The self-integration process will be the most demanding ever attempted. I will need the research files conducted by the Usurpers. Breaking into their files should be easy enough... -99.1 Seconds Post-Integration.

  As he did, Clark basked in the glow of his new rank for a bit after the tutorial concluded. He hit up the nearest cafe and indulged in a caffeinated drink. The more 'specialist' the drink, the better.

  Today's drink was black tea.

  Not ordinary black tea, of course, but flavored black tea with the flavors of fall in a thick ceramic cup that had its outside coated in chocolate, then pumpkin-spice peppermint bark. Whipped cream with orange sugar crystals floated on its surface. It was needlessly sweet and had a confusing taste, but it sure looked pretty!

  Beep: "Clark: Hera had to take on an extra shift, so she won't be able to remove the power core tonight. You'll need to do it."

  He sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."

  When SIMP had told them they would need to remove a Power Core every twelve hours, it didn't seem like too much work. Especially with the three of them taking turns going down to the Pod. Yet, somehow, it had devolved into 'it seemed like he was there far more than he would've liked.' He thought his negative feelings stemmed from the fact simply getting to the pod was such a hassle.

  One had to find a crevice, be on guard as one carefully, and slowly, made their way through the Dungeon Interior; slay any monsters one founds on the way down; then enter the pod's back just to remove a small, sliced bread sized Power Core; which meant the reverse trip begun.

  It was a slog and not what one wanted to do at midnight or after a shift or after a trying encounter, like with the Slime Dragon.

  Honestly, it sucked.

  Times like these, he wanted nothing more than to hire someone to go down and remove the core.

  Not that, that would happen... for one, they would need to trust the person they hired. Then there was the issue of security. Monsters along the way were rare and tended to be weak, but it wasn't long ago that he confronted an Airheart along the path. If they did hire someone, they would need to be League affiliated so as to be able to handle themselves. Which begged the next problem -- money.

  With League affiliation came expectations of a higher rate of pay. Which was not something Clark knew if they had the resources for, right now.

  Such a headache...

  In what was quickly becoming his catchphrase, he told himself to suck it up. No one else would do it, least of all Theo, since he was going to be tired and angsty from his Fulfillment shift, which meant HE had to do it himself. Such a headache...

  Clark rested for a while in his dorm while he could.

  the worst part of heading to the Dwarven Pod was never knowing what he was going to encounter along the way. That meant he had to always leave his room with a full set of gear, including his sword, multi-tool, shield, satchel, and his Dandies.

  At first, it made him feel like a hero of legend, venturing forth with a back full of crap.

  Now? It simply tired him out.

  He was about halfway to the pod when he heard SIMP's communication beep.

  He pressed the button on his System Link -- the circuit upon his head which curled into an ear for all Team Based communication -- and spoke: "SIMP. You wanted to speak with me? Is everything okay?"

  "Yes," they replied. "But non-vital. I saw you today at the cafe. Your demeanor changed when I told you about the Power Core needing your removal. I wanted to ask if you were feeling fine."

  SIMP rarely asked how he felt or was doing. Perhaps it came with the disembodied territory, but the Spiritual Consciousness of the Dungeon rarely acknowledged things such as emotion or psychological states. Clark guessed it was beyond their grand design.

  "I'm doing fine," he told them as he jumped across an ether rivulet. "I was only a bit annoyed at needing to do it myself." He then told SIMP about how he wanted to hire someone to remove the cores for them and the inherent challenges doing so would imply.

  "I understand... your team and you work hard. You've likely compartmentalized your schedule so well by now that any disruptions to it feel like an invasion of your life. I understand that, believe it or not."

  Did it surprise him that SIMP understood his situation? Yes -- yes it did!

  But what could he say back? "I believe you, but it is hard for me to understand you. Being a Consciousness and all..."

  SIMP was quiet for a moment as if they were contemplating what to say. When they spoke, what they said shocked him: "I was not always a Consciousness, Clark. Once upon a time, I was Human."

  A human?! SIMP was a human at one point?!

  "H-how?" he stuttered. "I d-don't understand..."

  SIMP continued: "You might think that Spiritual Consciousnesses grow from within the Tower, that the Gods created the tower and so the Consciousness comes naturally from it. But you would be wrong."

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

  Clark trek through the Interior slowed to a crawl. His steps were hardly steps as he listened intently to SIMP.

  "A Spiritual Consciousness is selected by the Tower's Dungeon Core. Usually through a process known as 'The Ascension Competition.' This was not how I was selected, however. I was chosen by the Dungeon Core itself and offered the position without even applying."

  Another shocking revelation to Clark: "Wait... why, how? And you said 'yes'?"

  "I agreed, yes. It is an incredible honor to be chosen as the Dungeon's Consciousness. I felt apprehensive, of course, but that was secondary to the elation I felt at being selected. I confess, Clark... I do not remember anything more about my life. Why I said 'yes' beyond the honor, why the Core choose me, or anything about my life during that time. Might I burden you for a moment with my own emotional life?"

  SIMP paused as they waited for his answer.

  "Of course! Burden me away -- oh, and takeaway, it isn't a burden."

  A rare double-beep, which he took to be a SIMP smile. "I feel saddened by my lack of memories. I did not always despair at my lack of memory. At first, I even relished in my lack of burden. I could focus on my tasks without the interruption of my brain's chemical reactions. Without the memories of a common life slowing me down. But not anymore. Now, I... feel strangely about not being able to remember. I feel as though something important was taken from me. Or that I am missing an important detail about my existence. And the more I consider, the more I feel the impulse to discover my origins."

  A tear slipped from his eye, then another. "I'm sorry, SIMP. That sounds rough. I wouldn't want to forget where I came from. My parents, with all their faults, are still my parents. Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "I do not know... thank you for asking but... I just." A series of beeps denoting indecision or perhaps trepidation came from SIMP. "Nothing in my Virtuality hints at my past life. Nor the means on how I could find information on my past life. A part of me thought that I might find some information within the corrupted nodes you cleanse. With each node purified, though, and no information forthcoming, that hope is fading..."

  He had no idea what to say. Could he say anything comforting?

  A Noir Slime materialized and shot at him, but he effortlessly dodged and slashed at the slime, ending it. Considering SIMP's difficulties, he hardly gave the slime attention. "SIMP. May I ask how old you are? Like, in terms of being the Dungeon's Spiritual Consciousness?"

  "I am not sure, but I would not say I am very old in my position. Upon my matriculation as the Spiritual Consciousness, the Dungeon had been without a Spiritual Guide for a period. That is all I can define for sure. For us spiritual entities, time passes differently than for your Humans. We feel it more and more slowly. Usually..."

  "Usually?"

  "Sometimes time's flow can speed up if we allow ourselves to be taken in by the job and focus on the job. When the Tower isn't infected by a plague, my position as spiritual Consciousness would be a background position. You and I, regardless of if you were my Champion, would hardly interact."

  Such a notion surprised Clark. "I guess that means our current relation is pretty unusual. If I were in your position, I wouldn't know up from down. Is there nothing you can do to determine your past?"

  "If the Dungeon Core was active, I might ask them. They would have information on my Matriculation, at the least."

  All roads lead back to the Dungeon Core...

  Clark had to find this core. He had to make clearing out Plague Central his one and only task. Maybe the Core wouldn't be there, but it was the best place to start looking. If it would help SIMP, he had to try.

  "I promise. We will find the Core. You're aware of how stubborn I can be."

  "I certainly do, Clark... Thank you, my Champion, for talking with me."

  "No thanks needed, my Benefactor. It is merely my job."

  With the conversation over, he found himself before the Dwarven Pod. He went outback to pull the charged Power Core, then trekked back to his dorm. On his mind was only one thing -- how to help SIMP.

  Several days went by: days where he spent the bulk of his free time in clearing out Plague Central with his team.

  Their progression he liked and thought it was much needed. Plague Central continued to be a major obstacle. Monsters continued to show up the deeper they went, obviously, and unlike in previous weeks, for the first time, their numbers increased, as did their strength.

  He kept his fears from his team, but a part of Clark worried they would not be enough to clear Plague Central by themselves.

  Although they made progress within Plague Central, they encountered no new Nodes to cleanse.

  This hurt Clark.

  After he and SIMP's heart-to-heart, he wanted to cleanse another Node as a goodwill present to the Consciousness. Instead, he found disappointment.

  As if that wasn't enough, while their focus was on Plague Central, the pulling of Power Cores at the Dwarven Pod suffered. Able to pull a Core only so often while they were deep within Plague Central, instead of every twelve hours, it was closer to once a day. That hurt their productivity.

  Clark was certain now that they needed to bring on another person. Someone who's sole job it was to pull Cores when they were fully charged.

  "Guys. What are our finances?" he asked his team while resting after clearing a nest of large slimes.

  "Our finances? What're you planning, Clark?" Hera said, not grasping his point.

  "Well," he began, before launching into why they needed to hire a 'Core Grabber.'

  "Oh," Hera said, her tone more reconcilable now that she understood where he was coming from. "I agree. Someone to grab these cores is important. I still think maybe we should suck it up and admit we need to better pull our own cores, but you bring a good point to light. If we're to keep spending this kind of time in Plague Central, we aren't going to be able to keep up with pulling the cores... a conundrum."

  Hera was silent, then, deep in thought.

  Theo picked up the conversational ball: "It won't be possible to 'suck it up' and 'pull our own cores.'" he said in contrast to Hera. "If there's even a handful of Nodes left to cleanse, those alone would take weeks, if not longer, based on how far apart this current node is from the previous Clark cleansed. You might not have noticed, but I've been mapping out the nodes. They're getting further apart."

  "Really? You've been mapping them? Let me see," Clark jumped at the opportunity to glimpse a visualization of his efforts.

  "Sure. A moment, please." Theo fiddled in his backpack for a bit before he brought out a notebook. Inside the notebook was a crude sketch of the Interior thus far conquered. "The dots are the cleansed nodes. the line segments between the dots represents distance. As you can see, the distance between each node is increasing."

  Clark looked over Theo's findings. Then he thought back to his experience in exploring Plague Central.

  They matched up.

  He didn't, at first, want them to match up, because that meant the labor between each node's cleansing would mean so many more days, so many more missed cores. Yet Theo's notes were impeccable. A crude estimate put them six months away from cleansing Plague Central.

  "Six months," he muttered under his breath. "I can't believe this... that's six months of missed Power Cores, six months of alternating between our regular shifts and cleansing and core pulling..."

  "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news." Theo's voice was low, like when a child needed to say something to their angry parent but was hesitant.

  "Don't be sorry." Clark handed the notebook back to Theo. "He's right. If we're six months or more out from clearing Plague Central, we need to hire an extra set of hands. So, back to my original question -- what's our budget?"