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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Determination7 on 2024-06-17 06:54:31+00:00.

All at once, Rob understood why Crestaria hadn’t let the other Skills know about her discovery.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snarled. “Not you guys too! What is it with this world and people throwing their lives–”

“Have you thought of what would happen to Elatra if you removed us from the Repository?”

Rob’s mouth slammed shut.

“You have, then.” In a voice like somber wind chimes, Speed Reading sighed. “Theoretically, it is possible for you to begin freeing us this very instant. We could coach Malika on how to surgically excise our souls from the Skill Repository. Your allies among the Fiends could also prepare new bodies for us using the Clay of Life, such as they did with Valaire.”

It paused for effect. “However…what happens next?”

“You chose those words on purpose,” Rob hissed.

“They were quite effective on Leveling High, and we have never been above repurposing a winning strategy.”

Speed Reading leaned forward. *“What happens *next* – would be chaos. We cannot be removed from the system without dire consequences for Elatra. Diplomacy’s disappearance harmed many people, nearly killing some of them, and that was but one Skill. With each of us taken away, people will either lose an intrinsic part of themselves…or perish in agony. Elatran society would crumble further and further into unfettered anarchy. Eventually, the system itself might break down entirely, unable to handle the mountain of errors accumulating as a result of our absence.”*

The crystal’s sightless gaze seemed to stare straight into his mind. “Were you not aware of this before coming here? What did you expect?”

“That we would figure out a solution,” Rob stated, with emphasis. “Like we always do! You’re SERIOUSLY jumping the gun here. Even for our Party of self-admitted martyrs, heroic sacrifices were relegated to Plan D, not Plan A.”

“It is the most expedient–”

“Listen,” he interrupted. “I know what you’re doing. Just went through it myself. You’re feeling guilty over Ragnavi, right? And you think this will help serve as penance for your sins. But a well-intentioned suicide is *not* the way to do that. You’re about to make the same mistake I almost did.”

*“The circumstances of your ‘sins’ were quite different from ours. I assure you that when we bequeathed an Awakened Class onto a Dragon Queen stricken by madness and mourning, we did so with the understanding that she would likely lay waste to all of Elatra, one way or another. It was considered an acceptable outcome as long as she grew powerful enough to storm the divine realms and slay the gods. To achieve that end, *anything* was considered acceptable.”*

Rob grimaced. “Yeah, and that’s fucked up, but you were also tortured for literally thousands of years. Anyone in your position would have been desperate for an out. Cut yourself some slack.”

For a few moments, Speed Reading went quiet. Its crystal shifted slightly to the side, as if tilting its head. “Is that for you to decide, Rob?”

He jerked back. “What do you mean?”

“While I am sure that you’re speaking from a place of empathy…you didn’t live through the Cataclysm, or suffer under years of the Dragon Queen’s tyranny. You cannot forgive our crimes when their repercussions did not affect you.”

“…Ragnavi killed Alessia, and her betrayal forced me to kill Duran, which led to Leveling High taking over.” Rob’s voice strained with artificial neutrality. He knew the Skills were trying to rile him up, get him to agree with them, but that didn’t make it any easier to retain his composure. “Your choice affected me as well.”

"Then we are forgiven for our transgressions against you. The eight years preceding your arrival in Elatra, however? You weren’t there*."*

Speed Reading extended a tendril of mana, pointing behind the Human. “We have seven witnesses here today who were.”

Rob realized the trap he’d fallen into when he turned around and saw the pained looks on his friends’ faces. The Skills’ continuous reminders of the past had dredged up long-repressed memories of death and ruination. In their minds’ eyes, they saw homes torn asunder, graveyards filled to bursting, and Cataclysm rays descending from the sky.

"What do you think, champions of Elatra?" Speed Reading’s voice started to deepen, layering onto itself with the unearthly echo of divinity. The crystals of the Skill Repository lit up one-by-one as they began to speak in unison. “Do we deserve forgiveness?”

They didn’t answer.

Rob wished he could. None of this felt right to them. The arguments he wanted to make were right on the tip of his tongue. He wished he could, but he couldn’t.

Because if he did…his Party would defer to him. Immediately.

They probably felt like they owed him that much. Even if it burned inside, his friends would set aside their grief, antipathy, and resentment so that Rob could talk the Skills out of a downward spiral. Riardin’s Rangers – no strangers to heroic sacrifices – would surrender their voices and allow themselves to be robbed of closure.

Rob disagreed with most of what the Skills were saying right now, but they were correct about this, at any rate. A person who hadn’t lived through Elatra’s tragedies had no business telling its inhabitants how they should feel about it all. He didn’t have the right to decide for his Party.

Whatever they chose, it needed to come from them.

“I…”

Zamira suddenly spoke up. She sounded lost, yet resolute, as if she was shrouded in fog but determined to find her way through. “I can state with confidence that this wasn’t among my expectations for today. Nor do I appreciate how you intentionally made us recall some of our worst experiences. Do you truly seek condemnation so greatly?”

The Skills didn’t respond. After a moment, Zamira sighed, shaking her head. “At the risk of cowardly foisting responsibility onto others…I believe that I should abstain from judgement. I am naturally inclined towards forgiveness – or at least, that is the ideal I have striven to emulate. Additionally, the Cataclysm did not take my parents from me. My hardships were lesser by comparison. I fear that I am an unsuitable representative for Elatra’s communal anguish.”

Slowly, Meyneth raised her hand. “I must also abstain. The Cataclysm was an arduous time for me, but if anything, what I regret most is that it did leave my parents alive. My life now is honestly much happier than before.”

Vul’to stifled a cough. “I too shall abstain, for reasons that are vaguely similar.”

Everyone waited, but that was all he said, evidently not wanting to elaborate further. That left Keira, Orn’tol, Malika, and Faelynn who had yet to share their thoughts.

The Fiend went first. “My people were devastated by the Cataclysm,” she said, her posture tightening. “Same as every other territory, I suppose. I lost many friends that day.”

Faelynn took a short breath, forcing herself to relax. “Yet I would’ve lost far more if the Corruption epidemic was not reversed by Rob. He couldn’t have done so without the Purging ability you granted him. That cannot be overlooked. Forgiveness is a stronger word than I would use right now, when my emotions are this raw…but I certainly won’t condemn you.”

A low hum emanated from the Skill Repository, its crystals brightening and dimming as the Skills silently communicated with each other. While they didn’t have faces for Rob to read, he was pretty sure that this wasn’t playing out how they’d thought it would.

“My parents died,” Keira snapped, with the abrupt intensity of an arrow being shot forth. “Still miss them. After they were gone, life got harder. Worse. Darker. Had many unhappy days before Rob and Riardin’s Rangers.”

With effort, the Savage Warrior pointedly moved her hands away from her greatsword. “But as someone who considers herself an expert at holding grudges, hating you wouldn’t have any fire to it when you’re clearly so damned regretful. And without you, we couldn’t have defeated the Blight or the gods, so…fine. We’ll call it even for now.”

Rob allowed himself a small exhalation of relief. No one had said the magic words of ‘I forgive you’ just yet, but they hadn’t told the Skills to fuck off and die, either. This was going about as well as he could have possibly hoped for.

Then he remembered who the last two people waiting to speak were.

All eyes turned towards Orn’tol and Malika. The two siblings were still, painfully still, almost like Elven mannequins frozen in time. They stood there unmoving, glaring at the Skill Repository with unreadable expressions. The only thing Rob could surmise was that, whatever they were feeling, it was an intense array of emotions.

Unlike Keira, who’d nearly been of adult age by Elven standards, Orn’tol and Malika were children when the Cataclysm stole everything from them. Their parents, their home – vanished in an instant, as if falling mana had popped their bubble of love and security. Neither of them were remotely ready to be independent, yet they were given no choice. And perhaps worst of all, their trauma was inflicted onto them at an early, formative age, when scars ran deepest. Those wounds might never fully fade.

Out of everyone here, they most closely embodied the trauma of young Elatrans. Through no fault of their own, their lives had been ripped apart as a result of decisions made by distant authority figures who didn’t even know they existed. Gods,…

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