"You mentioned 'Unique Skills.' What are they? And don't say they're 'unique.' Give me the details. That's the price for us leaving you alone." Alan asked. He had his assumptions, but a clear explanation was a currency he desperately needed.
Julian leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. He weighed the risk of sharing information against the benefit of speeding their departure. The latter won. "Fine," he said, the word clipped. "Think of it as the world's system. There's a thing called 'Voice of the World' that announces big events and, when it acknowledges someone's growth, the system grants them a 'skill'. Their nature and function are unique to the person. People from other worlds... seem to get them easier. That's the gist."
Elrik's face was a blank slate of confusion. Alan, however, processed it instantly. This is becoming more and more like a game-like system.
"So," Alan pressed, "if I didn't hear this 'Voice', does that mean I have no skills?"
"I'm not sure. I didn't get one when I arrived," Julian replied, his tone flat, deliberately leaving no room for pity.
"How do you get one?" Elrik nearly vibrated out of his seat with excitement.
"Well... I guess training is the biggest factor. Acquiring one with sheer willpower is very rare. The world has to acknowledge you," Julian said, his gaze shifting back to Alan, a silent prompt for this to be enough.
"Since you know a lot, you've surely been here for a long time," Alan remarked, idly stirring his cold breakfast.
"Not really. What about you?" Julian volleyed back, trying to steer the conversation to its end.
"Less than a week. Met Elrik this morning. Then... well, we ended up here." A wave of fatigue washed over him as he realised not a single moment of his time here had been peaceful.
A tense silence fell, broken by Julian's impatient question. "So? What are your plans?" This was the whole point for him.
"Go to Velkrath!" Elrik declared, stars in his eyes.
"Find a roof. A safe place to sleep," Alan muttered, the weight of his empty pockets dragging his voice down.
Julian seized on Elrik's answer like a predator. "And how do you plan to get there? The road takes weeks by wagon, if you can find one. What will you do when you arrive? You're aiming for the military academy, I assume. Do you meet the requirements? What about money?"
With each practical question, Elrik's enthusiasm deflated, his head sinking lower. He had never thought past the initial impulse.
Julian's eyes, cold and assessing, turned to Alan. "Are you sure?" He didn't trust the vagueness.
"As sure as I can be," Alan said with a lazy shrug. "I'll improve my situation bit by bit. Starting with this damn language barrier."
There's something he's not saying, Julian thought, his suspicion itching.
"Well, just a couple more small things," Alan said, standing and discreetly slipping the kitchen knife into his coat. Elrik looked alarmed, but Julian seemed more annoyed than threatened.
"Depends on the questions," Julian said, his voice a low warning.
"Nothing major. You got any job openings here?" Alan asked with complete seriousness.
Julian stared, fighting the urge to sigh. "That's your important question?"
"I'm broke. Can't communicate. Finding work or shelter will be a nightmare. It's the most important question I have," Alan said, as if stating the obvious.
"No. There aren't any."
"Problematic... One last one, then. You said you have a skill. How do you use it? How do you even know it's there?"
Julian's patience was at its end. He needed them gone. "...They reside in the soul. It takes focus, meditation to perceive them. You'll get the information, abilities and details. It gives you a hell of a headache." He stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly. "Now, I've answered you. We're done. Finish your food and go. I don't want to see you again."
Alan held his gaze for a moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Alright then. See you never." He turned and walked out without a backward glance.
Elrik hesitated, then stayed, launching into a new round of pleading questions for Julian. Julian ignored him, his eyes fixed on the door Alan had exited, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach.
Alan stepped outside, the cold air a slap of reality. Julian's eagerness for them to leave was a red flag he couldn't ignore. He's hiding, or he's afraid we'll draw attention. Either way, not my problem. His own survival was the only puzzle that mattered.
He considered the wagon but felt too restless. A walk would help him think. He wandered the bustling streets, the alien sounds and sights pressing in on him. Skills reside in the soul. Meditation. He'd never been good at silencing his mind, but the potential reward was too great to ignore.
Spotting a quiet, narrow alley between two timber-framed buildings, he ducked into it. He sat on the cold ground, his back against the rough wood, and closed his eyes.
It was a struggle. His mind, a constant whirlwind of thoughts and observations, fought the emptiness. He focused on his breathing, isolating the sounds of the town until they faded into a dull hum. He pushed deeper, past the noise, until he could feel the steady rhythm of his own heart, the faint thrum of blood in his veins.
He pushed further, diving into the quiet darkness behind his eyelids, seeking... something. Anything.
And then, it erupted in his mind.
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Unique Skill: ｢Surgeon｣
[Internal Mapping]
Provides an accurate visualisation of the internal structure of any living being. Displays real-time diagnostics of organ conditions, circulatory state, nerve flow, and magical interference. Automatically identifies injuries, abnormalities, and foreign objects.
[Microsurgical Control]
Allows for near-microscopic manipulation using tools, magicules, or physical extensions. Enables precise operations on nerve endings, blood vessels, and tissue structures without collateral damage.
[Tissue Reconstruction]
Uses the user's magicules to repair and regenerate biological structures. Capable of fully restoring limbs, reconnecting nerve pathways, and eliminating toxins, curses, or abnormalities on a cellular level.
[Blood Regulation]
Stabilises and controls blood flow within the target. Prevents bleeding, internal clotting, or shock. Enables precise control over temperature, oxygen levels, and immune response.
[Anaesthesia Field]
Emits a localised aura that dulls pain receptors and relaxes muscle tension. Facilitates surgical procedures without discomfort.
[Thoughts Acceleration]
Multiplies the user's mental processing speed by 100 times.
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"Whoa..." He clutched his forehead, the influx of information a sudden, dizzying pressure. It wasn't hard to understand, but the sensation was utterly new. A healing skill? Not what I hoped for, but... better than nothing.
His leg throbbed, a persistent reminder of the carriage crash. The skin was blistered, turning necrotic. A perfect test subject.
"Time for an experiment." He shut his eyes, focusing all his will on the wound. A chill rushed through his nerves, converging on the injury. The pain was immediate and intense, but he gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to pull back.
When he opened his eyes, the world had transformed.
He saw his leg not as flesh, but as a multi-layered, transparent diagram. Torn muscle fibres, ruptured vessels, and inflamed skin, all highlighted in a faint magical glow. [Internal Mapping] was active, even pinpointing microscopic wooden splinters he hadn't known were there.
His vision was impossibly sharp. It's like dissecting the world with my eyes.
He activated [Blood Regulation], sealing vessels and stabilising pressure. The bleeding stopped. Then, with [Microsurgical Control], he began the meticulous work of repairing each severed vessel and torn fibre. Finally, he flooded the area with [Tissue Reconstruction], a wave of regenerative energy that expelled dead, resistant cells before true healing began.
The process was excruciating. Every cell seemed to scream in hypersensitivity.
｢Surgeon｣ deactivated.
He groaned, slumping against the wall, drenched in sweat. His body shuddered with aftershocks. "So this is it... I think my neurons are about to burn out." Then, a belated realisation struck him. Wait. [Anaesthesia Field]! And [Thoughts Acceleration]... He'd been in too much of a hurry, too captivated by the discovery. Idiot.
The entire operation had taken nearly fifteen minutes. He was mentally drained, but his leg was whole. The cost was clear: immense mental strain for incredible healing.
He tried to activate the skill again, just to test his sight, but a sharp, warning headache lanced through his skull. His magicules was fine, but his mind was fried. He needed rest.
Pushing himself upright, a new priority crystallised. Healing was a defensive tool. In this world, he needed an offensive one.
His eyes landed on a shop across the street. An old, sturdy building of timber and stone, with a black iron sign depicting a crossed sword and shield. A weapon shop.
He moved through the crowded interior, past mercenaries haggling and knights inspecting blades. His eyes scanned the racks of polished swords, deadly maces, and stout spears. All were beyond his means and too conspicuous.
Then he saw it. Leaning in a corner, as if forgotten, was a brown wooden staff, a shade darker than his coat. It was plain, unadorned, and perfect.
Just a stick. No one will care.
With a surreptitious glance, he lifted the staff. He felt a twinge of guilt, quickly suppressed by necessity. He slipped a few of his remaining coins, enough for a few loaves of bread, onto the shelf where the staff had been. There. A trade.
He hid the staff along his back, under his coat, and walked out with measured, casual steps. Once clear of the shop, he quickened his pace, moving away from the tavern and into the unfamiliar parts of town.
As he walked, a familiar, unsettling feeling crept up his spine, the sensation of fangs at his neck. He stopped, pretending to check his pockets, and glanced back. The street was crowded, anonymous. He saw no one.
But the feeling was enough.
I think I've spent enough time in this town.