“…Right,” I said carefully. “And you want me to…?”
Celestia’s smile widened—just a fraction. The dangerous kind of fraction.
“View your skills,” she said, eyes glittering. “Properly. Using the method I explained earlier. We shall get to the bottom of this.”
Bottom of what exactly?
She stepped closer and pointed to a smooth section of the evaluator’s surface. No runes. No markings. Just a faintly polished area. I shrugged.
“Like Arthur said,” I said lightly. “It functions much like a trackpad.”
Somewhere behind me, I could feel the room leaning in. Not metaphorically—actually. Chairs creaked. Breathing shifted. Curiosity thickened the air. Weren’t they just looking at their own statuses a second ago?
I drew in a deep breath, then paused.
“Is this for my benefit,” I asked, glancing sideways at her, “or for yours?”
“Oh, perish the thought,” Celestia said, placing a hand to her chest with mock offense. “Lord Vi, I promised your mother that I would guide you. And guide you I shall. Everything I am doing here is for your benefit.”
She held the dignified posture for exactly half a second. Then the mask cracked. A small, unmistakable smirk appeared.
“…But,” she added, “that does not mean I won’t benefit from you, benefitting.”
I stared at her.
“At least you are honest,” I sighed, feeling inexplicably tired despite having done nothing but sit for most of the day.
Very reluctantly, I placed my hand where she indicated. The evaluator hummed—just a little louder than before. Not alarmingly but just enough to let me know it was active and reacting.
My status window responded immediately, scrolling as my fingers moved.
“So,” I said, eyes flicking across the familiar numbers and titles, “where do you want to begin?”
“I will leave that to you,” Celestia replied graciously.
Then she turned to the rest of the room and raised her voice. “Everyone, please take your time and review your own statuses. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”
A wave of murmurs followed as people returned—some reluctantly—to their own plates.
“Uhm, Lady Celestia?” a voice piped up. I didn’t look up, but I recognized the tone. One of the idiots from Earth who’d tried to start something with me. Loud. Forgettable. I think his name was Takumi.
“Yes, you may, Lord Hiroto,” Celestia replied politely.
…Huh. My bad. I really hadn’t bothered remembering their names.
“It’s about your status as single,” he said.
I immediately tuned out whatever happened next. From the corner of my vision, I could see Celestia go beet red. The queen stood smiling, saying something sharp and decisive. Reactions rippled across the room—gasps, laughter, someone choking on air.
None of it mattered.
I was already back in my own head, scrolling.
No hidden exploits. No cracks. No loopholes to pry open. The system was rigid, clean, and depressingly fair. Yeah, it’s about the same from what I could remember from professor Rami’s lectures.
“…Yeah,” I whispered to myself. “Nothing to bend here.”
The rules were straightforward. At least for Attributes and stats. Which meant—
“…Alright,” I said quietly. “Lemme check the skills.”
My finger moved downward. But, as I was about to select my… well, only active skill, a thought hit me. I stepped back slightly, eyeing the machine like it might bite, and then carefully activated my skill.
Ping!
A small, polite chime rang from the evaluator, and two notifications appeared, hovering in the upper-left corner of my vision.
[Skill: True Sight Identification has leveled up.]
<
I tilted my head, staring at the prompt.
<
Yeah, I fucking know that. I’m just… confused.
I focused on the letters. Huh. So that’s where the term “plates” came from. Wait—my skill can even display the name of its maker? I remembered Celestia’s lecture earlier, how she had mentioned the argument of who made the plates.
Maybe? I hesitated, then pulled my plate from the machine and activated the skill again.
Ping!
[Skill: True Sight Identification has leveled up.]
<
Well, at least it couldn’t probe any deeper and expose my full name. Not that I wanted that kind of trouble right now. Still… is this the original maker, or the one who modified it? Then again, it’s longer than the previous prompt. Is it because the mastery increased? Possibly.
I sighed. Not my problem. Back to skills. I paused mid-scroll. The room had gone eerily quiet.
I turned only to find that, everyone was staring at me. Not in a casual, idle way, either. Their eyes were sharp, attentive, a mix of curiosity, awe, and the faintest trace of… confusion?
Even Celestia had gone completely still, her smirk replaced by wide, sparkling eyes, as though witnessing a spectacle she never thought she’d see in person.
“Uh-huh. Hmm.”
Those were the only sounds I trusted myself to make right now.
Because if I actually said anything—anything at all—there was a very real chance this crazy nerd mage would physically attempt to extract my skill from my soul the moment she fully understood what it did.
<
See? Even you agree.
“So—was that a skill level up?” Taka asked carefully, peering at me like I might explode.
“Not even a day in,” Arthur snorted, arms crossed. “And you already cheesed the system? Come on, Vi, let the rest of us have some fun too.”
“I didn’t cheese anything,” I muttered. “I just… looked at stuff.”
Celestia stepped closer.
I flinched.
Not dramatically. Just enough to betray my instincts screaming danger.
<
“Okay—no, no, now, now, now,” I stuttered, holding up both hands. “Let’s—let’s handle this like civilized people. With words. Preferably from a safe distance.”
That earned me exactly zero respect.
After a few minutes of explanation—heavily edited, omitting Retort-o-matic, the internal commentary, and the part where my sanity was hanging by a thread—Celestia froze.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
She breathed in. Then breathed out.
“Do you understand the implications, Lord Vi!?” she shouted, beaming so brightly it was honestly impressive. She leaned so close I could see the reflection of my own exhausted face in her eyes.
I leaned back instinctively.
“No,” I deadpanned. “And I don’t care to.”
She ignored me completely.
“It means Cloudtop will finally have proof!” she exclaimed, spinning on her heel, arms flaring dramatically. “Proof that they were the ones who made the plates! Do you know how many scholarly disputes this will settle? Entire archives will have to be rewritten!”
I glanced sideways at the royal couple. The queen had that polite-but-excited look of someone already imagining political leverage. The king looked… entertained.
Traitors. All of them.
“But will they even believe him?” Haruto cut in, arms folded, his tone sharp with skepticism. His eyes flicked to me, lingering just a bit too long. “Or just take his word for it?”
<
Breakdown:
— Attention from subject Celestia: 40%
— Attention from subject Reika: 40%
— Unknown variables (ego, insecurity, narrative irrelevance): 20%>>
…Yeah. I’m not touching that. This isn’t a rom-com.
“Of course. Or rather, they have no choice,” Celestia replied smoothly, confidence bleeding into every syllable. She turned slightly, addressing the room as much as she addressed me. “Lord Vi was ill from the moment of summoning. Everyone here knows that. He has not had the time to study our archives, nor was he instructed on the Ages of our world.”
She looked at me again, eyes sharp. “And yet,” she continued, voice rising just a little, “he knows. Through his skill.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“Not only that,” the queen added calmly, folding her hands atop one another, “the true names of the plates themselves are information previously unknown to us. That alone carries scholarly and political weight. But we now have confirmation that these items,” the queen gestured to the machine and the plates. “Were created in a different age than previously thought. Such things are of significant importance.”
I blinked.
“…What are the Ages of this world,” I asked, “and why are they important?”
Celestia straightened, clearly pleased at the question.
“The Ages of our world are how we divide all of history,” she explained. “They are marked not by cycles, but by events so significant they reshaped civilization itself. There are five Ages that we know of.”
She raised one finger.
“The First Age is the Age of Gods—also called the Age of Myths. According to legend, this was a time when gods walked openly among mortals.”
Another finger.
“Next came the Age of Sorrows. The gods vanished and abandoned us—depending on which myth you believe. Civilization fractured. Faith crumbled.”
A third.
“Then came the Age of Wonders. A time of relative peace and prosperity. The races kept to themselves. Conflicts were rare. Knowledge flourished.”
A fourth finger rose, her tone darkening.
“The Age of Darkness followed. A near-apocalyptic era. Monsters. Demons. Entire regions swallowed. Records from this time are scarce—survival took priority over history. It lasted roughly two hundred cycles.”
She lowered her hand slightly.
“And now,” she said, “the Age of Heroes.”
She paused.
“Though the Age of Darkness ended nearly two thousand cycles ago, the world is still recovering. Many truths were lost. Many knowledge and information were forgotten.”
Her gaze returned to me.
“Which is why,” the queen cut in gently, “Lord Vi represents something… significant.”
I felt my shoulders tense.
“He may serve as a bridge to a time we believed unreachable,” the queen continued. “For any nation, that alone would be invaluable. Furthermore, he has already demonstrated the ability to view the status of others—such as when he identified his mother’s condition when she leveled up.”
That earned me several looks.
“Huh,” Trayn said, leaning back, hands laced behind his head. “So even though he was accidentally summoned… that means this country basically got lucky?”
“And all he has to do is look?” Hanzo added. “Isn’t that kind of… broken?”
“Broken in a different way,” Shun corrected. “It’s not like he can hurt someone just by staring at them.”
“Still useful,” Yuu said thoughtfully. “If he can see people and objects clearly enough, maybe he can identify weaknesses just by looking.”
Every eye turned toward me. Slowly. Uncomfortably.
<
I know that. Just wait and watch. Let me work my own brand of magic on them. I call it talk no jutsu.
“Yes, I could do that,” I said, raising my voice just enough to cut through the excited chatter before it could spiral out of control. The room quieted, attention snapping back to me. “But it would be dangerous.”
A few brows furrowed.
“If I start speaking freely—if I go willy-nilly announcing things I can see or confirm—it won’t just be information,” I continued evenly. “People will act on it. They’ll start disputes. Maybe wars. Not because the truth demands it—but because it’s convenient.”
I turned toward Celestia.
“You won’t mention this. Not yet,” I said plainly. “Because the last thing this world needs is wizards flinging spells at one another over which ancestor built a glorified toy. At best, people will try to gain my favor. At worst, poison.”
“To put it simply. Information becomes legitimacy. Legitimacy reshapes power structures. And that invites exploitation, coercion, and possible elimination. Of me.”
Silence. Heavy. Thoughtful. The queen stared at me, eyes sharp, weighing every word. Seconds stretched. Then she exhaled, slow and controlled.
“Indeed,” she said at last. “He has a point.”
She straightened, authority settling back into her posture.
“Forgive me,” the queen continued. “I, too, allowed my excitement to overtake caution.” Her gaze swept the room. “Celestia. Everyone. Not a word of this leaves this hall.”
Celestia blinked, then nodded stiffly. “Understood, Your Majesty.” She looked disappointed.
“If other nations were to learn of this prematurely,” the queen went on, “they would not hesitate to act. Recruitment would be the best outcome. Silencing him the worst.”
My parents exchanged worried looks. My mother’s hand clenched in her lap. My father’s jaw tightened.
“Please be reassured,” the king added, his voice firm and steady, carrying the weight of authority in the quiet room. “We will do everything within our power to ensure Lord Vi comes to no harm.”
<
See? I told you. Strategic asset? Ha. Weaseling out of responsibility is practically a talent at this point. I’m surprised it’s not a skill.
I allowed myself a small, inward smile, the sort that tastes like victory but only to me. Let them underestimate me a little longer; it’s surprisingly comforting.
<
I mentally scoffed. Negative points for style? Observation? Pfft. Retort, you’re just salty because I keep slipping out of neatly labeled boxes like a ghost through a wall.
Celestia let out a long, theatrical sigh, shoulders drooping as if the weight of the world rested squarely on her. I suppose she can do this slight breach of decorum because the king and queen was her Uncle and Aunt.
“Okay, proceed as usual then,” she said, regaining some of her characteristic spark, like a candle rekindled after a gust. “Lord Vi, let us check the rest of your skills.”
Talk about mood swings. It’s almost impressive how she can go from zero to one-eighty in a single sigh. I don’t think retriever breeds are like this.
<
I struggled not to snicker at that mental image of her bouncing around, impossibly eager, just like some overly obedient, yet somehow chaotic, Border Collie.
“However, Lord Vi,” Celestia said, voice dipping into that gleeful lecture tone, “it is unfortunate about your skills, but that doesn’t mean I can’t document everything! So do not think you have escaped entirely.”
Ah.
Fuck.
<
I talked with Celestia for a bit to try and convince her that we could finish earlier and still leave time to accommodate everyone else’s questions. She agreed without much resistance.
So, we streamlined things. We skipped the descriptions of the skills related to instruments and focused only on the ones that actually mattered. We didn’t bother checking the translation one either; that functionality was already clearly obvious.
Though, a part of me still considered volunteering the ninja mother and ninja daughter as alternate subjects. Their skills and titles felt far more interesting than mine, and—more importantly—far less likely to get me drafted into something horrifying like responsibility.
[Epic] True Sight Identification (4) ??????????
Grants the ability to perceive, through sight, the nature of beings and objects, revealing descriptions and traits. With this skill, nothing remains concealed, allowing the user to identify strengths, weaknesses, and hidden properties with clarity and precision. Higher mastery unlocks additional functions.
6: See through Disguises
8: See through Illusions
10: See through Magical Effects
[Rare] Rapid Analysis (10) ??????????
Allows the user to quickly assess complex situations, environments, or data, identifying patterns, threats, and opportunities almost instantly. Enables rapid decision-making under pressure.
Max Mastery achieved.
[Rare] Rapid Calculations (10) ??????????
Grants the ability to perform calculations of basic, intermediate, advanced, or complex difficulty, at extreme speeds. Best applied to commerce, engineering, strategy, and resource management.
Max Mastery achieved.
[Rare] Evasion (10) ??????????
Grants the ability to deftly avoid threats and direct attacks. Higher mastery may occasionally assist in slipping from blame, redirecting suspicion, or making questionable decisions quietly disappear—sometimes before anyone even notices. Master the art of “not it,” whether physical or conversational.
Max Mastery achieved.
[Rare] Design Creation (8) ??????????
Empowers the user to conceptualize and generate detailed, functional, or aesthetic designs with precision and efficiency. Applicable to structures, machinery, systems, and abstract concepts. Higher mastery unlocks additional functions.
10: Artistic Creations
[Epic] Master Cooking (8) ??????????
Meals prepared by the user are not only exceptionally nourishing but astonishingly delicious, invigorating both body and mind. Properly prepared dishes restore vitality, accelerate recovery. Cleanses moderate debuffs. Higher mastery unlocks additional effects.
9: Restores 70% of lost Stamina. Cleanses most moderate debuffs. Halves duration of Major debuffs.
10: Restores 75% of lost Stamina. Cleanses all moderate debuffs. Halves duration of Major debuffs. Reduces duration of severe debuffs.
Well, how about that. It even showed what unlocked at each mastery level, like a dangling carrot I didn’t particularly want to chase. Still the effect of my only active skill is a bit redundant because I can already do that. Add the fact that the description has added comments, and it just makes me not want to use it.
I blinked and turned slowly toward the crazy nerd mage.
Celestia was busy rereading my skill descriptions for the third time, eyes sparkling like she’d just discovered a new branch of science and planned to adopt it. I spared a glance at the royal couple as well—both of them whispering intently to one another, heads inclined in that unmistakable we’re-already-planning posture.
Yeah.
This was bad.
<
33% Kitchen-based logistics
33% Command advisory
33% Special Consultant
1% Freedom.>>
…What in the actual fuck is that 1% for? What the fuck is freedom? How is that a forced role?
I sighed internally before turning my attention to my new companion.
Calm down. I’m not worried, I still have two cards two play.
If logic and reason won’t work, then misdirection might.