Long ago, when the winds still howled, and the rivers babbled, a rock fell from a tree and struck a weary traveler on the head. Knocked unconscious, he dreamed of the multicolored threads of yarn that bound the world, and when he awoke, he crafted a stone Puppet out of the gray river rock, though he did not know why. With his name forgotten, he departed, aimlessly traveling westward. From town to town, he went, earning a meager living as a puppeteer, till one night, years later, under a moonlit clock tower, he crafted his final Puppet. It became something more, and thus, again, the Grand Game started.

Accept Sub-Skill Y/N: Stone Puppetry - Lvl 0 (Minor)

Imbue a Sculpture with threads of magic, transforming it into a Puppet. A maximum of 0/1 Puppets can be controlled from a range of up to 10 meters. An initial cost of 10 MP is required to turn a Sculpture into a Puppet. A further 10 MP per minute is required to control the Puppet's movements.

Warning! Sub-Skill can not surpass Parent-Skill Level.

Before he moved to read the details of the Skill he was offered, he considered the top part of the System notification. He felt an odd connection to the story - there was a familiarity to it as if he had lived through it in a past life. Though, like the puppeteer, he did not know why he felt that way. He paused and wondered if what he had just read had been a work of fiction created by the System or something that had actually happened.

He leaned toward the latter. He had nothing to base that belief on; it was just a hunch. However, the more he thought about it, the more confident he became.

Odds were that the Earth hadn’t been the first planet the System had invaded - it was too well put together for that to have been the case. The memories the Skill Stone had shown him, and the System notification he had just read leaned toward that truth as well.

"Aliens are real," he thought with a stupid smile. He wasn't one of those weirdos who wanted to be abducted by an unidentified flying object, but he really did want to meet an alien. It was on his bucket list.

Well, on second thought, he'd rather not meet them if they were of the more monstrous variety. He'd prefer if they were the green and small type. He looked up at the dark rafters that lined the factory ceiling and fantasized about what sort of creatures rested in the stars.

An aching in his hand brought him back to reality. He was getting better at blocking out the mix of painful signals that lanced through the limb even when he wasn't moving it. Still, as his HP ticked upward, his wounds slowly knitted themselves back together, producing an impudent itching sensation that was hard to ignore.

Even though the rest of his body was healing, his finger was still a stump - it wasn't regrowing. There were limits to the System's power. He stared blankly at the empty space between his fingers, then shook his head. There was no point in assuming the worst.

He moved his attention to the Skill he had been offered. From a brief glance, he felt confident that his decision to spend his Magic Aspect on the Path had been correct.

In terms of resources, [Stone Puppetry] was remarkably cheap to use. For the cost of two [Unstable Mana Bolts], he could create a Puppet or control one for a full minute. On a purely mathematical level, that didn't make sense to him - the numbers didn't add up. Either [Stone Puppetry] was a remarkably efficient Skill, or [Unstable Mana Bolt] was shockingly inefficient.

Of course, there was a third option: [Unstable Mana Bolt] had such a relatively small effect for its price because he was not using it to its full effect. With him being such a novice to magic, he didn't doubt that there were large swathes of [Unstable Mana Bolt]'s functionality that he had simply overlooked.

In any case, [Stone Puppetry]’s range requirements were slightly limiting, but he doubted they would be much of a hindrance in the long run. In around twenty Levels [Unstable Mana Bolt]’s range had about doubled. He figured he could expect a similar or greater increase for his newest Skill.

Convinced of [Stone Puppetry]'s usefulness, he accepted the Skill. Though, he would have done so even if he hadn't seen any value in the Skill.

A shift - a faint rumble splashed through his soul for a fraction of a second, then like it had always been there, a new structure revealed itself. It orbited the dark outskirts of his soul space in a lazy arc. Only a slim moon-like crescent of its form was visible to his senses; the rest was shaded in darkness.

With gusto, Clover eagerly tracked its arc. A slight sense of vertigo kicked at his spine as he perceived it. He didn't mind. If anything, the novelty only served to further intrigue him.

He did not know how long he watched. However, by the end of his observation, he had glimpsed its true form: a smooth gray stone sanded down by years of flowing water and debris.

Palming the sculpture he had made of a dog, he tried to wordlessly activate [Stone Puppetry]. He figured if his experiment were to fail horribly and the Skill exploded for some reason, he’d much rather have one of his [Inferior] Quality sculptures be destroyed. With whatever strange magic had taken root in it, Mr. Cat was too valuable to waste on a first try.

His caution proved to be without cause, for the Skill had not responded. Not that he had seriously expected anything else to happen. He had lost track of the number of attempts it had taken him to silently cast [Unstable Mana Bolt]. It was too much to think he'd get it on the first try.

At least for his initial attempt, he decided to do it the old-fashioned way. As the words of the spell were about to leave his lips, he was interrupted.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"What are you doing," Claire asked as she leaned forward to get a better look at the sculpture he held in the palm of his left hand. Compared to before, her expression had softened. Now, rather than sad, she looked curious. Perhaps his admittedly weird actions had distracted her from the memories that bothered her.

"Magic," he said, feeling a bit like a royal court jester. He clumsily extended the clay figurine toward her. "Watch this." Unable to contain his excitement, he whispered, "[Stone Puppetry]." Like a billowing fog, mana hazed out of his palm. Less solid than [Unstable Mana Bolt], it drifted up and around the sculpture, sinking into the clay and changing wherever it touched.

The dog shifted, the clay almost bubbling as it deepened in color. Its fangs sharpened, and its claws hardened. Not more than a few seconds later, the cloud of mana dissipated, fading into twinkling blue motes that further reduced to nothingness, like sparks from a campfire.

Congratulations! Stone Puppetry has reached Level 1.

"Cool," she said, drawing out the sound as she moved her face closer to the clay dog.

Internally, Clover focused on what felt like a slight thread of yarn as it connected him to the Puppet. He knew, broadly, that if he forced his mana through it, he would be able to control the puppet. He did so. Immediately, he shifted in his seat as a wave of disorientation crashed against him. The Skill helped him manage the load somewhat, but it was as if he had gained a new set of arms.

With a mental command, the sculpture took two hesitant steps forward, and then, rather unceremoniously, it fell from his hand and crashed to the floor. Oops. That hadn't been his brightest moment.

Not used to coordinating four separate legs, Clover struggled to puppet the sculpture off the floor. His forehead scrunched up in concentration.

After several failures, he discovered that it helped to have a clear picture of what he wanted the Puppet to do in his mind. His eyes crinkled with joy as the Puppet climbed to its feet, its features only slightly smashed from the fall.

Congratulations! Stone Puppetry has reached Level 2. +1 Skill Point.

Interesting. Clover hadn't received a Skill Point for the first Level he had earned in the [Stone Puppetry] - maybe Sub-Skills only awarded a Skill Point every other Level? In any case, the Skill's range increased by 1 meter per Level.

Another chunk of mana was pulled into the thread. Clover noted that the MP cost was paid upfront - not spread out. In a fight, that distinction could be important.

All thoughts of technical details fell out of Clover's mind as he commanded the dog to trot forward. Slowly, gaining in coordination, it wobbled forward. Clover laughed softly. Controlling the puppet was like driving an RC car, except ten times more fun.

Curious, a kid not more than five years old followed after the clay sculpture. Clover led him on a merry chase, evading the child in ever-quickening circles due to the Skill's limited range.

Congratulations! Stone Puppetry has reached Level 3.

The thread that connected him to the sculpture thickened.

“Todd, what are you doing? Get away from that thing,” a woman, presumably his mother, admonished the child as she snatched him up off the ground. She glared at Clover as she carried Todd away.

Quietly, Clover retreated the sculpture back to the foot of his wheelchair. He bent over and picked it up. Cracks ran through the clay - damage from its sudden movements. He cut off [Stone Puppetry] before he would incur another tithe of mana.

He looked from his lap. Claire looked at the space above his head, then glanced back at his bandaged form.

Clover swallowed a lump in his throat. To be honest, he had been so caught up in playing with the stone puppet that he had forgotten she was there. He had forgotten to be nervous. A wave of awkwardness came wallowing back.

"Was it worth it?" she asked, looking down at her own hand with her eyes unfocused as if she was imagining what it would have looked like if she had lost a finger. She snapped out of her daze. "Sorry, that was rude. I shouldn't have asked that."

"It's fine." He looked away from her and gazed across the factory, recalling the previous day's events. To his surprise, he didn't have to think for long to come up with an answer… even though it terrified him, he'd do it all over again if it meant he'd have a chance to live.

"I always used to wish that something like this would happen. I used to think that if I suddenly gained powers, I'd change - that I'd become the person I always wanted to be. But then it happened, and I didn't do a damn thing. I was too scared to move," Clover spoke in a rambling tone, stuttering slightly. Despite that, it felt good to talk. He had spent so long running from the truth that now that he had spoken it, it felt like a weight was removed from his chest with each word.

He paused as he remembered that first night - it felt like it had happened weeks ago. Though no matter how far he tried to distance himself from it, there were some things about it he could never forget about it.

The darkness he had encountered when he had lost consciousness - more than anything, he was afraid of returning to that still and maddening place.

His mouth felt dry. "I only survived that night through sheer luck. Sometimes, I think I didn't, and this is all just a dream." He shook his head. "This is my second chance at life. I still don't know if I can change, but I want to try. If I fail, I’ll die, but I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not going to be stuck in this chair my whole damn life,” he spoke with growing conviction.

Claire listened - pensive, hanging onto his every word.

His heart pumped in his chest like he was about to fight a monster. Clover knew he might not get it, but no longer was he afraid to admit what he wanted.

"One day, when I'm a high enough level, I'm going to walk through the park with a cone of ice cream, and when I look back, only then will I know if it was all worth it." Clover glanced about; those in his immediate vicinity were staring at him, listening in on his conversation. At the end, there, he had spoken louder than he had intended to. Under their eyes, his confidence deflated. "So, yeah," he trailed off awkwardly.

They turned away from him; the glum atmosphere that had gathered in the factory dissipated the slightest bit. His mangled and malformed speech somehow had a positive impact.

She shifted a stray strand of hair back into place. her nails digging into her scalp. "That's the problem with life, isn't it? You don't know if you've made the wrong choice till it's too late."

"Maybe. But you can always make a new choice. It's never too late for that." Back in the hospital, the first time he had spoken those words, he hadn't believed them. This time, he did.

Limp, her hand dropped to her lap. “I hope,” Claire said with a slight smile.

A silence followed as Clover strained to think of what to say next. Neurons rapidly fired in his brain, and with a jolt, he was struck by inspiration. “Do you know where the museum is?” he asked, beginning to form a plan.