The Weight of Legacy

[Imitation Beyond Filiality]

There was something to the activation of Skills like [Meditation]—a sensation of, perhaps, being drawn inwards. More often, however, it could be a mere change of scenery. A smooth, instantaneous transition between her perspective as Malwine in her bed, and the widow by the waves.

This felt closer to losing a fight with a deranged cousin of the Droste effect, dropping through a seemingly endless sequence of the same nearly empty room, for an eternity, and for a moment.

A burn spread through her veins.

As abruptly as it had set upon her, the sensation released her, and Malwine stumbled forward, somehow tall enough to reach the table in front of her for balance as her palms slapped against it. Blink. Blink.

It was shaped like a tostón—no, it was almost exactly that. Not a circular table, but an uneven, golden thing, patterned and textured accordingly. It was also definitely a table, of the pedestal sort.

Malwine found herself blinking again. Darkness surrounded her in all directions—nothing held her in place, yet she did not feel at risk of falling. There was only the table, and infinite black.

What the fuck?

As she tapped the table, she tried, almost desperately, to examine her form. She was neither the widow nor herself, more like something in between. A version of what she imagined she might be once grown, though she could not make out the details. She was nothing but a shape.

Everything buzzed, an earthquake the epicenter of which lay within her, and just as Malwine came close to declaring how none of this made sense, she gasped.

It was her Trait.

Right. She had activated it. A dangerous Trait. I can already tell it’s gonna be confusing…

Oh, she had suspected there would be some strangeness to it—what with the whole ‘trials’ factor that should have warned her as much—but this was already getting out of hand.

Lucidity practically slammed into her, and Malwine stumbled. This… ‘room’ was not unlike her image of the beach, but unlike when she used [Meditation], she actually felt as though she could move here—not just visualize her limbs moving.

Another difference—if a bit of a disturbing one—was that Malwine could see no way to dismiss it. She had activated the Trait, and she had to see it through.

Bracing herself, she leaned closer to the table once again. Empty as it had been upon her arrival, a wooden object now stood in its center. It reminded Malwine of those rotary devices for managing index cards, though her memories on the matter were spotty. Yet another thing she could recall without remembering the reason for it.

Gingerly, she changed the current, empty card in front of her, cranking the device’s lever. The paper was not ruled but smooth and of a pleasant beige hue. A trembling in the back of her mind shook her—echoes of a recurring dream from her first life, of being lost in an archive where all answers to the brick walls in her research could be found, yet never finding them or the exit.

The widow never did manage to pull off lucid dreaming in that life, no matter how much she would have wished—specifically, to browse that archive her dreams once built for her.

But this wasn’t a dream.

It was a 'place' formed by her Trait.

Unease permeated her being still. She took a half-imaginary deep breath, not unlike how she would have in [Meditation]’s projections of the widow, and the next card she flipped led her to one that wasn’t empty.

A neatly sketched portrait of her grandfather stared back at her, somehow perfectly realistic yet outlined, bearing the signs of being given shape in charcoal yet vivid in its colors. It was an image that shouldn’t be, static yet ever-changing before her eyes.

She’d only gotten a handful of chances to see him up close, and if anything, this might have been the first time she got to truly examine him. Most of his hair was tied up in that bun of his, with strands seamlessly slipping from the braids that held everything in place. He looked like a TV viking, right down to that haircolor that was impossible to identify as either ‘dark ash blond’ or just plain light brown.

Not a single hair seemed out of place, and the absence of so much as a hint of frizz was bordering on suspicious. For someone abrasive as him, I have to wonder, how much time does the man spend on his hair?

It had to be a lot. Either that, or he had an ability for it. Or somewhere in the house, there was some poor employee tasked with doing his hair.

Malwine couldn’t decide which of those possibilities would be worse.

Or funnier.

She let out a soft laugh, then settled. Her instinctive grasp on the ability had solidified by now, and Malwine knew that the moment she selected the portrait, the ‘trial’ would start. She would have to select it, however. Something told her it wouldn’t happen on its own, despite her intent having always been to use this Trait on Kristian.

And truth was, she didn’t know how much time she had in this ‘place’. Perhaps there was no limit. Still, she didn’t want to risk wasting time. Beyond what I might’ve wasted already…!

Among her relatives, Kristian had simply been the most tempting target for [Imitation Beyond Filiality]—asshole or not, he was the highest level she had seen so far.

Malwine wasn’t sure how to proceed—she could touch the card or just… reach for it. Following one of those strange new instincts, Malwine pulled at {Legacy}, and sent it diving for the card.

Her senses were immediately overwhelmed by a crisp copper light.

When she could next blink, Malwine felt smaller. Her earlier form had been ambiguous at best, but now, she could tell she was short. Her hands were a bit rugged, with light but visible callouses detectable here and there. Reaching for the sides of her head, she pulled at her hair as grass started literally spawning around her. Malwine managed to bring the hair into her field of vision, if barely.

Great, the paradox-color hair.

The scene before her grew clearer as stone walls rose. I love how it’s like… this place rendering in. She couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it.

Turning around, Malwine found she was within a cave. The lighting came from shifting forms above, spheres that moved up and down. Fantasy lightbulbs? I won’t judge.

At least the lighting wasn’t green.

If she ignored a few details, Malwine could probably convince herself she was just in some grassy courtyard. The walls ahead of her had coalesced into patterns of grey bricks, a single door to the right side of it. Jalousie windows were distributed through the walls of both the floor she was in, and the one above it. A bell tower stood at the center-top of it all.

From what Malwine could see, the building was not tall by any means, yet nothing beyond it was visible. The world, for her, was currently just this building by the depths of a cave.

Malwine took a step forward. It felt like real movement. Again, she examined her hands, not daring to go on yet. Am I like, a younger Kristian? Wow, that’d be weird.

Yet the conclusion felt right. She had focused on Kristian’s card, and here she was…

It sounds really in line with what a ‘trial’ could be… Could this be based off his memories or something?

Between the messages she’d seen while setting up her new life, all the things the system knew about her, and the fact that resurrection was possible, Malwine should have known—actually knew—that the system obviously had access to souls, to memories, to everything.

Still, knowing her grandfather was out there, alive and well, while Malwine was being presented with the option to presumably peruse what might have been a memory of his, was beyond freaky.

Suddenly, [Once and Forever]’s limitations felt downright scrupulous, rather than wanton restrictions. She lacked the knowledge to understand it, but something told her the {Legacy} Root had something to do with this being possible—a theory only strengthened by the constant presence of it in this space, if Malwine could call it that.

She shuddered. On one hand, this was a path to power—exactly what she wanted. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be more invasive than she could justify. She just hoped it didn’t go too far, else she might find herself hesitating to use the Trait.

And I just got it…

“Kristian!”

Malwine turned, finding her—Kristian’s?—upper arm gripped by another boy who had appeared from… somewhere. She hadn’t noticed his approach or his grip. Was that intentional or had she somehow managed to zone out while inside the trial?

“Huh?” Malwine flinched, shaking her head as she focused and met the gaze of another boy. He had dirty blond hair and blue eyes, with a light pudginess that seemed somehow confined to his face. Add some more years and a shell necklace, and he would have looked exactly like the sort of drunken frat boy who’d steal breadfruit from her trees in one of the many neighborhoods she lived in during her past life.

Bad Malwine! Don’t judge people based on stereotypes!

“Kristian, c’mon! We’ve gotta move!” the other boy seemed frantic. He must have been a teenager at most, his frame small and scrawny. He wore a grey cotehardie and tan pants bound by string at the ankles. It made Malwine wish she could pause to figure out just what a teenage version of Kristian would have been wearing in turn. “The headmaster’s looking for me! He knows I stole the barnacle!”

Wait, what? I was joking earlier! …Mostly.

Malwine blinked, staring at the boy in certainly undisguised shock. “You stole the what?”

“I know, I know, it was dumb!” the other boy grit his teeth, shaking in place. His grip on her—Kristian’s—arm loosened. “But please, you’ve got to hide it for me. They won’t check everyone’s inventories.”

Malwine looked around. “You mean to tell me it’s not going to be suspicious that you just talked to me, and suddenly the thing you stole isn’t with you anymore? Aren’t they going to connect the dots?”

It was the boy’s turn to blink. “…That’s fair, I guess. Ugh!”

Again, the boy gripped her arm—Malwine was giving up on emphasizing she was clearly in the form a younger Kristian by now—and pulled her to the side, where an awning shaded grass and pavement alike.

“Quick, bury it! I’ll see if I can distract him!” the boy tossed a metallic object to her. It was annoyingly reflective, but she supposed it did indeed look like a barnacle. And she couldn’t identify it. Do abilities not work in here? Shit.

If she was in some sort of school, she supposed the amount of danger she might be exposed to should be minimal, but that wasn’t reassuring. She’d gotten used to having all those system features, and this scene unfolding before her seemed intent on depriving her of them.

Malwine stared at the grass. Nothing happened when she tried to reach into inventory, so clearly, even if this past version of Kristian just so happened to have a shovel in there, she wouldn’t get an easy solution.

As the boy ran off into the building, the solitary door slamming behind him, Malwine tried to once again study her surroundings. There were some stones here and there, and the small area of solid ground that separated the walls from the grass appeared closer to tightly packed gravel than actual pavement.

She knelt where she stood, thankful she seemed to be wearing the same pants the other boy did so her knees didn’t immediately scrape, and tried to dig into it. Her nails were gracelessly short, crushing her first idea to maybe try and forcibly remove some of the gravel. Her fingers alone couldn’t get a solid grip on anything, though it soon became clear it wasn’t plastered together, just somehow taut enough that no single pebble could be moved.

Stupid fantasyland construction methods, pfft.

Giving up on the idea, Malwine returned to the grass and approached one of the bigger rocks. For how long would the boy be able to distract… whoever they were hiding this barnacle thing from? She wouldn’t dare for a minute doubt she was on some sort of time limit. As she found she wasn’t strong enough to lift the rock, she moved on to the next one, then the next. There had to be one she could hide this under.

The plainness of the courtyard really didn’t leave her with many other options.

Finally, she found a rock she could lift, if barely. She placed the barnacle on the grass and moved to shift the rock with both hands. Once she had it to the side, she placed the barnacle on the dirt where the rock had been, then shifted the rock back into place.

Cracking noises followed.

Oh, that didn’t sound good.

Malwine lifted the rock, only to find what she feared—yep, the weird metal barnacle had been all but shattered by her wonderful problem-solving skills. How?! This rock isn't anywhere near heavy enough to bust a metal as solid as that felt!

…Well, sure hope keeping that thing whole wasn’t part of the trial.

Kristian didn’t strike her as someone capable of hiding anything without leaving a disaster in his wake, after all.

Thinking on her feet, Malwine picked as many of the pieces as she could manage and rushed to the cave wall. Some parts of it were… gleamy enough, but what interested her were the spots on the ground where she’d noticed light reflect.

Indeed, as she approached, it became clear that there was water there. A sump, perhaps. The scent of brine emanating from it was undeniable. She stepped on unsteady stones to get closer and dropped the pieces of the barnacle directly into the waters.

The waters proceeded to burp.

Okay. Okay. Note to self, actively avoid all unfamiliar bodies of water. Seriously.

She still didn’t have the faintest intention of changing the widow avatar's setting, however.

Without turning her back on the barnacle-eating sump, Malwine made her way back to the courtyard proper. The terrain didn’t make the journey any easier than her lack of visual navigation did, and she almost stumbled more times than she could count.

At least this younger version of Kristian appeared to have some steady legs.

She returned to the rock she definitely hadn’t destroyed the barnacle with, and shuffled the dirt until she was certain no traces of metal remained visible before replacing the rock.

Strictly speaking, the boy had told her to bury it!

As if by clockwork, the door reopened, barely leaving Malwine enough time to stand, prim and proper, with her hands behind her back.

A tall, short-haired man with almost comically round glasses stepped out with a certain sullen-looking boy in tow. I take it that ‘distraction’ of his didn’t go well…

“Rīsan!” the newcomer practically sneered the name out. Guess that removes any possibility of just being some random Kristian, I'm definitely my grandfather here. Fists clenched, the man stomped his way to Malwine. “Wipe that smile off your face!”

Oops. Malwine hadn’t realized her totally-innocent stance had involved her lips twisting. It was probably not a great look. “Sorry, I was glad to see my friend, since he’s been cooped up in there for so long.”

The other boy smiled back, but his eyebrows were wiggling suspiciously.

If that was supposed to mean something, it went right over Malwine’s head, but she tried her best not to let it show, choosing to instead lock eyes with the older man.

“Who are you, again?”

The man reddened and huffed as only someone who definitely shouldn’t be in charge of disciplining children could. Think I found Kristian’s role model. “You little cretin! Get in here before I—”

Okay, maybe I’m not being fair to Kristian, I’ve never actually seen him yell at a child like this, Malwine conceded. She didn’t like her grandfather, and he found his disrespect for the staff infuriating, even if she’d only learned of it from afar—but wow, at least he wasn’t this guy.

The man took a step forward and Malwine’s smile dropped. She sped to the door, walking as swiftly as she could. This wasn’t a fight she could win, if it actually came to that. Not as she was.

In this life, I’ll be stronger, the thought came to her unbidden. There’s nothing wrong with picking your battles, but… I want the option to be there.

She didn’t meet the man’s gaze as she caught up to the other boy and started walking inside with him. The hall within was lined with bricks, much like the courtyard had been, though the walls here included the occasional blue or beige brick. It was all unpleasantly barren, all the doors closed.

Malwine leaned closer to the boy. “Who’s that?”

He gave her a strange look, but he responded, in a conspicuous attempt at a whisper. “Seriously, Kristian? That’s the headmaster! That’s—”

What are we in, a school?

“—Hanß!”

There was something about how her apparent friend said that name…

Oh, no! The forbidden ß spelling! It brought back memories of a recreational activity the widow had once called ‘unnecessary arguments with localizers’. Yes, I understand you’re telling me that spelling is wrong, but what am I supposed to do when the document in front of me says it like that!

Different place, different time. Malwine grumbled, but accepted it.

“Rīsan!”

Quit interrupting my thoughts, headmaster! Fine, Malwine might not have entirely accepted it.

Malwine got yanked back, pulled roughly by the man himself. “Don’t think I can’t hear you getting your story straight, you wave-begotten thieves! You’re—”

Do not touch me.

It had been a long time since she had hit someone in the face, but she supposed she couldn’t have put it off forever. She immediately learned that the realism of her senses in this ‘trial’ was limited, because she was pretty sure her fist was broken now, yet she felt nothing.

Oh, the man’s glasses had paid for his sins, but the moment she actually hit his face, she might as well have crushed her knuckles against a solid wall.

“Mistakes were made,” Malwine sighed before shrugging. At least now she knew getting punched here would likely just be annoying at most.

I mean. Am I that off? This might still be a good Kristian impersonation! He's always seemed like the sort to hit people.

The headmaster had been shouting additional wave-themed obscenities, though Malwine missed most of them while she’d been examining her hand.

He lunged for her.

“Hanß!” a head poked out from a newly open door, to the left on the direction they’d been heading to. “Hanß, why are you fighting children?”

It was another man, with burgundy hair of such volume that it put powdered wigs to shame with those curls. Malwine couldn’t help but stare—it was rude, sure, but damn.

“These cretins are the thieves we’ve been looking for, Magister,” the headmaster huffed. He was no longer approaching her, straightening on the spot he’d practically just frozen on. “I was separating them for questioning, but they refused to cooperate.”

“I have eyes, Hanß.”

Neither of the men spoke, and the other boy seemed to be seriously considering whether to make a run for it. There was probably an exit somewhere, but Malwine saw no way to leave the area without having to cross the path of one of the adults.

No better time than now to channel her widow persona.

“With all due respect, Magister,” Malwine chose to to face the guy who had probably kept her from getting punched back and repeated the title Hanß had used. “I find the headmaster’s accusation ludicrous. My friend here was telling me you think we stole some barnacle! Absurd.”

She took a step forward, shaking her head. “By the waves! Even if we were thieves—which we are not—why would we steal a barnacle of all things? Doesn’t that come from the sea? That sounds like a good way to get cursed!”

The headmaster moved in the corner of her eye, but this Magister fellow raised a hand. That was apparently enough to get him to stop, so Malwine pressed on. “I confess I know not who you are, but I’ll have you know, the headmaster here has it out for us!”

“You are violent cretins unworthy of all we have given you! How dare—”

Malwine ignored the headmaster, shooting her apparent friend a glance.

The boy looked mortified.

Who’s this Magister, anyway? Should I not be speaking to him?

Before she could ponder anything else, the aforementioned Magister started laughing. He laughed at a tone louder than necessary, and perhaps a bit over what should have been humanly possible. Malwine wondered if there would have been some shaking taking place, had there been anything hanging from the walls.

Her hands went to her hips and when the Magister’s laughter subsided, she met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well?” the Magister repeated. “Well?”

He laughed again, normally this time, before looking back to the headmaster. “Hanß, did you lie to me?”

“What? Of course not, Magister!”

The Magister turned back to Malwine, barely giving the other boy a second glance. He looked as though he was about to say something when the entire scene rippled, and abruptly, Malwine found herself back in her bed, staring up.

What the fuck just happened?

Several blinks later, her brain caught up. That had been the trial, of course it had been. The transition on the way out had simply being equally disorienting as its start.

No, no, no! I wanted to find out what happened with the… with everything! Who was that boy? Why did the headmaster hate Kristian and the other guy? Why did we get into that mess over some barnacle sculpture of all things?

Malwine stood from her bed, shaking. Returning to reality after that left her dizzy. Her heart sped up, and she glanced at her hand.

A sigh of relief escaped her. It was fine. I wonder what level that guy was. The glasses broke against his face without leaving a mark. Much like she’d failed to identify whatever the barnacle was supposed to be, she hadn’t been able to identify any of the people in there, either.

Speaking of the trial…

You have failed a trial to copy attribute points from Kristian Rīsan!

You may not use [Imitation Beyond Filiality] on Kristian Rīsan for: 300 days.

Malwine couldn’t even bring herself to be mad. Of course, she hadn’t gotten any attribute points, but she was too confused to care.

Oh, this Trait’s the right amount of crazy for me… Malwine grinned. There was potential here. If she was right about the trial being based off Kristian’s memories, somehow… She could learn a lot. She had no idea what the correct way to handle the situation the trial had dropped her on would have been, but she’d get to try again eventually.

Probably don’t smash the barnacle next time… But seriously, what had that thing been? It had clearly been important, if only on account of looking expensive. Perhaps next time she should ask the boy why he’d stolen it.

As for the boy himself, Malwine hadn’t forgotten what she’d seen back when she had [Expressed Reversal]—Kristian had a boon related to the hero’s party. And there was nothing more suspicious than an out-of-place blond boy stealing strange items.

I should have asked for his name. Then again, with how he looked at me when I asked who the headmaster was…

Malwine sat back in bed. She absolutely had to try this on every relative she knew of. The Trait’s wording made her suspect it would even work on Bernadette.

That said, if it was going to be that… peculiar every time, she probably had to brace herself for some weird shit. The urge to start pacing around the room was strong—she wouldn’t deny she was excited to see what else this Trait would bring.

Why did I fail back there? Malwine reread the Trait’s description—it said she had to prove her worth. But to who? To the system? …To Kristian? Something told her the man himself wouldn’t be aware of this—the trial was confined to that scene, controlled by the Trait. So who was the judge there? Was the system expecting her to behave as Kristian would?

With how the Magister reacted back there, huh… Maybe I actually wasn’t making that good an impression of Kristian. I could definitely see him punching the headmaster, but I got ahead of myself there, talking. Kristian’s verbose enough, but… Should I have punched the Magister instead?

No, he seemed above fighting children. Unlike a certain Hanss fellow.

Maybe if I skip the fight with the headmaster and punch the Magister instead, before he calls Hanß out? Or should I just not punch anyone? And what do I do with the barnacle?

Should I look into the whole sea thing?

Malwine sighed. This was going to stick with her for the entire year and then some more, wasn’t it?