeling it. The world was swaying, but not from skill exhaustion, and everything April said was funny. Which was a clue to how inebriated he was. She wasn’t that funny.

“Drink as fast as you like. I won’t let you get any more drunk than this.”

Given that he was already slurring words, that wasn’t saying much.

They chattered happily, and the time passed with everything blurring together.

Across from him, April howled with laughter:

“What are you serious? No way, you’re having me on.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“You want me to believe that you didn’t realise that I removed the monsters?”

“Nope, I mean occasionally I thought it was strange I wasn’t fighting more.”

She was laughing so hard that her wings had flared up:

“But you spent forty years in the tutorial. You know firsthand what Existentia is like. You were running all over the place, you must have known.”

“I was focused.”

“That goes beyond focused, that’s… you’re crazy. No, you’re tricking me.”

He laughed with her. It was fun to let loose. The conversation went to his last group. They joked and giggled at Sven’s antics. Not at how that ended, but the good stuff that happened before then.

It was almost a shame when the lovely buzz vanished and the drunk messy April, her hair slightly fizzled, was replaced abruptly by her usual pristine appearance.

“That was fun.” Tom acknowledged.

“Goodbye until next week,” she said quietly.

Then he was outside the trial, and Dimitri was professionally drawing him away. Despite the skill exhaustion, it was by far the best trial session he had experienced so far.