I return to my room, thinking firmly about what I’m going to do with my new [Aether Sense] skill and not about finding weird things when psychically probing a black hole. By which I mean I can’t stop thinking about the black hole. Now that [Flashback] has opened the memory, I can clearly recall the sensation of discovering aether for the very first time. The feeling of awe and wonder permeates across eons.

Was I really the one who discovered aether? I must have been expensive to summon and if my Soul attribute is any indication, I’m guessing I’ve been a popular reincarnation subject. It can’t just be because I died young regularly.

I’m just going to let that digest in the back of my head because it’s not terribly important. (My overuse of the word “terribly” when trying to dismiss things notwithstanding.) Right now, I’m bolstered with excitement over a newly unlocked ability.

The star necklace is not in my desk where I’d left it, which probably means Griffin has been going through my things again. It’s probably just as well that I don’t own anything actually dangerous, given that I share a room with a four-year-old.

I go find Griffin and retrieve the artifact while reiterating a request that he ask before taking things.

Category Artifact Type Accessory Material Bronze Quality Average Rank Basic Aspect Luck

Congratulations! You’ve identified a Basic artifact. Your Crafting (Appraisal) skill has increased to level 2.

Luck? So it’s a lucky star? How do you even quantify luck? I suppose the system can do that, somehow, although it does make me wonder just how much it’s manipulating reality. To which the answer is probably “completely”, so whatever. For all I know, the reality I’ve found myself in literally runs on dice.

It’s only Basic rank, so it’s probably not a huge bonus, but it still might have helped keep me from getting hurt back at Splott Lake.

This bears testing. Naturally, this testing involves getting Rowan to wear the necklace while we throw things at him.

“Please say ‘ding’ whenever you get a skill level so I can write down the results in the name of science,” I say.

“I’ll assume you will eventually level up your skill to the point where you can see the actual number,” Rowan says, hefting his shield. “Let’s do this.”

I don’t envy any no-fun sports rules-lawyer organization having to figure out what weird bits of magic are and aren’t allowed on the field. Especially considering everyone with a system is already doing things that could be considered magic, sort of.

We start throwing various balls in the general direction of the net, by which I mean Anise and Burdock throw balls while I watch.

There’s too many factors involved just to blindly take notes on how often Rowan gets hit, but I don’t need to do it blindly. I can see vis and aether, and try to analyze where and how they interact. I feel like I’m back with my newborn eyes again, trying to make sense of the world. I’ve been watching the currents of vis all my life, but [Aether Sense] is brand new.

I’m staring at an aether-filled bronze star necklace like I once did a black hole, a gajillion years ago. (“Gajillion” is my technical term for the length of time I may have experienced over five million lifetimes.)

Griffin chucks a purple foam ball at Rowan, who easily swats it aside with his shield. He takes a step, and doesn’t notice a green tennis ball under his foot. The aether in the necklace pulses, and Rowan puts his foot firmly on the ground. I can’t tell from here whether he just put it down somewhere else or the tennis ball actually moved on its own, but I definitely saw something happen there.

You’ve detected the activation of a Basic artifact. Your Clairvoyance (Aether Sense) skill has increased to level 2.

Another level already?

I call a break to the practice and retrieve the star necklace from Rowan to take a closer look at it. Did it expend a charge or something to do that? The aether in it feels lighter than before. I might even be able to detect a cooldown timer or something.

It’s difficult to reconcile the engineer and the psychic, and those might have been my first two lives rather than just my first. I’m not at all sure. I’m missing some important memories involving how one got to the other, but I’ve inferred a few things without actually pushing back on them. We discovered vis, and then we discovered aether. I don’t know how or when psychic powers suddenly appeared on Earth, but that seems to be what happened.

“What’s aether look like?” Griffin asks.

“For that matter, what does vis look like?” Anise adds.

“I will eventually figure out a way to show you,” I say with a shrug. “I’d like to identify every item we have in storage… but that would be best to wait until I’m 7, right?”

Anise nods. “Yeah, probably. I can’t say I spent as much time when I was 5 thinking about skills as you do.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Mostly you thought about ways to get into trouble and annoy me,” Aunt Hazel comments, approaching.

“[Adventurous Child] was much more fun than [Tidy Child],” Anise says. “I could never believe you managed to get a class for cleaning.”

“Griffin wants to be a Warrior,” Aunt Hazel says. “Or a Ranger. Or a Rogue. It seems like every time he learns a new vocabulary word, he wants to be one of those. Well, I’m glad you’re back home at least. It’s not natural for a child, reincarnator or otherwise, to spend so much time away from the Hearth and your mother is quite irresponsible in letting you.”

“At least the goblins didn’t get all weird about not being sure how to treat a tiny adult,” I say.

“Mom! Mom!” Griffin exclaims, running up to her with the purple ball in hand. “I want to be a pirate!”

Aunt Hazel sighs. “And where did you hear that word?”

“Aunt Anise mentioned them!”

“What do you think a pirate does, Griffin?” Aunt Hazel says.

“Aunt Anise says they fly around the sky looking for booty!” Griffin says. “What’s booty?”

Aunt Hazel sighs again, more heavily this time. She might be able to fill a ship’s sails just with her exasperated sighs sometimes.

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

The orange season grows late as October approaches, and the teenagers who attend Crux Academy are returning by flying school bus. I always love watching skyships whenever I get a chance.

As they’re pulling in to dock, I wonder aloud, “Does anyone ever fly around to the bottom of the domain?”

“There’s dragons down there, so I hear,” Anise says.

The sky turns red, and with that, another season of monsters is upon us. I get to watch Aunt Heather perform the divination, and this time we’re joined by Willow. She’s not likely to understand much but she’s fascinated by magic.

The overhead view of Tempest in the magic mirror displays no large red dots this year, just lots and lots of smaller ones. She zooms in on one cluster, and the mirror shifts to display several reddish grasshopper-like monsters the size of my arm tearing apart a bear.

Beside me, Willow gasps. “That poor bear!”

“Blood locusts,” Aunt Heather mutters. “Basic and Elite, and in large numbers. Not detecting anything else. This is going to be an annoying season.”

She goes and informs the Hearth, and people make some quick preparations.

“This is an excellent opportunity to farm some combat experience,” Grandma Laurel says. “Anyone with combat capability should take watch on the walls and kill any bugs that get close. Basic-rank noncombatants should stay inside.”

“What’s a noncombatant?” Griffin pipes up.

“Someone who doesn’t fight.”

“I want to fight the bugs!” Griffin exclaims, for once learning a vocabulary word and not wanting to do that.

Aunt Hazel puts her face in her palm. “No, Griffin. You are four years old. You don’t even have your first class yet.”

Grandma Laurel chuckles. “We can capture one of the Basic rank monsters for the more adventurous kids to play with.”

“Yay!” Griffin claps his hands.

The balconies have been retracted and the windows sealed up, closing up most places a relatively small flying monster might enter from. Rowan decided to return to Talgarth for the fall, and he will hopefully get plenty of combat practice there too. I’m not sure how many fighters Talgarth has, though I know Corwen is more combat-ready than most.

“Where is your adventuring party staying this season?” I ask Uncle Hawk. “Are there many elves or dwarves in Tempest?”

“No, they’re from different domains in Tiganna. They’re staying at Penbryn Hearth at the moment. The Penbryns paid to protect them from monsters since they’re short on high-level warriors at the moment.”

I stay inside for the most part, and it’s not like I’m hurting for things to do in the meantime. Reading, listening, drawing, playing… I even take up poetry for a bit to see if I will get a skill unlocked for it. I will spare you the efforts as the system was also unimpressed.

Blood locusts become a staple of this year’s fall menu, and much to my regret I actually find them tasty. They have the flavor of steak but with the texture of crab. The stronger fighters bring in the occasional live one for Griffin and the other youngsters eager to fight to practice on, with the close supervision of an Elite or higher ranked relative.

“Hah!” Griffin exclaims, brandishing his wooden sword. “I’ve got you now, monster!”

The blood locust slowly twitches its antennae at him. Its movements are lethargic, and I think someone put a debuff on it to make it even less of a threat to a small child. I would think this cruel if this weren’t a monster-infested world where one day soon, this village will be relying on kids like Griffin to defend the walls from swarms.

Aunt Myrtle is dying. She spends much of her time telling stories to the young ones, mostly lore that’s been passed down in the family for generations and not adventures that she herself experienced, since as a Hearthkeeper she hasn’t gone on many adventures. I don’t know how long she has left, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she passed on tomorrow or six months from now. And when she goes, our two Legendaries will be leaving on their own quest.

The dark season is upon us and I help my sister and cousins hang up winter decorations. I try to teach them the words to Not-Christmas carols but it occurs to me that I don’t know what the actual words are myself. I just kind of turned on auto-translation and never turned it off.

You are now 6 years old. All physical attributes have increased by 1.

And so I turn a year older. One more year ahead of me and I will add an adjective to my child class. There’s are sixteen possibilities, one for each general skill. I already know the Crafting-related one, [Creative Child], will be the one for me. For the apprentice and adult classes, however, I have no idea what I might wind up with. Corwen’s big book of classes mentions a dizzying array, and the higher rank you get, the more likely it is that you wind up with a class no one else in the Hearth has ever had.

I help Aunt Myrtle in the hearth with the dark season cooking. Age is creeping up on her and she’s not doing so well at standing, and her hands shake too much to use a knife anymore, so she mostly just lends her presence to directing the mayhem of the younger generations.

You have assisted in crafting a Good quality meal. Your Crafting (Cooking) skill has increased to level 2.

Again, I’m happy not to have to think about the subskills. Just [Cooking] and [Brewing], which I haven’t done any of yet and ought to do next. I don’t know how annoyed I might be if I had to have [Baking], [Grilling], [Frying], [Broiling], [Steaming], [Roasting], [Kneading], [Mincing], and whatever other cooking-related verbs I could possibly think of. Don’t ask me. I was a master of the microwave in my first life.

The traditional Hearth Day roast devil-goat is a nice break from the blood locusts, at least.

And another New Year sees the dark sky turn violet once again.

It is now the Year 736 of the Age of the Green Fox.