“Ughh… Huh?” Wilford says as he sits up. What happened? Did I die? He wonders as he checks his body. Hmm. I'm fine. What was that? He asks himself.
Suddenly, a voice speaks to him and says, “Hey, what's up?”
Wilford raises an eyebrow. “Who said that?” He asks.
“It's me. Inside your head. I'm the Dao of the Dirt system.” The voice says.
“What?” Wilford asks, not sure what to make of this situation. Did I really die? He asks once more.
“You didn't die. That was just me merging with your mind. Speaking of, kid, you've got some great talent for the Dao of the Dirt.” The voice says.
Wilford’s eyes widen. “What? Talent? I have no such thing.” He says, denying the matter.
“No, kid, I’m serious. I’ve seen trash before, but in terms of trash superiority, you really are great.” The voice says once more, sounding amused.
Wilford raises an eyebrow, not understanding what was happening to him. Is he praising me, or insulting me? He asks himself. “Anyways, I’ve been tested before; I have no magical talent. I’m ‘Magically Stagnant’, also I’ve trained in swordsmanship but I wasn’t able to learn it. In terms of talent, I have none.” He says, confirming the matter.
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“What? No magical talent? That’s dumb. Everyone can do magic. You wake up and make yourself breakfast, that's magic. You feel insecure before leaving the house, so you take a sword, that’s magic. You feel winter approaching so you buy warmer clothes, that’s magic. Kid, everyone can do magic.” The voice says.
Wilford lets out a sneer. “What is that? That’s not magic. I’m talking about real magic. The kind where you can feel and use magical energy.” He says. You can’t trick me! He says to himself.
“Kid… You really are trash. Everything a person does is magic, and as one weaves these actions into a tapestry that becomes a spell. All the intent of those actions, their reactions to the situation, and their good or bad will, all of these things are real, and this is what makes up magical energy. These things push the tapestry forward towards the next weave and to the next spell. It’s impossible to live without magic.” The voice says.
“Hmm.” Wilford says, not really understanding but considering. “Anyways, I still don’t think I have talent. And now I’m out of a job, with no money and a debt. No place to live and nothing to eat.” He says.
The voice lets out a laugh. “You really are great at being trash. I like you, kid. Also, this makes things easy. Roadside trash, as one of the lowest things in society, no one cares if it lives or dies. As such, according to the Dao of the Dirt, you shouldn’t care either. Just leave this place. Just start walking and go on a journey. You’re trash so it doesn’t matter if you starve to death, that is your freedom and your strength.” The voice says.
Wilford’s eyes widen. “What!? Starve to death!? Are you crazy?” He asks, struggling against this fate.
“Think about it kid. What do you have in this place? This place is what’s truly magically stagnant. I can smell it already, you’re rotting in this shithole. Go on a journey, let me see your will to live. If it’s worth it, I can even help you out.” The voice says.
Wilford ponders it. “Help me out? How will you help me out?” It asks.
“Kid, I’m a system that was created by a divine being. After he reached the peak, he got bored and began to miss hell. So he created several systems and scattered them across the universe, hoping to uproot some of the turds struggling in hell, to join him on the peak. If enough of them rise, there’ll be a new hell and a new struggle. Anyways, I’m very awesome and powerful. There’s a lot of things I can do for you.” The voice says.
Wilford processes the information. How powerful is he? He wonders, curious about the benefits he could receive. “Why can’t you just help me out while I’m here?” He asks.
“Up to you. But just know that this will be negative 10 points. I’d much rather watch you struggle in the wilderness.” The voice says.
Wilford lets out a sigh. What does it matter anyway? This guy’s right, I’m still trash. It doesn’t matter whether trash lives or dies. He thinks before deciding on it. “Okay, I’ll go on a journey.” He says.