Chapter 4: The Fool of Magic

Bennett, standing in a dimly lit chamber, his small hands trembling as they grasp a cold, smooth crystal sphere. The room is silent except for the faint ticking of a sandslide timer, a tool used by the wizard to measure time during meditation exercises.

Bennett's mother had always told him he was special, but the boy had never truly believed it. Now, standing before the enigmatic wizard, he felt a lump in his throat. The old man's sharp eyes bored into him, as if searching for something hidden deep within his soul.

Clark, the wizard, studied the child with a mix of curiosity and faint irritation. "Ready, boy?" he asked gruffly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Bennett nodded, his young voice barely audible above the silence. "Yes, sir."

Clark's mouth twitched in a faint smile, moreCancellation.

Bennett's entire being seemed to shrink under the wizard's gaze, but fascinating magic,

Clark watched as Bennett placed his hands on the crystal sphere—a tool used to gauge a person's spiritual

stanza.

Moments later, a faint glow began to radiate from the crystal, and the wizard's eyes narrowed inapprehension. The light grew steadily brighter, and he couldn't help but feel a sliver of wonder.

"I see," said the wizard, his voice low. "You are one of the few."

Bennett heard nothing but the thunder of his own heartbeat. He felt the familiar warmth of the spirit he had heard about in stories, a fire deep within him, and it scared him.

"It's okay," the wizard's voice soothed, as if reading his thoughts. "You're just beginning to tap into a well of power that isn't yours, but it's there."

Bennett nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. He still felt everything yet nothing, a strange mixture of elation and fear.

As the sand in the timer trickled to the bottom, the wizard clapped his hands, snapping Bennett back to reality.

"You've done well," the wizard said, his tone warmer than before. "Very well."

The boy couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. But even as the words left the wizard's mouth, a small part of him doubted what he had just experienced.

"What now?" asked Bennett, his voice barely

The wizard's face darkened. "We begin."

The youngest boy,Bennett, found himself faced with the next step of the wizard's test. Clark had settled the boy down in a meditative position, his eyes closed, his breath steady, and the faint sound of trickling sand from the hourglass beside him. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic drip of time.

"Focus," Clark's voice was firm but patient. "Feel the magic around you. Sense the world."

Bennett obeyed, his young mind attempting to penetrate the mysteries of the arcane. The world, in his understanding, was alive with unseen forces—wind, water, earth, and fire. But as he sat there, the minutes ticked by, and the boy's thoughts wandered. He felt nothing.

Finally, he opened his eyes, the faint lines of concentration smoothing away. "I—I'm not sure..." he hesitated.

Clark's patience began to wear thin. "What do you mean 'not sure'? There should be something—any feeling? heat, cold, pressure?"

Bennett scratched his head. "I'm just... hungry."

The wizard's frustration was palpable. "Hungry? How is that relevant?"

Bennett's shoulders slumped as confusion clouded his youthful eyes. He wasn't lying—the hunger was real, gnawing at him. But the wizard's expectation of sensing magic... it was like asking him to see through walls.

"I—I don't know," Bennett whispered. "I don't feel anything."

Clark's expression darkened, his eyes blazing with disappointment. This wasn't just about magic. It was about potential, about a gift that could set a man above the ordinary.

Years of teaching had shown him the signs—the spark of understanding, the sudden clarity—there was no denying it. Some were born to magic, others... not.

But Bennett wasn't just "not" anything. He was a contradiction—a boy who passed the first test with flying colors, yet couldn't grasp the second. A boy with power, but no will; with talent, but no ability to harness it.

Clark's mind drifted to his past students—those who had walked the same path, each of them finding their unique spark. One had seen fire. Another, the wind. One, the hidden currents of water. And then there was his greatest student—'''

But no. Now wasn't the time for memories. Now was the time for truth.

With a heavy sigh, Clark reached out and snapped the hourglass with a flick of his wrist. The journey had just begun, but for Bennett, the path was already clear.

"You're worthless," Clark said bluntly. "As a wizard, at least."

Clark, the wizard, left the room with aExpression ofDespair etched across his face. The Earl, who had been waiting outside, immediately knew the outcome—the boy had failed the test.

"Earl, I'm sorry," Clark said solemnly. "Your son lacks the necessary talent to become a wizard. It seems the gods have not chosen him for this path."

The Earl's heart sank. He had hoped for a miracle—a chance to redeem his son. But reality struck hard.

Clark hesitated, adding, "If you permit me, I suggest finding another field where your son might excel. After all, not everyone is suited for magic."

As he spoke, a sudden wave of regret washed over him. "This... this useless boy, with all his potential, and yet..." He shook his head, dismissing the sentiment. "For what it's worth," he continued, "in my thirty-six years of studying magic, I've never seen anyone like your son."

Clark turned abruptly, Leaving the words unfinished. Offers of goodwill were wasted on the Earl's expression. The wizard's tone betrayed the depth of his disappointment, and the Earl's shoulders slumped in defeat.

The Earl's face darkened as he processed the news. "A carriage ride home, if you please," he said tersely to his steward.

As they rode back through the crowded streets, the Earl's mind churned with anger and regret. "His father's not even a quarter as dim-witted as this boy," he muttered to himself. "Such a waste."

The royal courts of the empire buzzed with the news of the Earl's son. Nobles whispered with glee, turning the boy into a cautionary tale. "Even this child could outperform Ford's idiot," they said to each other, their laughter echoing through the marble halls.

Bennett, Meanwhile, returned to Ford's estate, His youthful confidence shattered. His father'sExpression told a story of Hurtand confusion.

"Father... am I...?"

The Earl's face fell, His disappointment plain. "Yes, Bennett. You are."

The boy's spirit sank, and he retreated to hisChambers, lost in A web of doubt.

Not far away, in the grand halls of the empire, the whispers continued.

Only one truth remained: Bennett was no Fool. His extraordinary＜＞ mental ability made him sharp and observant beyond his years, Yet the world had branded him a laughingstock.

The Earl, Burdened by his son's Misfortune, wondered what might have been. Had teachers and tutors been more patient, Had the magical arts been approached with more nuance... Would the outcome have been different?

But the past could not be undone, And the Earl's pride poisoned His perception. The boy he judged inadequate would Continue to Bear the weight of his father's Disappointment.