Be warned the last Skill in this list is only meant for the direst of situations, as taking it will guarantee your Class categories become imbalanced permanently. Given the requirements set by the [Forger] who created it, you would require permission from an adult relative over the age of majority to take it. It is not to be taken lightly.

  As a young noble lady, you will be no stranger to dangers society may present to you. Not all whom you cross paths with will come with good intentions, and if you have considered the options presented by this section, you are in no doubt aware of that. Should your parents or guardians believe you are at risk, enough for the Skill growth penalty to be worth it, listen to them. This way, you may secure yourself some additional time to work through cutthroat politics.

  That was more than a bit dramatic, but Malwine was quite sure the system would just take her word for it—it recognized her full age, after all. She might have been a toddler in body, but she was still more than grown enough to make impulsive decisions that would affect her in the long run!

  The Skill wasn’t even something Malwine could fully comprehend, at least not with the mere snippet the book provided.

  But it was Legendary.

  If only [Enforced Longevity] were a Skill, it would have fit in perfectly with the survival theme [Unpacifiable] had started. But Malwine figured it was probably under for a reason.

  She barely dignified the other Skills with a mere glance. [Beyond Adaptable] was either just a more effective version of the other passive bonus Skills she’d seen, or the Adaptability equivalent of such a Skill was, well, rarer.

  A quick check-up with reality told her the coast remained clear, though Abelard and Thekla had struck up a conversation with strangers nearby. Malwine didn't put much effort into looking at much else, getting back to work.

  The humor in [Lasting Soul]’s description almost had her taken aback. Whoever had authored this particular book seemed considerably more affable than the author of a certain book she’d recently read, but they’d been serious and dramatic at most so far. Considering the warning that followed these four options, that gave Malwine confidence that the description’s must have been the [Forger]’s work, not the author’s.

  Not that Malwine disagreed—indeed, why would anyone use this?

  Though maybe I should ask you why you put it in here…

  She almost hoped there was a credits section waiting for her in the end—there certainly hadn’t been any names mentioned in the earlier pages—just so she could learn who or what this [Forger] was.

  As for the third option, even after being reincarnated and learning of resurrections, she refused to dwell upon the existence of a soul, let alone on the fact that it could apparently be attacked. At least she was fairly certain the Legendary Skill would cover it too.

  If whatever soul attacks were wouldn’t be considered a threat of severe spiritual harm, what ever could be?

  Malwine suppressed a chuckle as she reread the description of [Enforced Longevity] for what felt like the millionth time. Technically, it had just confirmed what she’d been telling herself all this time. It used socially as its fourth term. Though I don’t know how I would have taken it if they’d said wordily, really.

  It was quite the novel experience. Unlike before, there was no true hesitation. There were no scenarios in which she didn’t take [Enforced Longevity].

  Besides… if she was right and—in placing multiple Traits elsewhere—she had already fucked up, what difference would it make? To her understanding, these books were solely about Skills, not Traits. Even if she wanted to fix that eventually, it certainly wouldn’t get done today.

  But it wasn’t the vague promises of enhanced defense or boosts to Acclimation—let alone whatever mana transfers were—that convinced Malwine she absolutely needed this Skill.

  Not even the fact that it was Legendary.

  Offers temporary reprieve from debuffs and penalties.

  That was what had her. It was that line that made that distant echo of hope course through her.

  For all she would have tried to convince herself she was debating it and weighing her options under other circumstances, Malwine knew from the moment she saw that, that there would be no other choice she’d make. Even if grabbing a Legendary Skill could cause issues for her.

  Did nobles often encounter the same kinds of problems that she did? That might explain why the Skill was even in this book to begin with, but… It was almost too convenient.

  She really, really wished she could get away with asking Bernie where she got these books from. Between them being geared towards noble ladies and the fact that she’d spent this long looking over defensive options, Malwine was pretty sure there had to be a history to this.

  Focusing on the Skill, Malwine tried to take it.

  Her idea didn’t unnerve her so much as the fact that she was confident it would probably work. But it’s alright…, she tried to soothe herself. It was no different than back in her first life, the personas she put up for the roles she played online. Everyone had two or more versions of themselves, anyway.

  Malwine took a deep breath, then went for it, requesting permission from the one even the system claimed she ‘inherited’ from.

  I, the widow of Hebenstreit, as old as nearly 130 of this world’s cycles, give Malwine Rīsanin permission to slot the Legendary Skill [Enforced Longevity].

  …Please work.

  Dizziness slammed into her as the panel manifested.

  Holy fuck.

  Malwine had considered many of her Skills to be bordering on downright broken before, but none such as this. [Enforced Longevity] deserved its Legendary rarity.

  A notification distracted her from her rejoicing.

  Huh. That was fast, I guess?

  Malwine gaped at the panel in somewhat mute acceptance, trying not to think of the implications. She knew her circumstances were beyond problematic, but…

  It was getting out of hand, and did not appear intent on stopping. Malwine loved getting Skill levels as much as anyone could—especially with how long had passed since she’d initially leveled—but the immediate and fast increase of a Skill stated to level depending on ‘how serious a threat its holder may be under’, was not an encouraging development, welcome as the levels were.

  By the time the Skill stopped rushing through its levels, Malwine could only sigh in mock annoyance.

  Really? Just a 10? I’d say the threats out there are more severe than that! Have you seen those creepy elves?! Could at least get me to 1750 total while you’re at it… Her string of mental complaints ended with how, maybe, it would be good for it not to develop an Aspect from her current status.

  No new notifications followed.

  Malwine huffed. What a let-down! She shook her head softly, no longer complaining in earnest. The levels were great, and she was pretty sure her 59th level would grant her the full 1k attribute points regardless of which Skill she leveled next.

  I wonder what the mitigation would look like?

  That was a thought she regretted the moment she felt the Skill activate, for the longest ten seconds she had ever experienced.

  She suppressed a gasp.

  Unassigned: 1000

  ...

  Unassigned: 1000

  It was a disorienting feeling that refused to fade away quickly, time drawn out—by what, she didn’t know. Some attributes, like Strength and Circulation, had obvious differences about them, the contrast sudden and distinct enough that Malwine could simply understand.

  The stone bench beneath her no longer felt solid. If she hit it, its surface would crack, and she would remain unscathed. Perhaps there had been some merit to her initial attempts to keep her attributes balanced, even if Katrina’s trial had made Endurance her highest.

  She could feel {Legacy} as it flowed through her. It did not simply manifest, it did not simply exist, but instead bloomed from the shadow of that which a dead, bitter centenarian had been. Or at least thought she had been.

  The strangest part was how meaningless some of this would be—how much would ten seconds of a mere 5k attributes do when she was this small?

  Malwine immediately chastised herself. It might have been less than what she had in some attributes nowadays, before the penalty applied, but it was much.

  She just had no idea how to put it to use.

  All she could think of was to look around herself.

  Strangers surrounded them still, but in the instant it took her to turn her head, [Identify] triggered without conscious effort.

  The words flowed through her, almost as if she were processing them in the background. She felt a pang of annoyance at Abelard’s high core stage before she’d even read what the Trait told her.

  The others were further than the ‘couple’ sitting next to her on the bench, the conversation apparently done. They started to walk away, but Malwine could reach them still. She’d glanced at two of them, information flowing freely to her—

  —before [Unpacifiable] started screaming.

  It wasn’t the sensation Malwine associated with danger. Be it due to instinct or the now-confirmed synergy between [Enforced Longevity] and [Unpacifiable], she understood this wasn't a matter of being in danger. It was a different kind of warning, the other type [Unpacifiable] singled out for its effect. Not a threat. Just a worrying possibility.

  All she'd done was take a look at her attributes, glanced at people in passing, yet the ten seconds that ended then had been the longest of her life.

  The world became dull and quiet again.

  Taking a deep breath, Malwine brought up the Skill's description in a rush.

  That had been it. In that instant in which she could access more of her attributes, get more out of her Perception, [Unpacifiable] had warned her of something that could trigger negative status effects.

  A someone, she suspected.

  As for her certainty about its synergy with [Enforced Longevity], a notification that had flown past her had told her as much.

  It was almost funny—the first time she’d gotten to see how a Skill evolution might go, not only had it been caused by the only Legendary Skill she had or even knew of, but it had happened—and failed—almost immediately after getting it.

  Malwine found she was still blinking rapidly. The entire experience had been bizarre—she supposed either the extent of the change or how sudden it was must have played a factor. Did people usually feel like that when they dumped points into their attributes? Malwine had never noticed any considerable difference before, not really, but she had technically barely been increasing her attributes after the penalty applied.

  As for the cost, well…

  That’s a ‘small’ amount of overflow? Malwine gulped. Just how big could these numbers get down the line?

  She’d been reckless to test it in public, but how was she supposed not to? The Skill had simply been too lucky a find, too tempting. It was a possible—if temporary—solution to what had to be her earliest problem in this life. The fact that it would also apply to debuffs even meant it would still be valuable after she got rid of the curse someday. Plus it was a defensive Skill, anyway—Malwine felt an almost intrinsic trust in it, much like how she rarely felt fear while [Unpacifiable] remained silent.

  It might be a problem down the line, to rely so much on Skills when there were undoubtedly counters out there, but the two Skills she’d gotten so far were meant to be defensive anyway. Even if books like these were typical for whatever the ‘young noble girl’ standard was, leveling them should provide a good buffer, if she had to contend with an offensive Skill later on.

  Not to mention, Malwine had learned something from using the Skill, beyond getting to see how far it could go—there was something strange around.

  Which one of them had caused that?

  Malwine wasn’t sure what executor stood for in this world—she’d only ever encountered that in wills during her past life. People in this world could be resurrected, but judging by the mana costs on Katrina’s obit, she doubted it happened often unless the maximum [Toll] had some top-tier exponential growth on the higher levels.

  And how long would it take the average person to get to that point, if they started at 10 attribute points per level? Even spending everything on Circulation…

  If the baseline was five Skills per category—or six for otherworlders, apparently—that’d mean people started limited to 1000 or 1200 Lifetime Skill Levels. Otherworlders probably got the same bonus she did in addition to that—Malwine still had no idea how the system calculated that, but she wasn’t about to complain about the free ride to 1750.

  Starting with 7 meant Malwine could reach that 1750 mark before it was even supposed to be possible. For all she hated math, she was fairly certain 28 Skill slots with a Skill level cap at 50 would leave her quite a bit off from that.

  How do people gain more Skill slots? Vaguely, she recalled she’d read about core stages providing an improvement there, but in a great display of hypocrisy, Malwine had forgotten to write down the source, and she wasn’t even sure if she’d read it today or on any other book-browsing session. If you’re relying only on earned levels, that’d mean what, 9 slots minimum?

  All-in-all, that probably spelled doom for the viability of the average person getting resurrected. If Circulation was low, [Toll] would only grow with time, and though Malwine was delving into the realms of wild speculation by now, she knew enough to recognize when she’d gotten completely sidetracked.

  As curious as she was about this executor, when faced with two alternatives, the one with the hidden level would always be the most conspicuous.

  Nevermind that I’m pretty sure that’s how [Reveal Nothing] displays my level, too.

  The executor might have been the closest thing to a real older woman Malwine thought she’d seen in this life. Lady Margreth wasn’t young, and she got the impression Kristian had to be in his 50s or 60s by the standards of the widow’s world, but neither of them really looked as though they cared. They walked with a frankly impressive type of impunity.

  Meanwhile, the executor walked hunched over, carrying herself with the mannerisms of a woman downtrodden from the woes of age, despite her high level. Anyone Malwine still couldn’t grab the level from had to either have a way to block it, or be over Level 106—and 106 didn’t seem easy to get to, judging by how Kristian seemed to be the only real high level of the family.

  The other man had been unremarkable, aside from having the type of long silver hair you’d only really find in fantasyland. Malwine had to admit she had her biases—as the widow, she had looked into Rupert’s ancestry. Mostly for Yoyo’s sake, but she wouldn’t deny foreign sources amused her to no end. They represented new shorthand systems to learn, new records to peruse. It was through that that the widow had run into a weird amount of stories about the corruption of forest officials, and in turn, she immediately distrusted anyone with the title forester.

  It was a difficult call to make—she believed her suspicions justified, but there was no denying her bias.

  …In any case, the two had been together. Malwine saw little reason to not watch out for both—whoever they were—even if she thought only one of them had been what triggered that secondary layer to [Unpacifiable].

  “Honored guests!” Bernadette’s voice appeared to come from all directions—it was honestly a bit creepy. “As my daughter wishes to retire to make her choices, the celebrations shall come to an end within the hour. I once again give you my utmost…”

  Malwine tuned the speech out, her concerns far more important than that. Oh, no. The books were going to move.

  Great, I love having to rush through decisions! Malwine huffed.

  She supposed choosing [Shieldwork] was bound to happen.

  But mostly, that meant the time had come for Malwine to come to terms with that old annoyance, for better or worse.