We returned to Baim.
Today, we had come inside the Jewel.
Together with Mireia, I was visiting what could only be described as the Jewel's memory room — or rather, my own personal memory room.
Passing through the door, it was indeed a great city from ages long past. This time I was able to observe my surroundings more calmly, and I noticed that the people working nearby were exceedingly few.
Golems made of earth were busy working, occasionally assisting people.
But many of the citizens weren't working at all — they were drinking and gambling while the sun was still high in the sky.
In the center of the great city, there stood a mansion that was strikingly modest. Among the many grand buildings surrounding it, that one alone looked like something out of the countryside.
There was a garden around it, and even fields.
As I walked along, I could hear the voices of people nearby.
"Seriously, that old mage hag is stubborn, isn't she? She should just tear down that shack and let someone build a castle already."
"It really drags down the prestige of this city. The old folks went to complain about it, apparently, but she won't listen to a word. They'd be better off building a proper castle — that's the sort of thing you can flaunt to other countries."
"She could just whip one up with magic in a snap. She's getting on in years, isn't she?"
The young men laughed mockingly, drinking from morning. Cards were spread across their table, with silver coins rolling among them.
Their clothes — their attire was fine. Their skin was clean, and they seemed to take care of their hair as well. The women were dressed in gown-like outfits, leading golems along as they went shopping.
They had their golems loaded with the large quantities of purchases they'd made while they chatted among themselves.
"Hey, isn't this dress gorgeous?"
"It really is. That one must use rare materials, right? They should just make more of them."
"They're saying there's no land. That's what Dad told me."
"Just take some, then. From a neighboring country or something. Have the golems crush them flat, and then — you can grow tons of the material! See? Problem solved!"
The sight itself was heartwarming enough, but the content was far from laughable. A country destroyed and conquered over such reasons — that was absolutely unconscionable.
I thought about it for a moment.
"No, I'm the same way."
When I muttered that, Mireia, who had been walking ahead of me, turned around.
"Oh? Deep in thought?"
Her expression seemed to see right through me. What I was thinking, what I was feeling as I watched these scenes — Mireia could read it all like an open book.
"I can't very well watch all this and feel nothing. I'd assumed the Village of Mages was just a smaller-scale cautionary tale, but..."
The fact that a single mage was sustaining an entire great city filled me with genuine dread.
Was none of the people around me troubled by that problem?
"...Why did the people here never think about what would happen after Mages Septem died?"
Mireia started walking again, gazing slightly upward as she spoke.
"Perhaps they figured someone else would sort it out? Well, if you want to say who's at fault here, they're both to blame. Septem used that power to lend her strength to the residents without limit. The residents accepted it, and those who could do nothing for themselves only multiplied."
Hearing it laid out like that, it sounded like a story with no hope at all.
In my view, they could have afforded to be a bit more anxious about it. But could the people who lived in that era truly not grasp that?
I walked through the scenes inside the memory and finally arrived at the destination — the mansion. The Golems cleared a path and welcomed us through.
Golems of all shapes and sizes bustled about the mansion, hard at work. Tending the garden, cleaning, standing guard.
There were far too few humans in this mansion.
As I approached Septem's room, the door was already open.
"Oh, we're about to see an interesting memory."
With those words, Mireia stepped inside. There, at the bedside of the bedridden Septem, three visitors had come. All of them were old men, but one — a notably obese elderly man —
"We don't have enough cloth material for trading. You'll need to give us more Golems to work with."
When they said that, Septem replied:
"I'm sorry, but I can't do any more than this. My own power has faded, you see."
The tall, thin man said:
"Recently, you haven't even been able to maintain basic city functions. That's a real problem. You need to get your act together."
The third visitor, a rather stocky old man, chimed in:
"More importantly, what happened with finding a successor? You need to have the next mage ready before too long, or we'll be in serious trouble."
The three old men were griping and complaining at Septem, who couldn't so much as move from her bed. And once they'd finished airing their grievances, they turned to leave the room.
"Out of the way, move!"
One of the old men caught sight of me and glared, ordering me to step aside. While I was still taken aback, he seemed to grow irritated and shoved past me.
"How is that possible… this is the memory room. Everything here should just be an illusion…"
It was Septem who answered my question.
Propping herself up on the bed, she looked over at me with a smile.
"You see, the Jewel is a recording medium, but it's also calculating everything. It anticipates that the person recorded here will most likely react in this way. It predicts that actions will go like this… and so it continues computing, over and over. In the far distant past — the ancients used to create all manner of tools far superior to the Jewel."
"Calculating?"
While I was still struggling to make sense of this, Mireia had already set out two chairs. She sat down in one and gestured for me to take the other.
Once I was seated, I listened to Septem's explanation.
"I explained before that it was I who created the Jewel. And I told you about Novem and the others as well… So then, what should I convey to you today?"
Mireia spoke up in response to Septem's contemplation.
"Then, Lady Septem — tell him about the Jewel's true intended use."
"Oh, that's important."
Septem nodded and opened her right hand, and three orbs appeared in it. Three orbs — blue, red, and yellow — glowed brightly, and she held all three up for me to see.
"Rael, what do you think Skills originally are?"
I was taken aback by the question.
"…A weapon that people possess against Monsters? The Seventh Goddess granted magic and Skills so that humanity could fight against evil…"
Hearing that, Septem nodded but smiled with a troubled expression.
"That's right. There was that meaning to it as well. So then, why do you think each person only has one Skill?"
"…Because mastering even one is difficult enough?"
Septem shook her head.
"That's not it. The limit of one type of Skill per person exists because that's all a single human body can handle. Originally, a Skill restructures even the person's body. To put it in terms Rael and the others can understand — the person themselves becomes a type of Mana Tool."
I tilted my head at that.
"Really? To that extent?"
"There are many Skills, but their original number is far smaller than you'd think. Physical enhancement is a good example. It can manifest in support-type roles, and it can also manifest in frontline roles. But the effects are subtly different, aren't they?"
Now that she mentioned it, the three types of Skills really did fall into vague categories.
"Imagine three people. Even if the same Skill manifested in all of them, the effects wouldn't be identical. That's because there are individual differences between people. No matter what, personal variation arises, and the Skill can't bring out its full power. However, the reverse can also happen — sometimes it draws out even greater ability."
Physical characteristics. Someone with a lot of muscle mass and someone with less would see different effects.
Someone with high stamina and someone without would have different durations. The quality and quantity of mana consumed when using a Skill — everything varies from person to person.
"Let me put it simply. Mana also varies from person to person. Elemental magic — there's the Five Greats and Two Heavens, right? It's the same thing. Some people are suited to fire elemental magic, but struggle with water elemental. And then there are those who have plenty of mana but it's thin in quality. Those whose quality is high but whose overall quantity is small. Since Skills use the person's own mana as their driving force, there's no way individual differences wouldn't have an impact."
I nodded in understanding at her explanation, but a question also arose at the same time. If that was the case, then why wasn't there a problem when I or others used different Skills?
"Um, then why am I able to use the Skills of the Successive Heads? From what you're saying, it sounds like you wouldn't be able to use a Skill unless your body was specifically suited for it."
Septem gazed at the three-colored jewel floating above her right palm.
"What made it possible to handle was a Mana Tool — no, the jewel I developed. Due to its nature, it had to be divided into three. You see, this was a device designed to support Skills. Each piece excelled at supporting different types. From that, the divisions of frontline, backline, and support were created. Because it affected the surroundings, all of the Skills your ancestors manifested ended up being support-type. And because it strongly interferes with its owner, the jewel and Mana Tools are fundamentally incompatible."
Now I understood why Mana Tools couldn't be used while holding the jewel. Because the jewel interfered so strongly with the user in order to support them, it blocked the Mana Tool's Skill activation.
After asking various questions about Skills, I turned to Septem for confirmation.
"Um, the one who gave people Skills was the seventh goddess, right? The one who gave magic and Skills to humanity?"
Septem nodded. But she said it was slightly different.
"No — what the real Septem gave was the means for humans to use mana. What could be reproduced using mana was magic and Skills. Originally, neither magic nor Skills had any form. So Septem merely gave them a certain degree of shape. She did so because she believed that otherwise, humans could never stand against Monsters and Dungeons."
"...Septem also exists within the Jewel that Ceres has, doesn't she? Agrissa carries Septem's memories, right? Then why did Ceres end up like that?"
The Septem before my eyes and the Septem who had influenced Ceres didn't seem like the same person. No — they probably weren't the same, but I couldn't help wondering why they were so different.
If this person had been recorded in the Jewel, would Ceres have ended up so twisted?
"...Agrissa only carried a small portion of Septem's memories. But in exchange, she absorbed our memories far more vividly — the previous Septem, and the one before that. Everyone inherited the memories of Septem — the woman called a goddess — and her intense regrets. But Agrissa was different. She must have only seen the parts of us that dealt with... how we were oppressed by humans."
I asked Septem.
"Why did you go this far for them? If I'm being honest, wasn't it too much? You spoiled them."
When I said that, Mireia glared at me.
And then.
"Laiel, that's going too far."
But Septem was smiling.
"It's fine, Mireia. Laiel, you might truly be kind in the real sense of the word. Yes — what I've been doing is self-indulgence. I lived this long driven by intense regret and impatience, and I gave everything I could. Humans always seemed so fragile to me. And so dear..."
That, Septem explained, was what it meant to inherit the memories of Septem.
She said this with a gentle smile, gazing at me.
"Laiel, it's possible that Septem's memories were lost during Agrissa's generation. Nihil's memory inheritance also ended quite some time ago. Trace and the others are the same. I feel terrible for being the only burden on you. So I'll keep teaching you various things. But before that—"
Septem removed two of the three-colored jewels, leaving only the blue one behind. When she handed it to me, the jewel was absorbed into my outstretched hand as if vanishing.
As I stood there in shock, Septem wore a serious expression.
"—Perhaps you really do have a connection with the goddess. Be wary of the descendants of Unus and Duo. And of Quinque as well. For some reason, Laiel, you seem to be drawing the goddess's descendants toward you. A bond is beginning to form."
"...No, um, sorry. Could we forget the whole 'beloved by the goddess' thing? Wait—how do you even know that? Also, does Trace perhaps..."
Septem had been wearing a serious expression, but after a moment of stunned silence—
"Oh, now that you mention it, she did say something like that. But it's not wrong, you know? Novem, Nihil, Trace, Quattuor... You've been drawing their descendants to you. And there's more, Laiel."
What did she mean by that? As I wondered, Septem was gazing at me with a gentle smile.
"What is it?"
"Someday, you will have to face yourself. The half that was sealed away by Ceres is already on the verge of awakening."
I had no idea what she was talking about.
—At the port of Baim, there was a man in a suit waiting for the Vera Trace, which was due to arrive.
He wore a specially tailored suit, and his bodyguards stood lined up around him.
A girl with long, straight red hair and gentle, drooping eyes asked her father, Fidel.
"Father, it's rare for you to come welcome Big Sister."
"Is it? I had some free time today, that's all. I wanted to spend it together as a family of three."
Fidel smiled at his daughter, but to the man in robes, he seemed somewhat tense.
The port was sticky with sea breeze.
Under the blazing sun—the man felt like stripping off his robes and having a drink, and he grumbled inwardly.
(Damn it, and here I'm busy, but the rich... "My daughter or son has been deceived by some bad people"—that's a common request, but it's almost always a misunderstanding. Even if they've been charmed with Skills, that only happens because they let their guard down. It'll wear off on its own, so there's no need to...)
The man was an adventurer dispatched by the Guild. He was the kind of adventurer who could determine whether someone was using a Skill and identify what Skills they possessed.
He was a detection-type Skill holder who had secured a position as a Guild exclusive, which paid well. But the fact that he kept receiving nothing but these meaningless commissions weighed on him.
(Don't go thinking mental-type Skills are some kind of magic bullet. Why do I have to cut into my days off just to investigate whether some rich man's daughter has been duped by a guy? And then even when I tell them she hasn't been fooled by any Skill, they won't believe me. Dammit—I never should have become a Guild exclusive!)
Detection-type Skill holders were valued, depending on their strengths and weaknesses. Those like him, who could assess what Skills another person possessed, were indispensable to the Guild.
But the Guild operated in a weak position relative to merchants, and no matter what, commissions like these kept piling up.
On top of that, this particular client was one of the most prominent merchants in Baim. Even if he delivered the truth, they'd file complaints the moment they didn't like what they heard—and that would create all sorts of problems. His life in Baim would become unbearable.
(Actually, this is the second time I've been hired by the Trace family. Last time, too, they had me investigate whether there was a chance someone was using Skills… and I got complaints then as well.)
The man in the robe wore the heavy garment despite the heat so as not to reveal his appearance.
Wearing a mask, he caught a glimpse of a young man standing near a red-haired girl—Gina Trace.
The young man had short brown hair and was a fine-looking fellow in his late twenties. His name was Roland.
He was a diligent young man who had worked for the Trace Trading Company since he was a child. An information broker had thoroughly investigated him, and the man in the robe had also conducted a Skills appraisal on him.
Fidel glared at Roland, then looked out toward the sea.
(Well, it's a love match between people of different social standing, but still. I think they suit each other, though.)
Roland was wearing a troubled expression. Gina was the one addressing him.
And that, apparently, was what bothered Fidel.
(She used to adore him before she took a liking to the guy… Fathers—why are they always like this… Oh, the ship is here.)
As the metal mass approached the port, it was battered and torn—apparently from combat. Still, rumors were circulating that it had returned having defeated a Trident Sea Serpent, and on the dock, associates waved while onlookers gathered, raising their voices.
Once the ship reached port, the crew got to work.
With the ship's owner present, the crew moved differently than usual. They were visibly cheerful, looking toward the dock and waving.
(Well, they did take down something big and make it back. Can't blame them for being in high spirits.)
The robed man was waiting for the man and woman he was looking for to disembark. A gangplank was lowered, and cargo began to be unloaded from the ship.
And so, after the crew members descended, after a short while, many women came down. They looked like adventurers—a typical harem party.
(Well then, time to get to work.)
When Fidel glared at the adventurers, the robed man used his Skill and focused on the man in their center.
The robed man’s eyes widened.
(W-what are these people? And the blue-haired man in the middle is... this guy isn't normal. W-wait, more importantly, the job... Among my Skills, is there a mental type... There is! There is!)
Panicking, the man looked for Vera, the daughter of the Trace family. He spotted her walking this way together with Lyle. The girl, holding a parasol, had her other hand clasped firmly with that of the man—Lyle.
It was obvious from this sight that she was quite smitten.
(That expression is the same as those female adventurers who fall for a handsome, useless face! There’s no mistake! But the Skill... Ah, he’s not using it.)
The robed man shook his head, but Fidel’s face was bright red. He gestured emphatically, clearly trying to make him look over here.
But no matter how many times he looked, the Skill was not being used.
After shaking his head repeatedly, Lyle’s group finally arrived in front of Fidel.
The robed man looked at Lyle.
(...Could this guy be maintaining a harem party without any Skills? Well, I kinda respect that. But he won’t believe me, will he.)
The robed man slumped his shoulders.
A man who had brought beautiful female adventurers was now holding his daughter’s hand as he appeared before her parent.
Moreover, Lyle’s first words were.
"Um, um... Father-in-law?"
"You have no right to call me Father-in-law!"
It was a deliberately provocative remark—.