“While it is widely argued that the system must give all beings the Identification and Obfuscation abilities by default, because an infant could not be aware enough to consider the possibility of acquiring them, this is not necessarily the case. The abilities could originate from instincts or perhaps some form of infantile curiosity.
It might even be that the abilities are based on a different kind of sentiment to others, or perhaps they are not based on sentiment at all, everything they reveal is a part of the system after all. Though these possibilities are unlikely, it is important that we, as systemologists, keep in mind that many aspects of common knowledge are unproven.”
From “A New Systemological Method” By Simon Relkweist
9th Maril, Spring, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (1 day later)
As it turned out, getting Identification was a relatively simple matter of picking a person he could see and focusing on knowing their level. He hadn’t even been seriously trying. He’d given it a go after a few minutes of cursory research, and just like that he had a new ability.
[You have gained the Identification ability.]
[Identification 1st Lvl 1: Observe the level of beings in your realm.]
It was almost completely useless for a mortal before it reached level ten. It returned [Lvl 0] for other mortals and failed to activate on anyone else. Fortunately, a failed use still counted for the purpose of training.
At first Nathan hadn’t intended to put any real effort into training the ability. It needed him to be able to see a person to target them, so he wouldn’t be able to do anything else if he truly focused on it.
That, coupled with the fact that the ability was really just a worse version of his enhanced aethereoception, put something of a damper on his usual training mania. His intention had been to use the same method as everyone else, identifying people randomly when he didn’t have anything better to do. With his sentiment multiplier it would have only taken him a year to reach level ten, as opposed to the decade most people took.
However, Lucas pointed out that he could use his aethereoception to ‘see’ people and use multitasking to constantly identify everyone around him. It had been slow at first, but once he got used to the rhythm of creating and closing notifications, he started making some fairly insane progress.
In just over five hours he’d reached level ten and Lucas had transitioned through shock and jealousy into bitter resignation. His speed certainly seemed to support the theory that Identification took less sentiment than most abilities. Though the fact that he used the ability at least once a second for five hours straight was probably also a factor.
[You have gained a level in Identification.]x9
[You have gained the first-tier bonus for Identification. Increase your realm to level further.]
[Identification 1st Lvl 10: Observe the level of beings in your realm. Observe the realm of those you attempt to identify.]
“What are these things called anyway?” Nathan asked as he identified one of the small butterfly creatures on the spiritual plane as it fed from a puddle of animus next to him.
[Mortal, Lvl 0]
“Purely spiritual beings are collectively referred to as parvels,” Lucas answered, not looking up from his book, “but that one in particular is a mind eater.”
“Wait, what?” Nathan’s eyes jerked up from the mind eater to the librarian.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, with a knowing grin, “they’re completely harmless. The name is just some ancient bio-alchemist’s idea of a joke. Any parvels that are actually dangerous are kept out of the city by the defensive enchantments.”
“Hilarious.”
“I thought so, yes,” Lucas replied, “More importantly though, I’ve found another one. There’s a story from the 23rd era about someone who received the Blessing of Death as a redacted ability.”
“Great,” Nathan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “what is that now, a dozen possibilities? Fortune or wealth from Lord Valeon, undeath or consequence from Lord Nocteus, growth from the Host, blood or sacrifice from Lady Cassaria or shadows, legend and now death from Lord Asmodeus. A mere ten, we’ve really narrowed it down haven’t we.”
“On a positive note, if you die from anything less than the total destruction of your body or old age, you’ll know it wasn’t the blessing of undeath.”
“Truly you are a font of endless wisdom Lucas. At least we know it’s probably from one of the gods. It’s not like there’s anyone else the Host would let mess with the system. What does the blessing of death do anyway?”
“You know how you get increasingly tired in the final sixth of your lifespan and then, in your last decade, your stats randomly start to fade until you die?”
“Sure. Although, it isn’t random. It’s just so complicated to figure out the exact time that most people don’t bother.”
“Wait, really?”
“It was in a transcript of a bio-alchemy lecture.”
“You knew that but you didn’t know about mind eaters.”
“In my defence,” Nathan said with a shrug, “I’m technically only two and a half weeks old.”
“I’m pretty sure that makes it stranger if anything.”
“Well, as an adult,” Nathan said, “my priority is information that will allow me to function in society rather than whatever small children prioritise. It’s inevitable that I’m going to pick things up in a different order. But setting that aside, you never actually said what the blessing of death does.”
“Essentially you don’t feel the effects of aging. You still look old, but you stay fit and healthy until the very last second of your maximum lifespan.”
“So, yet another thing we can’t test.”
“If they wanted you to know what the ability was, it wouldn’t have been redacted in the first place.”
Nathan sighed and set down the book he’d been reading. “It’s just annoying to have such an inconclusive answer. But I think we’ve spent long enough on this. It’s time to get back to learning about the world, and possibly read a few bestiaries.”
“Right,” Lucas said, stretching his arms as he got up, “the books you hadn’t finished last Faril are already here, I’ll just go and get a few more. I shouldn’t be long.”
“I’ll get stuck in then.” Nathan paused as he was reaching for a new book and turned to look at Lucas again. “Actually, do you think you can bring me some books on ageless beings as well?”
9th Waril, Spring, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (2 days later)
On the top floor of the High Council Building the five hundred adepts of the high council were seated in a ring of tiered benches around the chamber floor, broken only by a flight of stairs leading to the antechamber. Opposite the stairs, seven chairs carved from elder grade mahogany were arranged in a small arch.
There sat the four elders of Kathresh who were able to make it to the meeting. The combatants, Lord Elder Kerril and Lady Elder Varith, were absent for skill training and hunting respectively. Elder Marigold meanwhile, was in Avus’de for preliminary talks about the next century’s trade agreement with the vampire enclaves.
Of those present, Lord Elder Maxim took the central chair both by right of seniority and, in the absence of Elder Varith, by right of level. Lady Elder Fairgrave sat to the elderly diviner’s right, while Joseph sat to his left. Lady Elder Haelend, being the weakest and newest of the four, sat to the left of Joseph.
Joseph was only half listening to ongoing discussion about updating the warships used by the riverguard. A half listening elder was still significantly better than the full attention of an adept, but that hardly mattered. It was only a minor point on the agenda. The details had been settled before the meeting and he had something more important on his mind.
As he mentally ran through the speech he was about to give, he stared upwards at the glass dome above the council chamber. Each pane was permanently enchanted to create a small region of warped time, allowing them to show views of the night sky from the previous twenty-four hours. Starting from the centre of the dome 86,400 glass panels spiralled outward, each showing the sky a single second earlier than the previous one.
Since the weekly high council meeting was always held at midday, the councillors most often saw the dome as a circle of pure, blue sky surrounded by a ring of star-studded night. Even without knowing the monstrous amount of skill and power that went into its creation, the fractal image of almost a hundred thousand skies had a strange beauty to it.
“And that,” Elder Maxim said as Joseph brought his full attention back to the room, “brings us to the final item on the agenda. Lord Elder Ashbourne’s proposal regarding witchcraft legislation.”
“Indeed,” Joseph said, standing and making his way to the centre of the floor. As the white and silver robes of a high councillor fluttered from his movement, he let just enough of his aura out to convey his sincerity without causing actual harm.
“As I’m sure that many of you are aware, two seasons ago I had a rather serious accident with what turned out to be a cursed grimoire. I am, of course, well aware that one incident is not a pattern. However, over the last few weeks I have looked into it and discovered that, in the last decade alone, there have been no less than 487 incidents of property damage, injury and, in thirteen cases, death resulting from completely avoidable witchcraft.”
Joseph groaned internally when he saw Lord Adept Henry Maxim take a pause in his speech as an opportunity to stand up and ask a question. In the forty years the man had been on the council he had opposed every single policy. Up until they voted at least.
Under normal circumstances most of the councillors appreciated that it was useful to have someone playing the role of devil’s advocate, but that didn’t stop it from being annoying when it was your policy.
“Lord Elder, might I ask why no one has noticed this pattern before now?”
“There’s certainly nothing stopping you Lord Adept.”
A quiet chuckle echoed through the room from the assembled councillors.
“Well then,” the insufferable contrarian said with a tight-lipped smile, “I think we would all appreciate an answer.”
“There are two reasons,” Joseph began, “that no one has picked up on this sooner. The first reason is quite self-explanatory. Any person with so much as a single level in one of the three main witchcraft skills has to leave the city on account of the curse. Which means that there is no one, anywhere in Kathresh, with any appreciable knowledge of witchcraft.
“The second reason is more disturbing. There is a section of the Witchcraft Suppression Act, the legislation which my proposal relates to, dedicated to the recording and storage of incident reports potentially related to witchcraft. As a consequence of that particular article, the records are invariably lacking in detail and are filed in such a convoluted mess that it took myself and four adepts a week to find anything at all.
“I don’t believe,” Joseph said as he walked in a slow circle, looking at each councillor in turn, “that there is anyone present who cannot see the need for reform. In light of that, you have all been provided with a preliminary draft of replacement legislation and a projection of the potential economic benefits of witchcraft based on reports and laws from outside Kathresh. I would ask that you all make time to read it in preparation for next week’s meeting so that we can start making some headway.”
“Lord Elder?” A voice cut through the rustle of papers as each councillor checked the file they had received before the meeting.
“Yes, Lord Adept Henry?” Joseph said with obvious exasperation.
“Well Lord Elder, while I doubt anybody could object to your proposal in principle, not even myself, there is the small matter of the curse. I struggle to imagine that any of us here today would be willing to sacrifice five hundred of the city's most senior adepts as well as all seven elders for this.”
Joseph stared at the man just long enough to start making him uncomfortable.
“I’m glad you asked,” he said in a tone caustic enough to melt rock, “dealing with the curse is, after all, the linchpin of my proposal. Several weeks ago, I called upon the services of Lady Mhyrra. While she was in the city, she mentioned in passing that it would be possible for her to concentrate the effects of the curse onto a single person.
“I propose that we replace the Witchcraft Suppression Act in the hours, or indeed minutes, before the vitality of one of our members declines to zero. Then, by availing ourselves of Lady Mhyrra’s services, focus the curse onto that person. Thus, we would prevent any true loss. Although, it should be noted that the curse is extremely painful for the minutes it takes to kill. Naturally, I am willing to bear the burden myself, if it is necessary.”
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“Oh, don’t be ridiculous Ashbourne,” came the creaking voice of Elder Maxim, “there are half a dozen people on this council in their final decade, including me. I am quite sure that any one of us would give up a few hours and withstand a little pain for the good of Kathresh. There’s no need for us to twiddle our thumbs for seventy years waiting for you to die.”
There were murmurs of assent from the older members of the council.
“But,” came a voice from the stands, “can we trust Lady Mhyrra? The fae are notoriously deceptive.”
A deliberately neutral aura pressed down heavily on the councillors. Its strength was such that a faint, heat-haze-like warping filled the room.
“Don’t be ridiculous boy,” Elder Maxim said, his voice the only sound in an otherwise silent room, “can we trust the Lady of Fairness? I wonder. We may not be experts on the gods, but we’re not completely ignorant. There is a line beyond which your contrariness becomes unhelpful. You would do well to remember where it is.”
“Yes, Lord Elder.”
“Good.” Elder Maxim held his descendant’s gaze for a few moments more before finally drawing back his aura. “Since I have everyone’s attention, are there any further objections to Lord Elder Ashbourne’s proposal?”
There was a drawn-out moment of quiet, punctuated only by the faint rustling of robes. “Excellent, then that concludes this week’s high council meeting. I’m sure we’ve all got plenty of work to fill the rest of the day. Let’s get to it.”
The withered diviner grasped the cane leaning against his chair and headed towards the stairs.
Joseph stood as well, mentally transferring the paperwork from this meeting's proposals into his storage orb. With any luck he would get through it all before the end of the day.
“You know, the amount of extra work almost makes me regret becoming an elder,” said Elder Haelend, as they waited for the rush of leaving councillors to clear.
“I imagine the extra hundred years of lifespan from the second class helps,” Joseph replied.
“Yes. The three thousand stat points don’t hurt either. I didn’t quite understand how big the gap was until I actually experienced it for myself. It’s like becoming an initiate all over again.”
“Everyone says that. You aren’t having any trouble having any trouble with the extra aura strength, are you?” he asked as they started making their way up the stairs, which were finally empty.
“No, no, not at all. It isn’t that much different to levelling up really. If anything, initiate to adept was worse because my Aura Control was only level ten. I could do without the band discomfort though. It feels like wearing robes three sizes too small.”
“I know what you mean,” Joseph replied, grimacing. “Still, it could be worse. I recommend that you never go to Albion unless you want to find out what it looks like when an elder projectile vomits. The initiate band is just awful; I don’t know how Ledal Ancient Dantor does it.”
“You’re right about that. I can’t imagine living two bands down. But enough about me. How is Master Nathan doing?”
“Oh, he’s doing marvellously. You know what level ten skills are like. He managed to pick up a redacted ability from somewhere but it’s not really a concern, it’s almost guaranteed to be good for him. And he seems to have befriended one of the librarians from Kathreshi Central.”
“That’s wonderful,” Elder Haelend, her aura revealing how pleased she was, “one of the things I was worried about was that he wouldn’t seek out company. Two seasons of isolation in addition to level ten Isolation Tolerance is a recipe for… well, isolation. Did you…?”
“I had Marius do the normal checks. His mother is technically a blood cult member, but she was only four when she was inducted. Her cell was raided quite literally the next day. All the rehabilitation reports paint her as a model citizen, so there’s nothing to really be concerned about there,” Joseph answered as they stepped into the antechamber.
“Initiate Lucas himself is clean as a whistle. It’s a shame really. He managed to get a fourth-grade class related to something he has barely any passion for. I can only imagine what he might have achieved if left to his own devices.”
“It sounds like Master Nathan was quite lucky to meet him then.”
“Indeed. If I were a more interfering sort, Initiate Lucas is exactly the kind of person I would have pushed Nathan towards. After the nightmare I put him through, he deserves every happy accident that comes his way.”
9th Thoril, Spring, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (1 day later)
Lucas walked up the stairs from the elevator room into the shadow of the outer wall. Unlike the relatively small, five metre wall between the inner and outer cities, the outer wall was a hundred metres tall. The southern edge of the city was cast in almost permanent darkness as a consequence.
There were three times the normal number of lampposts lining the streets, but even so, countless patches of gloom essence grew in the nooks and crannies where the light couldn’t reach. Despite the district council sending teams round once per year to clear them out, the persistent darkness essence still left the entire region uncomfortably chilly. Nathan would probably love it.
The property values were so low that the buildings were actually made from individual stone blocks, put up by mortals. It limited the building height to three stories but paying for creation magic to fuse them together would have cost more than the value it would gain. Still, for his family, the low property value was actually a plus.
After he reach the right building, Lucas checked to see if there was any mail before heading down the stairs and opening their apartment door. He was greeted by a corridor covered in art. They were his mother’s work. She was a cover artist for a small, mortal owned publisher but she painted abstract landscapes in her spare time. She’d never been able to sell any of them, so they were hung all over the apartment. The walls had become more nail than plaster.
As he removed his shoes, a head of balding, grey hair poked out from the kitchen.
“Afternoon, Lucas,” his father said, dark red eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Dinner will be ready in about hour and a half.”
A series of clattering sounds echoed from the kitchen as the man disappeared again. Despite ostensibly being a level two combatant, Lucas’ father had worked as a chef in the nearby Albic restaurant for the better part of the last fifteen years. He’d become an excellent cook; although he had also developed a rather unfortunate tendency to experiment.
Chuckling slightly at his father’s antics, Lucas made his way into the apartment’s small living room. There, he found his mother, resting on the sofa.
“Good day?” she asked in a tired voice, opening her dark green eyes to look at him.
“Same as usual,” he replied as sat down beside her. “How about you?”
“Exhausting, but productive.”
“You don’t have to keep working if it’s too much,” Lucas said.
His mother snorted. “Of course I don’t have to. I want to. I’m not going to spend the last few years of my life sat on a sofa if I can help it.”
Lucas smiled helplessly. It was a depressing inevitability that, for most people, by the time they reached their twenties, their parents would almost certainly be in their final decade. At forty-seven years old and level one, Lucas’ mother only had four years of her maximum lifespan left. He dreaded the day he would come home to the news that her stats had begun to decay.
“Now then,” his mother said, jolting him out of his grim thoughts, “enough of that. Go change out of those awful robes. Whoever decided that state employees should wear exclusively grey should have been shot, or at least ignored.”
“As you command,” he replied, laughing as she swatted his arm with mock wrath.
Once he got to his room, he removed the grey robes of his uniform, hanging them away before changing into a loose shirt and pair of trousers and sitting down on his bed. Aside from the wardrobe and bed, the only thing in the small room was a neat stack of notes.
One of the perks of his job was that he had easy access to all the information he could ever want. He couldn’t take the books out of the library, but his accumulated notes had almost everything he would need to perfectly complete all six grades of cultivation.
Of course, even if he did manage to complete the first two grades perfectly, a miracle in itself, he would need to become an adept to complete the Minor Advancement grade. That was about as likely as Asmodeus coming over for tea.
Calming his mind, he conjured an image of a hovering clump of earth supporting a newly sprouted seedling. Once the image was steady and his heart was clear, he opened himself to his surroundings, feeling the ambient earth, flora and force essence being drawn slowly into his body. Hopefully he’d be able to get Visualisation to level eight before dinner.
9th Saril, Spring, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (2 days later)
Nathan and Lucas sat at the only occupied table in the Bloody Chalice, up to their elbows in notes. Several of the instruments on the stage were playing themselves. One might have thought that a private orchestra, albeit one made from technically illegal, imported artifacts, would have been a significant attraction.
It turned out however, that the inn wasn’t in the best of places. It was too far into the outer city for many seekers to bother visiting, and there were few mortals in the surrounding area brave enough to be served by an adept vampire.
‘Still,’ Nathan thought as he took a sip from his cup, ‘more farin for us’
Farin, Nathan had learned, was the southern equivalent to tea, which did exist and was quite popular in the north. It was made, surprise surprise, using farin fruit. Which were lime green and roughly the same size and shape as a golf ball.
The fruit was like an egg in that it had a hard, thin outer shell with soft, pale brown flesh inside. The fruit would be cracked into a jug similar to a coffee strainer with a long pan-like handle, mixed with milk and then chilled to just above freezing with a frost flame. When the ambient temperature was consistently above 25 degrees Celsius, the sweet, cooling drink was very much welcome.
“Have you got Obfuscation yet?” Lucas asked as he skimmed through a set of notes on Emperor Lothril.
“I must not have mentioned it,” Nathan replied, looking up from his own notes, “I got it yesterday on the way home.”
Obfuscation was an ability that resisted Identification. Unlike Identification, they hadn’t been able to think of a reasonable method of acquiring and levelling it quickly. Which left him in the same boat as everyone else; passively waiting for people around him to identify him enough to warrant a level.
Interestingly, the existence of Obfuscation had resulted in an internationally ubiquitous custom of identifying every person you met. It was seen as a gift of sentiment.
[You have gained the Obfuscation ability.]
[Obfuscation 1st Lvl 1: Hide your level from those with an Identification level below your Obfuscation level.]
“Well, that’s something at least,” Lucas said, before they went back to reading in silence.
Most of the notes were verbatim copies of relevant books from the library. Marius, by his own confession, didn’t really have the right mindset for research. But he was perfectly capable of writing down the content of the various books that Nathan didn’t have time to read during library opening hours. With level five writing and 74 in all five stats, he made short work of it as well.
Because of his level ten Insomnia ability, Nathan only needed five hours of sleep to feel perfectly rested. That gave him a surprising amount of time to work with. He’d read through some of Marius’ notes in between Aura Perception and Mana Control practice. As the pile before them indicated however, there was quite a lot left.
Marius himself wasn’t actually present. Elder Ashbourne had, despite the events of last week, given the all clear for him to go out without the butler. So long as someone else was with him, just in case. The fact that he had memorised every contemporary map of the city that Lucas could find probably helped a little.
Of course, Marius still accompanied him to the library. In part because he couldn’t transcribe books that he couldn’t see, but mostly because the poor man had seemed a bit put out.
“Any progress?” Evalyn asked as she placed a new jug of farin on the table.
“Not really,” Nathan sighed, refilling his cup. “I’m starting to see why Mhyrra said that becoming ageless as a mortal was impossible.”
In a shocking twist, breaking one of the fundamental rules of reality turned out to be difficult.
“I’m just sorry there isn’t anything I can do.”
“It can’t really be helped, can it?” Nathan said, shrugging. “The vampire angle was pretty much ruled out before we even started. I can’t become the servant of a Dominari and I’d need to be a level 50 initiate before I could even try and become a vampire. Besides, you barely know me, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“We don’t need to be well acquainted for me to regret not being able to help you,” Evalyn replied with a small smile, “Have you truly found nothing of use?”
Nathan and Lucas looked at each for a moment before they both burst into bitter laughter.
“Let me see,” Nathan said, “the fae have three sentiment control nodes in place of history, control and interaction nodes, which they instinctively use to prevent their existence sentiment from killing them. Unfortunately, without a consistent supply of new sentiment they have to use their own memories as food.
“Elementals have natural control over sentiment and no history node at all. They directly assimilate their existence sentiment, which makes them ageless but almost completely mindless. Of course, both the fae and elementals are naturally ageless, so they’re irrelevant.
“No one knows how the Host, the administrators, Emperor Lothril or Helrion became ageless. Though Helrion presumably used alchemy since he is the alchemist. I can’t become a lich like the Dread Queen because I’d need to be at least an adept. I can’t copy the fae like Lord Valeon because I’d need to be an immensely powerful wizard. And for the same reason, I can’t do what Lord Nocteus did and just give myself a sixth-grade class that merges everything except my history node with my body.
Nathan paused and took a sip of his farin before continuing. “There are a few purely theoretical ways of becoming ageless. Unfortunately, the looped soul method prevents you from accessing your memories. Ideal immortality requires you to constantly hold your history node in the ideal plane, breaching the murum and pummelling yourself with lightning for all eternity. And the soul archipelago theorem would leave your spiritual body so unstable that a gust of wind could kill you.
“Basically,” Nathan finished, putting his head in his hands, “I’m screwed.”
Evalyn stared into space for a moment as she processed Nathan’s tirade. “I can see how that would be discouraging. But I wouldn’t give up just yet, it’s only been a few days.”
The vampire frowned a little, seeming conflicted. “You did get one thing wrong. It’s something of an open secret among the higher realm vampires, so don’t go around telling everyone, but Lord Nocteus didn’t give himself a sixth-grade class.”
“He didn’t?” Nathan asked, lifting his head out of his hands.
“No, he gave himself an unstable prototype of vampirism, and then spent ten thousand years accumulating agelessness sentiment until the system had enough to stabilise his transformation as the seventh-grade Vampire Progenitor class.”
“Wait,” Lucas said, while Nathan squinted at nothing, “I thought seventh-grade classes weren’t real.”
“Oh, they’re real, it just takes so much sentiment to go from six to seven that only an ageless being could ever acquire one.”
A faint whisper from Nathan interrupted Lucas’ reply.
“That’s it,” he said before beginning to laugh. He dug frantically through the pile notes until he found what he was looking for, waving the papers around excitedly before slamming them back into the table. “That’s fucking it!”
“What are you talking about?” Lucas asked.
“Ideal immortality! It’s the only method of becoming ageless that, if stabilised, would have no side effects. Its major drawback is that it can’t be stabilised. Unless, hypothetically, you did it for long enough that the system could do it for you. Say… ten thousand years.”
“Actually,” Evalyn said, “Lord Nocteus was going from initiate to adept, so the cost to increase his class grade would have been around ten times higher than for a mortal becoming an initiate. With your sentiment multiplier, it would only take you a century.”
“There you go then. Even better,” Nathan said, an amazed grin plastered across his face. “Thank you, Evalyn. Thank you.”
Status
[Status]
Name: Nathan Emmanuel Fellwood
Age: 0
Species: Human (Void-walker)
Realm: Mortal
Level: 0
Strength: 4 (4/10)
Agility: 2 (2/10)
Vitality: 10 (10/10)
Tempus: 10 (10/10)
Scope: 10 (10/10)
Stat Points: 0 (0)
Achievement Points: 2
[Class/es]
Grade 3 Available
[Skills 8]
Aura Perception 1st Lvl 10
Language 1st Lvl 10
Mathematics 1st Lvl 10
Mana Control 1st Lvl 10
Memory Technique 1st Lvl 10
Multitasking 1st Lvl 10
Reading 1st Lvl 10
Visualisation 1st Lvl 10
[Abilities 12]
Echoes of the Barren Cosmos 1st (Innate)
REDACTED 1st (REDACTED)
Enhanced Aethereoception 1st Lvl 10
Enhanced Memory 1st Lvl 10
Enhanced Time Perception 1st Lvl 10
Identification 1st Lvl 10
Insomnia 1st Lvl 10
Isolation Tolerance 1st Lvl 10
Lightning Resistance 1st Lvl 10
Obfuscation 1st Lvl 1
Pain Tolerance 1st Lvl 10
Trauma Tolerance 1st Lvl 10