The Weight of Legacy

Odd as it was, Malwine had caught herself staring at the panel that popped up to describe the ‘imprint’. She couldn’t quite wrap a finger around just what made it so bizarre to her—maybe it was just Veit’s admission that this came from a different world.

There was something deeply amusing about the concept of Skills being a non-renewable resource somewhere out there, not that she’d say that aloud—by default, she assumed people on the other side must have been getting screwed over, and there had to be a disadvantage to existing in that world.

A world where Skills can presumably just be passed around like this.

Then again, Forgers did exist, even if Malwine still wasn’t sure as to what those were, exactly. Ever since she started being slightly honest to Veit, she’d come to the inevitable realization that some problems could, indeed, be solved by simply asking someone.

She couldn’t help but wonder how her earlier years would have gone if she’d understood that earlier—and she still gave herself about a 50/50 chance, between successfully gathering information and drawing unwanted attention to herself.

Had Veit gotten her this specific Skill because he’d grown to understand just what she was like, or because it was just the closest thing he had lying around?

Malwine wasn’t sure which answer she would have preferred, so she figured she’d avoid ever getting one.

She closed her fist around the coin-like imprint. Though cold against her palm, it felt strangely comforting to touch, in a way she couldn’t have precisely explained had that been asked of her. The closest situation she could think of was the idea of laying down somewhere incredibly cool after a hot day, but this felt refreshing at a ridiculously deep level.

Then it was gone.

Malwine exhaled slowly, loosening her grip to confirm the coin had vanished. A new panel greeted her—her fourth <Word> Skill, at last.