After several minutes of focused prayer, Lemonk turned toward the priest. The light of dawn filtered through the stained glass, bathing the ritual chamber in soft amber.
"Here," the priest said gently. "Drink this potion and place your hand on the crystal ball."
Lemonk obeyed.
The potion was bitter, earthy, metallic, and strangely warm. As it slid down his throat, a wave of dizziness overcame him. His knees buckled. The temple spun. Then, without warning, all the strength left his body.
Lemonk collapsed.
"Ah—ah…"
His eyelids fluttered open.
His head throbbed as if something had been hammered into his skull. Blinking against the morning light, he found himself lying on a mat inside one of the temple's side chambers.
Hovering over him was a familiar face, a big, bearded one filled with concern. Fran, the village head.
"What happened…?" Lemonk croaked.
Fran offered a small, reassuring smile. "Nothing serious. You just fainted."
"My ritual," Lemonk asked urgently. "What about my awakening?"
Fran's face tightened. His smile faltered.
"It… it went well," Fran said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But your awakened talent…"
Lemonk's heart skipped. Panic twisted through his chest like a vine. "What is it? What happened?!"
"Sigh…" Fran sat down beside him, folding his arms. "At first, we were all shocked that you fainted. It's rare, but not unheard of. Then we examined the crystal ball."
Lemonk clutched the edge of the mat. His head still pounded, but his thoughts were racing faster than ever. "And?"
"You did awaken a talent," Fran admitted. "That's not the problem. It's the kind of talent."
"What is it?" Lemonk whispered.
"Your talent is called… Strengthen."
Lemonk blinked. The name didn't sound bad. In fact, it sounded promising. "That doesn't sound so bad…"
Fran shook his head. "It's not bad in theory. But it's… misunderstood. Strengthen is considered one of the weakest natural talents. It gives no immediate power, no flashy abilities. It's a slow, demanding path. It requires intelligence, patience, and constant training to make even the smallest gain."
He leaned closer. "And worse—it drains your strength completely when it first awakens. That's why you fainted. You're starting from nothing. Ground zero."
Lemonk processed the words in stunned silence.
"But that's not all," Fran continued, his voice heavy. "Strengthen relies heavily on the quality of your soul artefact. If your artefact complements it, offers healing, defense, or growth, then the talent can become exceptional. But…"
Lemonk's eyes widened. "But what?"
Fran exhaled deeply. "You didn't awaken any soul artefact."
Silence.
It hit Lemonk like a hammer.
"No soul artefact…?" he echoed.
Fran nodded solemnly. "That's why I'm giving you this look, Lemonk. It's not that your talent is worthless. It's just… without an artefact, the road ahead of you is nearly impossible. You'll have to build everything - everything - from scratch. Strength, skill, endurance, technique. You won't just be behind. You'll be buried."
"But…" Lemonk's voice trembled. "It strengthens everything, right? If I train, if I work hard-"
"Yes. That's the one good thing," Fran said quietly. "Strengthen has no ceiling. It can improve every attribute, every skill, every part of you. If you're willing to suffer for it... someday, it can make you great."
Lemonk stared at the ceiling.
His future, once filled with dreams of power, respect, and change, now looked like a mountain made of ice.
But somewhere deep inside him, something hardened.
"I'll do it," he whispered. "Even if I start from zero."
Fran said nothing.
But in the quiet of the temple chamber, the wind shifted.
And far away, in a place no one could see, a tiny spark began to burn.