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Talent

So I wasn't talentless after all. I had always thought that everybody in this world was born with an inherent inclination but I was wrong. I simply misunderstood my younger brother's words.

I was expecting some sort of a status screen and cheat level magic powers like in those novels my nephew's children used to read. Because it wasn't on the nose I didn't really notice it until now. I actually have a system. A cheat code. A secret talent.

*****

Talent: Memetic Engineer

Foundational skill: Absolute Language Comprehension

Skill tree:

[Predictive linguistics] ➣[LLM Cluster]➣[Cryptological Linguistics]➣…

[Double Sight]➣[Random Momentary Foresight]➣[Object Eidetic Hindsight]➣…

[Rudimentary Appraisal]➣[Rudimentary Forensics]➣[Item Knowledge Infusion]➣…

[Sideline Processing]➣[Accelerated Thought Distribution]➣…

[Re:Remember]➣[Re:Think]➣[Re:Consider]➣[Re:Write]➣[Re:Do]➣[[Aura Of Redemption]]

Knowledge Points: 1

*****

Well, not really. I don't have a system but if I close my eyes and focus I will see a root of knowledge in the midst of a sea of fog. Kind of like a vague memory from my childhood or a cluster of undeveloped ideas just sitting there in the back of my head. A calm serene blackness filled with a dense gray cloud.

The root is my talent and below it is the trunk/foundational skill. The trunk splits into hundreds of branches, among them only a select few are visible and not shrouded by the fog. Right now I can only see five branches extending out before me.

I am quite sure the first branch is based on my knowledge of how modern computers work, the second might be a reflection of my army experience. The third and fourth, I have no idea. The fifth branch is definitely there because I am a transmigrator.

Below the upside down tree is a single crystal clear droplet. A droplet filled to the brim with knowledge. And I can choose to direct it toward a specific branch. I can choose a skill that's right for me. However every next skill in the branch costs one more droplet than the previous one.

The only branch not obscured by the fog is the "Branch Of Redemption." The one based on my transmigration.

I could have lived my entire life without realizing I had this cluster of thoughts and images stuck in my head. Because if I open my eyes and blink once: it's gone. Nowhere to be found. I had spent months going about my daily life not knowing I have this secret talent inside of me.

The question is now that I know I have it. How am I going to develop it?

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It took me eighteen years to develop a single droplet of knowledge. However, if I hadn't found that brass topography model, engraved with Weldian Runes it would have taken me until twenty.

If I spend every day reading and discussing theses then I might become a decent scholar in the next 100 years. However a sage can live a maximum of 200 years. A grand sage can get the resources required for 400 years of life.

But with this speed of comprehension I won't even be able to unlock three skills by the time I am 100 years.

A complete language with thousands of words accounts for approximately one drop. If I can somehow find more Weldian ruins and can reconstruct the language further then I will be able to develop another droplet a lot earlier. For that purpose I plan to explore the location shown on that brass plate.

I dug all around that spot and found only a single rusted metal belt buckle and that brass plate.

My archeological instincts are telling me someone probably lost a leather bag there but the plate had no initials or anything like that.

I dropped my knife and fork for a moment and looked at my bandaged hands.

The fork slid to the edge of the table and loudly clattered onto the ground.

First I need to heal though. That dragon did quite a number on me.

I am not sure why I fought so hard. Could it be that I enjoy combat? The thrill of scattering your opponents' innards all over the ground isn't something one can experience everyday. Should I be hoping to never experience this type of thrill again? Perhaps Akkadian militaristic culture is influencing my thinking process.

I already lived a life of violence. But peace-

"Sorry to disturb your thoughts. I just came to give you a heads up on the forthcoming ceremony," a sage interrupted my thoughts.

He had a wrinkly face and long blonde curls. He would look almost feminine if not for his beard and garb.

"Thank you very much for reminding me. I was already wondering where all the slaves went," I replied while pointing to the fork on the ground.

The man laughed lightly and said: "Thank you again for selling the dragon eggs to us. It means a lot to me, to be able to fulfill my ancestor's wish."

This man's name was Kars. He is the department head of mana research. I always knew that they would be the party most interested in a blue dragon. So, I sold it to them despite Liam's complaints.

My next goal in Polygon is to go from apprentice to acolyte. To do that I need one hundred citations spread between a minimum of five theses. Having a good relationship with the other factions will only benefit me.

I nodded at Kars and stood up as the ceremony was about to start.

We left the dining hall and stepped onto the streets.

While walking toward the city hall two lines of trumpeters walked behind us with rhythmic steps. After a short musical intro the nobles arranged themselves on both sides of an embroidered blue carpet that ended at the base of the duke's throne.

A silenced covered the hall and I stepped out of the crowd and down the long carpet.

I gazed at the grand tapestries hanged from the balconies above me. The classic Akkadian pattern of a spiral lightly waved in the warm wind that was coming from the hall entrance.

The Sumerian duke was standing there in his official attire. His hair was neatly combed, shining in the light emitted by the golden braziers on the sides of his throne. His chiseled jaw and heroic look spoke of his resolve.

I stepped closer toward him and kneeled two small steps away from where he stood.

"For your considerable contributions to the Akkadian dynasty and the city of Sumeria you have been awarded with an honorable citizenship. May you follow the Akkadian way!"

The duke hung a mastercrafted golden medallion around my neck and straightened his back and shoulders.

I stood straight and did a heartfelt salute while shouting: "For the Akkadian way!"

Every man present repeated after me. Their sincere and loud voices created an atmosphere of celebration and grandiosity. The cacophony of voices reached my ears at once, sending a thrill down my back.

I could barely contain my grin as a cloud of sweet smelling flower petals enveloped me.

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