Notifications sped past her—presumably spurred by her trip to town—but she paid them little mind.
Your [Mental Defense] Skill has improved! 15 → 17
Your [The Things We Do For Family] Skill has improved! 1 → 2
You have reached Level 62!
Malwine stared at her surroundings in confusion. She wasn’t going to come up with a ridiculous explanation—like whether she’d somehow been teleported—and in all likelihood, someone had moved her?
But who, and why?
Had it been the staff? Bernie?
She’d returned to find her body lying flat on her bed.
Her ruminations were far from done when she heard someone call her name. Perhaps more than once.
“Malwine?”
Adelheid was in her own bed, hugging her knees. Her chin rested there, tipped to the side, and her eyes looked enormous.
Had she not known of her teleporting antics, Malwine would have taken her little half-aunt for an innocent cherub.
Adelheid smiled then, sliding off her bed, though there was a sadness to it. “Sister.”
Malwine almost choked. At once she understood what people meant when they joked about going through all the stages of grief in an instant, as she found she couldn’t complain—was she really going to go and tell this little girl she was growing up with that she wasn’t her sister, if that was how she was being seen?
She would not—truly, she didn’t have the heart to.
Worse yet, Adelheid’s eyes were glistening.
Oh, no, I cannot deal with a crying toddler right now.
“Sister, I…” Adelheid winced, her fists clenched in what would otherwise have been an adorable impression of how one might steel oneself before speaking. “I tried, but great-grandma didn’t know. I’m so, so sorry.”
It took Malwine a moment to even recall what Adelheid was speaking of. “Oh. No, no, no. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”
“But your mom…”
“She’ll be found eventually…” Malwine assured her. “Or I’ll find her myself, whatever happens next.”
“I could find her if I were better,” Adelheid said, and the first tear slid down her cheek. “I wish I were better.”
Malwine stood so abruptly she almost made herself dizzy, reaching for her half-aunt and pulling her into a hug. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not our fault. It’s not your fault.”
“But I don’t want you to grow up without a mom.”
Taken aback, Malwine froze. That was what had Adelheid freaking out? Even more stunning was the implication that she’d been thinking about it for at least some time. It had been quite the while since their conversation at the table—if it could even be called a conversation, seeing how it had gone.
“It’s okay,” Malwine’s grip on her little half-aunt strengthened, the hug now bordering on a squeeze. “I have Bernie, in any case.”
“You do,” Adelheid agreed, though she did not stop crying. “I don’t want you to be sad.”
She held the girl for what felt like minutes upon minutes, her heart teetering on the edge of breaking. She’d never felt particularly close to Adelheid beyond their sharing of what appeared to be the designated toddler room, and their conversations were few and far between. Malwine had spent more time thinking of how to copy her Affinities than actually speaking to the girl.
Malwine wasn’t blind to the fact that she outright owed her. And there the girl had been, trying to help Malwine on her own. It hurt to even think about. I owe you. Goodness, I owe you.
The girl was too precious.
After some time, Adelheid pulled back, leaving her shoulder damp. “I… I just wanted to help.”
“It’s okay,” Malwine repeated, patting her half-aunt’s back.
Adelheid shook her head. “I need to get better at hiding. Better at finding. I need to. So I can…” The girl kept shaking her head faster and faster, her eyes closed in an expression of what was presumably frustration. She steadied herself as Malwine simply waited. Adelheid seemed to hesitate, opening and closing her mouth. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“It’s a secret.”
“I understand.”
“No one should know.”
“It’ll stay between you and me.”
“I…” Adelheid closed her eyes again, turning away. She disappeared with a noticeable pop, her teleportation brusque this time around. When she returned, she took a deep breath that bordered on exaggerated, and seemed to muster all her courage to keep speaking. “Great-grandma doesn’t think I should use them. But I got Skills from the things. I… I want to raise them. ”
Malwine’s eyes widened in surprise—not at Adelheid having Skills, but at her actually just telling her. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been that. Something about this mysterious great-grandma she had somehow acquired, maybe. Not anything about her Skills.
“Same.”
“…What?”
She’d said it before she could catch herself, but it was as good a way as any to calm the girl, in Malwine’s eyes. “The Skills thing, not the great-grandma thing. I have Skills too.”
Adelheid looked baffled. “You do?”
“Yep!”
Bafflement turned to glee, all plain to see in her features, as Adelheid raised her fists and smiled widely. “Have you made them go up? What’s it like?”
“Uh,” Malwine struggled to find an example of Skill usage that would make sense to an actual child. Maybe this hadn’t been that great of an idea. “It’s cool. I have one that lets me read anything from anywhere. Oh!”
She’d used [Write Anywhere] to put that guard in his place, but it would work here.
“Look, Adelheid. I also have this!”
Hi!
Adelheid squealed, her eyes as wide as saucers. “That is so cool!”
Her reaction filled Malwine with a secondhand joy she struggled to fully process.
Not once had she honestly considered interacting with Adelheid might be fulfilling. No, she’d thought of it, as always, from the lense of the benefits it could provide. This was not new to her—the widow had never quite made friends for the sake of making friends—but she almost felt bad now.
Malwine really should have treated Adelheid better. She could have at least made an effort.
The girl herself had stepped to the side and was currently walking with half her body bent forward as if she were looking for something in the floor, all while giggling incessantly.
I might be a terrible role model.
Still laughing, Adelheid rose, wiggling her fingers. They were now adorned by black rings and those were—those were moving. They slipped from her fingers and lingered in the air between them, given shape by the movements of the girl’s hands until they formed clumsy but legible Grēdôcavan.
HI.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Malwine couldn’t help but gasp, and that only seemed to make Adelheid happier.
The girl shook her head, smiling even then. “‘Your [Shadow Manipulation] has improved.’” Adelheid laughed again, then enunciated the rest carefully. “Zero. To. One.”
“That’s one of your Skills?”
Adelheid nodded. “I have three.”
“What are they all? If you want to share, of course.”
If Adelheid’s Skills came from those harvestables from the prior year, she should indeed not have had more than three—not that the girl would have any reason to lie to her. Malwine could match that if this became an information exchange, picking the tamer of her Skills for it. Her long-running curiosity was more than enough to justify sharing at least some of this with Adelheid, especially if the girl was trusting her with secrets of her own.
“Three,” Adelheid continued. “[Shadow Manipulation]. [That Which Lurks]. And [The Thirl in Everything].”
Malwine hadn’t expected Adelheid of all people to further expand her knowledge of Grēdôcavan, but that was probably what she got for underestimating the girl.
“They’re all at zero,” Adelheid admitted, before swiftly correcting herself. “They were all at zero.”
“I have…” Malwine brought reviewed her Skills panel, choosing three of her own to share with the girl. “Lots. [Shieldwork], [Learning by Reading], and [Write Anywhere].”
The first there, she picked for the flashiness. Not to mention, she was growing curious as to how it might interact with whatever Adelheid could do with the shadows. The second one she’d alluded to, and the final one, of course, was the one she had already shown off.
“Can I ask something?”
Adelheid tipped her head. “Yep.”
“Why were they still at zero?”
“Great-grandma didn’t think I should raise them. But great-grandma is dumb sometimes.”
“Who’s great-grandma?”
“You… you wouldn’t like her. I know things like that,” Adelheid screwed her face up, the expression’s meaning hard to pinpoint. “She doesn’t go anywhere, needs to hide all the time. It’s hard to see her, anyway.”
“And she’s your great-grandma?”
Adelheid nodded quite emphatically. “She is.”
“…How?”
At that, her little half-aunt just blinked. “What do you mean?”
It was Malwine’s turn to flounder—how could she phrase this, without outright asking a child how she could have a great-grandmother when her mother apparently came from a family that was extinct? “Is she Bernie’s grandma?”
“Yep!”
“Does Bernie have lots of family like that?”
“No,” Adelheid shook her head. “They no longer exist. Someone made them no longer exist.”
Malwine gaped at the little girl.
“It’s sad,” Adelheid exhaled with surprising deliberateness, reaching over to pat her again. “But I have her. And mom. And brothers and sisters.”
Shouldn’t I be trying to comfort you? Because holy fuck.
Silence reigned. Malwine had no idea what she should say. Did she even want to continue this conversation? As much as she believed she could figure out a way to prod the matter tactfully, chances were, it was probably better to just leave it alone for now. Even if the part of her that liked to think of worst case scenarios worried about whether not knowing more about this could affect her down the line.
She didn’t want to push too much, not when she had Adelheid here, willing to talk about her Skills—and who knew? Maybe this could be an opportunity for her. For us both.
“My [Shieldwork] is Rare rarity. It’s on the
category.”“All my Skills are on the
thingy,” Adelheid admitted. “Is that bad?”“I honestly don’t know.”
Malwine shook her head, bringing up the panel for [Shieldwork].
[Shieldwork]
What value does power have when it cannot defend you? Channel your mana to create spherical shields anchored to you. These may surround you completely, or protect only part of you. For an increased cost, you may increase the shield's size and range. Shields accrue [Toll] to sustain themselves. Should your [Toll] bear no more, you may burn [Integrity] at your own risk to keep them running as they take damage.
Trait: None
Aspect: None
She read the description out to Adelheid.
“Mana,” Adelheid spoke slowly. “That's what Affinities make?”
“…I believe so?”
Adelheid shook her head. “Spherical?”
“It's like a circle in all directions. Like a ball, for example,” Malwine explained. I had this coming for the stunt I pulled with Bernie, didn’t I?
Adelheid nodded along. “[Toll] is the little number, [Integrity]’s the bigger one above it.”
Malwine couldn't help but be impressed. The girl had asked follow-up questions, but at no point had she asked Malwine to repeat herself, despite how long the description had been.
“[Shadow Manipulation] says Rare too. But the explanation doesn’t use that many words. I grab them and move them, slowly the lower number… [Toll] goes up.”
Adelheid went on to read the description of her Skill out—she’d been right, it was shorter than that of any Skill Malwine had. Which was fair, she supposed, considering it’d been made by a toddler.
Malwine almost responded, but the idea struck her. She reached for [Blank Panel] and its Skill, using the same panel she’d been using for communication so far. It was far from perfect, but she had to work with what she got.
[Shadow Manipulation]
Hold any shadows close to you and tell them what to do. Using this Skill accrues [Toll].
Adelheid beamed. “That’s almost what it looks like!”
Good enough, then. Malwine grinned—the girl’s joy was contagious. Still, she couldn’t help but think back to what Johann had said. She doubted she could make functional Skills like this—these panels felt like lifeless paper to her, compared to the actual interactive ones the system would show her. But… The suspicion that [Write Anywhere] might have been some kind of Forger Skill was growing stronger, even if she still had no idea what the exact definition of a Forger was.
“It uses mana, so I’m guessing you have Mana Sources?” Malwine ventured. “One in
, maybe.”“Mana Sources? Oh, that thing. They’re {Missing} one-ten and {Implicit} ten.”
“Maybe it’s {Missing} nine?” Malwine asked, though her thoughts were slipping to how she now finally knew what the other Affinity was. And it was better than {Missing} had been. No, bad Malwine. Now is not the time to think of copying it.
Adelheid seemed to consider this. “Yeah, that.”
“Nice. I have—”
“{Missing} says four-two-nine on a thing called Acclimation. I think that’s four times a hundred plus twenty-nine.”
Malwine sputtered, her train of thought halted. Whatever she’d been about to say got lost somewhere in the avalanche of sheer confusion. “You have 429 Acclimation?”
“Yep!” Adelheid seemed quite proud of herself. “The Control thingy is smaller. Just two times a hundred plus thirteen.”
‘Just’? ‘JUST’?
“How did you get it that high?” Malwine forced herself to ask—she wasn’t sure as to whether she even wanted to know.
Adelheid shrugged. “It goes up when I move around. It used to go up more, but now it only goes up sometimes. Oh, it goes up when I’m with great-grandma. Lots. But I don’t think that counts.”
“…Why not?”
“Because great-grandma cheats and time doesn’t count where she’s at,” Adelheid said, as if that actually explained anything. “If I talk to mom while she’s in the laundry then go speak with great-grandma, mom is almost always still doing the same thing next time I talk to her.”
Malwine blinked. She blinked some more. “Wait, how old does the system say you are?”
“39 months?”
So either time dilation doesn’t count for age, or it’s not actually that? But she’s making it sound like it is. Those ridiculous numbers also imply something odd has to be happening.
“Oh, we’re almost the same age!” Malwine cheered—better not keep the girl going on about that before she thought more about it. She was still confident in that initial conclusion, but that confidence wasn’t absolute. “When’s your birthmonth?”
“The Forgetting!”
“Mine’s The Fire!”
Allegedly.
It was almost shamefully easy to change the subject, and her little half-aunt would just go along with it. But this was far, far better than how their conversation had started. If Malwine could have an honest conversation about Skills—even if it was with a toddler—she could benefit immensely.
The one thing she refused to ever bring up was the matter of reincarnation, or however she’d ended up here. Malwine wasn’t yet comfortable explaining that to herself, let alone others. And perhaps she never would be.
“[Learning by Reading] is… Epic,” Malwine settled for that—it would put the Skill at around the same level as [The Plurilingual Psyche] from that same category—instead of revealing it was Unranked. Her conversation with Kristian had cemented the belief that only otherworlders would have those. “It’s in
Again, she pulled the Skill up and read the description out to Adelheid, Aspect and all.
[Learning by Reading]
No book or computer screen would be safe from your prying eyes should you wish to know of its contents. Access requirements and/or limitations for any text considered informational are waived. Likelihood of obtaining useful information increases the more texts you browse unsuccessfully. Only applies to the written languages.
Trait: None
Aspect: [Remote Reading]. So long as you know the location of an eligible text within a 2x2 grid margin of error, you may access it remotely at a sustained [Integrity] cost determined by your Resilience attribute.
“Ugh, reading,” Adelheid winced. She did not appear impressed in the slightest.
“You don’t like reading?”
“Nop!”
Well, I guess that’s what they mean when they say nobody’s perfect.
“Okay…” Malwine looked to the side, trying to recall what the second Skill Adelheid mentioned was called. “And the next one? …[That Which Lurks], was it?”
Her curiosity had a bit more excitement mixed in than she’d expected. With a name like that, the Skill was bound to be interesting.