“Alright!” Isobel said, with a wide smile. “So—”

She pretended to take a look around, leaning forward with a hand held above her eyes. They were standing in the valley of a desert.

“We’re in a safe spot! Nothing around that could get swept into collateral damage. And!”

She reached over to Theora and dumped her hand into the multidimensional travelling attire. After a moment of shuffling, much to Theora’s surprise, Isobel pulled out an item she’d never seen before — a simple and small rose-gold dragon-shaped wireframe. Between the frames spanned rounded iridescent surfaces, as if the entire item had been submerged in soap bubble liquid. As Isobel’s fingers tapped against them, the surfaces bulged inward, but didn’t pop.

Inside the wireframe were little clouds of smoke and debris; they looked downscaled, and occasionally a small ocean wave would peek out between them. Sometimes, the insides of the little dragon figurine would knock against the surfaces and be viciously repelled.

This item was likely legendary grade. A sealing device, it seemed, and quite powerful too. Not quite comparable to the Cube of Solitude, but certainly impressive.

Isobel spat out a blob of water, and slid the item inside, leaving it to float in front of them.

“I know you don’t like using [Obliterate] in vain, so I figured I’d make it all extra safe and useful,” she said, pointing at the object. “That’s a cursed relic. Remember we went to the Land of the Dead to complete a quest there? Dema, Isobel and I. Where we met Antankla.”

Theora nodded. Bell had mentioned something like that before she’d left for ‘Reality’.

“It contains a calamity that was about to wreak havoc across the Land of the Dead a while ago. Remember we went there on a quest?

Iso continued, “Our objective was to fetch a calamity that was about to wreak havoc in that place. We sealed it in this relic, which is what cursed it. The item will expire a few hundred years from now. I was supposed to let it go boom in the ocean at some point. But I figured it would be better if I let you get rid of it instead.”

“I see,” Theora murmured. Letting it do damage in an ocean was not ideal. Space or an empty world could serve as alternatives, but cursed relics could be difficult to transport. If it was made to be set off in the ocean, that didn’t mean it would hold in zero gravity or survive transport between realities.

If the item held a calamity, then Theora should not just target the item itself, but the contents inside too, destroying both in one fell swoop to prevent leakage. All things considered, this was fine. As Isobel had promised, it was certainly not using [Obliterate] in vain; Theora had trouble coming up with a safer way to get rid of it.

Theora nodded. “This should work.”

“I’ll keep it in my water so I can absorb the data from your Skill usage,” Iso added. “So I’ll finally get to see it used up-close. Kinda exciting!”

While Theora couldn’t share the enthusiasm, she still wanted to do her best. She’d been meaning to show the Skill to Isobel from the very first day they talked, and yet, it had taken so long to get there. It was a fairly large target and Isobel was close. Theora made sure not to mess this up.

“Ready when you are!” Iso said, beaming.

Theora stretched out her hand, dipped into the floating bubble, and gently grazed the dragon’s head.

“[Obliterate],” she murmured.

Lime green sparks gleamed along the wireframe as it dissolved. The waves inside collapsed on itself, the smoke went up in purple flames. Within less than a second, nothing of the relic remained.

Carefully, Theora extracted her hand — it came out dry.

For a while, Isobel kept sliding her mandibles against each other in deep focus. Several high-level Skills were actively brooding inside her; one of them, Theora reckoned, was probably [Compute] — and if so, it had taken on incredible strength.

Just like Isobel herself. Theora glanced at the party screen — Level 791.

That said, her presence wasn’t strong compared to others at such Levels. She was not a fighter by any means; she may not have retained even a single damaging Skill from her young days as a [Mage]. She was still dumping all her points into a single stat. In a fight, the only thing to keep her from losing was Dema’s shared [Immortality], and who knew how things would go if an opponent decided to grind Isobel’s body into the finest dust, impossible to be put back into a single shape.

“Okie!” Isobel finally let out, smiling. “So first off — [Obliterate] should be a Legendary Skill.”

It should be. Theora pulled up its description. “But it isn’t.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Isobel cheered. “So that’s fishy, isn’t it? There’s something fishy about this Skill. Legendary Skills have to be worked towards for a long time. Each person can only have one, and the Skill is a reflection of that person’s life goals. And, not everyone even makes one in their life, cause why would you if you’re happy?”

“Perhaps some people derive happiness from the process of creating the Skill,” Theora murmured. Not that she would know.

“Yeah, yeah,” Isobel said, waving her hand. “Whatever. I’m saying it wouldn’t make sense for you to make [Obliterate] because destroying stuff is not quite your character. You were already the strongest being in the — well honestly, the strongest being, period — in your teenage years, or so. Learning [Obliterate] granted you nothing. Didn’t help you achieve a goal you hadn’t already reached without it.”

This was a fairly accurate assessment. Learning [Obliterate] granted you nothing. These words resonated deeply with Theora’s soul. It truly hadn’t. In fact, receiving the Skill had always felt like a punishment.

“Plus,” Isobel went on, pacing back and forth while thinking, “Since making a Legendary Skill is so difficult and time consuming, I’d guess that if you’d done it, you would have rea—realized…” She trailed off, looked at Theora for a moment, and then added, “Actually, scratch that, I’m sure you could make a Legendary Skill by accident. But either way, not that one.”

Granted, Theora had already started to refuse quests early on in her life, which was why she’d gotten bound to Dema in the first place. Still. “You are extending a lot of grace to me,” she murmured.

“Oh, mom, be quiet. Everybody knows you did not make that Skill.” She was talking absent-mindedly with crossed arms, rhythmically tapping her fingers against a protruding slate plate.

She made the bubble expand a little and leaned toward it — the insides suddenly got larger as if looked at through a magnifying glass. “There’s also the question of why it works the way it does. It’s a greedy Skill; it absorbs from within you anything that can be used to kill and maim, to become stronger. Your old offensive Skills fell victim to it. Skill evolutions are not a rare thing… Similar Skills will often merge, because not everyone likes to have a massive sheet like Dema…”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Oh… So having so many Skills wasn’t just a function of Dema’s age, but also… her desire to keep things? Theora did vaguely remember a long time ago when her Skills merged into one another if she hadn’t used them much. Her sheet had never gotten as large as Dema’s, even prior to [Obliterate].

“Well.” Isobel shrugged. “If the Skill wasn’t yours, then it also wouldn’t make sense for your other Skills to be dragged into it. So, that’s definitely a mystery. The way I see it, there are a few very important questions.”

“Yes?”

“First: How did you obtain that Skill?”

“I don’t quite remember.” Theora had simply suddenly learned it one day.

“Second: Why is it not a Legendary Skill? It’s powerful enough that it ought to be. When I researched Skills together with Dema, we noticed that some Skills that are commonplace today used to be Legendary Skills created by someone before us. [Compute] is such a Skill, as is [Identify]. Possibly, every common Skill we know of may have once been a Legendary Skill, created by a single person through elaborate efforts. And perhaps, under specific circumstances, such Skills can enter the — the aether of the world, so to speak, for lack of a better phrase — and be inherited by others. But that does not quite fit for [Obliterate], either. We would likely have records if someone had used this particular Skill before. It is irrationally powerful, after all. Either that, or someone would have found permanent damage somewhere that you did not cause.”

Theora nodded. She’d never found anything like that, either. Every chip of unhealing corruption she’d ever seen, she’d inflicted on the world herself.

Isobel held up a finger. “Lastly: How does the Skill connect to you? If we’re being honest, this Skill’s drawback does not quite suit you. Even inherited Legendary Skills still have to suit their wearer. Well, it’s possible that you changed your opinions on the preservation of the world only after witnessing its permanent damage, but I can’t quite imagine you ever wanting or needing to trade the future for the present. You have always been strong enough for anything without having to make such a sacrifice.” She paused. “Unless there was a key event that required you to grow beyond that?”

Theora frowned. Her life had been long, and she’d forgotten far more things than she could remember. However, “I don’t believe so. An opposing force like that I’d likely remember, or there would have been records in the System or the world’s archives of such an event.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Isobel chewed on her lip, and then shrugged. “Hope we’ll find out one day. Oh, and speaking of permanent damage — I’m a little confused.”

“What are you confused about?”

Iso held her arms out. “Well, where is it?”

Theora froze.

Iso’s eyes were staring at her wide open, in honest curiosity. As Theora did not answer, she tilted her head slightly. “I mean the damage, you know? The Skill says that there will always be damage to the fabric of the world, according to the size of the target. This relic was quite large.” She gestured at the bubble floating next to them. “So… where’s the damage? I don’t see it.”

Theora made a step back.

“I know you said you have ways to ‘manage’ the backlash,” Isobel continued, tapping her lips, “so I didn’t expect us to get blown up or anything. My working theory was that you had found a way to heavily condense it somehow, to tuck it away. It wouldn’t be ideal, of course, still incredibly dangerous, but less likely to affect anyone. But I’m confused, because if that was the case, there would be traces. I would find traces!”

Isobel raised her eyebrows. She furtively looked back at the bubble, and made it pop. The contents seeped down into the sand. “Yeah, not there. Didn’t see it with any of my Skills, either. That’s puzzling, because—” She blinked. Her eyes lost focus for a moment as she checked a System prompt. “Yep. The Skill’s description is unmistakable. Every use causes equivalent damage. It’s got to be somewhere.”

She looked around for a while, seeming a bit lost.

Finally, her eyes fell on Theora. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Maybe Theora should have thought this through a little better. Perhaps she should have procrastinated on showing Isobel this Skill for just a while longer; for example, forever. A breeze blew through her hair, pushing a strand into her face, but she did not dare correct it. She did not dare to move. They’d been in this desert for hours; only now did it feel dry.

Isobel came a few steps closer. She was still staring, but the quality of her expression had changed slightly. Concern had weaved itself in.

“Mom?” she asked with her usual clear voice, but a subtle quiver rang within towards the end. “Where did you put the damage?”

Eyes this wide and vulnerable were impossible to lie to. In as low a voice as she could, Theora admitted, “I don’t want the world to carry scars.”

“I understand that,” Isobel said, her little legs shuffling nervously. “But the Skill does not offer a choice.”

Theora said, “I made the choice myself.”

Isobel came to a halt, looking up. “What does that mean?” She looked scared. “Mom? What does that mean?”

“I can’t let it roam free. As long as I can judge the size of my target, I’m able to tame the backlash.”

Isobel’s gaze fell, wandered to Theora’s torso. “No, but, the damage will be done either way. If you ‘can’t let it roam free’, then—” Isobel blinked. “Then that means you contain it in yourself.”

The alternative was worse. “It’s the least I can do.”

Witnessing her daughter’s sudden expression of pure and utter horror, Theora had never felt like a worse failure.

“Every time?” Isobel breathed a quiet question.

“Unless I slip up.”

Isobel’s head turned south. Neither of them could see it from here; it was too far away — but it was obvious where she was looking: Theora’s former training grounds. The impossibly large wound still festering on the planet, contained in a massive dome to prevent anything from getting harmed by it.

“Damage like that? At sizes like that? You said that was one of your first times using it. So that means you weren’t aware yet? What it would do?”

Theora nodded. “I was not prepared. By the time I realised what was happening, it was too late. So, I only managed to absorb some of it.”

Isobel was wiping a tear out of her eyes. She was crying tea. All her little legs had gone still. She looked at the horizon, then back to Theora. “‘Some of it’,” she quoted. “Mom, I need you to be precise with me. You aren’t always precise. I want you to tell me how much you contained.”

Theora’s heart was threatening to burst. She did not want to recall. She did not want to refuse the request. The two desires fought until one succumbed. She closed her eyes, and replayed that dreadful moment in her mind, as accurately as possible, to give an honest estimate.

“Three percent,” she whispered.

“You contained three percent of — of that?”

Theora swallowed. Her voice was fighting her when she let out, “Three percent leaked out.”

There was a long silence. Theora just stared at Isobel’s feet.

“That’s not ‘some of it’,” Isobel said, eventually. “That’s not some of it, that’s most of it. You lied to me! Mom. Gosh, that’s why I asked for a number! You lied to me. That’s most of it. You absorb damage like that all the time? How is there any of you left?”

Admittedly, there really wasn’t.

“Mom.” Isobel’s hands found Theora’s and pressed down tightly. “Listen to me. Hey. Look at me, not my feet. At my face. Yes, good girl. Listen to me.” She pushed Theora’s hands against a patch of moss on her chest. Theora’s tea was still keeping her warm. “Listen to me. I’ll become strong, okay? I promise. I’ll become strong. Very strong. And Dema’s strong too. So strong. Okay?”

Theora looked at her with confusion, but Isobel kept going.

“And Bell. The three of us, we will be so powerful. And Gonell, when she’s back. And Antankla. So then you won’t have to be strong. Ever.”

“What?”

“And you—” Isobel said, “you retire. No more. Okay? Promise me. Let’s not. Let’s not do this any more. Let’s not [Obliterate].”