"Wake up! It's morning. Time to rise and shine like the sun, son!" Blaze stirred in his bed and rubbed his eyes as he blinked against the light that was streaming through the window. "Huh? Oh, Dad, is it morning already?" Blaze mumbled, and his voice was still thick for sleep. "Yes, it is," his father replied, walking over to the bedside with an encouraging smile. "Get ready and make sure to come to the living room once you're up." Blaze's curiosity was piqued. "Has my teacher arrived?" he asked, throwing back the covers and sitting up, and he was still rubbing his eyes.
"Not yet," his father replied. "But the person who will be checking your magic affinity is already here, eager to meet you."
"Okay, I'm coming!" Blaze exclaimed, excitement pushing aside his sleepiness as he hurried to prepare for the important day ahead.
As Blaze entered the living room, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as he entered the living room, where an elderly gentleman with glasses and a distinguished white beard was seated there.
"So you are Ignis's son, huh? May I ask your name?"
"My name is Blaze."
"Blaze?"
"Yes, sir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Likewise. Now, let us proceed directly to the matter at hand. Shall we?"
"Yes, sir, please."
"You have a desire to learn magic. We shall determine your magical affinity. Please place your hand upon this paper and channel your mana through it."
Blaze complied, intrigued by the process.
"The paper will change color based on your affinity: as you can see this is a white paper, if it turns red, you possess an affinity for fire magic; deep blue indicates water magic; icy blue shares the info of ice magic; silver signifies wind magic; brown represents earth magic; golden yellow corresponds to lightning magic; green denotes healing magic; and violet is associated with dark magic—an affinity typically reserved for demons. However, there is one rare exception: if the paper turns emerald green, it indicates an affinity for Neural magic."
"Neural magic?"
"Neural magic is a fascinating concept. It is a rare magic and a few individuals possess the affinity for this magic. This magic relies heavily on ones thinking abilities. It allows the practitioners to utilize their mental faculties in diverse and many creative ways. The potential applications of neural magic are vast. It contingent upon one's capacity for logical and thorough thinking. Additionally, the effectiveness of this magic is also correlated with the individual's mana reserves. Thus, it is possible to create entirely new magics if the caster has enough mana for it."
"However, now, let's see which one you have."
"Yes sir, I'm putting my hand upon it."
"Now, you shall flow your mana through it."
Blaze's heart raced violently in his chest as he struggled to grasp the reality of his situation. He looked at the page. He stared at it. It didn't change its color. The stark whiteness of the page was glaring back in stark contrast to the vibrant dreams that he once cherished.
"Unfortunately, the paper remains unchanged," the evaluator announced with a hint of disappointment. "It looks like it is still as white as it was when you first held it. To think that Ignis's son has no affinity for magic whatsoever... Well, don't let your spirit to shatter for this. Remember, less than 50% of people are gifted with these magical affinities. You could still choose another path. The honorable path of swordsmanship. Carve out your own strength from it. My work here is done. I shall take my leave."
With that, the evaluator turned away, leaving Blaze in deep agony. A deep ache blossomed in Blaze's heart, a suffocating heaviness that made breathing hard. All his hopes and dreams, once vivid and full of promise, lay shattered around him like shards of broken glass, glinting mockingly in the light. The vibrant colors of his aspirations dulled to a desolate gray. It left behind an overwhelming sense of emptiness. And the disillusionment that settled much heavily in the pit of his stomach.
Blaze was struggling with his lack of magical affinity. Then, Ignis came; he approached him and said, "The world may favor those with magic, but don't let it define you. A blade doesn't need mana to cut; it only requires the hand of someone strong enough to wield it. You have your own path, son. It may not be the same as the ones with magic, but it will be yours—and with a sword in your grasp, you will carve it out for yourself."
"I'll become the strongest in the world; that's what truly matters to me," Blaze declared, his voice trembling with determination. "Magic affinity? It's just a means to an end, a tool that some people use to prove their worth. But I refuse to let it define my journey. I'll train, train every day until my muscles ache and my hands bleed. I'll pour all my heart and soul and master the sword. I'll hone my skills with the sword until I can cut through anything that stands in my way. No matter what my challenges are or how far behind I seem, I will never stop and rise above of all. I'll show everyone that strength comes from within, not just from the flick of a wrist or a chant of spells." As he spoke, his eyes welled with tears, not from the sadness, but from the sheer intensity of his conviction and the fire that was burning in his heart.
"This is Ichikaji Monja," Ignis proclaimed, his voice steady and commanding. Revealing the sword with its striking red hilt that gleamed in the light, he extended his hands toward Blaze. "Take it and master its power. You must demonstrate your worthiness to this sword. If you can prove your worthiness, this sword shall become your steadfast companion, never abandoning you in times of need." As he passed the blade to Blaze, the air around them crackled with anticipation that was hinting at the great challenges and adventures that lay ahead of the path.
With trembling hands, Blaze grasped the hilt of the sword; the cold steel that was glinting under the fading light. His heart ached, and his eyes welled in tears that blurred his vision as he gazed at the weapon that held the weight of his dreams and fears. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and declared with fierce determination, "Ichikaji Monja, I will prove my worth, no matter what challenges lie ahead of me. And I'll make you mine."
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The next morning, Blaze rose with the sun. The golden rays of the sun was filtering through the trees and casting a warm glow over the grassy clearing. He was training with sword at the back yard of his house. He was dressed in his white training clothes, which hung loosely on his youthful frame. He gripped his wooden sword with both his hands. He swung the sword, practicing his swings as sweat began to roll down from his forehead, a testament to his dedication.
From a distance, an elderly man observed him. His bald head gleamed under the sun, and dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the light. A prominent scar, stark against his skin, curved across his scalp like a fiery mark of past battles.
Blaze noticed the old man's presence, a fleeting realization that someone was watching him, but when he met the man's gaze, the old man turned away and faded into the shadows of the forest.
Five days flew by in a blur of routine while Blaze was diligently continuing his morning practice. Once again, he found himself alone in his grassy sanctuary. He was swinging his sword and lost in the rhythm of his movements and sword.
As he finished a series of cuts, the old man reappeared, stepping out from the trees with a steady gait.
"Ah, it's you again," Blaze said, pausing his practice. "Why are you watching me?"
The old man stared at him for a moment before responding, his voice was low and gravelly.
"Wanna know why I watch you? Watching you reminds me of my grandson. He had that same fire in his spirit. He dedicated himself to mastering the sword, just as you do, yet that was not enough to survive on this path. The path you have chosen is treacherous, it's filled with hardships and thorns. Are you truly ready to endure the pain? Are you ready to take on what it demands to be the greatest?"
Blaze straightened; his determination was burning in his eyes. "Hardship and pain? I have already made a vow to myself—I will face whatever challenges come my way and prove my worth."
The old man nodded a hint of approval in his demeanor. "I see you possess the spirit for what it needs to be the greatest. However, swinging a sword alone will not lead you to the mastery."
Blaze frowned, considering the man's words. "You are correct. But I'm unsure of what I should do next."
"You are weak," the old man stated bluntly, his gaze piercing.
"Your leg positioning is flawed, your body posture unsteady, your hand grip weak. Your balance between your legs and the wooden sword is off. I will train you, but you must remember that I won't do the work for you. You must discover your own unique fighting style. I will guide you to find it. Meet me tomorrow morning at the open field by the riverside in the northern forest."
Blaze nodded eagerly, inspired by the old man's straightforwardness. "Yes, master," he replied.
"Master... huh?" saying that he left.
The anticipation was surging within him for the journey that lay ahead of him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The following day, long before the sun graced the horizon with its light, Blaze set out to the location where he had been instructed to go. As he approached, he discovered an unusual sight: two buckets suspended on either side of a sturdy iron stick, balanced precariously. There were two large, wide tubs stood, and their dull metal surfaces that reflected the faint glow of the morning start.
"What are these doing there?" Blaze was thinking aloud.
Suddenly, from the shadows the old man emerged, his elderly figure with a commanding presence. "These are your training materials," he announced. "Your first task is to fill the tubs with water, then transfer that water into a little pond. You must keep this up until the pond is full."
Blaze's brow furrowed in confusion. "Pond? Where is the pond? I can't see any pond around here."
The master chuckled softly. "Who said it is nearby? The pond lies three miles to the east from here."
"Three miles?" Blaze echoed, disbelief lacing his voice and eyes.
"Indeed," the master replied, unwavering. "Now get moving."
"Yes, sir," Blaze said, determination rising within him as he set to work.
Blaze knelt by the buckets, preparing to get water as instructed. "Wait," the old man interjected. He halted him in mid-motion. "First, untie those buckets and replace them with those tubs."
"What?" Blaze exclaimed, taken aback.
"Just do as I say," the master insisted, a challenging glint in his eye. "Or are you already afraid of the task at hand?"
"Absolutely not," Blaze replied. The fire was igniting within him.
With that, the master turned and walked away, his voice trailing behind him: "I'll return once you complete this task. You've got two months for this. If you can't finish this task in time, then I won't be training you."
Blaze followed his master's order and quickly tied the tubs in the sides of the rod. Then he started the laborious work. When he tried to fill the first tub, he couldn't, but he didn't stop. After a few trips, he managed to fill the tubs. Then he started to fill the second tub, but when he was going to fill the tub, his legs slipped and lost his footing for the slippery bank of the river, and he tumbled into the river. Without making any sound, he rose, water was streaming from his head through his face, but his resolve didn't waver for even a moment. He worked tirelessly as the sun dipped lower. He attempted again, only to fail. After some time, he managed to do it.
However, as he tried to lift the full tubs, a wave of frustration washed over him. No matter how hard he exerted himself, the weight seemed insurmountable. Each attempt drained him further, and reality struck — he was not even a least bit strong as he believed. He labored tirelessly as the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of orange and purple, yet by dusk, he found himself with too little to show for his efforts.
Defeated, Blaze trudged home. His face was marked by dissatisfaction and tiredness. He couldn't do anything. Yet, deep within, a fiery resolve kindled within him — he would not let this setback define him. He was determined to conquer this challenge, and no matter what effort was required for it, he won't stop.
Can Blaze successfully complete his currently impossible task on time, or will this mark a turning point in his journey with his new master?