“If you’re early, you’re on time, and if you’re on time, you’re late.” It was the mantra Elise Creston chose to live by, a saying passed down in her family for generations that fostered diligence and punctuality. Everything Elise could do to give herself a head start, she did. She’d studied advanced politics and mathematics years before it was taught in school. She’d practiced swordplay and archery at the crack of dawn every day since she was seven in order to surpass the boys who were naturally stronger than her. She’d even crawled out of the womb two weeks earlier than expected, at least according to her mom. She was the golden child of her family, the one who would etch their names into the history books with her hardworking spirit and determination. At least, that’s how it was supposed to go. 

“Almost twenty-four and you still don’t have a skill?” Reynold looked at Elise not with disdain, but with pity. She was a regular at his bakery, and would always show up five minutes before they officially opened to get the first sourdough loaf of the day. He’d seen her grow up from an overachieving child to a confident young woman, but confidence could only take one so far when skills existed. 

“Not yet, but it’s gonna happen soon, I’m sure of it,” Elise said. Unlike everyone else her age, Elise had no skills to speak of. Every day since her fourteenth birthday, she’d waited patiently for the magical interface to appear in front of her eyes. By the time she turned eighteen, she’d grown impatient, searching for any possible way to accelerate the process of gaining skills. Her findings were disappointing: as far as anyone knew, there was no way to influence when you got access to skills. It could happen as early as fourteen, and as late as twenty-four. She’d get her first skill in the next thirteen months, or...

“You sure you’re not just Unskilled?” Reynold asked. As soon as the words left his mouth, Elise’s face dropped, and he quickly backpedaled. “I mean, you’re probably not. Late bloomers are more common than Unskilled. Not that there’s anything wrong with being Unskilled. If anyone could thrive without skills, it’d be you. I’m not saying that it is you, but if it it was, just that—”

“I know what you mean, Renny. It’s alright.” Elise had known Reynold for over half her life, so she knew he meant no harm by suggesting she could be Unskilled. It was exceptionally rare but it did happen, and Elise was increasingly aware of the possibility. “It’s just, recently I’ve been feeling different. There’s a tingling sensation in the back of my mind, like something big’s about to happen. That’s why I’m sure it’ll be soon.” 

“Well I’ll be rooting for ya,” Reynold said. “If you get a baking skill, I could always use a hand.” Both Elise and Reynold laughed at that. They knew well and true that Elise’s dream was to be an adventurer. The second she got her skill, if it wasn’t suited for adventuring, she’d trade it away. Skill brokers cost a pretty penny, but after ten years of saving she was sure she had enough. 

Reynold disappeared around the corner to fetch the morning loaves from the oven, leaving Elise alone at the counter. Her younger self would have grown anxious from Reynold’s remarks about being Unskilled, but as an adult, she’d gotten better at not dwelling on what she couldn’t control. If she turned out to be Unskilled, she’d be the best damn Unskilled adventurer in the world. 

While Elise waited for Reynold to return with the bread, she unsheathed the sword she always kept by her side. She felt a sense of comfort, admiring the craftsmanship for the thousandth time and checking her reflection in the steel. Even without skills, she had enough experience with the blade to teach a beginners class in swordsmanship at the adventurers guild. The guildmaster had been kind enough to recognize her abilities and offer her the job, something she felt she’d never be able to repay him for no matter how much she tried. 

“Hey, Renny!” she shouted out. “Grab me an extra loaf for the guildmaster!” She’d seen the man scarf down a full party’s rations as a snack, so he’d likely appreciate the extra carbs. 

“Sure thing,” Reynold said. “You want sourdough, wheat, or white?” Reynold waited for Elise to respond, but heard nothing. Maybe she was deciding? After a few more seconds of silence, he called out again. “Elly, what bread do you want for the guildmaster? Or does it matter?”.

No response.

Reynold scratched his head, waiting for any sort of indication that Elise had heard him. What was that girl doing? He shut the oven and walked back over to the counter, rounding the corner to find Elise staring blankly at a wall.

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“Um, you okay there Elly?” he asked.

Elise turned her head to face him with a smile. “When you got your first skill, did a blue screen with the text ‘Skills Unlocked!’ suddenly pop up in front of your face?”

It took a second for Reynold to grasp the significance of her question, but when he did a smile started to appear on his face as well. “That’s right. Elly, does this mean...”

Elise nodded, grinning ear to ear. “I got my first skill.”

~~~

The second she got her bread, Elise sprinted home to tell her family the news. She arrived sweating profusely and had to take a moment to catch her breath, before throwing open the front door with nearly enough force to snap the hinges clean off. 

“Mom! Dad! Riley!” She shouted as loud as she could, not sure who'd be home to hear her. Elise was almost always the first of the Crestons to leave for the morning, but they were quick to follow behind, her parents leaving for work and her brother for school. Fortunately, she'd managed to make it right when her dad was about to depart.

"What is it, sweetie? Why are you back already?" William Creston had an imposing figure, tall with broad shoulders, and thick gray hair all over his body: chest, arms, face, everywhere except for his scalp. His deep voice used to be intimidating but over the years he'd learned to control his cadence and speak with a more soothing tone. That change had been necessary for his career, since he worked as one of the city's few diplomats.

Elise had taken after her father in a number of ways. Physically, she shared his height and muscularity, and their eyes had the same dark brown hue. He’d been the one to get her into swordplay at such a young age, and their hands were calloused in the same spots from gripping their family’s heirloom shortsword so frequently, the very same sword sheathed at Elise’s side. 

“No reason in particular.” Elise tried to hide her excitement, struggling to hide the grin she’d held since leaving the bakery. “I just got some bread, decided to stroll around for a bit, and ended up back here without realizing it.” She waited for the confusion on her father’s face to grow, before adding: “Oh, and I got my skill today.”

William couldn’t tell if his daughter was joking or not, but as the corners of her mouth began to creep upwards he realized she was serious. “For real? You saw the screen?” He’d known it was bound to happen eventually, but he was still caught by surprise now that the day was here. 

“I saw the screen,” Elise said. She rushed forward, embracing her father and savoring the moment she’d waited nearly ten years for. 

“What skill did you get?” William asked. 

“I don’t know yet. I got the notification and rushed over here right away so I could open it with the family.”

William looked around, his wife and son nowhere to be seen. “Do you want to wait for Mom and Riley to get back?”

Elise shook her head. “It’s been killing me to wait this long already.”

“Alright sweetie. Just remember, every skill has its uses.”

“I know, dad.” She desperately wanted a combat skill, specifically something sword related, but anything that would help her in adventuring was desirable. There were plenty of skills that seemed useless but were indispensable for budding adventurers, like Purify for securing clean drinking water, or Needlework for stitching wounds when healing skills weren’t available.  More important than the skill itself though were the skill slots that came with it. Skills could be bought, replaced, and upgraded, so long as you had slots available, enough money lying around, and a skill broker to facilitate the process. Elise had been tracking the market values for the combat skills she wanted, and even with their wild fluctuations she’d be able to afford two or three B rank skills. Most people could barely afford even a single C rank skill, so despite getting access to the interface so late she’d easily catch up to the pack.

Here goes nothing. The window from before reappeared in front of her, unchanged from how it looked at the bakery. The white ‘Skills Unlocked!’ on its semi-transparent blue background beckoned her, and with a thought she prompted the interface to display what starting skill she’d been bestowed.

Please be a combat skill. She stared intently at the interface as text began to appear, letter by letter. William observed silently, not being able to see her interface but watching her eyes dart side to side as they followed the rapidly appearing information. She looked excited at first, but as Elise continued to read her expression dropped.

Any skill would’ve been fine. Of course, she had her preferences, and some would have been better than others, but there wasn’t more than a single skill she could think of that would be incompatible with her goals. She hadn’t even considered it a possibility, but in a cruel twist of fate all of Elise’s aspirations came crashing down in a single moment. 

“It’s Skill Transfer,” Elise said, her voice void of any emotion. William stood motionless as his brain processed the ramifications of the skill. He knew Skill Transfer wasn’t a skill suited for combat, but aside from that, why...

His eyes widened when he came to the same realization that Elise had. The one unique thing about Skill Transfer was that if you got it, it would be the only skill you could ever use. No trading it away, no additional skills slots to speak of. It was the only skill with those sorts of stipulations.

And right now, it was Elise’s first and last skill.