My Parasite Skill System

The swordsman was chatting. Idly chatting. He talked in circles. What he needed to convey wasn't certainly clear.

The words, the intonations, the gestures … where was this all going?

Or, more importantly, why am I even to listen to that? I mean, I should just go already, no?

Bullying and tormenting the crap out of himself, first–but then, just go. I had other important business, after all. By this day, I must've been from among the big people already.

"Heh~, how unfair that is to me. How unfair you are to me, younger brother. … But that's what I'm about anyway–that 'fun' you exhibit, I … let's say I want it as a disciple.

"… I told you you had to, anyhow. I'm not messing around with you. I'm for real. A hundred percent real. You'll have to enroll in.

"But that isn't so important. Rather allow me to hop onto that again–skills, a system, a guide … or even bats points?–won't you tell me about all this, eh? I'm curious."

Oh, and … did he actually mean to say 'stat points' instead of 'bats' points or whatever?

Well, going from there, I know just what to do. Up till now, I didn't quite believe my old man all right … but he turns out to be right. Wasn't he always the geezer to tell me not to reveal–in absolutely all cases–any details regarding 'myself' whatsoever?

Old Sipping always seemed to know about 'myself.' It must be his high age and grand wisdom that allowed him to be doing that.

And again, it strikes! 'I enjoin you to carefulness, young man, to carefulness and prudence, whenever your quality is of topic!' he so often said. 'And if you do not–do you enjoy bullying and torments?–only troubles should come out of it.'

That swordsman seems to know a little; there he goes starting to bully me already!

"So…?" he self-sufficiently asked. His arms were still somewhat loosely strung around his chest. His two sharpest eyes peered in–or through me. "Will you tell, youth?"

He seemed to be sure of himself. More than anything, he was assured, yes.

And I still even didn't know where that would even go. Which direction would that take? Why was he even going this way?

I frowned, repressing my urging to heavily scowl.

"Have been asked not to tell."

"Ah," he nodded to himself. Maybe I shouldn't have put it that way? Before he paused, nodding some more, "And should your guild master know by whom?"

What now, did he want to know that? "By Old Sipping, for the one who asks."

"Ah," and he did it again–his eyes dropped from my face, the guy nodded, paused, and went on again, "Again, what is even that? Some species of … chanting birds of some sort? 'Old Sipping,' heh~. (Sure sounds funny–if that's a bird, I wanna hear it.)"

"No … I believe not."

"Ah, then what is it?–or whom?"

"The race actually is human, you see. Not a bird, my old man."

"Mmm~, is that so?"

–"Look, I don't even see why I'm answering that." I decided to stop him. "With every tick of the sun (or of a clock, more ideally), time goes by. You were the one who told me this: 'there is a time for laughter and amusement–and there is a time for discipline and work; now is not the time;' you exactly said," I said, taking a few steps backward, waving with my hand for him to follow me.

His eyes only knew to squint when he followed me with mistrust (and excitement).

Before he began, he made sure to shush his long black sword again. I observed him as he followed me.

"Well, there you have it–now is not the time, Guild Master."

He looked me up, briefly assessing. "The skill you wanted; you have it. Aren't we done yet?"

And I guarded myself up, ready to attack as well. Without wasting any words, I explained the situation. "Your guild, I'll join it–But only if you beat me again, that is!"

I explained it with words that would be going his way. In the sense that, if I want to fight him, that's how I should lay things out. Words that would make him see logic for what was to come.

The swordsman scoffed and shook his head in amusement. It looked as though he didn't quite understand what I said–but he in fact did. These scoffs were only saying 'youth dumb or somethin'?'

Why would I go out of my way and do that? Would I beat the living hell out of this little arrogant turd of a swordsman–or wouldn't this rather be going the other way around?

"Hah," I let out. I was the one who was self-sufficient, now. The skill tab appeared. My eyes swept past what was written just in front of me and met with the swordsman's.

So he clearly doesn't see it, hm. That's what I figured. Better be sure, though.

My eyes went back to what was clearly written and carved upon that blue sort of floating window–it also was clear on this side, too: my strength stats truly indicated '164.'

"Shall we try that out?"

Oh, and he smiled. During those times, he rarely smiled. "Are you sure you're up to doing that, eh?"

"I'm sure–" oh, and never mind. That smile knew to be swift in disappearing. "I'm sure, yeah."

"So be it," he scoffed again. "You'll join 'your' guild. And I'll be served. I'll make you strong just as–"

"Already am."

He tut-tutted me, looking straight at me, "And I'll make you strong just as I intended to," he continued.

And as I heard his words, I just couldn't help but scowl this time about. Heavily scowl, despising every part of himself.

And when he continued with his two last words, then, "Real strength," I only gulped in terror and disappointment, without quite understanding what the man meant by that.

Blame it on my young, immature, and 1-month old mind–but I only felt boiling inside when what I'd thought to be our last exchange began. So, we began to fight.

–Oh, but first off, I took the time to yawn. Super-heavily, and super-blatantly. I yawned and yawned.

What was it called again, my 'fatigue' points? They were up to 47. I must've been pretty tired, right? Was that how it worked? I didn't really know for sure (still was too inexperienced as I didn't fully grasp my mind around that whole thing yet), was 47 a lot, should I feel tired because of that, was I reaching my limit, or not at all?

I just took it as plainly as possible. I was tired. My body was tired. My character was tired. It was strained and needed to rest.

And my MPs points weren't looking so sharp either. Again, it indicated I was tired. Which meant again, sleeping should be about!

❮ 'What lies behind the story…?' Main Quest – Let the Player head to Elina's apartments and get all comfy with her. 0/1 ❯

And so, just you wait, Human Princess Elina of the kingdom they called Rinceville! I shall be on my way and set out in a few moments.

–I was done yawning.

And c'mon swordsman. Don't take that as an insult. My yawn's just my yawn. It means I'm tired. Only a little, at that. Nothing worth being pissed about!

The deal was to be agreed with. And here we go. Both of us fighting for ourselves only.

To each guild, they say, their ways. To each class, they say, their paths. And thus even among different established guilds of the same class.

Compared to the other shiny guilds–this shabby guild didn't hold much of anything. … But with regards to that, and to that only, maybe it surpassed the others, in some ways.

To each guild their ways, their banners, and their mottos.

'Live by the sword, and die by the sword.' As for the motto; this was ours.

Had this instructor thought that up? If so, it would be right on the stop. As far as he's concerned, though.

He wanted to die by 'this sword.'

And the swordsman minded his bokken. He held it in his hand–swiftly, he readied himself for an assault.

Perfectly ready, he seemed to invite me.

Unwilling to deny him his dance, I entered the battle.