The sun bathed the village of Eldoria in warm, golden light, but for Lian, the day began with an unsettling pit in his stomach. He walked down the cobblestone streets, his ragged shoes barely holding together, as the cheerful laughter of children filled the air. He was on his way to the village square, where the other children often played and practiced their budding magical abilities under the guidance of the elders.

  Unlike them, Lian carried no magical glow. While the other children effortlessly conjured sparks of fire or streams of water from their fingertips, Lian’s hands remained disappointingly empty. His mana level was so low it was barely detectable—an anomaly that had turned him into a source of ridicule among his peers.

  As Lian approached the square, he caught sight of a group of children huddled together, whispering and snickering. They noticed him too, and the giggles grew louder.

  “Look who it is!” shouted Arlen, the ringleader of the group. A boy with fiery red hair and a smirk that could cut glass, Arlen was known for his sharp tongue. “The boy who can’t even light a candle! What are you doing here, Lian? Hoping someone will lend you a bit of their mana?”

  Lian froze. The words stung, but he clenched his fists and forced himself to keep walking. Ignoring them was the best he could do.

  But Arlen wasn’t finished. He stepped in front of Lian, blocking his path. “Hey, I’m talking to you, mana-less!”

  The other children laughed, their voices like daggers to Lian’s heart. He felt his cheeks flush with shame and anger, but he said nothing.

  “Leave him alone, Arlen,” came a voice from the crowd. It was Mira, a girl with kind eyes and a protective streak. She stepped forward, placing herself between Lian and Arlen. “Picking on someone weaker than you doesn’t make you strong.”

  Arlen sneered. “Oh, look, his knight in shining armor has come to save him. Maybe you should lend him some of your magic, Mira. He needs it more than you do.”

  The laughter resumed, and Lian felt his throat tighten. Mira shot Arlen a glare before turning to Lian. “Come on,” she said gently. “You don’t have to listen to them.”

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  Lian nodded, grateful for her kindness, but deep down, the damage was already done.

  ---

  The Lonely Hours

  At home, Lian sought solace in the forest behind his house. The towering trees and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a sanctuary away from the cruel taunts of the village. He sat by a small stream, skipping stones across the water, each ripple a reminder of the turmoil inside him.

  “Why me?” he whispered to the empty air. “Why was I born like this?”

  He thought of his parents, who always reassured him that he was special in his own way. His father’s words echoed in his mind: “You don’t need to be like everyone else to be great, Lian. Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who face the hardest battles.”

  But it was hard to believe those words when the world around him constantly reminded him of his shortcomings.

  ---

  Resilience Takes Root

  One day, as Lian wandered through the forest, he stumbled upon an old, abandoned hut. Curious, he pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside. The interior was dusty and cluttered with books, scrolls, and strange trinkets. It looked like it once belonged to a mage.

  Lian’s eyes were drawn to a book lying open on a wooden table. The pages were filled with intricate diagrams and notes about mana manipulation. Despite his lack of magical ability, Lian was fascinated. He picked up the book and began to read.

  Hours turned into days as Lian returned to the hut every chance he got. He devoured the knowledge within the books, learning about the theory of magic, its history, and techniques for channeling mana. Although his mana was weak, he discovered that magic wasn’t just about raw power—it was also about understanding and precision.

  One passage in particular stuck with him: “The greatest strength lies not in the power one possesses, but in the will to rise above one’s limitations.”

  The words resonated deeply with Lian. For the first time, he felt a spark of hope.

  ---

  Facing the Bullies

  The next time Lian encountered Arlen and his gang, he was different. He stood a little taller, his eyes a little brighter. He had been practicing a technique he read about in the books—a way to concentrate his mana into a single point. It was a small step, but it was his.

  “Back for more, mana-less?” Arlen taunted.

  Lian didn’t respond. Instead, he raised his hand, focusing intently. A faint glow appeared at his fingertips—a tiny, flickering light, but it was magic nonetheless.

  The laughter died down as the children stared in shock.

  Arlen scowled. “So you can make a spark. Big deal.”

  “It’s not about the size of the spark,” Lian said quietly, his voice steady. “It’s about the fire it can become.”

  Mira, who had been watching from the sidelines, clapped her hands. “That’s amazing, Lian!” she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

  Arlen opened his mouth to retort but seemed to think better of it. He turned and stormed off, his gang trailing behind him.

  For the first time, Lian felt a sense of pride. The spark he created wasn’t just a flicker of magic—it was a symbol of his determination to rise above his challenges.

  ---

  The Journey Ahead

  Though the road ahead was still uncertain, Lian knew he had taken the first step. The forest, the books, and his own resilience had shown him that his worth wasn’t defined by the amount of mana he possessed, but by his willingness to keep trying.

  As he walked home that evening, the sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and gold. For the first time in a long while, Lian fel

  t like he belonged—not to the village, but to himself.

  And that was enough.

  ---