Growth confirmed, having let Novem and Aria — and the ancestors — witness the most cringe-worthy version of myself, I visited the Jewel’s council room as promised.
Unusual for him, the First was standing in front of his own door.
And today, the Second was sitting at the chair.
“Rare. You being here, Second.”
The Second answered short.
“Yeah.”
The First was smiling.
Had they argued again? — I asked.
“Another fight? What was it this time?”
The First shook his head.
“Always fighting, am I? We talked about old times a bit, and said what we wanted to say. Right, let’s go, Lyle. — Oh.”
He opened the door to his room, and at the end called to the Second.
“Take care of the rest, Crassel (Second).”
The Second just flicked his right hand in a small wave. An unusual exchange.
(They’re always fighting. Odd.)
I stepped through the door with the First. An old streetscape spread out.
Some of the cobbles were broken.
The style was old. House Walt’s Vise territory looked more developed than this.
People walked, going about their daily lives.
But—
“Can’t touch?”
I tried to dodge a man who’d come straight at me, and my shoulder went through the wall.
No sensation.
“This is my recollection — a memory. Touchable things are limited, and talking to them goes nowhere. Come on.”
I followed the First down a busy main street.
A place I’d never seen, definitely.
(Old family estate? No — for a First-era memory, the scale is off. Busy in a town-or-city way.)
By territorial scale, the estate in the First’s day shouldn’t have been this developed.
Walking behind him, the wide street narrowed.
Four- and five-story buildings closed in, almost cutting off the sky. The path was thin.
No smell, but the road was dirty.
“Where are we?”
“Ah? The royal capital, Central. About 200 years ago, maybe.”
I was surprised.
“200 years ago!”
“Don’t be surprised. I was born around year 50 of the kingdom calendar. It’s year 300 now, isn’t it? About that, yeah, sounds right.”
“R-right.”
I’d never been to Central. So this is what it’s like, I thought, walking.
Past the alley, a residential block of single-family houses.
“Where’s this?”
“My family home. The alley was the shortcut.”
When he said that, I—
(So the official-court-noble Walts are here in the capital… no current relation, I’d been told.)
I’d been told the line had broken off and ceased contact.
Even if they were court-nobles, a knight-rank wouldn’t be in a position to claim kinship with a Count-rank rural Walt house.
After all, the Walts in the capital were knight-rank.
Nobility, but the bottom tier — without an office.
“What are we doing here? Something you want to show me?”
The First nodded silently.
His eyes were on a point.
A young man, just under twenty, holding a large parcel, watching a red-haired woman — Alice — from a distance.
”…That’s me.”
“Eh — liar!”
Hard not to be surprised. The First’s young self looked like a nice young man. Hair tidy, no beard.
None of the First’s barbarian style.
“Not lying! I’d see her around — Lady Alice — and I’d set my heart on, someday I’d climb out of being the knight-rank’s third son and come back to bring her home!”
Surprisingly, he’d had a pure side.
The scene shifted.
There, his younger self was looking at a pioneer-corps recruitment flyer pasted to a wall.
He shouted.
“This is it! I climb with this — and bring Lady Alice home!”
He ran off, happy.
“That was the time. The blue gem on sale — that’s when I bought it. The others were expensive, but the blue one wasn’t popular, so it was cheap. — In our time there were no Magic Implements; if you wanted a Skill, you bought a Gem. I learned later you have to record the Skill or it’s pointless.”
He bought the Jewel because it was unpopular and cheap—.
A characteristically First reason.
“Better than nothing, right? Though — I really wanted a red one.”
His younger self picked up the cheap blue gem and looked longingly at the unaffordable red and yellow ones.
The First watched himself with a sour expression.
“This might have been the mistake. Though — I didn’t have options. Court-nobility, knight-rank, third son with no post — a money-eater living on a pension. I hated that home. I’d be independent, become someone. …That was the idea.”
The scene swapped again. Some years had jumped.
In a Central tavern, the younger First — more rough-edged now — was drinking and crying.
”…What happened?”
”…Came back to Central briefly. The village had taken shape; I figured I’d propose to Lady Alice.”
The result — I knew.
Alice, Aria’s ancestor, married into House Rockward.
“I’d seriously given up on everything around then.”
“Yeah, it shows.”
The young First in front of us drank and reordered, crying.
When I heard him mutter that he’d drunk through the money he’d brought as betrothal funds, I wanted to hold my head.
(You can’t just do that all of a sudden. Get a conversation going, build a bridge first… and on top of that, the rank gap — front-gate refusal.)
A love across stations.
Fate didn’t intersect by a single millimeter; the First’s first love ended.
The scene reset. A pastoral landscape — pastoral, but in the middle of it a heated brawl.
Barbarian-style young First was fistfighting a similarly-pelt-clad barbarian.
”…What’s this?”
“Mn? Oh — that. There were guys who didn’t bow to the kingdom, on the same ground that overlapped my territory. So somebody had to decide whose land it was, right?”
“You don’t decide that with a fistfight like it’s—… oh, he won.”
Young First punched through, roared. The surrounding barbarians dropped to their knees.
The man he’d been fighting knelt before him.
“Nostalgic. By this point I’d given up thinking and was just doing the work.”
Time advanced. A slightly older First was outdoor-feasting on liquor.
He shouted.
“The woman I’ll wed — beautiful and healthy, hardy! And smart and with beautiful skin! Anything else is irrelevant! This is House Walt’s precept!”
Drunk-momentum, dropping an absurd line.
The First looked at his own image and sighed.
“That time… I didn’t want to marry anymore. Couldn’t believe there was a woman better than Lady Alice.”
“You — really bad. Generations of heirs end up burning over this, you know?”
”…You think anybody takes drunk-talk seriously?”
He said it — but the citizens listening at the banquet were treating his pronouncement seriously.
Whose daughter satisfies the conditions?
My daughter’s stupid.
My sister isn’t hardy.
— and so on, in serious discussion.
In the middle of it, one apparently-sane man. Older than the First, hand to his forehead with a troubled expression.
His clothes were better than the citizens’, and he carried real weight.
“Ah, this is Pops. Held territory nearby, taught me a lot of things. Eventually, he’d use his connections to bring me a wife.”
Pops — would be the contemporary head of House Fuchs.
I felt bad for the sane-looking Pops getting put through it because of the First.
“You were already leaning on House Fuchs back then. How much do you think House Walt owes them, total?”
“He was a good man.”
He shrugged off my dig. I sighed.
The scene shifted. A somewhat-larger village was on fire.
The First in the memory held the greatsword, facing a monster — a dragon-variant with grey skin, powerful jaws, large forelimbs.
The greatsword’s length alone was as tall as a man.
“That sword…”
I immediately understood: the sword that had emerged when I’d gripped the Jewel was the same.
“A monster this big came to the village. Even mustering every able man, we couldn’t take it. So I stepped up.”
The First, greatsword in hand, called out the Skill name and engaged.
He cut the more-than-double-his-size monster down by force with the swung greatsword, and blew it back.
The figure was, truly, a hero.
“Full Burst… my trump card. Brings my own ability up two- or fivefold.”
“Eh? That much? When I used it, it didn’t seem that much… and — pushing your ability up that high, isn’t there a backlash?”
“Huh? Don’t know, don’t care! Demerits — ignore. Ignore!”
A characteristically First opinion. Wry smile.
“Stockpile mana day-to-day; ignite it at the moment of use. Stockpile equals ability multiplier. For me it was a month or so for 2x to 3x. For you — faster.”
The First and I had wildly different mana pools.
From the Fifth onward, with sorcerer bloodlines mixed in, the line truly became aristocracy that uses magic.
In the memory, the First eventually beheaded the dragon-variant and won.
A child ran up to him.
— Probably the Second.
”…This was the moment, maybe. This kid says Dad’s amazing, and I got into it. Up till then I hadn’t done a single father-like thing, and I hadn’t given my wife an easy life either. So I thought, I want to leave them something.”
Child-Second was a boy idolizing his father’s valor.
Time advanced again.
The village had grown more — but my impression was:
“This is… ridiculous.”
”…”
The First went silent.
In the memory, the First was farming. A grown Second was shouting at him.
“That’s enough! Expanding the fields like a maniac… and now the citizens are fighting each other over it! Think a little!”
The scene moved forward. Now we were inside the manor.
The manor the First had lived in was unbelievably plain compared to House Walt now.
The First, hoe in hand, was heading outside; the Second silently passed him.
Neither met the other’s eyes.
”…I was wrong. I’d wanted to leave them something, but what I left was problems.”
The unplanned-expanded fields, the citizen-on-citizen disputes — the First silenced them with charisma and force.
The hardest worker was the lord — Basil Walt — and no one defied the village’s hero-savior.
But the discontent flowed to the Second.
“So they had something to eat — I cleared forest, expanded fields… and by the time I noticed, what I’d left was nothing but problems. Nobody complained to me. The complaints went to the Second.”
“First…”
“In life I ignored him to the end. Here, when he started complaining at me… honestly, I was glad. Father-son fighting had only happened when the Second was a kid.”
The daily Second-First snapping at each other had been better than what they’d had before, apparently.
The First and the Second were both clumsy.
Back to the dragon-variant scene.
“My era was just recovering from the chaos, climbing toward better life. War wiped out villages, but pioneering was open. Still — food was scarce. Trouble eating wasn’t unusual.”
Tough times — I’d heard.
House Walt had had a rough pioneer-village stretch, my father had told me — back when he was still kind.
He’d said the First, leading the village, was a great man.
Reasons aside, the First was great.
“Lyle. Have you ever had trouble eating?”
Honestly — no.
Even when the family kept me at arm’s length, meals came out.
When I was kicked out, Zel and Novem were there — I never went hungry.
(He’s going to be angry.)
A luxury. To the First, who’d had trouble eating, Lyle who never starved even when kicked out was not a pleasant sight.
And me being mopey and weak — he’d want to yell at that too.
”…No. I haven’t starved. I’ve been hungry, but even then I could eat.”
I braced for something — but the First turned and was smiling.
“That so. Then good. My descendants aren’t going hungry. So what I did wasn’t wasted! Good thing to hear, right at the end!”
The smiling First took out — from where, I don’t know — the greatsword and held it out to me.
The silver-shining sword from that moment—.
The greatsword that had cut the red orc in one stroke.
“I’ll teach you the final Skill properly. When you used it, things were too hectic. The Skill’s name is [Full Burst]. Releases stockpiled mana all at once, ability up explosively. Try it on that one.”
The First pointed at the dragon-variant.
It couldn’t fly, and was only somewhat dragon-shaped — but a dragon is a dragon.
A dangerous opponent.
“Eh? But — I haven’t stockpiled mana.”
The First placed a hand on my head. Roughly mussed my hair — and power flowed in.
“Even I could do it. You can do it better… go!”
He slapped my back, sending me forward.
Staggering, I stepped out; the previously-still dragon in the memory began to move. The memory-First had vanished.
“Honestly. Always sudden. Try being the one being jerked around!”
I gripped the greatsword, started running, swung.
There was no way I should be able to swing this thing — but Skill effect, it swung easily.
(A Skill like this with no downside — that’s just cheating.)
The dragon tried to stomp me with the big foreleg. I retreated, used magic.
“Fire Bullet!”
Fire bullets fired from my fingertips in succession — but each was extremely powerful.
They hit the dragon and exploded, flinching the huge body, pushing it back.
I cast the second spell.
Partly to check the output. With Skill-augmented ability, how strong—
“Lightning!”
Violet lightning struck the dragon. The surroundings flashed bright.
The light was from the magic, but the attack power surprised even me.
Beyond what I’d imagined.
“This… I need to handle this carefully or it gets bad.”
The kind of output that could catch allies — I broke out in a cold sweat. I ran, leapt.
The blackened dragon swung its head left-right looking for me.
But at that moment I was — above its head.
Brought the greatsword down. Blew the head off.
The same finishing strike as the First’s.
The Skill ran out; the greatsword went very heavy and I stuck it in the ground. Gripping the hilt, I rested my weight on it.
“As expected… rough.”
The First walked over, smiling.
“That much is plenty! As expected of my descendant.”
I steadied my breath, lifted my weight off, shouldered the greatsword.
The First raised his right hand.
I caught his meaning and raised mine the same way. The greatsword went into my left hand, planted in the ground.
The First and I high-fived, hard.
Hand stung — felt good.
“Lyle. — You. Decided on a goal?”
He’d asked. I remembered every conversation we’d had. I didn’t answer. He smiled and murmured “Whatever, it’s fine.”
“You decide what you do. Set up independent somewhere. Found a village, become a lord. Make your name as an adventurer. Live quiet with Novem-chan, that’s not bad either. I’d like you to care about Aria-chan too, mind. And — you could even challenge Ceres.”
Challenge Ceres — my chest tightened.
The fear came back.
The First sounded expectant.
“If anyone can stop her, it might be you. — Well, do as you like. The rest you can hear from the others.”
“Eh?”
“My role ends here. I’ve passed on what I wanted to pass on, and you’ll be all right with the rest. Way more dependable than me.”
I couldn’t follow.
Or — I just didn’t want to admit it. That the First would leave me, just like that.
I held him back.
“Wait, please. I still need the First’s — Basil Walt’s — advice! Help me on instinct like usual! The First’s instincts have been huge!”
My voice was almost crying.
I didn’t even know why I was almost crying.
“I don’t have knowledge or technique. — And on instinct, the Second is no slouch. After all, he’s my son. — Oh, you’re my descendant too!”
BWAHAHA, he laughed. The impression: nothing left undone.
“In the end, we’re just memories Skills left behind. The actual person is dead. The Skill in the Jewel — that’s us… once everything’s passed on, this is what happens.”
Pass it on, and they vanish. They stop being here.
“Did you… know?”
My voice trembled.
The First shook his head.
“No, just a sense. I can feel it… they seem to half-sense it too. Ask them for the details.”
I reached out. The First said:
“My Skill is yours now. Use it however you like, Lyle… and don’t lose.”
Don’t lose to what?
I started to ask — and the surroundings shifted before the words came out.
In the usual Jewel room, my hand was reaching toward where the First’s door had been.
The Second, feet up on the table, called.
“Don’t cry. Unsightly.”
“Eh?”
Touching my face — I was crying.
“Everything passed on. His role’s done.”
“B-but! It’s a Jewel, right? Then why this form?! If it was just passing things on, the gem could do that! What does appear here, then vanish even mean!”
The Second answered flatly.
”…The gem doesn’t pass on everything. Without grasping the Skill in full, only part is usable. We’re here to teach you Skills. We exist for that. Did you know? Our memories end at the point we last touched the gem. Meaning — only up to passing the gem to the next generation.”
I went speechless.
The ancestors existed only to teach me Skills. Or — the Skills had taken on the ancestors’ shapes.
“Talking with you cleanly should have been a red flag too. Our language is at least 200 years old. You said you struggle reading old books — but we can converse with you no problem. Why do you think?”
I came to the answer.
There was no other way it’d work.
To pass Skills on, the ancestors were matching my speech. Different era, different phrasing.
Look at old books — vocabulary changes, popular turns of phrase change. Languages drift. And yet we conversed fine.
Because the Jewel had something to transmit to me.
— That was the Jewel’s role.
“You see? Right. We exist solely to pass Skills to you. Method of use, and effective application.”
I noticed the greatsword had left my hand.
It was floating where the First had sat.
The chair was gone, the door gone… over the table, where he’d been sitting.
The silver greatsword, blue gem set in the guard.
The greatsword itself was the First’s mark of acknowledgment.
“Why — then why did you… if it was just passing on, just do that, why get this involved, why make me hurt over this!”
At the start, I’d disliked it.
Mouthy, just a nuisance — I’d thought that.
But… they’d taught me a lot.
They’d accepted me.
And now—
I collapsed where I stood. The Second said:
“We’d want the same. But — not just memory, the heart was recorded. Couldn’t just leave you. And the First — Basil Walt — entrusted you to us.”
Couldn’t leave me alone, the Second said. I didn’t know how to answer.
Pathetic.
To the very end I couldn’t even tell the First my goal — and parted from him, looking pathetic.
”…Will I meet him again?”
“If you have a next holder, possible. You’ll be on our side, then. Whether we remember the current memories — unknown. Few benefits to remembering. We’d just need to pass on the use and name of the Skill.”
I’d never see the First again.
The me recorded in the Jewel would be my Skill, not the actual me.
The Second.
“Meeting like this at all is the miracle. Our line passed down the blue Jewel, and you took it on. Lyle, don’t grieve… be proud. By that man… by my father, you were acknowledged. Stand tall.”
I woke in the real world.
“Lord Lyle, are you all right?”
”…Novem?”
Lying on the bed, I looked up at Novem, worried.
We slept in separate rooms — but she was in mine.
“You sounded like you were in distress. — Or… you seemed to be crying, so I came in.”
I wiped my face, wiped the tears.
I forced a smile and aimed it at her.
“I’m all right. A sad dream — but I feel clear now.”
“A sad dream?”
Novem tilted her head and offered me a water-dampened towel.
I took it, wiped my face, told myself:
(Crying forever — the First will actually get angry. I’m a man Basil Walt — the founder of rural-noble House Walt — acknowledged.)
In retrospect — barbarian style, sometimes tyrannical.
But, no doubt, a dependable man.
And, ironically, despite hating me most, he was the first to truly acknowledge me.
(He acknowledged me.)
“Shall I bring something warm to drink?”
Novem looked worried, so I nodded.
“Yeah. Let’s drink something together.”
“Yes.”
She went to prepare. I called after her.
“Novem… thanks.”
She looked a little puzzled, then smiled and nodded.
“What’s the matter today, Lord Lyle?”
“Felt like saying it. Nothing deeper.”
I got out of bed and went to the kitchen with her.