"I wish," she clenched her teeth as she yelled, "Fireball!"

She held out her hand and imagined a globe of flame bursting out from the ether.

And yet, neither a whiff nor a puff would answer her call. Indeed, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how vividly she visualized, the black haze would not even appear to materialize her wish.

"Geez..." Her weary voice echoed back and forth within the wide, open area.

She asked permission from the King to use the underground vault where she once tested the Kingdom's magical weapons. It was a place filled with nothing but bad memories, and that naturally kept her away from it. But since her discovery of a method with which to reliably cast spells, she now needed a private space where she could safely test potentially destructive magic.

That was the plan, at least.

I'm pooped.

She sat down, beside a puddle of water she created a moment ago, to make sure her magic wasn't just 'out of order'.

And I've only been at it for a few hours…

Pathetic.

Rika's been training non-stop every day since coming to the castle! Gnnnn... I should try harder too, but...

She placed her hand over her cheek.

…there's a limit to how much hard work can do for me... It's magic, after all, it's nothing like muscle trai-

While she lost herself in introspection, she caught a glimpse of the hand on her cheek, reflected on the puddle by her knee.

-ning...

Her eyes flickered.

Eh?

She glanced downwards and observed curiously her own posture.

Th-this is...!?

She sat with both legs tucked in and back slightly arched. Without even noticing, she had pushed one hand down on her skirt, covering her frontal arc. Meanwhile the other, placed on her cheek, curled gently inwards, leaving her pinky and index fingers raised.

...very girly!

Her face burned up.

Oh my God! Since when have I been doing this!?

I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't see my reflection! I mean, I haven't even been practicing something like this! On top of that, there's no one around, so there's no point!

She looked down at her open palms.

But what is this? Why does it feel so natural!?

Conflicted, she slapped her hands over face and whimpered, "Ahhh...! I want to see how it looks in the mirror...!"

Then, she pointed a sharp gaze towards the middle distance.

I bet it looks really cute!

At that moment, everything seemed clear; as though the creaking cogs in her mind had aligned perfectly. And as if to confirm it, she gave herself a little nod.

Alright, enough practice. I've got to see this.

She stood up.

However, just as she turned to face the door, a raspy voice greeted her, "Good afternoon, Miss Heroine. I had not expected to find you here."

"Eh!? A-Alphonso!?"

As she said his name, the guards outside pulled the massive wooden doors shut once more, letting off a loud, sustained creak in the process.

"W-what are you doing here!?" she asked, "Since when-"

"I arrived just now. Did you not hear the doors open?"

"Err..." She averted her gaze. So that creaking wasn't only in my head, huh?

"But I must say, to see you take the initiative and finally practice your magic - I am pleasantly surprised."

Sylphia's eyelids twitched.

"I see," he continued, "you must have obtained the inspiration I had hoped you'd find from joining the guild. But take heart, Miss Heroine, for the path of magic is difficult. Do not allow a moment's frustration to drain you. And if there is anything you are having trouble with, please, do not hesitate to ask."

Urgh...! How can I leave now, after hearing something like that!?

Taking a deep breath, she let out a sigh.

Fine... I guess admiring Sylphia's cuteness can wait.

Crossing her arms, she then said, "I'm not getting it..."

"Hm? What is it?"

"Magic."

"That's... rather broad, Miss Heroine."

"I mean, I could do cast some spells..."

To demonstrate, she summoned a ball of water. Her black haze coalesced at a point of her choosing, collapsing into a volume of sparkling liquid roughly equal to that of the bucket in her mind.

"Oh. Well done." Alphonso brought his hands together in applause.

Urk…I know he's not doing it sarcastically, but it still kinda ticks me off...

She added, "...but when I try it for some other things, it doesn't work."

Next, she leveled her hand to one side and wished for a ball of fire - precisely the same method which summoned the water just now. But this time, her black magic did not even materialize.

"Like that," she continued, "Oh, I was trying to cast fireball, by the way."

"Hm... fireball." He nodded approvingly. "A classic spell. It was certainly quite the achievement when I successfully cast it for the first time..."

Hmm... I guess he's a fire mage, after all? I wonder if I could one day do that big inferno thing he tried to cook me with...

"...but perhaps it is simply not your affinity."

Her eyes flickered. Then, she cocked her head and asked, "...affinity?"

"Yes. Mages often have an affinity towards certain spells. There are many theories as to how they are realized, but for example, one's fiery emotions can lead one to specialize in fire magic, or if one is used to liturgical memorization, then they might develop an affinity towards incantations. There are countless unique variations."

Sylphia nodded along, in the meantime.

"Let's see, since you were able to create that water ball earlier, then perhaps you have an affinity to water?"

"Ah? No. Because, see - I can also do this." Next, she imagined a lighter in her hand and, just like the water ball, created a tiny flame hovering over her thumb. "That's why I thought I might do fireball next, but..."

"Hmmmm... interesting. Then perhaps it is a different condition."

"Urrrgh..." She tossed his words around in her mind, desperately searching for the key to unlock her magic but conversely, her pressuring herself was drawing a complete blank instead.

"Ugh..." she whimpered, "I really don't get it."

"Fret not. Magic isn't learnt in a day, and perhaps this is true even for the Legendary Heroes. Why, it took me years of study to cast my first fireball." Then, he bent down on one knee and laid his palm over her head, saying, "So do not worry, Miss Heroine. I trust that you shall soon find your answer."

"Really?"

"Of course. I know you are a clever girl. Perhaps a bit lacking on motivation..."

Her eyelids twitched. You could have left that out, you know?

"...but since you have finally put your mind into it, I have no doubt that you shall soon, as you say, 'get it'."

Geez, I can't tell if he's being kind or just making fun of me...

Finally, she let out a sigh and smiled.

But I guess I feel better now.

"I see," she said with light spirit, "thanks, Alphonso!"

The room was no longer quite as empty as when she was acquainted with it. It had since then, been furnished, at her request, with a pair of stools: one for her, and one for some refreshments, in case she got tired.

For the moment, Alphonso used to other one, and the two sat side by side for a short break.

First, they had a light chat, with Sylphia recounting with hazy detail the events that transpired in her last adventure. She conveniently left out her various malfeasances, while playing up the 'civilized tribes' impression she wanted to promote. It then flowed towards different subjects, such as Alphonso's interest in Sylphia's progress as a heroine, and then about the heroes, in general.

"Ah," Alphonso said with the enthusiasm of a college teacher, "but did you know that there are various myths of the Legendary Heroes?"

"You mean, apart from the one I read?"

"Indeed. I have heard so many, and the most interesting ones are often sung by lesser bards. None of them are published, so I cannot completely retell their tale, but often, they focused on a single hero - their personality, sometimes their accomplishments."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Oh?"

"I still remember some details. The Venerated Paladin, Rheinhardt, was known as a kind and fair man, for better and for worse. It was said that he often came at odds with the Peerless Blade, Lucius, who was stoic and steadfast."

"I suppose they could be embellishments made by the lyricists themselves. But there still remains the impression left by the heroes' great deeds. You have read the passage where the gentle Priestess held back the Swordsman's blade just as the latter was about to cut down a child possessed by a powerful demon."

"Yeah, instead, she exorcised it away, didn't she?"

He nodded. "But in some stories, that did not end there. Having lifted the demon from its host, its spirit would then be free to simply take over another body, repeating the cycle. Thus, she decided to imprison it within her own body."

"Eh? Couldn't she just destroy it somehow?"

"Perhaps not. Because otherwise, she wouldn't then have asked the hero, Rheinhardt, to slay her with his holy lance."

Sylphia's eyes popped wide open. "Eh!?"

"Suppressing the demon's power within her holy vessel and then being struck down by a consecrated weapon - perhaps that was the only way to truly destroy such a demon. Or perhaps it could have been slain within the child's body. Who can say? But that being the case, her name was immortalized thus - Laeticia the Merciful."

"The Merciful…" She stared in awe at the middle distance as she imagined the scene, as though it were a classic renaissance painting.

Maybe Laeticia the Short-Sighted, or Laeticia the Suicidal…

And as cognitive dissonance took hold in her mind, she soon made a glaring realization. "Wait, wait, wait," she whined, "so she died!? That can't be right! She was supposed to slay the Demon King with the rest of the heroes!"

"Indeed. But I do wonder... you recall how the myth ends, right? How the heroes call out all of their most powerful skills to slay the Demon King?"

"Uh…" She averted her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Did you notice that everyone spoke aside from the Priestess?"

She jolted. "No way."

"A fascinating coincidence, isn't it? Of course, the accepted explanation is that, the gentle Priestess' most powerful skill was not used to attack, but to heal." Rubbing his beard, he then snuck a sideways glance at the little girl and with a smirk, said, "But it isn't interesting to consider if that was not the case...?"

Ehhhh...? I feel like I'm gonna lose sleep over that...

"So, Miss Heroine... what do you think?"

"Huh?"

"What sort of legacy do you wish to imprint upon history?"

"Ah..."

That's right... being the heroine, I guess it's already decided that my name is going to be told in myths a thousand years from now...

She crossed her arms as she circulated those thoughts in her head. And slowly, her shoulders fell and fell, as though an ever increasing burden weight upon them.

A thousand years...

That's...

...sort of lonely, isn't it?

By that time... will this world still be as it is now? After all, the invasion of the Demon King is like a cycle, isn't it? And when the cycle restarts, and another generation of heroes are called... will I be forgotten then? How about Rika? Or Letty? Even this Kingdom may disappear in that time.

"Hey..." she muttered.

"What is it, Miss Heroine?"

"Are... there any records of the heroes... before the last time they were summoned?"

"Hmm...?" He raised an eyebrow. "You mean the summoning from a one-and-a-half millennia ago?"

She clenched her teeth.

When you say it like that... I guess the answer's pretty obvious.

The old man reached over, pulled her chin up, and said, "Miss Heroine, please don't make that face."

She froze up. It was her first time seeing it, after all - a kind smile from the man she always referred to as a ' geezer'.

As their eyes met, he let go of her chin and, with a low, breathy voice, said, "It is the same for you and for me. The time will eventually come for us to be forgotten. It is simply a fact of life..." He then placed gently over her head and rubbed it back and forth. "...But while we are here, I believe we ought to make good use of that time."

"Good use? How?"

"That is the question, isn't it? Ultimately, it would differ from person-to-person, but I believe it matters not how humble the deed you accomplish. If you do it to your satisfaction, and to those around you, then you will certainly leave an impression that will last a lifetime."

"A lifetime..."

"Of course, it's nothing compared to a thousand years... but could we, who only hold one life, truly ask for anything more?"

Her eyes flickered.

Somehow, it all made sense. Those words comforted her, as if good things abounded from holding them close to heart.

"I see," she said, with a meek smile, "thanks again, Alphonso."

Finally, he stood up once more and said, "Mm. That's the spirit. Now then, back to your studies."

"Uh... huh?" She cocked her head.

"After a good, short rest to refresh your mind, it is important to then refocus on your objective. So let us talk about your affinity."

"A-ah, right!"

"As I said, it is often tied to one's own personality, or way of life, so you will have to discover it yourself. Since you are able to cast spells now, you might also extrapolate meaning from their pattern."

"Pattern... well one's water, another's fire... gnnn....it's way too few to make a pattern from."

"Perhaps. But finding just that may be the key to unlocking your magical potential. For instance, my affinity is with spells which use incantations. Having been brought up with books, I was taught to memorize passages and repeat them at a moment's notice. Well, that's how I rationalize having obtained my affinity, at least..."

"Oh..."

Curious, she finally began to ponder seriously the clues the old mage laid at her feet. Something about myself? A pattern? And it could be tied to the element, type, activation...

And then it hit her. "Activation...?"

"Hmm...?" Alphonso leaned forward. "That expression... perhaps you have figured something out?"

That's right. I don't only know these two spells... there was also that one I learned in the dungeon!

Taken together, they're a bucket of water, a lighter, and a megaphone.

Her eyes widened.

They're all real-world objects!

And if I wish for it...!

The excitement traveled up her tiny shoulders, sending tremors across her body.

"In that case..." she muttered, turning away from him, "I wish!"

She envisioned it in her mind: The contours, the shape. She held out her finger over the grooved trigger and pointed it towards a nearby wall.

Yes, yes! This is it! It's happening!

The black haze spewed out from her body and clumped together in her hand, forming the shape she imagined.

"Hm...?" Alphonso scratched his chin. "What is this?"

A weapon that renders strength, skill and honor meaningless!

All at once, the black haze then collapsed into two points.

The very definition of OP!

One exploded onto a fireball while the other formed a clump of metal.

She screamed, "The gu-"

Contrary to her expectation, however, the fireball expanded in all directions, rather than being funneled into the virtual barrel formed by the black haze.

"Ack!" she screamed.

Bang! The explosion sent a shockwave that rippled across her hand. No matter how fast she withdrew it, she had long been singed by the flames. And the next thing she knew, her brain was melting from the blistering pain shooting up and down her entire arm.

"Ow, ow, ow, OW!"

She hardly could recall what happened next. Her eyes soon blurred and her entire body collapsed from the pain. It seemed for a moment that Alphonso, was yelling something, but that, too, lost as her consciousness slipped away.