It's cold, so very cold. I can feel it trying to bite off my toes. I can no longer return to the warmth of my home, I'm stuck in these mountains freezing to death whilst those bastards at home waste food and jack themselves off over a long dead ancestors achievement.
Screw my worthless family for putting me in this situation. Kicking me out, disowning and publicly shaming me, all the while bragging about how great they are because of the accomplishments of my great great great grandfather, Leonidas Laconia. If you really want to be great, don't wear someone else's toga. Make your own through your own accomplishments.
I even had to flee the hundreds of thousands of miles to the northern country of Britannia, The worlds most dominant superpower for the past twenty years, ever since King Arthur united most of the Europa and West Asian continent. Never quite made it to the southern countries like Graecia.
That single act was enough to stop the constant wars between the countries in the continent, nobodies accomplished such a feat since Leonidas himself. If only I could be a hero like that.
The snowstorm's picking up making it even harder to see. I trip and fall, plummeting face first into the snow.
It's so cold, I'm not making it off this mountain, I'm going to die here. I'll never be the hero I wanted to be, I'm far too weak.
"Get up, Boy!"
Someone's talking but there's no one around, am I beginning to go insane as I lie on my deathbed?
"Get up, or else you'll die like this!"
"But I'm going to die anyway, what's the point in getting up, It's either freeze to death here or starve to death later. I'm too weak to get over this mountain, I'm the weakest in my entire family, I'm so weak I can't even use magic."
"Magic?! To hell with that shit! Instead of crying about what you don't have, take the time to strengthen what you do have! If you don't, you'll always be weak!"
"I don't have any magic at all, there's no way for me to learn it either, Every great warrior or hero has at least had some magic to back them up. How could I ever hope to be like them."
"Who are you, are you Arthur Britannia? Or perhaps you're Achilles?"
"But I'm not any of those people. I'm just me, Leon Laconia, a disgraced noble who wields a stolen sword from the East Asian Continent and is unable to use even the most basic of magic."
"Exactly, You're not them. You will never be them. You are the only person you'll ever be, you can either do the best with what you've got, or cry about what you don't have. Now are you going to give up and die without ever really trying or are you going to get up and keep going until your very last breath."
The more I listen to the voice, the more I realise it. He's right, I'm not anyone else, I'm only me and will only ever be me. I'm not going to die here on this gods forsaken mountain, I'm going to make it to Britannia and be the hero I always dreamed I'd be.
I slowly rise to my feet and come eye level to a man wearing Grecian armour, holding a spear and shield.
"Who are you?"
The man took off his helmet, revealing a face I knew well.
"I am Leonidas Laconia, A man who once stood at the peak of this world. All without wielding any magic."
My eyes widened in surprise. The reason being that my family prided itself on its powerful magic that came from our relation to Leonidas.
"Then, where did our families powerful magic come from?"
"From my Grandmother, Yamamba, from far to the east. That sword you wield, that was hers. It was passed to her son over her daughter and the result was that she left to what at the time was Alba. She found other Eastern migrants there and started a family that still lives in the North. The only surviving member is a young woman by the name of Circe."
Wait, he couldn't mean Circe Marvel, could he? The legendary adventurer.
"Anyway that's not important, that sword you wield. Take good care of it, I don't know much, about it, only its name, Maken. It supposedly means Demon sword in an ancient language."
"Leonidas, what should I do once I get to Britannia?"
"Get stronger, gain more power. I can't say when, but really soon, something terrible will occur."
With that Leonidas fades away and I'm left all alone on the mountain.
I don't know what parts of his story was true, though I do know he was right about one thing.
I am me, I can't use magic, but I can swing a sword. I'll just train my body ten times harder to make up for my lack of talent.
I begin my walk forward, my long and painful journey has only just begun.