Capulas held a miraculous quirk—and that was this:

In this world, everyone had their own “status panel.”

Of course, this wasn’t a game. It was reality.

Calling it a “status panel” wasn’t quite right.

Strictly speaking, it was information the World Will conveyed to individuals—presented in a tabular format.

The World Will, as the name implied, was the world’s collective consciousness.

No one in the mortal realm had ever confirmed its true existence.

Yet regardless of race—sentient or not—all could comprehend the World Will’s messages.

Sentient races simply grasped them more easily.

Still, why design the world this way? It felt uncannily like a game.

Some claimed the World Will’s tabular data resembled an ancient spell:

“Appraisal Magic.”

For instance, casting Appraisal Magic on someone would neatly list their abilities, attribute values, and a brief note.

Today’s World Will messages followed the same pattern—just more concise.

Many once found this system bizarre.

But the world worked this way. People adapted. Over time, it became common sense.

Take Shilo, hailed a genius at merely ten. His panel read:

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Shilo

Race: Human (Imperial)

System: Mana

Attributes:

“Speed” Level 2, “Strength” Level 1, “Skill” Level 3, “Mind” Level 2, “Body” Level 1, “Magic” Level 1

Abilities:

“Sixth Sense B+”: While moving, predicts others’ next actions.

“Leader B+”: Natural talent for commanding and guiding others.

---

Among all details, Abilities mattered most.

They could be innate or acquired later—a mechanism so complex, no one fully understood it.

Some never gained a single acquired ability; others gained one mysteriously.

Shilo was called a genius for being born with two.

Multiple abilities were possible. Ranks could rise—B+ today didn’t mean B+ forever.

Each Attribute level spanned a wide range. Level 1 covered children to average adults.

“Speed” measured overall swiftness: reaction, movement, agility.

“Strength” rated physical destructive potential, including latent power.

“Skill” covered swordplay, spear techniques, even theft or evasion tricks.

“Body” meant physical resilience.

“Mind” reflected spiritual and soul strength.

“Magic” evaluated spell mastery and energy control.

Put simply, Shilo could easily defeat several ordinary adults.

“System” referred to energy types—mana, internal energy, and the like.

Rhode had zero abilities. Like many, he was ordinary.

A “blank slate.”

Not shameful—but in noble circles, it simply didn’t “look good.”

---

After delivering the book, Shilo tiptoed toward the exit.

“Shilo! Sneaking books for Rhode again?” a sharp voice boomed.

The man shared Rhode and Shilo’s hair color.

Their father—Doraf, the one who’d punished Rhode.

“Father, I…” Shilo stammered. Caught before, he still shrank under his father’s gaze.

“I told him to,” Rhode clicked his tongue, slouching with teenage defiance.

“I know. Shilo wouldn’t do this otherwise.” Doraf shot Rhode a look of bitter disappointment—like iron refusing the forge.

“But…” Shilo flustered, lost for words.

“You stay tied tonight. Freed at noon tomorrow.” Doraf waved a hand and led Shilo away.

Rhode showed no resentment. He simply tried stroking his smooth chin.

He sighed. “Can’t reach it.”

His bound hands had too little range.

“How nice to move out someday… become a bard,” he mused.

He’d once dreamed of being a bard.

He’d also toyed with writing novels.

His ideals shifted often—but always circled “stories.” That never changed.

Only ten, yet he pondered deeply.

Mostly: how to live more joyfully.

He disliked the thought of a dull future.

Moving out? Easier said than done.

“Strive for independence!” Rhode declared.