The Fool's Freedom

Congratulations! Your skill has advanced.

Last Glimpse (Rare) has become Remembrance (Epic)

Remembrance (Epic)

See the flashes from the life of the dead, see their struggles, and see their joy. Witness their final moments in the end, for death comes for all. Beware not to lose yourself.

Alan was a bit confused. The skill hadn’t changed much, apart from apparently giving him further glimpses into the lives of those he used it on. It had become more invasive, and creepier, but… It felt underwhelming compared to the other Epic grade skills he had. It was simplistic.

He shared the description with Isind and waited for the skill trainer’s reaction. It took a while as if the man was reading the description over and over again. Finally, his mouth stretched into a smile that threatened to rip apart the skin of his cheeks with how wide it was.

“Amazing. You don’t disappoint contrary to my initial impression of you. Good, good. This skill is…” he paused, the words stuck in his mouth as he stared off into space. Was he admiring the skill’s screen in his mind? Alan couldn’t understand what was so impressive about it.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

Isind snapped to attention, “Ah, but that’s only because you’ve yet to experience what you have! Such a skill, even in its former form would make a second and third tiers kill. Do you know what the whole universe is built on?”

Alan shrugged, but he didn’t think he was supposed to answer the question anyway.

Isind spun on his heel and turned his back toward Alan while simultaneously spreading his arms to the side as if he was to reveal something grand that would blow minds.

“Secrets!” he said. “Secrets define the powers! Who, but the elusive Thrones, knows what it is to sit upon those glorified chairs and control destinies? And death? Ha. Let’s not speak of that. Also who, but the fucking spirits know what’s it like to be a complete and utter bastard?”

That last bit seems quite personal, Alan thought. He couldn’t disagree. He was still waiting on his fixed book, and even then he planned on bringing it to someone in the Bazaar to check for traps. Fool me once… well, I’m not great at that, but I’ll get better. Who knew cynicism and paranoia cultivated in modern society don’t translate well in a universe full of weird magic and beings?

Isind continued after a moment of seething silence, “Secrets define us, make us dangerous, make us able to go wherever we please and do whatever we want. Would you provoke someone weaker, if that someone had a one-time skill that could blow you and him and everyone around to pieces? No. All the beings and gods and patrons and whatever else is out there, have secrets. The large clans have records of classes and how to get them. They have skills passed down through generations. Those are secrets guarded with their lives. Secrets that, if leaked, would take away their owners' ability to remain special and hold their place. If anyone could do what you can do, then… how can you be of importance?”

Isind swiveled again, this time coming uncomfortably close to Alan. “And you, dear, have a skill that could scour the minds of the dead and reveal their secrets! Ah, we’re going to have so much fun. I can see it already, we’ll bring a wave of chaos across the universe and remind the powers that be that they’re not untouchable!”

What? What’s that about?

Isind seemed to sense Alan’s confusion and discomfort and coughed in his fist. “Of course, if that’s something you’re interested in. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself at risk. We can talk about that after we finish our goal, how about it?”

“Uh, sure.” Does he want us to make a business of divulging secrets? That… sounds fun. Kind of fucked up, but fun. Who knows what skills or treasures I can learn about if I can scour the minds of the dead? A thought suddenly came to him. This skill is somewhat close to the Curse of Buried Shadows I got from my Legacy. It’s different in nature, but… it’s also making use of the past. I guess what I’ve received will influence everything to come.

That was not a bad thing, however strange his path was becoming. Slinging shadows seemed much simpler though. And he still lacked proper attack skills. Sure, he could run up to people and curse them, but he felt resistance, and he wasn’t sure it was something he could simply do whenever he wished.

Maybe stealing ideas from the dead was his answer…

“Come on, time to try it! No amount of yapping on my side will do it justice. Come, come. Do this one!” Isind called.

Alan reluctantly closed the corpse that the skill trainer was pointing toward. It was a young boy, barely fourteen or fifteen. There was a hole where his heart was supposed to be. Alan found himself cringing at the fact that… he didn’t really feel anything. It was just a thing.

Humanity crisis later, practice now.

He touched to corpse and gasped.

***

“Come on dear, you can do it!” a female voice cheered from the side. The boy swung his wooden sword faster and harder, trying to hit the thin and tall man before him. They were standing on a large practice ground.

From the corner of the boy’s eyes, Alan could see figures throwing fireballs at large black targets. There were also many other duels going on around. He tried to focus on the movements, to try and understand them and learn, but something else took his attention.

The boy's feelings were like a fire that burned deep inside and drew him in. Alan felt them all. The boy was excited, but frustrated too. Frustrated with his ability or their lack. Frustrated that he was doing this simple training while his peers and brothers were much more advanced already and there was talking about them getting classes and starting leveling. Frustrated that he was the smallest and the worst of the bunch.

The thin man shifted, and Alan couldn’t see the movement at all. A hand gently tapped the blade of the wooden sword and sent the boy tumbling to the side.

“Not enough,” the man said. “Again.”

The frustration grew.

***

The boy had grown now. Alan could feel the more mature feeling. It was not much – a mere difference of a year or two, but it was there and it was clear to him. The boy was still frustrated, but it was a deeper feeling now, largely hidden from sight. Alan knew what that was like.

They were in a large hall, attending some sort of a ceremony. Two other boys bearing similar features to the one whose memory Alan was experiencing were walking down a red carpet toward what appeared to be a dais. The thin man from the previous vision was there, but standing to the side. The woman who had cheered was also there, sneaking glances toward Alan’s position.

The ones in the center of the dais were like older versions of the thin man, but not by much. The System made it hard to judge someone’s age or relations. As the two boys reached the dais and knelt just before stepping on it, the older one spoke.

“Today is a joyous day, for two of my grandsons will be starting their paths. Come, children, grand speeches can be saved for later. It is time you step on the path of the strong.”

The frustration grew again, but a smile hid it.

***

Alan felt his skill come to an end. Was this the last vision? He was yet to learn anything of note. It was still quite interesting seeing others deal with the presence of the System. Getting a class was treated as an important event that required a whole ceremony. Would their lives change like that too?

The boy walked in the darkness. There was a knife in his hand as he carefully checked behind each corner.

Alan could feel the satisfaction, the nerves, the fleeing anger, and the current of jumbled thoughts assaulting the boy. The deed was already done, whatever it was. Alan knew it was so, even if he hadn’t seen it happen.

A figure appeared from the darkness. The thin man from before, his face twisted in anger, his fist clenched to the side.

The boy froze. Then, something snapped.

“What have you done, son?” the man asked with bloodshot and teary eyes. His voice was shaking.

“I did it, father! I have a class now!” the boy excitedly said. Alan could feel the veil of madness around his mind.

The man stood silent, trembling.

“My brother, he didn’t deserve it! He didn’t care as much as I did! So, I took it away from him! It was mine!” the boy said again, raising his voice. His words were a jumbled mess, and his emotions made Alan feel nauseous. Was this what madness was like?

The thin man moved and Alan felt the hand pierce his chest. No, it was the boy’s chest, not his. The feeling was too real even if it was not painful – a hollow cold. An emptiness.

The world grew darker and there was only confusion left. The boy couldn’t understand. He had done it. He had gotten a class too! Why was he being punished…?

Death.

***

Alan opened his eyes with a gasp and took a few steps back. This was the second time he’d seen a father kill their child.

Isind’s hand came for him a moment later, grabbing his elbow. The man remained silent, however, letting Alan process everything that had happened.

“This was… much more real.” I felt so much. I can’t do this over and over again. Before it was just… an echo. Now, it was almost as if it was happening to me. “I knew I was just an observer but… if I keep doing it I might forget.”

Isind nodded gravely, “That might be dangerous. The mind is a powerful tool, and there have been cases of skills toying with the mind capable of convincing someone they were dead. And once the mind believed that the body followed. No matter how powerful one grows, the mind always remains one of the grandest and most difficult to conquer enemies. We should be careful now.”

“I need a rest,” Alan said. Isind’s many tonics helped, and he even brought Alan a piece of cake similar to the one in the strange Bazaar café.

Alan now understood that the skill for all of its perceived simplicity held dangers. He could still feel echoes of the frustrations of the boy. It was difficult, but not impossible to set them apart from his own feelings on the matter. He had been warned about falling to his emotions and losing himself. Was it more dangerous due to him being shadowless?

It was thirty minutes later that he repeated the process. And after that, he did so again after a longer break. Once again, he saw visions of the dead bodies’ lives and felt the emotions even more. In time he grew confused. Most visions were negative and focused on what went wrong, rather than what went right. As if they were connected to the reason for the death.

Sometimes it made no sense. A scuffle here or there, or even a bad experience in a shop would suddenly lead to being mauled by monstrous creatures in the forest. There was little correlation between what he saw and what happened in the end. On this front, his first vision had been the clearest.

After the fourth cast, Alan was ready to give up, so Isind handed him a pencil-like implement and paper and forced him to write down all he had experienced to the tiniest detail. The exercise helped to a surprising degree as it provided Alan with a much-needed outlet, and let him disassociate with the lingering feelings that were building up like toxicity in his mind.

The shadows had oddly started sounding confused too. Their whispers were more jumbled than usual. Even if he couldn’t figure out the separate words he understood the wisps of shadows constantly popping up from his skin or residing in his mind were influenced by his mental state.

They were a good compass and he decided to use them to judge if he was doing too much, or if something was influencing them – an unexpected benefit.

After a much longer break, Alan was ready to go to work again. He had learned little, but the skill was growing more and more stable the more he used it. Isind had the idea of learning to dig deeper, to try and see things the bodies had missed, but still witnessed subconsciously. To try and hold on to knowledge, rather than feelings and events.

It was another very difficult task and Alan wondered what it would all lead to…

“Next,” Isind said, “How about a tier two?”

Alan felt excitement course through him.