There is no other recourse. The Power Source will need to be none other than me... -98.2 Seconds Post-Integration

  The night came and went.

  Clark woke to an awful smell. He didn't have long to wait before the odor was identified: from Theo's sleeping body came a fart.

  "That's the smell," he uttered to himself as he slowly sat up in bed. Like whenever he had stayed the night at Theo's dorm, he slept on the other end of the bed, where he had to contend with Theo's smelly feet if he rolled over the wrong way.

  Light filtered into the room between ajar curtains. Strewn across the floor were discarded clothes, take out containers, and beauty magazines.

  It had been some night!

  Clark slowly found his clothes and put them on one at a time. As he did so, he heard Theo rouse from sleep.

  "Morning, beautiful," he said, jokingly.

  "Morning, sunshine," he spoke back, putting on his pants.

  "What's on the agenda today? Work? Jerk? Meditation?"

  Clark considered. He could do all three. The day, after all, was long and wide.

  Thankfully, saving him from additional contemplation was the System and a League Notification: [League Tutorial Now Available: Rank 'P'].

  "I have a league thing later today. We'll have to do the circle jerk another time." He couldn't say that without a smile coming upon his face.

  Theo just giggled and quickly dressed. "I should volunteer in Fulfillment. I slotted it as one of my Specialty Departments."

  "No shet? What's it like? I've only been in Fulfillment a handful of times and it wasn't for very long. It must be different being there as a Specialist. I assume they expect way more from you?" Clark waited for the answer. He was curious.

  "Yeah. I'm an Expediter. Well, I'm also a Shopper. And when I'm trained up more, I will be a Fill-in Supervisor. I spend most of my time Expediting, though. It sucks, usually."

  "Why does it suck? Too long jerking around customers?" Though his joke was appropriately dirty, this time, Theo's smile was dim. Evidently, there was a diminishing return on all 'mature humor.'

  "No, actually... it is how many orders per hour we have to take out Curbside. Ten orders per hour and it is only me collecting and bringing the orders out to the customers. Sometimes I have help, but not often. Most of the departments I'm sent to are understaffed to begin with, so I'm the emergency helper. Which means I'm doing everything: I'm answering the phones, collecting people's orders on their carts, bringing said order out to the customer, and sometimes, if I am super unlucky, I'm doing all that while also shopping!" Theo finished dressing once he attached his nametag to his shirt and put his shoes on.

  "That sounds rough, man. Shet! I'm sorry!" And Clark was sorry. "Makes me want to join Fulfillment to help you out. Not like they would assign me to the department you worked, alas."

  "Exactly," Theo said as he straightened his hair with a wetted comb in his tiny bathroom. "They would only send you to some other overworked department so you can bolster their flagging metrics. How it goes, here."

  He had nothing to say to that because Theo has hit the nail on the head. That was how it went at Augustford.

  In a somber moment, Clark went bold. "Does it make you regret enlisting to begin with?"

  Theo shrugged. "A little bit. Maybe that's only because I haven't found any word on another Sigil Stone, though. I thought I would come in here and quickly find all of my people' stolen relics. When you and I found that first stone, I thought my plan was coming true. Then, it all crashed. I've heard whispers of where other stones could be but whenever I go to those places, the stones aren't there."

  Clark went over and placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry. That's hard on you. The weight of the day job must be settling in, yeah?"

  "Yup... boy, it sucks. How normal people do it is beyond me. Like, without having a goal to work toward, that is. I at least can console myself with the fact that I don't plan on spending my entire life here. As soon as I find all my Sigil Stones, I'm getting the funk out of here. If you're here just for the paycheck? I don't understand what moves them day after day." Theo looked pensive. Did he really not perceive the motions of people and their lives?

  "Bud," he kept his tone sweet. "People stick it out day after day to support their families. So that their kids will be able to eat; so that they have jobs that aren't in that wasteland outside and where they won't have to duke it out with radioactive tiger-elephants. Have you ever fought those? I have -- sort of -- and let me tell you, they're not friendly creatures when they're at their best, let alone when you're sticking them with a spear alongside your entire village and the village down the road."

  "You're saying that Augustford sucks, but battling mutant animals sucks worse? I can see that." Theo chuckled. He finished dressing. "Thanks for the talk. I should bugger to my shift."

  "No problem, mate." He squeezed the shoulder his hand rested on for emphasis. "Remember, I'm always here for you."

  The training stadium looked less like an arena of practice and more like a torture cell.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Racks of bladed equipment were lined up behind Salsa. It made Clark wonder if this was the point where Salsa had gone insane and planned and violently assaulting them. Unlikely, sure, but with a monster plague out-of-control, one never knew.

  "Everyone file in and let's get to work," Salsa shouted. All obeyed and before anyone knew it, the arena's polluting chatter faded. "Today's tutorial is on an important League technique. A technique that, I believe, should've been taught to you all much sooner. Alas, I do not control the League curriculum. It is called the 'Mid-Heal.' Or as it is more colloquially known, 'Healing Breath.' To pass today's class, you will need to heal a reasonable wound on an injured fellow. Failure to do so will result in, well, failure. Shall we begin?"

  No one had questions or objections, per the norm.

  Salsa continued. "Fan-fecking-tastic! Let's get to it. What is a mid-heal? How does one perform a mid-heal? A mid-heal is meant to remedy minor to intermediate physical injuries. I say 'minor to intermediate' because the scale on what one can heal will depend on factors such as one's aura strength, the quality of Dandy in one's system, and one's skill with the technique. You've heard me mention Dandy, yes. Healing will always require a Dandy to use, of course. For a Mid-Heal, you will need a Blessing Dandy -- yes, you drink it."

  Salsa took some moments to hand out Dandies to the class. "You will only receive that one Blessing Dandy, so use it well." Salsa patted his hands down and jerked a thumb to the back. "See those weapons back there? Yup. You've guessed right. You will be using those weapons to inflict harm on each other and cure the subsequent wounds."

  Salsa paused to let the shock course through the recruits as they all murmured and then shouted objections.

  Even a face as stone cold as Salsa's kept up the charade for mere seconds before it slipped. Salsa burst out laughing. "Haha, that was a joke! Only a joke! Those weapons are here for a different Tutorial. No, you recruits will not be hurting each other and healing the mess. Today's tutorial will take place in a hospital wing. Follow me."

  Relief spread through every recruit's face including Clark's own. He did not fancy the notion of hurting his fellow recruits -- and his recruits, in turn -- hurting him, merely to learn a healing incantation. But a hospital! That made sense!

  The class followed Salsa through winding tunnels and elevators before suddenly arriving before a door marked by red and blue crosses, the universal sign of medical help.

  Salsa pressed a button on the outside the automatic door and spoke his identity and purpose into the speaker.

  The door opened with a bing and everyone filed through politely, as if they were a class on a field trip. 'Field trip...' Clark wondered when and where that notion had come from. It momentarily disoriented him. He had never attended school before his writing and reading Betterment class... it must've come from Theo...

  When he snapped out of his Deja-vu, the class had arrived at the practice wing.

  "These unfortunate souls are the victims of a recent engagement in the upper wing. A nasty creature ambushed them and nearly killed them before being driven off by a powerful Hunter. Instead of losing their lives, they broke some bones. Our purpose today will be to give them another shot. Before that, I need to teach you how to use the mid-heal technique. Drink you dandy, like so, and watch."

  As always, Salsa demonstrated the methodology: "Once you've drank your dandy, activate your aura and concentrate your mana into your heart, then lungs. Keep it there and hold it in until it seems like your whole chest is on fire. Feeling the burn? Continue to keep it inside until it starts to cool and match a winter's chill. Once the bite of old man winter is felt, gently breath out onto your target, like so."

  Salsa's demonstration lasted only a couple of minutes from the time he uncapped his dandy to when he unleashed his breath on a man's broken leg.

  With his exhale finished -- Salsa's breath shimmering red and blue from the dandy -- the man's leg healed instantly. He tested it out by taking a few steps between beds. Once the doctors confirmed his leg had been fully healed, the cast was removed and the man discharged, though not before he heartily thanked Salsa for his skilled practice.

  "Now that you've seen it done, I expect nothing less from everyone here. This technique is, as I said, one of the most vital you will learn in the League. You master it or you can forget about ever having a career with the League. You have your dandies. Find a bed and get to healing!"

  Unlike during other tutorials, Salsa did not assign a patient to anyone. Clark took the first bed he encountered. A man with casts on numerous parts of his body. Would he be able to heal the man (or woman's?) whole body? He didn't know but he had a good feeling he could.

  He chugged his dandy down then activated his aura. As Salsa directed, he then focused his aura -- and his mana -- into his heart, then lungs.

  It didn't take the dandy too long once it was in his lungs to feel burning hot. Seconds after he felt the heat, the flame had become so intense, Clark considered breaking the concentration off.

  But he didn't! Magic was a commitment! He couldn't give up. Not now, not ever.

  He kept the focus on his lungs and before long, the fire faded.

  It was replaced by a cooling wintery feeling which effaced the burn like a river surging over an open flame.

  As with the heat, the cooling increased in its chill until all his lungs felt like a winter wonderland. At its zenith, when he felt as though his lungs would shatter into a million pieces, he released his breath upon the patient's leg cast.

  Breathing out, he kept a steady flow. Not too fast, not too slow.

  In fact, he realized about halfway through, his output was so gradual, he sidestepped up the patient's bed and direct his breath toward the patient's arm, likewise bound in a cast. He estimated his output had been evenly divided between the patient's leg and arm.

  "Great form, Clark!" Salsa said as he watched him from the middlemost lane which ran down the length of the long hallway-like room.

  A doctor was called over to confirm his practice: "Leg and arm healed!" The doctor confirmed before rushing off to confirm another recruit's practice.

  Salsa stepped in again to double-check. "Good job. Your work isn't over yet. This fellow still has some injuries in need of healing."

  They were right, of course. The patient's other side still had a number of bandages.

  Clark changed sides of the bed and got to work, repeating the process once more until the patient's injuries were a thing of the past.

  "Holy crap, boy! You sure you ain't a healer, bud? That was incredible!" The patient was ecstatic.

  He called over a doctor to confirm the proper healing. "Perfect! You have a second career in medical, I think, if Augustford doesn't work out!"

  Not sure what to think of a possible medical career, Clark smiled and imagined himself in a doctor's smock. It was a silly sight.

  Clark was one of the first to finish healing their patient. So, he sat on the now empty bed as the others finished.

  At the end of the tutorial, not a single bed was left with a patient. Which was not to say everyone passed. Some recruits couldn't get the handle of the breathing technique, apparently, and Salsa had to heal the patients for them. Meaning, they failed.

  Salsa blew his whistle, which pierced the room much more loudly than when he blew it in the stadium. "And that's it! Tutorial is over! I am happy to see so many of you passed, today. Healing, as I said, is so important in our line of work. Do continue to practice this technique whenever you have the chance. And I do mean whenever. If you stub your toe, if your battle buddies stub their nose... practice makes perfect and that perfection might save your life in the field. Regardless, very good show today. Class is dismissed!"

  [Congratulations! You've Reached League Rank: 'P'!]