Weak

"This world… everyone reacts differently to the elements. 

Some are sensitive to ice, while others are sensitive to wind. 

As long as one can capture the power of the elements, they can gradually control and use it.

However, it is possible to try to master it later, but the chances are very slim."

Borne recalled the child's words.

He hoped to find his own element, even if it was just a faint trace of power.

He tried to relax his body, allowing his consciousness to sink into this boundless world.

Time passed slowly, and Borne's breathing became increasingly steady.

He focused as much as he could on every possible elemental ripple, trying to capture even the slightest sign.

But no matter how hard he concentrated, the air remained still, as if all the elemental power had hidden far away, refusing to come near him.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing gradually became labored.

Despite his best efforts, everything around him remained silent, as if all the elemental power had abandoned him.

A deep sense of unease and anxiety spread within him, and Borne felt a wave of helplessness envelop him.

His mind went blank, as if he had been isolated in a lifeless space.

There was no wind, no water, no natural forces—he could not sense any trace of the elemental energy he had heard about.

Borne opened his eyes, hearing the soldiers murmuring outside the tent, the wind carrying a chill.

Slowly sitting up, he found himself lying on a rough pile of straw.

Worn-out military boots were scattered across the ground.

The candlelight flickered weakly inside the tent, casting a faint glow on Borne's face, making him look weary.

The feeling of disappointment in his heart grew heavier.

"Could it be… I really don't have the talent to control the elements?"

Borne's voice echoed in the tent, sounding deeply forlorn.

He tried closing his eyes again, attempting to return to that mysterious mental world, hoping to summon the mysterious child and even experience the vast ocean once more.

No matter how hard he focused, his mind remained a blank void, with nothing to see.

There were no waves, no youthful voice filled with sarcasm.

"Are you there?" 

Borne called out softly, as if hoping for the child to respond.

But the only reply he received was the sound of the wind outside the tent and the distant footsteps of soldiers.

Suddenly, his stomach growled, interrupting his moment of reflection.

He sighed, placing a hand on his stomach, feeling a wave of helplessness.

"Looks like I need to fill my stomach first before thinking about anything else," 

he muttered to himself.

Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out the tooth of the sea beast, examining it carefully.

The tooth was cold and hard, its surface still showing traces of age.

Borne couldn't help but recall the moment when Father Raphael had handed him this tooth, stirring up a mix of emotions in his heart.

Since returning to the military camp, he had been trying to find a chance to meet with Father Raphael, to ask him about the tooth and the truth behind that mysterious child.

Unfortunately, the guards at the main camp gave him no such opportunity.

Father Raphael was the highest commander in the army, overseeing everything.

And Borne was just an ordinary soldier, far too low-ranking to have any reason to meet with him.

Unless Father Raphael himself sought him out, Borne would have no chance of seeing him.

Borne stood up, slipping on his military boots, his footsteps making soft sounds inside the tent.

He pulled on his worn-out coat, fastening the collar to block out the chill of the evening breeze.

Tonight's cold felt even sharper than usual, and he shivered involuntarily.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the tent flap and stepped out into the military camp.

In the camp, the soldiers gathered in small groups around the campfires. Some had already finished their dinner and were chatting by the fire.

Borne looked around, his gaze settling on his familiar comrades, who were seated by a fire pit.

Dalton and Harley were sitting by the fire, talking in low voices. When they heard footsteps behind them, they instinctively turned their heads to see Borne walking towards them.

The firelight illuminated Borne's tired face.

Despite his efforts to remain calm, Dalton and Harley could still sense a heavy burden hanging over him.

"What's wrong?" 

Dalton was the first to speak.

Harley put down the piece of black bread in his hand.

"Did something happen?

You don't look so good."

Borne walked over to them, sighed softly, and forced a faint smile.

He sat down beside them, reaching for a piece of black bread, and took a bite.

"Nothing special, just...

feeling a bit worn out."

Borne mumbled.

Dalton and Harley exchanged a glance but didn't press further.

Losing a beloved horse was a devastating blow for any warrior, and they assumed Borne was still mourning. 

Naturally, they didn't say much, only nodded gently before continuing their conversations with the other comrades.

Borne had tried to ask the mysterious child in his mind if there was a way to bring back his warhorse, Radish. 

That horse had been his faithful companion for years, and losing it left a deep, lingering pain in his heart.

The child's response had been cold and blunt.

"It's impossible to revive it.

Its soul has already completely disappeared."

Hearing this, Borne felt a sharp sting in his heart and clenched his teeth.

To him, Radish was not just a horse; it was a comrade, a companion who had stood by him through countless difficult moments.

"Why?

You can control such powerful forces, so why can't you save it?" 

Borne suppressed his grief, unable to stop himself from asking.

The child let out a disdainful snort, his tone carrying a hint of coldness and impatience.

"It's your own fault for being so weak.

If you were stronger, maybe things wouldn't have come to this, but unfortunately, you can't even protect yourself right now."

Borne felt a wave of helplessness and frustration wash over him.

"Weak..."

The pain and helplessness in his heart intertwined.

The child's words, though harsh, were the truth.

A bitter feeling surged within Borne, like a tide overwhelming his heart.

He looked down at the black bread in his hand.

The bread, already hard, now seemed even more difficult to swallow.

Each bite felt like chewing on gravel—rough and tasteless.

Even so, he forced himself to take a few more bites.

"This is so hard to eat..." 

He muttered to himself, lowering his head as he chewed the bread with effort.

He lifted his gaze and looked into the distance.

His comrades around him were quietly conversing, occasionally smiling, as if the harshness of the battlefield hadn't completely crushed their spirits yet.

But Borne felt as though a part of his own heart had been shattered beyond repair, the feeling of irretrievable loss lingering within him.

He clenched the black bread in his hand, his fingers turning pale from the pressure, yet he still couldn't find a way to release the pain gnawing at his soul.