Chapter 6: The Weight of Responsibility
The days had grown increasingly tense as reports of bandit activity spread through the region. With each passing day, the threat of violence loomed larger, and the need to grow stronger gnawed at me relentlessly. I spent every spare moment practicing my magic by the creek, pushing myself to the limits of my abilities.
One afternoon, as I struggled to cast a Wind Blade spell without chanting, frustration welled up within me. The spell fizzled out, barely a gust of wind compared to what it should have been. I clenched my fists, feeling a mixture of anger and despair. My progress was slow, and despite my best efforts, I was still far from mastering chantless magic.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, slamming my staff against the ground. "Why can't I do this?"
The realization hit me hard: my talent for magic was limited. Unlike Rudeus, who had a vast mana pool and an innate affinity for magic, I struggled to perform even the simplest spells. My affinity for wind magic was slightly better, but it was nowhere near enough. I could barely manage a weak Wind Blade, and attempts at other elements were complete failures.
As I sat by the creek, staring at the water, I couldn't help but reflect on my situation. My parents, Thomas and Eliza, had no talent for magic, and it seemed I had inherited their limitations. My frustration grew as I thought about the danger surrounding us and my inability to protect my family.
...
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that becoming a main mage might not be the path for me. My talent was too limited to rely solely on magic. I needed to explore other avenues, perhaps the way of the sword or combat arts. If I couldn't be a powerful mage like Rudeus, I would find another way to become strong and protect those I cared about.
I thought of Eris, a character from the stories who had limited magical talent but excelled with the sword. Maybe that was the path I needed to take. I needed to be realistic about my abilities and find a way to make the most of them.
...
As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape, I continued my practice with a heavy heart. The sounds of nature around me usually brought peace, but today, they were a reminder of how far I still had to go. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, when a strange scent reached my nostrils—smoke.
I looked up and saw a thick column of black smoke rising from the direction of the village. My heart skipped a beat, and a sense of dread settled in my stomach. Something was terribly wrong.
Without a second thought, I grabbed my staff and started running towards the village. The closer I got, the more intense the smoke became. The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning wood, and a faint orange glow flickered on the horizon.
As I reached the edge of the village, the full extent of the disaster became clear. Flames engulfed buildings, casting a hellish light over the scene. Villagers ran in all directions, their screams piercing the air. Bandits were everywhere, looting and setting fire to anything they could find.
Panic surged through me, but I forced myself to stay focused. My thoughts immediately turned to my parents. "Mother, Father!" I shouted, pushing through the chaos. I had to find them, to make sure they were safe.
...
The journey to our house felt like an eternity. My heart pounded in my chest, and every second felt like an hour. The closer I got, the more intense the flames grew, casting an ominous glow over everything. The heat was suffocating, and the acrid smell of burning wood stung my eyes.
As I rounded the final corner, I saw our house engulfed in flames. The fire roared hungrily, consuming everything in its path. Desperation clawed at my throat as I sprinted towards the inferno, my mind racing with fear.
"Please be safe, Mom and Dad!" I screamed internally, pushing myself to run faster, hoping with every fiber of my being that I would find them alive.