A Skill is an ability. Perhaps there is a better way to describe it, as those terms are nearly interchangeable. A Skill is the capability to do something. It is a powerful tool. One that can produce any number of effects that, to this day, and however far into the future you are reading this, are still being discovered. My mind blanks for an example, which only attests to the sheer number of even basic Skills. Take [Perfect Posture], this one does exactly as it states wherein whoever possesses it holds their body perfectly. Useful for a [High Noble] in a social setting wouldn't you think? Here lies the wonder of Skills; a [Bladesmaster] might make much better use of it. Usually, a Skill is inherently tied to a Class though often they appear through a number of unrelated Classes. It has, however, been proven that Skills can be obtained without a Class, though these appear to be more difficult to acquire. Test too, I haven't met a Classless individual in decades, at least none that were not children.

- The Origin of Skills and Abilities, The Untethered Tomes

Skill Obtained: [Basic Knowledge]

I frowned, blinking drowsiness away. Had I imagined that? My mind caught up to itself and I browsed through the books until I came across the very first one I had seen. Scattered across the study was a smattering of books that any passerby might deem foolishly broad of whatever poor soul had decided to commit such a compilation to memory. This poor soul, of course, was me. The mess was carefully organized, however, and I found the pertinent book immediately.

The Origin of Skills and Abilities

No, I had obtained a Skill. Likely, one born from this terrible undertaking. A Skill was no small feat, such things were useful and potentially powerful. They allowed growth. They were the result of an individual seeking growth or identity. [Basic Knowledge] seemed surprisingly broad, to me, that hinted at either immense utility, or utter uselessness.

I flipped through a small compendium of Skills. I was not lucky enough to be assigned any large set of data to peruse through by my past self. This list of Skills was small, considering, although it did in fact list [Basic Knowledge].

It was an apparent truth that Skills, despite their names, held uniqueness to the individual. Some other bookish scholars might attain the exact same [Basic Knowledge] and still, it would not function the same. It was also true therein lied a possibility one could attain something of a similar vein, say [Preliminary Information]. Or some such name. The point was that they differed. For some odd reason, this was stressed in my readings and the tone of the author suggested frustration at the mystery.

I, however, didn't need [Basic Knowledge] to infer its function. I was, however, at a loss on exactly what basics I may now know. I searched through my memories, painstakingly delicate with newness, and found some inkling of information. Not in any past memory or epiphany, but from something else entirely. A font of information, a small one mind, but one nonetheless.

It was odd not knowing what I knew, but the feeling was true that if I were to think upon something I knew, I would know it. Again, an odd thought, but true. It was simply too great a task to think of all things I thought I might know, thus my mind naturally drifted towards my entire situation.

The thought that came to me was analog to the things I've read. Particularly a few encyclopedias containing entries of hundreds of monsters. Some frightening enough to spawn in my nightmares.

It seemed that creatures became more dangerous the deeper they are found. If it was true I was fathoms - and I use the term vaguely, not as a real concrete measure - deep, my life was forfeit less I find a way to the surface. At this depth, nothing was safe for me to encounter. Skills could only get me so far, and it was doubtful anything useful would come to me. My life was in my hands.

I briefly pondered the conundrum of erasure - what my counterpart had done to me - and questioned the absence of whatever Skills he had. Perhaps even what Class. The fact I was my own person, completely blank, was baffling. But no, there was no time for such speculation. My food would last me only a few more days. He had not given me much room to plan.

Exploring the library was a task done in good faith. I would never have been so brazen if not promised by my past self. True, my trust could easily have been misplaced, yet I doubted he would go through so much trouble only to sabotage me once I awoke. If this entire thing was a farce, I had not been the least protected in my slumber, whatever power had less than savory intentions against me could easily have ended me there.

It was with that mindset that I found what marked the end of the library.

Not fifty feet away I stared at rock. Cavern, ominously empty and bathed in candlelight. The entrance of which lurked at the very end of the library light. A section of the said library having been knocked down to rubble, whatever had caused the damage did nothing further as the shelves around the breach were perfectly intact.

The moment I turned to explore the other end of the library I felt something looking at me. I whirled around eyes wide with suspicion and fear. Nothing. In that moment, I felt the absolute crushing reality of my position. Somehow, I found my next step, trying and failing to prevent my flinching at the stare on my neck that followed my motion as I turned.

When the pressure faded, a sigh of relief escaped me in a shiver. My heart raced and my mind jumped immediately to the hundreds of monstrosities that could've been. I wracked my brain for any tangible reason it would not enter the library and found nothing in explanation.

It appeared, from my exploring, that aside from the breach there was a very obvious set of tall wooden doors that acted as a regular entrance. I did not open them. I did not approach them. I did not know how my body worked through its fear, I felt as if a machine.

Some parts of my mind tickled and I realized that I found the interior of the library to be quite fetching. It was grand, fantastical, and the appreciation of its architecture rooted away the fear lurking in my mind. It was a large structure, ten minutes walk from one side to the other. Two floors, though only one staircase existed in any state of repair.

The central room was my favorite. Artful statues decorated a more personable atmosphere. Here was where people went for directions, or simply to read and rest. They were, in a way, my first encounter with a person. They were military, somehow I knew they were knights not just any swordsman. Well regarded, and dangerously skilled, despite their armors.

With a start, I realized the knight-statue's weapons were not carved of the same glossy marble. They were real. When I grabbed the sword I felt something protest, not by any morals of mine, but the library itself. A small buildup of power, no, mana. And then I pulled away, sword in hand.

It was magnificent. There was no other way to describe such an item. It was all I could do to appreciate it. To wield it? I frowned, the sword was much larger in my hands. In fact, the man who held it must've been a giant. The sword, even by holding it alone, was beginning to weigh on me.

While the process was slow, I decided to move my things to the central room. This amounted to me dragging a chair full of books across the library tile. I was relieved the sound of the wood on the tile was nowhere as loud, echoey, and disruptive as I thought. In fact, the chair all but glided seamlessly across it.

My things in place, I did more exploring. The sword weighed me down more than anything else, additionally, I severely questioned my own skill at the blade, so I left it in place, returning it to the statue. He did well to hold it, after all.

The goal was food. Scavenging. Though I doubted terribly I would have any luck, I knew some small plants from the books in which the condition of the library might be perfect. There was no telling if they were native to this area, depth, or even if the library did not forbid their entrance as it did the cavern's inhabitants. Yet I looked all the same. More food meant more days planning, gaining knowledge and learning. Time. I needed more time but the supplies I had afforded barely any.

The central room held nothing for me. Rummaging through the receptionist desk left me nothing of value save a map of the library as it should've been. From the documents I found, it seemed this place was as much a practice, as it was a study. People worked here, researched and toiled, experimented. There were grants here, promises of money to fund research. Was this a school as well?

Frustratingly, I could not for the life of me find the simplest of information. Nowhere had the library been named. It irked me, but I assured myself it was unavoidable that I eventually come across it.

Research, experimentation, the pursuit of knowledge. People toiled away at their craft here, their studies. I knew where I was heading.

The botany section.