Chapter 164: Serie's Question
"Surprising," Serie's cool voice broke the silence. A short distance away, Flamme was practicing a new spell, and a hint of a rare admiration was in her tone. "Her talent is the second-best I've ever seen in a human."
Rhodes glanced at her but didn't respond. He knew who the first was.
"Humans may be weak and fleeting," she continued, her gaze now turned to the sky, as if in reminiscence, "but they always manage to produce a few who break the mold."
Perhaps he had been right. The humans would be, or were already beginning to be, the most brilliant of all the races on this continent. It had only been a little over a thousand years, and their presence was now everywhere, a stark contrast to their sparse numbers a millennium ago. There were even human villages near the forest where he and she now lived.
"A thousand years ago, there was Norne and Eirik, mortals who fought against a god. And now, a thousand years later, there is Flamme. And..." she paused, her gaze now on him, "...there is you. Your very existence is a mockery of all those who hold such a narrow view of humanity."
"I think she is a special case," he replied calmly.
He, of all people, knew how brightly her talent would shine in the annals of human history. But she was a one-in-a-billion kind of prodigy. In the original timeline, she had almost single-handedly ushered in a new era of human magic. That achievement was a miracle born of many different factors.
"A special case?" a self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "Not as ridiculous as you."
Flamme's talent was undeniable. She had learned the light arrow in no time, and now, in her third year of training, she could already skillfully use several different elemental spells. All she lacked was combat experience. She had considered taking her to hunt a few monsters, to give her some practice.
"Me?" he said with an innocent look.
"Look," she said, and pointed to the girl. "It took her a week to learn the basics of the light arrow spell. But you..." a complex look, an accustomed surprise, flashed in her eyes, "...you learned it, and even improved upon it, with just a single glance. The gap between you was already a chasm before she was even born."
Flamme's progress was fast, yes, but that was all. Compared to his own talent, her progress seemed almost ordinary. What she had learned in her three years... was it just a fraction of what he had achieved in the same amount of time? She didn't want to think about it.
"There are differences between people, even within the same race," he said with a shrug.
"Indeed," she nodded with a strange, resigned air. "Sometimes, the gap is as vast as the heavens and the earth, so vast that to even try to catch up is pointless."
She let out a soft sigh, a sound of helplessness.
Once, she had thought that if she just lived long enough, she could one day surpass him. She was an elf, a near-eternal being. Surely, with enough time, she could leave him in the dust. But now, now that he had also broken the chains of time... she had given up.
In the face of pure, unadulterated talent, even an eternity had lost its greatest advantage.
Flamme's training seemed to have reached a critical stage. She was trying to compress a ball of fire in her hand, but the volatile element was too much for her to control. With a hiss, the magic exploded, and she was thrown to the ground, her face pale, her palm a raw red from the backlash.
Serie frowned and was about to go to her, but he was faster. In a flash, he was at the girl's side, and the light of a healing spell enveloped her burnt hand.
"Fire is a bit more complex than light. You can't rush it," he said, his voice a gentle and soothing sound. "Rest for a bit. And try to remember the way the mana flowed, just before you lost control."
She looked at her healed hand, and his comforting words calmed the panic in her heart. She nodded, and went to sit down to the side, to meditate.
Serie stood where she was and watched him. And for some reason, a wave of annoyance washed over her. I was here first, she thought.
A restless feeling began to bubble up inside her. She turned and walked deeper into the forest, and he, as if sensing her mood, followed.
They walked in silence for a long time, and finally, in a clearing, she stopped and turned to him.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you so insistent on interfering with my teaching of Flamme?" She hadn't wanted to confront him about it, had just wanted to let time decide the girl's path. But seeing him with her, the way he had comforted her... she had to ask. "Her hatred is the driving force of her progress. I don't see any problem with her using it to become stronger. And I could have just ignored what you've been doing, or waited for her to make her own choice. But now, I want to know your reasons."
Her gaze was fixed on him, as if she could peel away his calm exterior and see the truth within. "Are you worried my methods will make her lose control? Like some foolish mage who can't handle their own power? Even if that were to happen, that would be her own problem, the consequence of her own lack of skill."
He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "You're right, Serie. If she were to lose control, it would indeed be a sign of her lack of skill, of her failure to master her own power. But..." he looked her straight in the eye, "that's only if no one interferes. What you are doing... letting her be driven by a desire for revenge... that's a completely different matter."
(End of chapter)
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