Calm Ambition

Gladius stepped over the threshold and into the shop's interior, instantly awash in a refreshing wave of Magic that tingled across his finely-honed Sword Senses. 

Within this specialized establishment, delving into the underlying principles that governed this enigmatic force felt infinitely more achievable – a crucial first step towards enhancing his comprehension of his own formidable Sword Force.

His eyes roved over the compact space, noting the sparse number of Mages present – perhaps three at most, their robes appearing distinctly less refined compared to the vestments worn by his Ember Forge escorts. 

As expected, their gazes found him and narrowed with undisguised disdain, but Gladius paid them no mind. He allowed himself to become immersed in the intoxicating ebb and flow of Magic that swirled through the very air around them.

His attention was drawn to the wide array of mystical wares and implements on display – ornate staffs whose designs seemed to thrum with latent power, neatly bundled scrolls that he could only assume contained meticulously transcribed records of various Magical Arts, glistening vials that likely contained any number of uniquely formulated potions, and curious pouches wrought with intricate embroidery – likely imbued with extraspatial properties to enhance their storage capabilities. 

Indeed, the shelves fairly overflowed with an eclectic assortment of such tantalizing items, each seemingly steeped in the essence of the arcane.

Gladius found his feet guiding him towards a particular section where an array of tomes were displayed, their faded leather spines and gilded titles proclaiming them to be primers of sorts – entry-level instructional texts on the practice and theory of Magic itself. 

Such resources could potentially prove indispensable in his current quest for enlightenment regarding this strange new world.

Before he could so much as consider laying a hand upon one of those ancient books, Gladius detected the unmistakable presence of another approaching from behind.

As his fingers hovered over the beckoning spines, Gladius sensed movement from the periphery of his vision. 

Turning, he found himself regarding a young man – likely a shopkeeper or clerk, judging by his robes – whose features were twisted into a contemptuous sneer as he appraised Gladius with undisguised disdain.

"Just what are you doing in here?" the man demanded, his voice a sneering rasp. "Common Mortals have no reason to be in this place."

Gladius met the man's hostility with an impassive mask, his tone remaining an oasis of calm tranquility.

"I am simply looking around," he replied evenly. "Never had much of a chance to learn about Magic from my small town."

The clerk's expression flickered, disdain momentarily supplanted by a glimmer of pity as understanding seemed to dawn.

"Oh..." he sighed, shaking his head slowly. "So, you're that poor bastard tied down with that Mage group, huh? I can't help but feel sorry for you."

Gladius kept his impassive facade firmly in place, inwardly bristling at the torrent of condescension that permeated the clerk's words. Still, he sensed an opportunity to glean valuable insights and pressed on, careful to maintain a veneer of guileless curiosity.

"Just what do you mean?" he asked, keeping his tone level and unthreatening. "And what does being a Common Mortal entail?"

The clerk's expression hardened once more, his features twisting into a contemptuous sneer as he launched into a disparaging diatribe.

"It's because you're a Common Mortal," he spat, as though the very words left a bitter taste on his tongue. "People that can't activate their Innate Spirit practically have no future. It's odd that nobody in your town tested you or at least taught you about this, but there are some really shoddy towns out there."

He paused, giving Gladius a withering once-over before continuing, his tone thick with a mixture of pity and derision.

"In any case, being a Common Mortal, you can either hope to live the rest of your life in your small town and never think about going anywhere else. Or become a servant for a Mage, which is basically doing everything they ask of you and then some."

Heaving another disdainful sigh, the clerk shook his head, his expression one of mocking commiseration.

"Between the two, well, I honestly can't say which one is more shitty," he proclaimed with a callous chuckle. "Being nothing more than a servant or living in a poor town that can easily be destroyed by a Nascent Beast or ransacked by Dark or Evil Mages..."

Despite the torrent of disdain and condescension pouring forth from the man's lips, Gladius remained utterly impassive. His expression betrayed neither anger nor hurt – merely a serene attentiveness as he absorbed the clerk's scathing assessment with the same solemn focus he might grant a scholarly lecture.

Yet beneath that placid facade, gears were turning, synapses firing as his keen intellect dissected and analyzed every nuanced word, every subtle implication.

He absorbed the insights imparted, filing them away for deeper contemplation even as he kept his expression one of polite, if somewhat oblivious, attentiveness. There would be time enough to unravel the finer nuances of this world's obscure tenets – for now, he pressed on, voicing the question that had initially given him pause.

"Dark or Evil Mages?" he echoed, the slight furrow of his brow the only outward sign of his piqued interest. "Is there really such labels for them?"

Something flickered in the depths of the clerk's eyes – a glimmer of wariness, perhaps, or grudging respect that Gladius had managed to voice a valid query amidst his apparent ignorance. 

Whatever the reason, the man's disdainful sneer softened somewhat as he launched into an explanation with the weary air of one imparting harsh yet necessary wisdom.

"I know what you're thinking," he said with a sober nod. "Sure, many genius and noble Mages think themselves as superior to others, even other Mages. But Dark and Evil Mages are simply hunted everywhere."

His expression grew more solemn, his voice taking on a grave undertone as he elaborated, "Dark Arts and those considered Evil Arts twist one's mind, making even someone kind-hearted into a horrific soul. You don't want to encounter either one of these kinds of Mages. At the very least, Noble and heroic Mages know when to put their differences aside to take down these Mages."

The man hoped that would help put some sense into this seemingly clueless Common Mortal. Though, he did appear a bit confused when Gladius's calm, impassive gaze never once shifted throughout the entire exchange.

Gladius's expression remained an unflinching mask, betraying none of the storm that should have raged within his mind. 

The revelations he had learned painted a grim picture – a world where the magicless were bound to servitude, insignificant specks brushed aside by those born with power. 

Yet Gladius refused to be consumed by despair's insidious whispers.

His thoughts flowed with the clarity of a mountain stream, focused and unshakable. The sword force pulsing through his veins had already demonstrated its ability to rend the mana channeled by nascent beasts. 

So why could he not do the same against these human mages? 

Was he truly as helpless as they proclaimed? 

Just how profound was the depths of his own untapped might?

Gladius knew rashness only bred more problems. He needed a way out of the Ashen Woodlands, not needless conflicts born of slight offenses. 

Yet still, that insistent voice taunted – was he so feeble compared to these self-proclaimed magic wielders? 

After all, he had felled beasts that sent other mages fleeing in terror, creatures that could have torn a practitioner asunder with contemptuous ease.

As for these so-called dark and evil mages, that was a concern for another day. Gladius was not one to judge based on hearsay – he preferred to observe the truth with his own eyes before rendering judgment.

These musings flashed through his mind like lightning arcing across a turbulent sky, lasting mere moments before a calm clarity washed over him. 

His steps were light and serene as he exited the magic shop, unfazed by the mages' schemes or this world's harsh embrace. He would immerse himself in study, deepening his understanding of mana while enhancing his soul's connection to the transcendent sword force thrumming within.

Time slipped by in the blink of an eye as Gladius lost himself in studious pursuit of knowledge. Evening had fallen before he realized it, cloaking the town in velvety shadows.

 Yet he had used his hours wisely, venturing to mana-rich locales to observe the ebb and flow of mystical energies, further honing his comprehension of both magical and sword forces in perfect symbiosis.