Students waited impatiently for their results in the lobby while their tests were being graded. Sullivan, who had just bought a grape-flavored sport's drink from the vending machine, sat down on a bench and took a sip. Herb, finishing his conversation with a few other people, rushed over to Sullivan after spotting him.

  "Sull..." Herb started anxiously but then stopped himself and sat down next to Sullivan. After calming himself down to a casual tone he asked, "How'd you do on the exam."

  "Ehh, nothing really threw me for a loop. Everything was pretty basic. The key—"

  "But what copy of the test did you get?" Herb impatiently interrupted.

  "Copy B."

  "And you didn't find question 67. difficult? That one stumped me."

  "The one about claimant rights on Boss loot given that the original claimant dies before leaving the dungeon?"

  "Yeah, that one."

  "No, that was easy. If they succumb to injuries from the fight before exiting the dimensional rift then the loot goes to whom assisted the most in the kill unless the injuries were patently fatal, and the loot was given as an indemnity to the dying man's family. If the claimant is killed by another team member before leaving, then the loot is the property of the guild. If the loot is a national class treasure or a treasure with spatial/temporal properties, then it's the property of the government irrespective of who killed the boss. And if the would-be claimant perishes with the boss, then the loot is divided amongst the group with the leader getting three shares to every member's one."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "Damn it!" Herb cursed in frustration. "I left out the right of the government and said the group leader gets two shares to every member's one. I thought three sounded too high!"

  "Yeah, but that's only one problem. That's still a possible ninety-nine."

  "No... I was talking it over with the other high scorers and I figure I missed at least five—six given your new information."

  Sullivan guffawed. "Relax, that's still an A—in the nineties. It's not like they only allow those with perfect scores to awaken."

  "Yeah, but I told my dad I would score a hundred and become an awakener like him and... Well, I also made a lot of bets with everyone on me getting a perfect score."

  "Hey, yeah, I remember that. Don't you owe me ten dollars?"

  "Right now?!?" Herb asked with shock.

  "Well, I mean, any time this week would be nice, but now's better."

  "Gee, the grades haven't even been confirmed." Herb demurred but then took his wallet out and handed Sullivan two five-dollar bills.

  "Thanks. Oh, and I wouldn't go reminding everyone you owe money to about that bet. Just some advice."

  "Yeah, I'll remember that!" Herb grumbled before standing up and walking back to the group he had been conversing with earlier.

  Sullivan watched Herb's back as he walked away, pondering upon that break in his speech earlier.

  'Wasn't Herb's dad an amputee? Lost his right leg in a dimensional rift or something like that. Tough world.' Sullivan contemplated.

  After fifteen minutes Sullivan had almost finished his sport's drink, and the results were in. The students quickly gathered around the flat screen TVs lined up against the wall. Looking for his last name, G for Guthrie, he found it with a '100 %' attached to it.

  "Huh, hope Herb is spared from finding out—the envy would kill him."