Chapter: The Village Hero
Having completed the construction of the hall, I left the lazy knight in complete awe of my seemingly boundless power to shape the earth as I pleased. Returning to the humble abode I had built for myself, I began my usual morning physical training routine.
In this peculiar world, the planet I resided on revolved around the sun at a pace that stretched longer than the usual calendar year. Despite not being a teenager by technical standards, I had already begun experiencing the transformative stages of puberty. As a result, I suddenly experienced a significant growth spurt, reaching the formidable height of 163 centimeters at the tender age of nine.
With my strict physical training regimen, I had managed to develop a decent physique, not excessively muscular but not overly thin either. Although I had diligently trained for over 1,500 days, I had not yet awakened any aura. Nevertheless, I continued to follow my routine religiously, pushing myself to the limit. Yet, the debilitating curse of excess mana persisted, never relinquishing its hold on me.
My half-brother, Ron, possessed a mana pool of approximately 120,000 MP, which was considered incredibly vast. Despite his tireless efforts to deplete his reserves through rigorous training, it was difficult for me to fathom just how superior my own excess mana was compared to that of ordinary individuals. Even my former nanny, Camilla, possessed the lowest amount of mana I had ever encountered—merely 1 MP. And yet, she could proficiently utilize basic spells required for daily life.
My previous mentor, Darris, boasted around 40,000 MP and was widely recognized as an exceptionally proficient mage amongst all certified practitioners in the Duchy of Northumbria.
After completing my exhaustive training session, I decided to take a well-deserved rest and observe the commotion that had taken hold of the village. The rising sun illuminated the village's newfound marvel—a storage hall constructed from materials typically associated with major cities or affluent towns.
To my dismay, the indolent knave shamelessly took sole credit for the construction of the storage hall, declaring that it was he who persuaded me to undertake such a task. The truth, however, was much simpler. The cyclone I inadvertently unleashed during my escape from the Duston Viscounty had wreaked havoc upon countless lives, claiming an unknown number of casualties—presumably including members of my hunting party. Despite lacking any personal connection to these unfortunate individuals, an odd sensation of guilt overwhelmed me, compelling me to build the storage hall as a means of preserving rather than destroying.
As word spread throughout the village of my altruistic actions, a group of villagers emerged to express their gratitude in various ways. Some offered sweets, while others presented preserved meats of rare kinds. Naturally, the knight, consumed by envy, seethed at the villagers' adulation of me. One audacious farmer even went so far as to propose his daughter's hand in marriage, prompting a lackey who had accompanied the knight to contemplate suicide, erroneously believing that his own prospects with the farmer's daughter, Anna, would be forever shattered. I attempted to dissuade him from such a desperate act, reminding him that haunting would not achieve anything and expressing my disinterest in marrying the daughter of a farmer.
Expressing my gratitude for the villagers' offerings, I understood that these gifts were not given freely, for soon they came with a request for me to build houses for them as well. Being free from my own training and with the villagers' departure for the town not scheduled for another two days, I succumbed to their appeals, proceeding to construct stone houses as requested. While I had become the beloved hero of the village, I simultaneously earned the knight's profound hatred through his disdainful, venomous gaze.
It was then that I playfully dispatched a local courtesan, offering her services as a token of my appreciation to the envious knight. Remarkably, this gesture seemed to soften his perspective, as he began to regard me more favorably and even invited me to join him for a night of revelry, mistaking my intentions as a genuine invitation of friendship. Despite my attempts to make it abundantly clear that he was far from being my friend, the incorrigible fool obstinately refused to heed my words.
In the flicker of an eye, the relentless progression of days tumbled past, bringing the villagers to the precipice of their journey towards the bustling town. The entourage, comprised of only four souls – the village chief, a guardian for chief's safety, and myself – prepared to embark upon the expedition. It had not been the initial intention for Ares to accompany us, but alas, such is the folly of a stubborn fool, and so he begrudgingly tagged along.