The trait I’ve relied on until now, the “Prodigy,” is a god-like trait that increases the number of attainable proficiencies.
In RPGs, skills that affect the amount of experience points gained can throw off the balance between players, which is why skills that increase or decrease experience points often don’t exist. However, there are rare systems where such skills do exist. For instance, in some early games, you could acquire an extra skill or the experience points required for leveling up would be slightly cheaper.
Similarly, this Prodigy trait boosted my proficiency accumulation until “adulthood” as a sign of precociousness. System-wise, it might have also been a flavor element to reduce the awkwardness of building a high-level character at a young age when creating a character from scratch.
Regardless, this world isn’t virtual, and it’s different from the TRPG world where balance must be maintained regardless of whether you’re older or younger. The important thing is that while I’ve been granted TRPG-like abilities, I’m not actually living inside a game.
If I miss this, I might veer far off the path. Though the gods blessed me with convenience, I’ve already learned from my life so far that things don’t always go as planned.
Let’s get back to the topic. The characteristic literally gave me a god-like proficiency correction until adulthood. It was quite expensive, but it lived up to its name, bestowing great benefits upon me. I can’t specify the exact multiplier, but judging by my growth rate as a child, without the divine grace of the Prodigy trait, I’d likely be at only two-thirds of my current level now.
However, I’ll reach adulthood next autumn, and it’s time to retire the Prodigy. Thus, it’s now the season to explore new traits that provide proficiency corrections.
Until now, I’ve been used to acquiring proficiencies with a correction. Without a doubt, in the future, the regular rate of proficiency acquisition will feel insufficient; it’s like once you’ve tasted something amazing, you can never be satisfied with ordinary things again.
…No, no, my thoughts are straying again. When I have some free time, I need to figure out how to make peace with this young body of mine.
So, I realized the shelf life of the Prodigy would expire last autumn when Lady Agrippina muttered, “Oh, you’re already becoming an adult next year?”
Yeah, I had simply forgotten about it because it had always been around. There was no alert to notify me that I had about a year left.
What’s bothering me now is that I’ve just made a significant purchase, and my wallet is practically empty. I had enough left to acquire some traits or skills, but not enough for something as costly as another Prodigy-level acquisition.
Eugh, I broke out in a cold sweat. If I don’t secure a suitable replacement within about a year, there’ll definitely be a loss in terms of unspent time. While losing some time isn’t a big deal relatively in life, from a perfectionist data manager’s perspective, there’s bound to be some regret of “If only I hadn’t lost out then…” This regret could linger and result in an unsatisfactory character sheet in the end.
I must avoid that at all costs.
With about a year left, given my lack of luck in life, I’m sure I’ll get involved in something and manage to gain enough proficiency.
Now, let’s talk about what kind of trait to acquire… This is the dilemma.
The most obvious choice would be the “Genius” trait. However, this trait requires you to specialize in a certain field, meaning you choose a genre to gain it in.
The key feature of “Genius” compared to “Prodigy” is that it reduces the proficiency needed for growth in the chosen field. If you’ve selected the right field, the benefits can make it relatively easy to reach both the Divine Realm and Divine Favorite, and they’re immense.
Moreover, as a trait with genre specifications, it can be叠加multiple times. You can have “Genius of ○○” and “Genius of ■■” concurrently, which is undeniably powerful.
Up to this point, “Genius” could be seen as a powerful trait on par with “Prodigy,” allowing anyone who picked it to effortlessly become a strong character. But only up to here.
The “Genius” trait has one disadvantage: each acquisition increases the necessary proficiency for growth in fields outside of the selected one.
People who excel in one thing are often disastrously bad at others. Whether it’s Einstein with his theory of relativity, von Neumann with his computer work, or Tesla with his contributions to electric power, none of them were entirely great outside their areas of expertise. Perhaps this drawback is represented with that in mind.
It’s not entirely bad, but as a swordsman who uses both magic and swordsmanship and needs to spread proficiency across many areas, and as an adventurer who must undertake various jobs, it doesn’t seem suitable. “Genius” is also not cheap, so acquiring it for both magic and swordsmanship would drain all my proficiency and leave little for anything else.
This is fairly common. Characters who spend too much proficiency on increasing experience point efficiency skills end up weaker overall. Especially in character-building board games, it’s a common pitfall.
Furthermore, for fields other than the one I gain “Genius” in, the required proficiency will also increase, reducing the relative effectiveness. It’s quite a tricky problem.
As a professor at the magic academy, I would have been fine specializing in “Genius of Magic,” but looking to the future, it seems inefficient.
…Hmm, I just received an odd signal. Stop it, please! Is it just my imagination? Yeah. And anyway, since my personality is already established, there wouldn’t be many issues from adopting “Genius” traits, as my personal growth is more or less complete.
Next, there’s the “Academic” trait, which serves as an alternative to “Prodigy” and increases the acquisition of proficiency. However, judging from the required proficiency to obtain it, it seems to have less output than “Prodigy”.
Would “Academic,” which increases proficiency across all fields evenly, beat the specialized “Genius” in their respective areas? The former is better for well-rounded development, while the latter is superior for specialization.
Ugh, it’s a tough choice… How about “Misfortune”? No, it wouldn’t work. Judging by the name, it’s a trait that imposes a harsh debuff on a non-existent fortune status, and it applies to people whose traits only come to fruition after they’ve passed away.
Ah, how about “Late Bloomer”? This is another trait that reduces required proficiency but activates gradually with age, giving a power boost to humans over the age of thirty, which is considered “adult” in the Threefold Empire… Let’s hold off on this decision. While it offers optimal cost-effectiveness if taken at age thirty, it’s not worth going through the trouble now.
Hm… “Sweet Well Fails First”? What was that? An old proverb implying that talented individuals hit their peak early and stagnate quickly, like a well with good water that everyone uses until it runs dry…
Hmm, offering a hefty proficiency bonus in one’s twenties but applying a negative correction in one’s thirties… No, that won’t work. If there was a reset after the correction, taking this before switching to “Large Well” would be perfect, but the system isn’t that lenient.
As I sift through traits affecting proficiency, it’s evident they’re meticulously crafted. Each has its strengths and weaknesses, making it far from a simple system where stacking traits eliminates drawbacks—clearly, thorough balancing and playtesting have taken place.
Ah, so the heroes of the Age of God must have existed during the early stages of debugging and error-corrections. If so, perhaps that’s why stones turned into bread and fish spawned infinitely back then.
Which version are we on now? From a data manager’s perspective, I believe the most optimal use of properly corrected data should be pursued, but there’s also fun in using flawed or underdeveloped initial editions.
Ah, this is interesting: the “Oath-Bearer” trait caught my attention. By setting and adhering to an oath, it offers a trial-like constraint that enhances proficiency—an aptly-named geis. As long as the oath is upheld, divine blessings strengthen, but if broken, penalties exceed the prior benefits. The more challenging the oath, the higher the multiplier, and there are special effects upon completion.
…This is good. An oath that aligns with my aspirations to one day become the kind of adventurer that will be spoken about in stories: “This is the kind of adventurer I want to be.” Even if I falter or die along the way, I wouldn’t need much proficiency anymore, so that’s not bad, right?
But then again, with me being me, there’s always the desire to perform non-efficient acts and cut corners that could ruin the oath’s integrity. Night raids and quick raids are signature adventurer techniques, so it could be challenging for someone with a criminal past that upset a GM so much we assassinated the final boss through forced storytelling.
Perhaps it’s better to settle for “Academic” and get a late boost from “Late Bloomer” when the time comes. Oaths certainly are troublesome. Haven’t they been misused to lead to death? The Celtic heroes all misused their geis and ended up with tragic deaths.
Ah, what’s this? “Radiant Vessel?”
As I scrolled through the list, I came across an unfamiliar trait. Surprisingly, the “Radiant Vessel” trait isn’t directly tied to proficiency increase or requirement values. Instead, it converts trust, praise, or even fear directed at oneself into proficiency points. In simple terms, it converts reputation points into experience points.
In the future, as an adventurer, I’ll constantly be exposed to evaluations from others—whether comrades, employers, peers, or the townsfolk of where I operate. If my exploits become the tales sung by bards…!
This is it! It has no drawbacks, works only if you put effort into it, and is even more affordable paired with “Academic” than “Genius.” In total, it seems very well-suited for me.
Ah, rulebook exploration is truly the best—finding new discoveries and combinations you suddenly remember that could be surprisingly effective.
What a wonderfully rewarding time spent.
Satisfied with that nod, I stretched my neck, looking up at the ceiling, where I met someone’s gaze.
A pair of amethyst-like eyes looked down at me. Alongside fiery orange hair, a face with features so perfectly symmetrical it seemed almost mask-like and devoid of distinct character. A statuesque beauty with a complexion of emotionless brown.
She was deftly perched on the ceiling, supported by “numerous legs” densely sprouting from her “long torso.”
While the serpentine race is well-known for its long bodies, the way she stretched only partially concealed her back suggested she wasn’t a snake person. No, it was a centipede-person. Centipedes, specifically the oversized kind with only their upper limbs resembling humans. A centipede-person.
This species is rare in these parts. Like the spider-persons, they are originally from the southern sea, but due to their poor cold resistance, they tend to colonize warmer regions in the Threefold Empire. So why was such a rare race here?
Ah, the elegance of her attire gave it away. Like me, she too was a servant. Likely here as someone’s maid or guard.
Still, even someone like me, accustomed to seeing various races, involuntarily let out a near scream. It was the combined shock of encountering someone in a place where no one was expected and the impact of such a distinctive appearance.
She was undoubtedly beautiful. However, that body—enhanced by a skirt-like costume—exuded a power of destruction far exceeding its size. It turned out later the extended segments were known as pedipalps, a form of leg.
“Good… evening?”
Somehow, after the initial stiffness, these words came out. Honestly, I’d like to know what the right response is supposed to be here.
“Good evening. It’s a fine night, isn’t it?”
She descended silently, in a manner that seemed appropriate for a slurping sound but made not a peep. She had undoubtedly recognized my presence hidden by Ursula’s abilities.
I didn’t know if it was her skill as a scout or some magic involved, but one thing was certain: she was an opponent not to be underestimated.
“From whose house do you serve?”
Given the exchanged pleasantries, ignoring her wasn’t an option. Correcting my posture on the couch, I enquired, and she skillfully adjusted her lengthy frame, settling what seemed her waist in the chair.
“I am a servant of the Donnersmark Marquis family. I happened to notice someone I’ve never seen before here and couldn’t help but come look. Who might you be serving?”
Her courtly language was flawless, without a single flaw in grammar or pronunciation. Yet, there was one undeniable anomaly—her lips didn’t move at all.
How was she doing that? I knew from my past life that ventriloquists could speak without using their lips, but why was she doing that?
Regardless, seeing no reason to press the matter, I introduced myself. There was no point in withholding my name now, especially since anyone who knew me would immediately recognize that I served Lady Agrippina.
“Ah… the Count of Ubiorum’s”
Her expressionless gaze suggested to me that she had known my identity all along, perhaps sizing me up more than merely observing me.
We exchanged a couple of polite, harmless words before Lady Agrippina’s voice reached my mind through telepathy. Weary, it instructed me to prepare the carriage for retreat.
Checking the time confirmed I’d been deeply engrossed in considering a successor to “Prodigy.” I hadn’t noticed how long I’d been under observation.
“Excuse me, my master has summoned me.”
“Yes, forgive me for startling you. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”
Standing to bid farewell, I saw her expression shift for the first time. A faint, constructed smile revealed not teeth but folded mandibles inside her mouth.
Ah, so she was trained to communicate without exposing her intimidating mandibles. It must conflict with the aristocratic sense of beauty in public settings.
Oh, truly unsavory, Lady Agrippina.
I finished my tasks quietly and assisted Lady Agrippina in tidying up after she returned from the workshop. Having waited so long, I was tipped, indicating tonight’s gathering had been rather challenging.
Upon inquiring, the reply elicited a furrowed brow.
“This evening involved trouble with the Donnersmark Marquis. She doesn’t seem to enjoy hiring prospectors for her fief’s mines. Also, our connections with the magic academy’s conversation may have ruffled feathers concerning a certain matter.”
As anticipated. Reporting the waiting room incident, she nonchalantly flicked her fingers and tied her hair into a chignon. Then, she ticked off a list of unfamiliar noble houses.
“So, these various illustrious families?”
“Those trying to recruit and potentially escalating matters into physical confrontations?”
Involuntary groaning escaped me. It was a parade of prestigious names, familiar to hearsay, as well as some outright grand ones I’d never encountered before.
“Rising newcomers not affiliated with any noble factions have it tough. Even small houses can tip political power balances, so they’re relentless in their efforts to recruit.”
Even more so in the position of a Palace Count, she added offhandedly, discarding her coat and automatically loosening her shoes and attire. She sprawled across the couch, her decadent evening dress disheveled, and clutched her favorite pipe with an evil grin.
“Well, our hand is strong. We’ll skillfully utilize everything to our advantage. The Divine Favor endorsed by the Emperor isn’t for nothing, after all.”
She sure does have a wicked expression. As wicked as when she learned Eliza was a half-fairy and decided to recruit her. That’d scare any child into crying.
“Alright, prepare the bath, would you? Maybe add some roses. And the perfumed oil… you decide.”
“Understood, my lady.”
The smoke swirling around me sapped my will to protest. Well, as long as she’s motivated, things will turn out however they’re meant to. Concerning myself with it would be meaningless….
【Tips】 Centipede-People. A humanoid species originating from warm southern regions, widely distributed except in the cold northern regions. They are characterized by long bodies consisting of multiple body segments and many legs sprouting from the sides of these segments, allowing them to crawl on ceilings and walls without issue.
The inner orifice contains a second set of jaws—mandibles—that enable them to crush hard exoskeletons for a diverse diet. Some even carry poison. As a result, in certain tribes of the Threefold Empire, there’s a culture of discouraging opening one’s mouth to avoid appearing intimidating.
Back to scheduled daily updates! Always thankful for your kind comments and RTs.
I’ve been delighted to receive book purchase reports too.
It’s inspiring to write!
When inspiration strikes, I can’t help inserting mini-plots into the story here and there.
My storywriting typically starts with the ending and opening chapters coming to me simultaneously, and I build the story by piecing together the blanks between them. This block-structured system allows for flexible insertions without hindering the flow too much…
However, this habit combined with my tendency to endlessly stretch the text into infinitude hinders the story’s progress far too much.
It’s time I rein myself in.
Thank you all for reading!
