LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 4 - A Perfectly Cursed Start
The next time she opened her eyes—the next time she had eyes—she found herself wanting to close them again. Her eyelids were heavy, sticky. Whatever she was laying on was also surprisingly comfy, enough that she found herself snuggling as she sucked her thumb. It was not unlike having an important meeting but wanting to get those extra five minutes while the alarm snoozed, though ‘figuring afterdeath out’ should have perhaps ranked higher in her list of priorities.
Had she been… in the stars? The clarity she recalled having there was faltering in some ways, though not entirely.
For a long time, she had lived by the words of a song she had replayed decades before, its translation clearer in her mind than any details of exactly when or how she heard it—if I die tomorrow, the ones who’d suffer would be my kids.
Had the spaceship indeed exploded—the only explanation she could think of with what she recalled—she would have simply known no more. It was what she expected. This was… new. She was grateful, no doubt, but excitement was something she wasn’t ready for.
The stars snapped back into focus within her mind, the image oddly clear. Yes, the spaceship had exploded. Yes, she’d spent some time in the stars, doing what she could only retroactively call setup for this new life.
She’d have considered it outrageous, perhaps, if she weren’t growing certain she had long lost the capacity to treat anything about this new life with the seriousness it probably warranted.
There was a loud pop, followed by the distinct thudding of some type of furniture hitting the ground.
(❗) Stasis cocoon shielding you has collapsed.
✨ You've received a complimentary limited-edition onesie.
What? She forced her eyes open—the action spread a burning sensation through her eyelids—and found wooden bars around her. It took her a moment, but the answer struck her after a few blinks—she was inside a crib.
Right. I’m a baby now. Perfectly normal. Okay, first step—increasing the survival rate thing. Somehow. Can I make a to-do list? No?
At least she had a head to shake now. Even if it was… clumsy. Had she been able to shake her head the first time around? It struck her that she didn’t remember being a baby in her first life, but had she remembered that at any point? A semblance of a frown tore through her tiny features, and she worried over whether strange realizations like these would just keep coming.
Wait. Who was she? She knew she was… she, but neither name that had belonged to her came up. Not this life’s, not the past one’s. Can I view my profile? Character?
Everything so far had showed up as some sort of prompt, but if this isekai thing—which Yoyo was still definitely to blame for—was like a game, then she should be able to see the details of her character. Err, her details. Even if this system was denying her that to-do list.
That’s still gonna take a while to get used to, huh.
But indeed, after a moment’s pause, a window opened before her.
Name: Malwine Rīsanin ⊛
Kind: Human
Inherent Aptitude: The Weight of Legacy | Inherent Flaw: The Fog of Lore
Age: 18 months (+1297)
Fourth Stage of the Early Esse | Level 4 (4+0+0*) [Banked levels: 40]
Lifetime Skill levels: 400 (+1253 estimated loss from systemless existence) (S)
A small fist raised in outrage at the sight of the symbol next to her name. You calling me a bastard, system?! She tried to laugh, not actually caring about the fact. Or at least, hoping this wouldn't be the sort of world where she had to care.
The fact that it made the distinction did not bode well for her, unfortunately.
And no hints about what might be out to get me?
Next up were those ‘inherent’ factors. Malwine supposed they must be something akin to a character baseline or starting traits, though they did not come off as random. The Weight of Legacy was somewhat easy to intuit, but The Fog of Lore, not so much. Something related to the inaccuracy of word-of-mouth, perhaps? Each theory she formed crumbled upon second thought soon after, frustration building.
Truth was, she didn’t know, and a strange heat bubbled up her chest at that. Not knowing something she needed to know was intolerable.
Minuscule teeth sank into her thin lips as Malwine bit back on that rising anger—it wouldn’t help. This new game-like world was bound to have a learning curve, as everything in life usually did. If it wasn’t something she could’ve figured out by now, then burning out wouldn’t be worth it. She’d probably learn it as she grew.
People’ve gotta teach their kids in this world, too, right. Right?
‘Keep your current age as a memento’ seemed to be exactly as the option implied when she selected, simply displaying that additional number… in months? What sort of mad world was this?
And why wasn’t she 0 months old? The prompt she’d chosen had said she’d be in control from the start. Perhaps it was related to that stasis cocoon error she’d gotten when she woke up? Between knowing magic existed and her surroundings appearing to be entirely made up of wood, the sole concept of stasis was unplaceable for her, her brain linking it up with broken memories of sci-fi flicks.
It was the last line that caught the bulk of her attention next, however, even with the levels right above it.
She—Malwine—didn’t know whether to be offended. She’d been considerably older than a year-and-a-half infant in her old life, yet apparently this system was assuming she’d have reached only 1253 Skill levels? That was outrageous!
If just dying and getting isekaid—was that a verb?—was all it took to get 400 Skill levels, was the system considering her life’s work worthless? Having thought that, however, Malwine backtracked on her latest internal complaints. Perhaps those 400 Skill levels were a sign of ridiculous circumstances, unless everyone in this world started out like this.
Malwine hoped that wasn’t the case.
Looking back at the line that contained her level, Malwine was at a loss. She had no clue as to what "Early Esse" meant, and apparently level was determined by more than one thing. She tried mentally poking the asterisk next to the second zero, but nothing happened.
That's a lot of fours, though… Oh!
She was on the Fourth Stage of this Early Esse category, and the first number in the parenthesis adding up to her level was 4, so it wasn't exactly a leap to assume that'd be one of the factors. Especially when the matching color of both was making her crave key lime pie.
Please tell me this world has it, she prayed while guessing it probably wouldn’t.
Malwine looked around, but there didn't appear to be anyone nearby. The crib was against a wall, and what she could see of the room in lighting this faint wasn't much. She wanted to justify focusing on the system panels as a necessity for survival, so it was good that no one was around to bother her. But she was a baby. Well, infant.
Given how dark it was, perhaps it was night? That was a far more favorable outcome than child abandonment. Malwine still didn’t know why any offspring of Beryl Rīsanin would start with a survival chance that low, after all.
400 Skill levels, 40 banked levels… So each ten Skill levels would net her an overall level? The four had two zeroes added to it, but the banked levels had to go someplace.
That line of thought sent Malwine reeling back to the wall that had all but slammed into her right before she lost consciousness amid the stars.
MY SKILLS.
Malwine’s momentary freak-out turned out to be unnecessary, as the notifications hadn’t disappeared. Whether this was normal system behavior or the Skill notifications remained because the levels were banked, she didn’t know. Each notification carried the vaguest sense of what the Skill would mean, though she wanted to doubt she could take the names at face value.
Not to mention, none of them seemed to be 'get me a to-do list' material.
She glanced at the 8 Skills, intent on going back to properly review her guesswork on whether to accept any or keep them banked, but her caution went out the window—she accepted one of them immediately, half on a whim and half by a strange instinct.
You have gained [Close to my Chest]
Everyone that can access the
Trait: None
Aspect: [Reveal Nothing]. Your level, core stage, and other details are hidden unless you choose to pay a sustained [Integrity] cost to display them accurately.
(!) Traveler, your chosen path affects this Aspect. If you surpass double digits, your displayed level digits cannot go lower than Level ?? once your path has applied to them.
[Close to my Chest] defaults to max level 50 but may never evolve!
You have reached Level 9 [Banked levels: 35]!
Why?!, Malwine wanted to curse herself out for the impulsive choice, but the Skill consumed her attention within a breath, being exactly what she’d felt it could be.
Not only did that solidify her working theory on how overall levels worked, but now Malwine had a way to somewhat counter what the prompt had warned her about, that she wouldn’t be able to hide any levels she redeemed. She’d have to confess the idea of hiding one’s level in a game sounded bizarre.
But in a real life? Absolutely. She’d much rather keep her cards close to her chest, as they’d say—and as the Skill was aptly named.
The rest of the things it hid, however, she hadn’t even considered. There were people out there who could see her Skills? What sort of privacy invasion was that?
The outrage bubbling up on her miniature chest was such that she went on and immediately accepted another one, in this case the one that sounded like it might help her keep her marbles about.
That Skill’s Aspect was certainly just a non sequitur to her complaints.
You have gained [Cool Head on Your Shoulders]
You are “blessed” with a peculiar mind, capable of isolating itself from distractions—though only of the emotional kind. Push past inner turmoil to focus on the things that truly matter, though empathy may take a hit regardless of whether this Skill is active. Not that you’ll notice the difference. Applies to Status Effects that affect your emotional state.
Trait: None
Aspect: [Expressed Reversal]. So long as an individual’s emotional state isn’t masked, you may attempt to peek into their current visible Status Effects at a fixed cost of 5 [Integrity] per attempt. Success chance increases with the level of the Skill this Aspect is attached to, for a maximum of 50%.
[Cool Head on Your Shoulders] defaults to max level 50 but may never evolve!
You have reached Level 14 [Banked levels: 30]!
Malwine took as deep a breath as she could manage and activated the Skill. The system’s apparent penchant for making jabs at her just made her want to return the favor, but she understood almost instinctively that it wouldn’t be productive to, would it? It’d be like yelling at the air for scattering breadcrumbs every time she ate a sandwich in front of the fan.
Having waited several seconds, she resolved to wait more. Then some more. Was this Skill doing anything? The sass in that description didn’t help make anything clearer. Malwine groaned, a shrill thing.
Beyond how difficult more pronounced movements felt, Malwine was starting to think being a baby was no different than being a smaller human being. Well, an infant. Something told her she should know more about how children worked—she recalled having kids even if she couldn’t recall details—but she didn’t. Perhaps it hadn’t survived the transition to this new life, perhaps she’d left their rearing to others.
She left [Cool Head on Your Shoulders] active, given its lack of a cost. Perhaps someday she’d figure out if it was doing anything, if anything that would clearly cause ‘inner turmoil’ happened.
The temptation to just accept every Skill—especially ones that felt downright magical—was strong. It was ‘just’ 30 more levels, and [Reveal Nothing] would ensure she showed up as Level ?? regardless of how many Skills she had, up to an extent her instincts told her wouldn’t matter anytime soon.
However, she didn’t know how much a level was worth, in terms of actual growth. Was the system implying these maxed Skills at 50 were the product of her long life, or was it just a default response? Were those 400 Skill levels—40 actual levels—a lot, or not much?
The issue with having no guidance. Again, she could wait. The fallacy of sunk cost tore at her—she’d already redeemed 10 levels, so she might as well get the rest. If being an infant with over ten levels was out of place, she’d crossed that bridge already regardless. Was this already going to come back to bite her in the ass?
I could wait.
But the ghost of that warning loomed over Malwine, like a constant threat of ambiguous risks. Something was causing her to have ridiculously low survival chances, and she wished to have everything. Who knew what could be an advantage against the unknown?
The faintest shot at increasing her chance for survival was why she’d chosen this cursed existence as a near-baby, after all. Nevermind that the
Right, there are attributes.
A new panel appeared, and depending on what language it came out on, it was probably for the best that there were no witnesses around to hear this baby’s first words.
[Integrity]
977 / 982
[Toll]
0 / 18
Strength
0
Speed
1
Endurance
0
Dexterity
2
Stamina
0
Resilience
10
Perception
0
Charisma
0
Adaptability
0
Luck
0
Circulation
0
Presence
0
Unassigned: 7000
The burning in her chest was such that she paid no attention to the unassigned points initially—all she had eyes for were the decreased values. Somehow, she understood them for what they were, beyond what was displayed.
Yet they were her attributes, so it only took a bit of focus for Malwine to try and force out what should be.
[Integrity]
977 / 982
[Toll]
0 / 28
Strength
10 (-99%)
Speed
100 (-99%)
Endurance
10 (-99%)
Dexterity
250 (-99%)
Stamina
10 (-99%)
Resilience
1000 (-99%)
Perception
10 (-99%)
Charisma
10 (-99%)
Adaptability
10 (-99%)
Luck
10 (-99%)
Circulation
10 (-99%)
Presence
10 (-99%)
Unassigned: 7000
Definitely too high for an 18-month-old—
—was the first thought to briefly cut through her rage, an almost ironic remark without knowing what the expectations would be.
Malwine’s jubilation was fleeting at the reminder that the actual effective values were ridiculously lower. What kind of bullshit is this?
Visible Status Effects
Buffs: [Recently Exited Stasis]
Boons: N/A | Neutral Effects: N/A | Debuffs: N/A
Curses: [Lament of a Salvation Denied]
[Lament of a Salvation Denied]
Cast by F̵̋̽͜l̴̠̰͑̌ō̸̫̗̹͔̿ş̵̗̬̬̌̆͛̑b̵̪̩̫̽̒̕l̴͍̻̿͊̆ò̴̼̣̈̀͌m̶̧̰͙̭̌ḙ̷̓̍ of the Court of U̴̘̻͖̗͂͂n̴̙̐̎̏̏f̸̘̈̉́̏ȁ̶͎͚̲̠͐t̴̝̀͂ẖ̵̻̍̀̅ȏ̵̯́̈́̀m̶̨͔̱̍͊ā̸͎́b̷̧̥̠̖̒́̃͋ļ̴̥͕̣̌̈e̵͙͙̻̒̎͘͜ ̶̦͙̓͑F̸̨͙̳̱͌̚û̶͍͎͇͊̉t̸̳̣͕̾͝u̸̪͔̗͎̾͛r̵̦̹͋̆̊͘é̵̬̙̀s̴͍̦̃̿́͗
MAY YOU AND YOURS NEVER AGAIN KNOW A HAVEN, USURPER BERYL RĪSANIN. MAY YOUR FLOWERS NEVER BLOOM, AND MAY YOUR LAST DAY COME TOO SOON.
In that moment, Malwine learned that without the shadow of a doubt, infants could experience crippling headaches.
She closed her eyes, willing the panel to disappear, even at the cost of not being able to review the details of the irritating text. A fucking curse?
And inherited from Beryl, then. That’s some bullshit… Malwine sighed as the headache abated. It felt like a punishment for something, though it sure wasn’t from a court of law, or so to speak. Trying to unravel that would have to go on her ever-growing list of future headaches—probably literally, in this case. She really hoped she could remember all these for whenever she got to make that to-do list.
Great, just great, a literally cursed existence as a baby.
The sheer absurdity of a -99% penalty would have had Malwine convinced this had to be the threat to her life, even if she weren’t fairly certain the description had alluded to as much.
It seemed as though not only were the starting values for attributes 10, but penalties made the result round down—else her Dexterity would be 2.5 or 3. Yet another annoying fact.
Malwine circled back to the unassigned attribute points, dumping 90 into each attribute still at this presumed baseline.
When the nebulous Circulation attribute hit 100, the change wasn’t lost to her, with [Toll] becoming 118 only to collapse into 19 within a blink. She could touch neither that nor [Integrity], both attributes clearly dependent on factors she remained unsure of. Circulation’s effective value added to [Toll], but it had started at 18…
Right, didn’t that age-choosing prompt mention [Integrity] and [Toll]? Is that why age is in months?
That would be sheer madness. Unlike [Toll], [Integrity] hadn’t changed, tempting her to touch the three higher attributes—the three
Malwine spent her attribute points, with Speed and Dexterity added to the fold as the remaining attributes grew to match them. She'd leave wondering why those were apparently
With only 4 points left unused, all attributes except Resilience became 676, shrinking to 6 just as [Toll] dropped from 694 to 24.
Fucking Mythic-rarity curse.
She’d have to guess the rarity probably came from the Mana Source, and in most games she’d played, Mythic—if it existed—would supersede Legendary. Legendary, like the Affinity she got from Beryl, alongside this curse. She suppressed the urge to put ‘Mom’ in quotation marks even within her own thoughts and moaned, Mom, just WHO did you piss off?
Then again, {Foresight} was clearly not the epitome of usefulness, and if each generation got one extra tier, then perhaps Beryl only had a Tier-1 version. Still, it had to be Legendary for a reason. Perhaps not necessarily a good reason.
Malwine wanted to scream, a growing concern. It only struck her now that her vocalized complaints so far could have drawn attention to her. She almost wished she had a notebook on which to write down all these things she had to figure out—not that she could write as she was. But the continued nonexistence of her to-do list haunted her more than it had any right to.
Almost seven thousand attribute points down the drain to not even reach the baseline 10 thanks to the curse. It felt as though her efforts—the weight of her first life and her attempts at understanding this System now—had achieved nothing.
So many Skill levels—
Oh.
An idea began to bloom.