There should be a rule, no, a law to prevent people from being forced to learn just after breakfast. Caleb’s vessel had been less responsive to commands after consuming a generous meal. Performance dropped by a percentage magnitude in the third decimal, and that was after the entity transferring more power to the body. Had they created this body from organic materials, it would have fared even worse; humanoids in this multiverse were dreadfully suboptimal.

Or it could just be the old Caleb didn’t function well in the morning.

If they could ever find the creator, Caleb would send them a very stern-worded review on the default setting for organic, sentient species. Function wise, the absolute average would do fine as a vessel for observation. For actual social interactions, though? Horrid.

Gathered in a spacious, sunlit parlor with a view of the spanning royal garden, they were listening to Stanik – one of Grand Councilor Jorgensen’s assistants – explaining details about the system. Only the basics, of course, Otrea’s residents were bound by its rules, and couldn’t see the intricacies behind its operations.

Brown-haired and blue-eyed, Stanik had a very similar frame to Thomas. Lanky, but possessed some visible muscles under their clothes. The mage-assistant, probably in his late twenties by Caleb’s estimation, was in a better shape than old Caleb had been.

From the sitting positions, the entity figured the heroes were separated into two camps: Stephanie, Ryuji, and Joaquin in one; the rest of them in the other. As for what they have decided, Caleb couldn’t be sure.

Whichever way the summoned ones went, they would provide the entity with noteworthy data as long as they lived. So, Caleb wasn’t too worried about their paths. They waited for the short lecture to end and was about to ask for directions to the nearest library when someone else cut in with a question.

“I have a question: What’s the difference between our Gifts and normal… Skills, as you call them?” Stephanie raised a hand.

“That’s a good question, Dame Stephanie,” Stanik nodded. “As you already know, they are extremely rare occurrences among every species on Otrea. And while there are similar Skills, even possessing the same name as your [True Strike] or Sir Ryuji’s [Force Manipulation], what makes them special are Power and Evolution.

“Your Gifts are stronger, more effective, and can produce the same effects as Skills and spells do with much-reduced cost. Thusly, more powerful. Evolution, however, couldn’t be put into words so easily. We have known many in the past whose Gifts changed over the years” – he produced a thin stack of papers – “and have narrowed down some common points among those who managed to produce such evolutions. How and when they would experience the change, though, can’t be speculated.”

The mage walked around the large desk he was standing behind and handed the papers to each of the heroes. When he reached Caleb, the man took a deep breath, ducked his head, and presented the piece of parchment with both hands, then scuttled away like an overly shy student. Raising an eyebrow, the entity looked over the neatly written document on the system and theories on Gifts.

Nothing they haven’t worked out on their own. One needn’t access the system’s database to know evolutions were the results of remarkable feats, drastic change in the holder’s personalities, and possibly blessing from the gods themselves.

Yes, gods. Three of them, in fact. Caleb wondered which one was the manager. Soon, the entity would have the answer, but they had something to do first.

“Can you tell me where the library is?” they directed the question at Stanik.

“I can show you the way, Sir Caleb,” he grimaced. “but we need to head down to the barracks for… uhm… assessment.”

“Oh?” the heroes all focused on the mage-assistant.

“His Majesty wanted to know your capabilities for combat, esteemed heroes,” Stanik turned away from Caleb’s disproving stare.

“See what we can be used for, you mean?” Thomas chuckled.

“About time,” Ryuji lifted his head off the crest rail; he had been sitting with the backside of the chair facing Stanik’s desk.

“Honored heroes, I’ll be showing you to the training grounds,” the mage-assistant visibly relaxed when he saw Toval at the door.

In a second, the summoned heroes had gotten up from their seats without a word and headed for the door; still fresh with the memory of him knocking two of them out by glaring.

Except Caleb, of course; the entity was giving Toval the side-eye. After noticing them still seated, the steward scowled, locking his gaze onto Caleb. Sensing sparks flying in the air, everyone else in the room tensed, tactfully giving both of them space and not moving a nick.

“Join us if you wish, Sir Caleb,” his tone was stiff; no one questioned who won the proverbial staring contest.

“I don’t,” the entity smiled. “Do you still need Stanik, by any chance?”

“No,” Toval ignored the mage-assistant’s very subtle head-shake.

“Well then,” Caleb stepped closer to Stanik. “To the library.”

*****

Escort was a simple thing. Something, or someone, would lead at the front and the party required to be led would follow from behind. This allowed the follower to see where they needed to go by watching the escort’s path and… well, follow! But it seemed Stanik was ill-fitted for this simple task.

For whatever reason, the young mage adamantly refused to be in front of Caleb.

Despite the fact that they could do just fine without a guide, the entity would rather adhere to the correct procedures – now that they decided to truly stay in the world and play house. A difficult endeavor should these humans continue to veer away from proper etiquette.

What were they doing wrong? Caleb had studied the beckoner’s memories. And unless the young man had a completely different upbringing than Stanik, which they doubted, Caleb matched everything down to the letter.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Head high; back straight; not extending their strides too far; be graceful without making much sound with their steps; keep small talks and gossips to a minimum; hands grasped at the front for ladies and at the back for gentlemen. Since they were holding papers, only one hand at the back.

Caleb weren’t even reading the document while they walked in absolute silence – aside from the audible clicking of their sharp, metal-tipped shoes. They didn’t even know if it was rude to do so, but the entity held it off for later in case it did. Nothing of import was written on it, anyway.

Aside from the minor misdemeanor, the short trip to their destination was peaceful; there was a distinct lack of noise from birds or insects. Caleb only noticed the difference when they transitioned from the outer walkway overlooking the garden to the sunlit inner hallway. From soft, monotonous clicks to faint echoes, their footsteps remained the single cadence of sound accompanying them. Servants here really liked to stay quiet, apparently.

The instant someone noticed Caleb and Stanik stepping into view, maids, manservants, and even guards ceased their tasks and scurried to the nearest wall and kept their heads down. Well, not the guards; they clamped up like statues and saluted instead. The message was largely similar, however.

Royal servants took their duties very seriously.

That posed a question: were these humans employed through some selection? Were they similar to employees or something else? There were other terms like drafts and conscripts, weren’t there? A small difference in wording, yet quite significant in regards to their treatment.

Caleb pushed the idle thought aside after turning a corner, for they had arrived at the library.

Since they had old Caleb’s memories, the entity wasn’t surprised by the size of the rolling doors when they laid eyes upon it for the first time; considering the facility was built within the palace.

Twice the size of the arch leading to the king’s conference room, they could see intricate carvings on the enchanted wood, depicting a mass of all species clamoring before a light. On both sides of the doors were statues of a robed figure in white marble with open books in hands. Crystals inlaid on the walls cast the entry with gentle light. Without a doubt, this location would be well-lit regardless of day or night.

Sunken into the dense, solid wall, the entrance was flanked by four guards, bearing the same armors as those present the day prior at the summoning chamber. With a brief word from the mage-assistant, who had finally decided to walk up at the front, the guards saluted them as the thick doors parted.

Drifting into the library behind Stanik, the entity swept their eyes across what could be described as a book-worm’s wet dream while old Caleb’s soul tugged at their vessel, trying to pull the entity in a certain section. They ignored it, briefly noting every part of the library was either enchanted with [Preservation], [Desiccation] or [Fortification].

Scrolls and tomes laid neatly on towering shelves, separated into sections of relevant subjects: Alchemy, Biology, Bestiary, Demonology, Economy, Enchanting, etc., and sorted in alphabetical order of Basraeca’s native language instead of the one most human nations shared. The heroes all had a Blessing called [Grail of Knowledge] that allowed them to understand all system-bound languages, however, so it mattered little which they were presented with.

Looking up from her book, the stationed librarian opened her mouth to speak just as Stanik swooped in and furiously whispered into her ear. Scowl flattening as the words died in her throat, the pale-faced woman hurriedly got off from her desk and stood before the entity.

“May the light shine upon you, Sir Caleb,” she bowed, her voice pitching a note higher after meeting their gaze. “How may I help you?”

“I require maps,” Caleb intoned demurely. “Detailed maps of the Dominion of Basraeca and Liliad Sovereignty. And if you have them, maps of all the neighboring kingdoms.”

“Of course, Sir. Please, be seated. I’ll be back shortly.”

The mage-assistant rushed at a table and pulled out a chair for Caleb to sit in as they watched the librarian strode off; naturally, they sat down. Though strictly used for archiving, the library was still equipped with proper, padded chairs with soft cushions. Reading sections were far and few in the vast, open space. Aside from the table they were waiting at, Caleb could only see one other situated on a floating deck on the third floor.

Dignified and solemn. Quite a fitting image for a library, all things considered.

Now, if Stanik would just stop hovering around them like an eager handler, things would be peachy.

*****

“Have you ever used a bow, Dame Stephanie?”

Sergeant Oliver handed the girl a standard-issue short bow and a quiver of arrows and watched her fumbled with them. For a girl she was. Children, all of them. Novices in the ways of combat.

No. Worse. They were strangers even to proper physical activities.

With the exception of Joaquin and Ryuji, none of the heroes could even run a lap around the grounds in the allotted time. They didn’t even need to carry equipment. If it hadn’t been for [Running] and [Footwork], Oliver believed these children would have taken twice as long.

The title of [Hero] indeed granted Skills in a miraculously short time.

Regardless, it couldn’t improve everything; the other heroes were still recovering from fatigue. Sun Myung was sprawled out on the bench like a wet rat and Nakao sat next to a panting Thomas, drinking from a waterskin. The black-haired heroine was doing better than her other companions, but not by much.

And so, only three heroes were continuing with the light exercises. Technically incorrect since there was also the last hero, who was off doing who knew what. But Oliver had his orders; His Majesty and Toval had vouched for the boy’s abilities, so he’d hold his tongue for now.

Joaquin was trying out a variety of different weapons by following sets of choreographed movements using each of them; guided by a royal guard. His swings were clumsy and his forms were wrong, but the hero hadn’t even tired. While he seemed to be someone who had a hand in physical labor before, it was no doubt this new font of boundless stamina had amazed Joaquin. [Consecration] was more powerful than they had ever imagined.

Oliver couldn’t wait to see how far it would develop.

Booming thunderclaps rumbled across the training grounds as the energetic boy, Ryuji, flung bursts of concussive force at dummies in the obstacle course. The range was abysmally short, but the hero made up for it with deceptively good aim. Of all the summoned ones, only Ryuji had ever had experience fighting before. Real fights. Not punches thrown in tantrums between children.

“No… do guns count?” the young heroine huffed and curiously tugged at the string. “It’s something like a crossbow. Do you guys have crossbows here?”

“We do, Madam,” he nodded before turning sideways and gestured at a target dummy. “But first, try to fire at that with the short bow.”

The sergeant didn’t give her any pointers to see how she’d fare. Inhaling deeply, Stephanie pulled the bow all the way back in one motion. And as expected, the girl’s stance was weak and the way she held the arrow against the string would make it difficult for the projectile to even fly more than a few strides.

Suddenly, when she was taking aim, Stephanie’s hands ceased shaking from the strain. The heroine’s gaze sharpened for a brief moment as if every action she had taken in the last few seconds became a cohesive whole in her mind. Aligning her body with the very act of arming a bow. Stephanie still looked no different than a novice with it. But people would hardly believe this was the first time she used a bow.

Guiding her fingers, her hands, up to her shoulders, [Archery] took hold of Stephanie and she loosed the arrow.

It flew wide, of course. Yet somehow, with each rotation, the arrow twisted further than it should. Its path corrected from the minute motions of the fletching to the subtle wobbling of the shaft. Between the blink of an eye, a stray projectile turned into a fated weapon. Heading for the bullseye. Striking true.

He knew about her Gift, of course, but Sergeant Oliver couldn’t help but widened his eyes at the sight. And just as captivated, Stephanie parted her lips as she watched the arrow sink into the target; the muted brown feathers of the fletching seemed dazzling as the arrow flickered.

Truly, a Gift was so much more than any ordinary Skill or magic.