Frontline (2)

[Cast: Ignition]

The campfire burned brightly.

Bastle rubbed the scaly skin, surrounding just the area near his eyes. He was a bit sensitive to the rampaging light.

The rations were being handed out. Stale bread, with some warm water, and a few other ingredients.

"They could at least let the bread be somewhat enjoyable."

"It feels like I'm biting into a rock."

"What's the difference between this and wood bark soup."

Whining arose from the soldiers. But it's not like anything could really be done. Useless, relentless complaints.

"Psst. Kid."

Bastle turned his head, locating the voice in an instant. It originated from a young man, His helmet was secured tightly, so you could only see a few parts of his face. Hazel eyes.

He lifted his visor. There, you could see more of his face. A clean-shaven face, devoid of facial hair. Somewhat youthful. He was in his thirties, or so.

"Hm?" Bastle responded to his calling.

"There's a way to make this food taste better."

"..."

"Follow me."

Reluctantly, Bastle followed behind the man. A separate part of the camp. There was a separate campfire. Three other individuals surrounded the campfire.

"Pour a little bit of your water into one of these wooden bowls."

Hazel eyes threw a bowl at Bastle's way, hoping to catch him off guard. He failed. Bastle caught the bowl with ease. There was a little bit of displeasure on Hazel's face, but nonetheless, he continued. 

"A kid as young as you, in this war. It's strange."

"..."

"Oh well. Alright. So, pour just a tiny little bit of water into the bowl. Or a lot. Boil the tomatoes and the green onion that was given to you."

Bastle reached into his bag. He was indeed given one nearly-rotten tomato, along with a more fresh scallion.

"If you boil the tomato and the onion, then mix it together, you can make a nice soup to dip the bread into."

"Hm."

[Cast: Ignition]

A cast that anyone could learn. Rather than controlling fire itself, it was more like using mana to induce heat onto an object.

The bundle of sticks caught on fire. Bastle hovered his bowl of water over the fire.

"How sad. A young child like you is put on a battlefield. Is it our enemies that are cruel, or us?" the soft-spoken woman who had previously talked about murder spoke, quite gently.

To think she could show compassion so quickly.

"You're truly a strong one," she continued.

"You're the strong one. Not me." Bastle said quickly.

The water was starting to boil. So, he did as the man said. He placed the tomato and onion into the water. 

"Ack."

The hot water splashed onto his hand. He shook it off, trying to ward the pain away. It went away after a few seconds, though.

"Hot water..."

The onion and tomato softened. The smell wafted through the air, entering the young boy's nose.

A warm meal. It was something unfamiliar to him. Even when he had lifted in the village, warm meals were something he didn't have access to.

"To think this war-filled life is better than anything I've ever experienced..."

A thin smile formed on his face, without him knowing.

He mashed together the onion and tomato, making this sort of... onion-tomato stew. 

"It's missing some meat. That's all."

He dipped the bread into the stew, pulling it out and staring at it. He hesitantly placed it into his mouth.

Though he could taste the staleness of the bread, and the slight rotting quality of the tomato, it was still good.

"..."

The sunlit sky was still sensitive to his eyes. His legs were still aching from all the walking he had to do.

But his mouth was satisfied. 

"Haah."

He let out a heavy breath of air.

. . .

"The type of mana that you hold, Bastle. I can sense it."

"Huh?"

"You're the perfect heir for the Moon Sword Arts."

Bastle stared at him blankly. It was the dead of night. Another day of being a lookout. He had no time for nonsense.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mana comes in a multitude of different forms. Mana at its base, can be transformed into flame mana, wind mana, ice mana, water mana. In some rare cases, some individuals have supreme control over one elemental mana."

"..."

"Lunar mana. It can technically be considered as an element, surprisingly."

"What's... you're point?"

"Aeloan. Esoterik. Those individuals with that supreme control are hailed as monarchs."

"..."

"You have an incredibly strong affinity to Lunar mana."

"Lunar... mana?"

"A rare practice. For most people, it is not even able to be utilized. For you to have the potential to utilize it and be its monarch... you are a rare individual."

"... Right."

"I'm an individual that uses Lunar mana. Your whole life, you probably didn't even know you had something like that, due to how unorthodox it is."

He was right. Bastle believed that throughout his whole life, ignition would be the only [Cast] he would be able to use.

"What makes you think I'm... Aeloan? Maybe I'm regular like you."

"I can sense the mana surging through your body. If I were to pierce your soul, lunar mana would come pouring out."

"..."

"Being able to utilize lunar mana alone is rare. But being a Lunar Aeloan? Perhaps you are the first of your kind."

"I have no interest in that."

"What?"

"Being strong. I have no interest. I am strong enough to survive. Why would I want more power?"

"Are you not... hearing me properly? You're one of the rarest existences-"

"I don't care!"

Bastle stood up, trudging out of his seat and changing his position.

Truthfully, Bastle did care to an extent.

He believed that he had no power, though. At least, not the power that Feyrith had been describing. That type of grand power. 

If he had that power, if he had known that he had that power long ago, he would've maybe been able to save his village. Save all his friends.

So it was best for him to believe that he didn't have those powers. That he was powerless from the start.