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Chapter 6 — Experiment (Public)
🕑 Added 2024-04-26 14:11:33 +0000 UTCReturning to the Church, I happen upon the doomsday priest, who is pushing a cart filled to the brim with an excessive amount of laundry detergent. Perplexed, I ask, “Why on Earth did you buy so much laundry detergent?”
I count at least 30 containers alone at a first glance… There are probably more.
Sensing my presence, the priest greets me with a peculiar mix of excitement and monotony that just feels… Strange. “Ah, your Highness! I bought them just in case we use them up.”
I give him a weary look, rubbing my eyelids. “You do realize that even these things have an expiration date, right?”
Kirei looks back at me, visibly puzzled, and asks, “They do?” Unable to contain my frustration, a sigh escapes me. From what I have heard, laundry detergent loses its effectiveness within a year from the date of purchase, and that’s only if the containers haven’t been opened yet.
“Doesn’t everything?” I mutter under my breath.
Even humans have an expiration date—Death. Metals too rust, and stars will eventually fade. ‘Did he really squander all of Rin’s inheritance on this nonsense?’ I wonder, since there is no way just eating a few plates of spicy mapo tofu every day could deplete literal generations of accumulated wealth so quickly, and the priest has never struck me as a show-off who waste money on luxuries…
That brings us to the last possibility:
Extreme—and I’m talking ‘shopping addiction’ extreme—financial mismanagement.
“Why?” I sigh, feeling utterly defeated. “Why in the world would you do this? Do we even have room to store them?”
“They were on sale, your Highness,” Kirei replies matter-of-factly, his expression so infuriatingly composed that I get the urge to punch him. “So you bought the entire damn stock? Don’t you realize that these so-called ‘sales’ happen almost every week?” I can’t help but point out, exasperated. It’s just a marketing ploy to attract customers, and nearly everyone I’ve encountered is aware of this... The damn ‘shopping addicts’ included.
“They do?”
A sense of deja vu washes over me, and I release a weary sigh. “Alright... Does the store happen to have any sort of return policy?” With any stroke of luck, we can return these items and salvage some of Rin’s inheritance before it dwindles to a big, fat 0. “Unfortunately, I don’t think they do...” He responds.
I can’t help but groan, feeling the same frustration Rin directed towards me earlier. “How can you be so incredibly clueless?” I lament, exasperated. “How have you survived this long?”
“Well, I was raised in a Church.” He replies innocently.
I open my mouth to respond, but then close it. What can I say? Bro did make a valid point.
It’s like throwing a fish on land and expecting it to thrive—it just doesn’t make sense.
And yes, I understand some fishes in the past did this, but it didn’t happen overnight...
It has been quite the journey for us to reach this point, and it definitely hasn’t been an easy one, if I have to make an educated guess. “Next time, let me know so I can come with you,” I suggest—demand, really. I may not be the most skilled person, or at the level of the average Asian/Indian mom, but I can certainly hold my own. ‘I won’t end up buying a cart-full of something at least.’
“Well, let’s just put these in storage for now. I need you to teach me some basic Spells,” I suggest, feeling a sense of urgency.
“Ah, right, we haven’t really gotten into that yet, have we?” Kirei muses.
I would have asked Rin for help, but it’s not appropriate for children our age to be out late at night, especially without adult supervision. Even if our intentions are innocent, Japan is quite reserved. While anime often portrays its people in a positive light, let’s not forget that people are still people, and rumors can easily spread. It’s best to avoid that altogether.
It’s for the sake of protecting both of us. The public would surely not appreciate their supposed ‘Hero’ being seen as a young playboy even with the rampant ‘Harem culture’ the country has, and Rin, being so conscious of her image, would undoubtedly be hurt by the rumors as well. “No, you have not.”
“We,” Kirei corrects calmly. “If you haven’t forgotten, your Highness, you passed out before I can teach you [Structural Grasp] or [Reinforcement].”
“Yes, yes, I take full responsibility,” I mutter, too anxious to engage in our usual banter.
Quickly, I snatch the cart from the priest’s grasp and hastily push it towards the Church. I need Magecraft, I need it urgently, and I won’t let anyone, not even my fellow sadist, get in my way. “Move it! You’re too slow!”
“I’m doing my best, your Highness.” The priest replies, trailing behind me.
I rush towards the dreary Church, my steps abruptly halting as I spot two people at the entrance. Neither of them is Gilgamesh, for there’s no conceivable way I could mistake her for these… Ordinary people. Aside from her cascading hair and the stylish yet revealing outfit, the Golden Queen possesses a certain aura to her—a result, I presume, of her Skill [Charisma].
Kirei seems to have noticed them too.
Hard not too…
The scent of sweat oozes from them, their hearts appear to be pounding uncontrollably as they anxiously peep through the windows.
Had they not been dressed in suits, I could have easily mistaken them for thieves.
I shoot a questioning look at Kirei, silently inquiring, ‘Friends of yours?’ He shakes his head, concealing one hand beneath his priestly coat, probably for his Black Keys in case they happen to be hostile. Tuning out the sound of the wildlife—the few that still remain in this accursed place, the rustling of leafs and the roaring winds, I eavesdrop on the strangers’ conversation. “Are you sure he’s here?”
“I already told you!” Exclaimed the man, adjusting his collar to combat the heat, despite the freezing cold of February. “I have asked around, and the only child matching the victims’ description was reported to have come this way!”
Kirei and I exchange knowing looks, after which I mumble under my breath, “Journalists…” Today has certainly proven to be quite eventful, hasn’t it? I did bank on someone finding me, eventually, but this speed is way beyond expectations. “Do you want me to ‘deal’ with them, your Highness?”
As we approach the two journalists, Kirei's face darkens with a murderous intent. Leisurely, I put a stop to his dark desire, "Hold on. I have need of them, and I assume you don't want the FPD skulking around the Church, do you?"
His eyebrows relax and his bloodthirsty demeanor fades, leaving me wondering if the Executioner I have had a glimpse earlier was just a figment of my overactive imagination. “The stage is yours, your Highness.”
“Sit back and enjoy the show.”
Flashing a sly wink, I swiftly transform my expression into one of pure innocence, complete with an iconic boyish grin and wide-eyed gaze. “Excuse me, sir; ma’am! What are you doing?”
Startled by the unexpected sound of my voice, the journalists abruptly spin around like startled deer caught in the headlights.
“Oh my fucking— Get lost, kid! We’re conducting official business here!”
The woman swiftly dismisses me with a wave, while the man disregards my presence altogether, fixated on his surveillance of the clearly vacant building.
Then, a sudden realization dawns upon him, his expression shifts as he mechanically pivots back towards me, muttering under his breath. “Dark hair, green eyes, foreigner... Could it be him?! Hey you!” I wave in acknowledgement. “Are you the ‘Hero of Fuyuki’?!”
Feigning ignorance, I lightly scratch my cheek and pose a question. “Pardon me, but what are you talking about?”
This is a pre-mobile era, when nobody possesses a handheld miniaturized television, and the majority relied on official news outlets for updates on global and country happenings, especially for a disaster of the Great Fire scale.
The entire community of Fuyuki must have caught wind of the news, and while a few might have recognized me, their apprehension likely prevented them from approaching me for fear of embarrassing themselves.
It would be terribly awful to make such mistakes, after all.
“You must have heard about the kid who supposedly fished out over sixty people from the fire, right? Not all of them made it out alive, sure, but—”
As the words sink in, my fists involuntarily clench, not out of sympathy for the ones who perished, but due to the overwhelming sense of frustration.
‘How infuriating,’
I think to myself breath. ‘How truly irritating it is—to know that you can do everything right, yet still fail all the same.’ I loath it… I loath this feeling more than anything in the world.
‘It is what it is.’ I remind myself, chanting the meme that I’ve turned into a mantra for myself. “Some died?”
“Yup, twelve people perished on the ambulance,” The journalist remarks, unable to contain his excitement. He eagerly seizes my hands, his eyes gleaming with visions of the wealth and recognition that my presence could bring.
Sensing the tension, his partner interjects, crouching down to meet my gaze. “Apologies for our earlier impoliteness. I’m Tanabe Eri, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Then, her gaze moves towards the priest who looms menacingly behind me.
“Ah, you must be the local priest—Kotomine Kirei, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you, and your late father, Risei!”
With a newfound enthusiasm and not a hint of the previous arrogance, she warmly extends her hand for a handshake, her partner quickly following suit.
“Hello, sir, we represent NHK station and we are here today to meet the remarkable young man. Are you his father?”
“I—”
“He is my guardian! The adoption papers are currently in the process.”
I interject, swiftly jumping in to prevent any unnecessary complications caused by Kirei. Residing in Fuyuki with Kirei and Gilgamesh is the optimal choice for me, but dealing with the authorities can be quite a hassle.
With my current status, even if I express my desire to stay, the Child Protective Services would surely intervene if they discover that I am residing with a man who clearly has mental issues.
Fame is a double-edged sword, but when wielded appropriately, it can be the sharpest of blades. “May I know what you are doing here?”
“Well, we want to interview you!”
I steal a fleeting glance at Kirei, as if asking for his approval, skillfully playing the role of a young, clueless child. With a nod from him, I address the two visitors, “I apologize, but it’s getting late. Could you please come back tomorrow?”
I clumsily indicate the heaping cart of detergent. It’s true that fame holds its value, even I can argue its necessity, but my true goal lies in Power—Magecraft specifically. Wealth, fame, and all external material possessions should never take precedence over personal skill. This principle may not always hold true in a world of ordinary people, but in Nasuverse, it is power alone that truly matters.
Even though the Magi may place great importance on prestige, even Merlin once served a King.
Take the Sorcerers for example, who can force Zelretch against his Will?
Or any of the Sorcerer for that matter?
“Ah... We only require a single interview, it won’t take long. 30 minutes at bes—”
An embarrassed spreads across my face—cheek-to-cheek, but my gaze remains sharp as I interject. “I apologize, but it is too late. I have certain... Academic commitments that require my attention, and Kirei-san has only recently taken up his responsbility in the Church. We both have matters to attend to.”
Seeing how resolute I am, the journalist whines. “Come on, don’t you want to be famous? It’s a national television station!”
“Yukio-san,” His partner intervenes, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If they are occupied, we can schedule an interview for a later time.”
At least someone has some common sense. “Apology for my partner’s behaviors...” The journalist bows once to me, then Kirei, before handing me her business card. “Please contact us when you want to have the interview. Again, I’m very sorry for the troubles. Excuse us...”
Pulling her partner along, the journalist wears a smile, but her companion is quite persistent. “Just one small question!”
I let out a sigh. They have gone to such lengths, so I might as well oblige. “Go ahead.”
“Why?” He asks, his eyes imploring—searching.
I give him a nonchalant shrug. “Why not?”
“Were you not afraid? Was there never a moment when you thought you might die saving these people?”
Responding with a thoughtful hum, I reply with a confident, if not to say cocky grin—the kind of confidence only children can have. “This is the second question, but I will indulge,” I shake my head. “No…”
“How?”
“I am invincible.”
— ToI —
The night arrives sooner than expected.
After I have assisted the priest in meticulously storing away a massive load of detergent, somehow able to fit it all into the tiny storage thanks to my exceptional organizing skills, and finished all the necessary tasks, coupled with the Golden Queen’s absence, there’s no longer any obstacle preventing Kirei from teaching and me from learning further. “Alright, let’s begin with [Structural Grasp]. What do you know?”
“Well, as you know, [Structural Grasp] demands an immense level of processing power. It grants us the capability to break down an object, analyzing its length, composition, and even the atoms that comprise it, if we push it that far. Moreover, It enables us to perceive the gaps between those very atoms, which we can then fill using [Reinforcement], resulting in fortified bones and muscles that can withstand greater strain, or a more durable weapon.”
Although the concept may seem straightforward on paper, I can envision numerous additional applications for [Reinforcement] that the Magi have neglected, in combat at least. ‘Is it possible to lower the quality of something?’
Surely, it’s not just a one-way street? How about flooding someone Mystic Codes with so much Mana, it just shatters in an explosion of shrapnel? The mere thought makes me giddy already. “Those details can be gathered from the name alone, your Highness… Do you know how to use it?”
“Hmm…” I murmur in contemplation.
Magecraft is a blend of science and mysticism, with its entire process rooted in science.
Take, for instance, the act of igniting a fire,
A Magus must employ the atomic breakdown of elements, and I’m not talking about the basic four, but those listed on the periodic table, all while incorporating just a tiny-teeny pinch of thermal manipulation. Furthermore, exercising control over that flame and propelling it around necessitates telekinesis being thrown in the mix. Harry Potter Spells have got nothing on this. “Is it similar to x-ray and other scanning technologies?”
Kirei looks at me, expressionless, before nodding. “You are correct. [Structural Grasp] works via extending your Od, which will interact with the surrounding Prana to ‘read’ an object.”
Rubbing my chin in contemplation, a question arises within me. “What happens if there’s no Prana to harness?” I inquire.
“We perish.” Kirei casually shrugs.
“No, I mean, what would occur if there’s no Gaia to tap into?” If Magecraft is akin to hacking the World’s codes, and we the virus, then what would transpire if the entire system were to shut down? “Assuming that by some miracles Hymanity managed to survive such a cataclysm—”
It could be my imagination, but I’ll swear an unsavory thought just crosses the priest’s mind… “Though, to be honest, I sincerely hope it does not.”
Never mind, it’s not my imagination. “Kirei, has anyone told you nihilism suits you perfectly? Like, chef’s kiss perfect.”
“No…” A stormy expression crosses his face. “Nihilism is for idiotic fools with nothing of value to offer. I seek destruction and sufferings, I find joy in it—it is the meaning of my existence.”
“Geez-Louise, you feel very strongly about this subject, don’t you?”
“Getting back to the topic at hand,” Kirei immediately changes the subject. “Magecraft requires a Prana source for interaction, so without Prana…”
“No Magecraft.” I finish the sentence.
“Luckily Prana exists everywhere, even in the dark expanse of Space.”
“I’m… Confused.” I admit. “Isn’t Prana generated by Gaia herself?”
“The production of Prana is attributed to the Consciousness of the World, Your Highness. Nearly every planet possesses its own Consciousness, even the Moon. This is how those accursed fanged creatures came into existence. Furthermore, the Universe itself possesses its own Consciousness as well, often referred to as the Root by the Magi, but earthly Spells may fail in different realities. It is a gamble, and the odds do not lie with us.”
“That…” Makes sense.
The Types are so alien, they cannot die, as their planets do not possess the Concept of Death. It is not mere Immortality, for such a fickle thing can be negated by certain Noble Phantasms or Spell, like Medusa’s scythe, but against a Type, the only thing a human or even a Sorcerer can do is beat it into hibernation like Zelretch did, or give it the ‘Cronus treatment’ if needed.
In fact, the Machine Gods were way more powerful before Humankind decided to give them ‘human qualities.’
“Now that that’s out of the way, try it.”
“[Structural Grasp]?”
“What else? Go on, if you burst into flame, I’ll help you…”
I chuckle and jest. “By pissing on me?”
“Amongst other things.”
“You’re such a fucking prick.” Bursting into laughter, I do as instructed, only to realize, “So, do I just push my Od into the world or—?”
“For a person with Clairvoyance, you sure are clueless, your Highness.”
Shrugging, I reply cryptically like a priest. “What can I say? Fate’s an uppity bitch that gives when she wants and doesn’t when she wants not.”
“Indeed, Your Highness, it’s just a matter of pushing the Od outward, connecting it with Prana, and following each step in a mindful manner, and voila. To Magi and ourselves, Od is akin to a heavy machinery for the ‘Children of God,’ as it does the majority of the work as long as we understand the process.”
In spite of his attempt at humor, Kotomine Kirei still looks like the pre-‘Human Update’ Zuckerberg, lifeless, disinterested, and weary. “Remember, it’s best to start slow. Begin by coating the object in question with your Od, and then come the effects.”
Following his instructions, I push my Od and carefully enveloped a chair with it.
Type-Moon portrayed [Structural Grasp] as a sort of... Dojutsu, and their depiction is accurate, but only once someone has become proficient enough in the Spell, and I’m not foolish enough to run before I’ve even tried walking.
As I allow the Od to permeate every space within the chair, I begin to visually outline the structure of this piece of furniture.
It’s an unconventional approach—rather than attempting to scan the object itself, I direct my attention towards what is absent, enabling me to subsequently identify and map out the atoms that occupy the space. Once I have done this, I then proceed to envelop each singular atom as sweats bead my head.
The task proves to be quite arduous, likely due to the subpar quality of my Circuits, which is even less than the asteroid-field Shirou had to deal with, resulting in a low magical sensitivity if I had to guess.
“Congratulation, your Highness. You’ve successfully learnt [Structural Grasp].”
However, I find myself dissatisfied and thus commence the process of filling in the gaps using my own Od. I decide to begin with the basic application of [Reinforcement], focusing on improving the chair’s durability first. ‘Walk, before you run, Leo.’
Opening my eyes, I try to crush the chair in my hand, yet the piece of furniture that should’ve crumbled with even an ounce of effort from me remains intact, until I increase the pressure of my grip, peeling the wood away like a banana. “Interesting...”
“It seems you have grasped [Reinforcement] as well, albeit with room for improvement, your Highness.” Remarks Kirei casually.
Ignoring his comment, I further infuse the object with Od, purposefully dislodging a solitary atom.
As a result, the chair begins to fluctuate, distorting and contorting as if glitching.
Without hesitation, I hurl the glitching chair towards the corner of the room, where it erupts into a torrent of shrapnel.
Despite the intense onslaught, both Kirei and I manage to evade the explosion—the former effortlessly dodging every piece of shrapnel that comes his way, while I swiftly knock down a nearby table and reinforce it into a makeshift barricade.
While I cannot ascertain whether my F-Rank Stats would suffice to repel such assaults and do intend to find out, I have no intentions of testing them in this current environment.
I have long abandoned nihilism, for acknowledging the insignificance of everything implies acknowledging our own lack of importance.
And when one feels inconsequential… One simply cannot put any effort into anything; one simply cannot try.
“If the intention behind your actions, Your Highness, is to assassinate me, I must say you’re demonstrating a rather… Piss-poor execution.” Kirei comments. Nonchalantly, I shrug and respond, “It’s a good thing that’s not my intention, then. I was simply testing the destructiveness of a failed [Reinforcement] attempt… You know, experimenting, as all Magi tend to?"
“Hm…” The doomsday priest grunts in acknowledgement, before turning on his heels. “[Alteration] operates on the same principals of what you just did, your Highness. You’ll have to stabilize the atoms and slowly morph it to your likings. Any other option, your Highness?”
“None that I can think of off the top of my head.”
Bowing dutifully, Kirei makes to exit the room. “Then I shall leave you to your… Experiments.”
“Hold on.” I interject, stopping the priest dead in his track.
“Is there anything else I could assist me with?”
“There is one more thing,”
Continuing with earnest sincerity, I make my request: “I would sincerely be grateful if you could take up the role of my combat tutor.”
Most Magi, aside from the Enforcers, tend to disregard the importance of fighting skills, believing themselves far above such barbaric practices.
Yet, when push comes to shove, they inevitably resort to those very same methods.
Intellectual prowess means nothing if one cannot protect and uphold their ideals.
This fact has been the cornerstone of the world’s operations since time immemorial, and it is unlikely to shift anytime soon, no matter how ‘civilized’ people claim they are. “But fret not, if you’re concerned that I might turn your ‘blades’ against you, I understand.”
My provocation seems to have had the desired effect, as the Executioner’s expression, though outwardly impassive, grows stormy and dark.
“If you insist, your Highness. Come,”
He takes his leave, leaving the door ajar, obviously inviting me to follow. “If we are to engage in battle, we will require more ample space. Luckily, there is a basement available for our use. Do not fret, I shall ensure your face remains unharmed, Your Highness.”
His piercing gaze lingers upon my features. “After all, you have an interview to attend to. Wouldn’t want to mar that that ‘pretty’ face of yours.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at his melodramatic display, but I follow behind him nonetheless.
The basement is quite cramped, but it connects to other unused rooms that the priest kicks down.
Some might find it peculiar for a church to have so many chambers, but in times past, such holy sites often doubled as fortified refuges during periods of conflict.
The same held true for many temples.
Even hardened soldiers tended to hesitate at the prospect of spilling blood within these ‘sacred’ spaces, and the more vulnerable members of society—the young, the elderly, and women alike–would commonly seek shelter in areas like these, waiting quietly for the conflict to pass. Kirei silently removes his priestly garments, exposing a taut shirt that showcases his well-defined physique.
“This is going to hurt, isn't it?”
It’s a rhetorical question.
His fists are the size of my head.
‘Welp… No pain; no gain.’
“You ready, your Highness?”
“As rea—”
I barely manage to utter the words before his foot flies towards my head at an astounding pace. “No warning at all, huh?” I duck beneath the kick, but before I can recover, Kirei follows up with another, the sole of his foot colliding with the arms I’ve raised to defend myself.
Suppressing a grunt, I slide along the basement floor, kicking up a cloud of dust that obscures my vision just long enough for Kirei to throw a follow-up punch. I narrowly evade the punch, but his knuckle still manages to carve a thin line of red on my cheek.
Palms cupped, I block yet another attack—his knee, this time, feeling the bones in my hands crack and protest at the abuses they’re taking. ‘Dammit…’
No wonder the Magus Killer had to resort to his firearm just to match the empty-handed priest.
Engaging in close-quarters combat against Kirei is akin to signing one’s own death warrant, or a five-year-old stepping into the ring with Mike Tyson in his prime. The only reason I’m able to hold my own is my enhanced Stats, which isn’t much of an advantage when Kirei, with [Reinforcement], can reach the same level as I. To worsen my situation, a child-like body proves completely insufficient when it comes to reach…
* DING!
For just a fleeting moment, I allow myself to be distracted by the [ToI], but that is all the opening the priest needed to breach my defenses.
Crumpling to the ground, I rise, crouching to get back on my feet, when the priest launches a punch at my face. His knuckle halts just as it grazes the tip of my nose, the impact—though not overtly forceful at first glance—still leaves me reeling momentarily; my brain bouncing in my skull. A smug expression on his face, Kirei asks. “If you can no longer get up, perhaps we end this here, your Highness?”
Tongue running over my teeth, I grin. “Again.”
Kirei’s smile, though it is not a smile of interest—like Gilgamesh’s, but instead carries a hint of malicious intent. “I was hoping you’d say that, but I’m not a cruel or unreasonable man.” He states.
‘Liar.’ I hiss spitefully.
How does he manage it?
How can he say something so completely at odds with his own conscience, yet maintain such an impassive expression? “So I will give you these,”
Reaching into his inner pockets, the priest produces six Black Keys, which he then tosses towards me with the casual indifference of a playboy throwing money at a cheap and used prostitute. The weapons clatter on the floor, skidding across the ground in my direction. “Do you know what these are?”
“Black Keys…” I mumble.
How can I not remember the Executioners’ classic weapon?
I’ve always thought them cool when I first saw the weapons, ‘To think I’ll get to use them one day…’
My gaze gleams with anticipation as I reach down and seize the weapons.
The handles are diminutive, making the prospect of wielding them as swords quite daunting. Fortunately, that was never their true purpose.
The Black Keys were crafted to excel as throwing swords, with the ability to double as close-quarters melee weapons, not the other way around. I snatch up the weapons eagerly, excited to put them to the test, but as I raise them, a sense of disappointment sets in, “What a lousy grip.” I mutter under my breath.
It’s just like Harry Potter’s wands: ‘The wand chooses the wielder,’ as Ollivander would say. And it seems the Black Keys have not chosen me as their wielder. Never before have I held something in my hands and felt such a strong aversion to it. “Are they not to your taste?”
“They are…” I pause, trying to put it in a way that isn’t insulting, while my mind helpfully adds: ‘Rigid; unwieldy; require too much effort for edge alignment.’
“Decent.”
I say, swinging the Black Keys once as a Notification rings out again.
* DING
Intrigued, I open the [Great Tree] to discover two new glowing Branches.
One depicts a dark, faceless figure frozen in the praying mantis stance, while the other showcases throwing knives soaring through the air. The only distinction is that one glows a brilliant white, while the other shines in a deep, ominous red. ‘What could this mean?’ I ponder, puzzled by the contrast.
> Hint: Talent
> Some folks just aren’t blessed with a knack for certain things. And you, you smooth-brained, hairless primate with a shitty taste for women, you are one of them. Due to this, you are going to have to shell out a whole lot more to snag those Perks or Upgrades for these Branches. Surprise? There are much to learn about the [Tree of Infinity], so don’t forget to experiment with the System. In fact, try out different builds as well! Don’t stick to just one thing!
‘The Great Tree accounts for Talent as well?’
My initial thought is, ‘Will the cost be reduced if I find something I excel at?’
Assuming ‘white’ represents averageness, and ‘red’ denotes poor, I wonder,
‘What would ‘Talented’ look like? Are there also rankings for that like the Stats?’
My lips curve in wonder.
‘Looks like I’ve underestimated those two… Obsession is still as annoying, but—’
If I could, I would cup my hands in prayer, but since that’s not possible, I can only silently express my gratitude in my thoughts before continuing on with the training session. “You seem happier, what did you just do?”
Spinning the Black Keys in my hands, I shrug, again playing the fool. “Aren’t I always happy?”
Kirei grunts, then takes a stance.
“Be careful, your Highness, I won’t hold back this time.”
‘This motherfucker was holding back—!’
Shit…
