Fireworks bored me.
I never understood why people looked forward to seeing them at every Serpent Festival.
They were just explosions in the sky.
Bright and colorful, yes. But nothing to be excited about.
Floating lanterns were much better in my opinion.
They lasted way longer. They could illuminate the night and paint a romantic picture. And they would never threaten you with a heart attack.
That was why I despised those firework guilds.
Their members were excellent crafters, I admitted that. But they were no artist.
No matter how bright and colorful the fireworks they made, firework-makers were not, not ever, artists!
People frowned at me when I sounded that strong opinion of mine.
They thought I was crazy for disliking fireworks. Saying that I had no taste for art.
Well, imagine their faces when I showed them what true art looked like.
If you wanted to paint the sky with bright and beautiful shapes, you needed good imagination and a little bit of magic.
The first spell I ever learned to cast was the one to create butterfly-shaped fire.
Instead of memorizing those boring mental exercises called Barrachian-something and what-not, I spent all my time trying to shape my fireball into the beautiful insect.
My magic instructor told me I should focus on practicing wind magic instead, since that was my most compatible element.
But you can't project anything with only air. There would be nothing to gaze at.
My choice and effort were not in vain.
In the next Serpent Festival, everyone in the village abandoned the fireworks show and came to see my fire butterfly performance instead.
Men and women, old and young, peasants and nobles, each and every one of them was so fixated by the hundreds of fire butterflies I made flying through the air.
People could not get enough of my performance that they asked me to do it again the next night, even when the Serpent Festival had passed.
Once I saw people enjoying my art, I began to be a little more creative.
I started tempering with the fire's temperature to make them burn with different color. Allowing me to conjure a rainbow kaleidoscope of butterflies.
My magic instructor insisted me to stop messing around with my sorcery blindly and began learning magic properly.
But all he wanted me to do was focus on some boring magic formulas.
Why would I need those formulas when I could figure out my spell on my own?
I never needed those complex magic variables to conjure my fire and butterflies. I could always manifest them just fine with my brilliant instinct.
Eventually I dismissed my instructor and even put off my intention on enrolling in one of those fancy magic academies in the Grand Cities.
I never found myself needing others to teach me. I could learn magic on my own.
My former instructor suggested me on at least attending myself to a nearby sect that specialized in sorcery.
But that would be too much of a hassle.
I had heard how strict the disciples being treated in those martial arts sects. They would never let me focus on developing my art.
That was right. All I needed was myself.
And just as I thought, I managed to greatly improve without the help of others teaching me.
Overtime, instead of just butterflies, I successfully conjured other creatures using my fire.
Birds. Oxen. Deer. Wolves. Rabbits. Frogs.
Sometimes I would make a performance based on famous fables and tell the stories using my magic.
Not only that, I also managed to learn to create beautiful sculptures using earth and ice magic. They helped in improving immersion to my performances.
People from all over came to see my artworks.
So many people came to see me that I was able to make a living from my art.
I even established a performer troupe where like-minded artists could showcase their art on my stage.
It was simply outrageous to abandon my creative journey just so I could properly train to become a true mage.
Every night I would perform in front of hundreds of people, sometimes thousands, conjuring all kinds of beautiful constructs using my magical prowess.
All my artworks were loved by the crowds.
But my fire conjurations were always the main attraction.
And of all my flame projections, the dragon was the most popular one.
"Let's go see the Dragon Weaver!"
People liked that piece of performance so much that they started to call me that way.
The 'Dragon Weaver' had a nice ring to it. So I kept it as my stage name and the name for our performance troupe.
It even became the name for the grand pavilion where we held our show in the Lantern City.
After reaching much success and it seemed like we needed bigger place to take in our audiences, I decided to move my show there.
In Lantern City I performed for many esteemed guests.
Tchakran governors and sect elders. Tsahanam sultan and his harem. An imperial princess even watched our show once.
Nobody could deny my taste for art now. And none could refute my great talent of creating something beautiful.
I spent my whole life developing and perfecting this craft of mine.
I directed all my attention and effort to conjure breathtakingly-beautiful artwork through my magic.
It was the Tchakran dream to pursue one's talent and attain its highest and most perfect form. That was the ultimate goal of all the martial art sects spread throughout the Golden Dawn provinces.
And now I could say for certain I had achieved that goal.
But, recently, I started to wonder if it was all for nothing.
Whether all the moment I had spent to develop and refine my talent were just a waste of time.
Because, for the past couple of years, countless monsters had been running rampage all across Tchakra.
And my art seemed to be useless against them.