Well, today was… something. The trial to determine if I’m a real hero or just some overly powered kid with too many elements at his disposal. The arena was secret, hidden away like some grand spectacle that could change the course of history—yet it looked like it was a fancy tournament ground with too many stern faces. I could already feel the pressure building.

Of course, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were going to make me fight some giant monster or have a fancy tea party. Wouldn’t that be a twist? “Kiwi, defeat this rampaging beast, then we’ll enjoy scones.” No such luck.

Instead, they had me fight their warriors first. These guys were serious business. Imagine a hundred elite warriors who could probably take on a hundred regular soldiers. I barely managed to keep up, but hey, at least my magic was in full swing. Fireballs here, ice shards there—if I had a penny for every time I got distracted by my own power… well, let’s just say I could buy the entire kingdom.

Then came the elemental trials, and I’ll admit, I was starting to enjoy myself. Earth, fire, water, air—I was like a kid in a candy store, throwing fireballs and conjuring storms like I had nothing better to do. The sages looked impressed, but I could tell they were just waiting for me to mess up. I didn’t—well, mostly. The holy magic part threw me off a little. Demonic magic? Now we’re talking!

But then… it happened.

The illusion hit me. Suddenly, I was a child again, back in that awful orphanage. The bullying, the taunts, the whispers—it all came flooding back in vivid detail. I was weak, defenseless, too afraid to fight back. I tried to ignore it, but the memories were too strong. I couldn’t escape them.

And then came the turning point.

I saw my friend, beaten and bruised, lying on the ground. For a moment, I just stood there—frozen in fear. But then something inside me snapped. I couldn’t stand by anymore. The power that had always been dormant inside me erupted in a burst of raw, uncontrollable magic just like when I saved Lyria. Everything around me shattered, and I didn’t care.

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The scene changed, and I was suddenly suspended, the director of the orphanage shouting at me. I had lost control. But instead of condemning me, he did the strangest thing—he praised me. “You stood up for your friend,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “Even if you didn’t handle it perfectly. That’s what matters.”

That moment, that unexpected praise, was when I realized I wasn’t just some weak kid. I had power, and I could use it for something good. I didn’t know how to control it yet, but I would learn. I would protect those I cared about, no matter what.

The illusion faded, leaving me standing in front of the sages, the priest, the Demon of Darkness, and the elven spirit mage. I could feel their eyes on me, each of them trying to understand what they had just witnessed.

The king, his voice calm but commanding, asked the question that was on everyone’s mind: “This illusion, it was not from this world, and it was visible to all of us. What is the meaning of this?”

The Demon of Darkness narrowed his eyes. “Explain."

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t avoid the truth any longer. “I am not from this here, more precisely i am not from this world, one day i went to my bed and opened my eyes in this world. I was scared at first but soon accepted it, though meet Lyria and Nocthyss is complete coincidence but I understand if you are suspicious of me for not telling the truth beforehand, back in my world I was an orphan and getting bullied was like my daily routine, but the moment you saw was my breaking point where I was not able to withstand my rage and in attempt to save my friend I had to do something. ” I explained.

Everyone in that room was dead silent, the silence was broken by the king again "Do you know what illusion kill we used?" he asked. I was literally confused so i answered "No".

The king answered "It was a spell that will shows someone's true identity with a memory that supports their hidden intensions"

“The director of the orphanage praised me for standing up for my friend,” I continued, my voice steady despite the weight of the truth. “He told me I did the right thing, even if I wasn’t perfect.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The priest gave me a thoughtful look, and the elven mage seemed to understand.

The king spoke again, his tone softer than I had expected. “Your past does not define you, Kiwi. What you do with your power now is what matters.”

And just like that, the trial was over. I had faced the tests, revealed my past, and—somehow—survived it all. The illusion had shown my vulnerabilities, my fears, and my power, all in one. But the judges, for all their power, seemed to respect me in a way I didn’t expect.

I left the arena today not just as someone who had passed a trial, but as someone who had confronted their past. And for the first time, I felt like I might be ready to embrace what comes next.