“Skill Specializations have the capacity to be even more varied than Skills if our records are any indication. They can even allow for one Skill to touch upon the domain of another. I have seen wanted posters cautioning of a man with both Murder [Blades] and Weapons [Blades, Murder]. I can only imagine the deeds necessary for… well, best not to consider such things.”

~Unknown

“My Core Skill is Weapons [Axe], a Combat Core.” Tulos sounded almost… ashamed. He squeezed his knees. Thick fingers dragged the fabric of his trousers into a bunch forcefully enough that it was audible. His eyes met mine, searching for judgment. It was like he’d momentarily forgotten I was a child who lacked the social context necessary to draw a conclusion without an explanation. It was telling that he expected one, though. I just couldn’t figure out what it was telling. I tilted my head in genuine confusion.

That sounds like an awesome Skill to have, I don’t…

“Why do you look upset, dad? Do you not like your Core Skill?” My new language didn’t use contractions. Consequently, this made everyone - myself included - sound more verbose than I was used to. I’d come from an age of rampant abbreviations and emojis, where punctuation and syntax were withered husks suckling the lifeforce from an old collection of encyclopedias in an attic somewhere, but I digress.

Hearing about Tulos’ Core Skill brought clarity to some of my earlier observations. It explained the crescent-bearded goliath of an axe Tulos used to chop firewood. That thing was clearly designed to cleave a person, not plant fibers. A relic of his past, perhaps.

What confused me was that I had never seen Tulos, like, ‘practicing forms’ or any of that cool warrior stuff you read about. He used his axe to chop down trees and work the wood. That’s it. Nothing else. Wait, that’s not entirely true. Sometimes he used it to prop open a door, but the point stands.

A sad smile graced Tulos’ expression. “That is correct, Will. I do not like my Core Skill.”

“Can you tell me why?” I saw his eyes flicker upwards, possibly seeking approval from Tina. Or help. This side of Tulos appeared so infrequently that I was having trouble reading him.

“It is not a story for children,” he eventually replied.

“I am 3-years-old,” I rebutted. “I am almost grown up.” Trying to ride the line between too childish and scarily mature was a delicate dance that I suspect I’d fumbled several times over the years. That day, I erred on the side of childish.

Tulos gave a slight chuckle at my declaration. It would have been interesting to learn more about my new father, but I ultimately decided I wouldn’t push the issue too hard. I could justify pestering him about his Core Skill due to its possible relevance to my own situation. Badgering him to tell a personal story, one that he clearly felt sensitive about, would be a dick move. Worst case I’d ask him again over a beer or something when I turned whatever the drinking age was, assuming I was still around.

“My sweet…” Tina interjected hesitantly before Tulos could shut down my request outright. “It might be a good idea to tell Will a simplified version. It could help him understand why he needs to keep Perseverance a secret for as long as possible.”

Tulos looked between the two of us before sighing. “It seems I have been convinced.” He gently ruffled my hair, now just as dark and shaggy as his own, with a massive hand. “Where to begin…

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“I was born here, in Elbura. Your grandparents moved away, but that is a later part of the story. We found out about my Core Skill- well, they found out about my Core Skill. Your grandparents, that is. They found out first. I found out too, which…”

Look, I’m going to spare you the awkward storytelling of Tulos and share the abbreviated version. Otherwise, we are going to be here all day. Tulos’ default stoicism gave him time to deliberately consider his words and made him come across as reserved in most situations. Articulating a whole story was a challenge for him, which was fine. People have different strengths. Tulos found it difficult to tell a coherent story the same way I found it difficult to outperform a draft horse… or bench one.

***

Tulos, like me, was born in the farmlands surrounding Elbura. We lived in what was once his childhood home. Six months after Tulos’ birth, the nature of his Core Skill was discovered by the village head of the time, Hwan’s predecessor. Where Tina and Tulos valued keeping Perseverance a secret, my grandparents loudly celebrated the rarity of their infant son’s Core Skill. Their reasoning aligned with my own conjecture based on the System notifications I’d read. Core Skills would inevitably guide or shape someone’s advancement, often to the point of defining their role in society. On paper, having Weapons [Axe] as a Core Skill meant Tulos had the potential to be one of the most proficient warriors in the world.

Once he was old enough, Tulos was carted away to the kingdom’s capital to be of service to The Crown. It had been a long while since I last acknowledged the uncertainty regarding my spatial and temporal location. I said uncertainty only as a technicality at that point, but it felt like the tiniest sliver of the flimsiest lifeline so I stubbornly held on to it. Kingdoms and monarchies were, to my knowledge, functionally obsolete on a global scale beyond the occasional figurehead. At least, that was the case on Earth…

The way Tulos eventually put it, contributing a child with a desirable Core Skill to The Crown was seen as a great honor. These contributions were richly rewarded depending on the rarity and functionality of the Skill. Allegedly, it afforded many privileges and opportunities to the child, as well. From the way Tina grumbled at this part of the story I inferred that my grandparent’s views on the subject did not align with her own.

There was some truth to the claims. Tulos received an education comparable to that of a noble child’s while gradually being taught the fundamentals necessary to gain Proficiency Points in his Skill. He glossed over the details, so I am unable to comment on the specifics of his training or living situation. Presumably Tulos had at least one teacher or mentor or something, but he never actually said as much. His Core Skill made the physical training and weapon drills come easy to him. At first, he excelled. Mirroring my own experience, those early Skill levels came quickly.

It provided some context for the shock my own levels in Perseverance elicited. My progression was notably above average for my age. As someone with a Universal Core, there were significantly more things I could do that drew upon the Skill when compared to someone with a specialized Skill. Hypothetically, if Tulos had never wielded an axe he might have never gained a single Proficiency Point. I felt relieved I hadn’t accidentally taken a chance with a random Core Skill when I considered the possibility of having my advancement in The System cosmically cucked by a bad roll of the metaphysical dice.

It wasn’t long until Tulos achieved his First Advancement. My efforts to ask about the milestone were firmly dismissed as being irrelevant to the story. Given Tulos’ difficulty maintaining a single thread of narrative, let alone several, I didn’t fight the decision.

***

“What happened next?” I’d been doing my best to make my persistent interest in the story clear with the occasional interjection. It was an interesting story, but it still hadn’t explained how Tulos went from martial protégé to a farming community’s borderline pariah.

Tulos shared another knowing look with Tina and took a long moment to consider how to continue.

“Sometimes, Will, people will ask you to do something you do not want to do. They will do their best to convince you that it needs to be done, that you do not have a choice.” There was a gravity to his voice, a clarity that had been absent for most of the story. “You always have a choice, Will. Do you understand?”

The dim light from the flickering flames framed Tulos’ face in stark shadows. Wood smoke tickled my nostrils. The severity of the moment wasn’t lost on me. Tulos would probably later feel foolish for getting so intense with a child, but whatever he was alluding to clearly haunted him on some level.

I have some guesses, but I’m not about to pry. Whatever it was is probably not even remotely child-friendly so I’ll keep my mouth shut.

“I understand, dad.” Tina hugged me tightly with one arm and scooted forward to lay a comforting hand on Tulos with the other. The seconds stretched over our tableau until Tulos snapped back to himself.

“If it were not for your mother, I would probably still be there doing System-knows what.” It wasn’t the first time I’d heard Tulos use a System-inspired idiom. I found them to be rather charming. I had been wondering how Tina tied into everything.

This ought to be good.