The early morning sun rose over the sleepy village, casting its warm light across the modest homes that lined the cobblestone streets. Birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, their melodies weaving into the quiet hum of daily life. In a small cottage at the edge of the village, Lian woke to the faint aroma of freshly baked bread wafting into his room. The familiar scent brought a smile to his face, momentarily pushing away the thoughts of his struggles and insecurities.
“Lian, breakfast is ready!” his mother, Aria, called out. Her voice, warm and melodic, filled the house with a sense of comfort.
Lian swung his legs off the bed and quickly got dressed. His room was simple, a testament to the humble life his family led, but it was filled with small tokens of love—handmade toys his father had crafted and blankets his mother had carefully stitched. As he stepped into the small kitchen, the sight of his parents greeted him.
Aria was bustling around the stove, her hands deftly working to slice a loaf of bread while tending to a pot of steaming porridge. She was a woman of simple beauty, her hair tied back into a neat bun, her face glowing with a mother’s affection.
“Good morning, my little star,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she saw Lian.
“Good morning, Mama,” Lian replied with a smile, his voice still thick with sleep.
At the wooden table sat his father, Eron, a sturdy man with broad shoulders and calloused hands. He was sharpening a scythe, his strong hands moving with practiced ease. Despite his rugged appearance, his face softened when he looked at Lian.
“Morning, champ,” Eron greeted. “You ready to help me in the fields today?”
Lian’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really? You mean it?”
“Of course,” Eron said with a grin. “Every great man has to start somewhere, right?”
Aria chuckled as she placed a plate of bread and cheese in front of Lian. “Your father thinks you’re going to grow up and save the world, but for now, just eat your breakfast.”
The three of them shared a laugh, the sound filling the cozy cottage with warmth. Moments like these made Lian forget his worries—the whispers of the other children, the looks of pity he sometimes caught from the villagers. In this home, he wasn’t a boy with weak mana. He was simply Lian, their beloved son.
---
The Fields of Hard Work
After breakfast, Lian followed his father to the fields. The sun was high in the sky now, casting its golden light over the green expanse of crops. The gentle rustling of leaves and the chirping of crickets created a soothing symphony as they walked.
Eron handed Lian a small hoe and crouched beside him, demonstrating how to till the soil. “You see this, Lian? This is how you prepare the earth. Everything great starts small, just like this. You plant a seed, and with care and hard work, it grows.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Lian watched carefully, nodding as his father guided him. He mimicked the movements, his small hands gripping the tool tightly. It wasn’t easy. The ground was stubborn, and his arms quickly began to ache. But he gritted his teeth and pushed on.
“That’s it, son,” Eron said, a proud smile on his face. “You’ve got the spirit. Remember, it’s not about how strong you are—it’s about how determined you are.”
The words resonated with Lian. Even though his mana was weak, even though the other children mocked him, his father believed in him. And that belief made him feel stronger.
As the sun reached its zenith, Aria appeared, carrying a basket of food. She laid out a simple meal under the shade of a large oak tree, and the three of them sat together, enjoying the cool breeze.
“Your father wasn’t always this strong, you know,” Aria teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “When we first met, he could barely carry a sack of flour!”
Eron chuckled, shaking his head. “And yet, here I am, the strongest man in the village.”
Lian laughed along with them, his heart full. For a moment, the world outside their family didn’t matter.
---
The Cruel World Outside
But the peace didn’t last. Later that afternoon, Lian went to fetch water from the village well. He carried the wooden bucket with both hands, its weight testing his small frame. As he approached, he heard voices—familiar ones.
“Did you see Lian in the fields earlier?” one boy said, his voice dripping with mockery. “He couldn’t even lift a full bucket of water.”
“Yeah,” another chimed in. “He’s so weak. My little sister has more mana than him.”
Lian’s face burned with shame, but he kept his head down, gripping the bucket tightly. He wanted to yell at them, to prove them wrong, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he filled the bucket and hurried home, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
When he reached the cottage, Aria was waiting for him. She took one look at his face and knelt down, pulling him into a hug. “Lian, what happened?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, but his trembling voice betrayed him.
Eron stepped forward, his expression serious. “Lian, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Lian met his father’s eyes. Eron placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “Listen to me, son. People will always talk. They’ll always find something to criticize. But their words don’t define you. Your actions do. You understand?”
Lian nodded, though his heart still ached.
Aria cupped his face, her eyes filled with love. “You are stronger than you think, Lian. And no matter what anyone says, we will always believe in you.”
Their words were like a salve on his wounded soul. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll be strong. I promise.”
---
A Night of Hope
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the family gathered around the fireplace. Aria played a soft melody on her flute, the hauntingly beautiful notes filling the room. Eron sat in his chair, staring into the flickering flames.
“You know, Lian,” Eron said, his voice thoughtful, “just because your mana is weak now doesn’t mean it always will be. Magic is a mysterious thing. Who knows what the future holds?”
“Really?” Lian asked, his eyes lighting up with hope.
Eron nodded. “Really. And even if it doesn’t grow, that doesn’t make you any less special. Strength comes in many forms, son.”
Aria set the flute aside and joined them on the rug, pulling Lian close. “We’ll figure it out together, as a family. You are our son, and we are so proud of you.”
As the fire crackled and the warmth of his parents’ love surrounded him, Lian felt a flicker of determination. He might not have the strongest mana, but he had something just as powerful—hope, love, and a family that believed in him.
That night, as he drifted off to sleep, he made a silent promise to himself. He would work harder, push further, and prove to the world—and to himself—that he was destined for greatness.
---