Three months had passed since Shinichi's first training session with his father.
Three months filled with sweat, tears, and endless frustration.
Every single day, without rest, Shinichi practiced mana control with Ryose in their backyard.
From morning until evening, interrupted only by meals and brief rest periods.
But the results?
Nothing.
Barely any progress at all.
The small flicker of light he had managed to create three months ago remained his greatest achievement.
Since then, nothing had changed. Even producing light that dim now felt increasingly difficult, as if his body was fighting against every effort he made.
Shinichi sat beneath that same oak tree, his breath ragged, his face drenched with sweat.
His hands trembled, not from physical exhaustion, but from mental frustration that had reached its limit.
"Take a break, Shinichi," Ryose said in a weary tone.
The man stood not far from him, his expression a mixture of concern and helplessness.
"No," Shinichi answered stubbornly.
"I can still go. I have to keep trying."
"Shinichi—"
"I said I can still go!"
Ryose fell silent. He knew how stubborn his son was, but seeing him like this made his chest tighten.
Shinichi staggered to his feet. His legs were nearly giving out, but he forced his body to stay upright.
He closed his eyes once more, trying to sense his Mana Core.
But all he felt was emptiness.
His Mana Core felt like a well that had run dry. There was nothing left he could draw from it.
Shinichi opened his eyes, staring at his empty palm with a look of despair.
"Why...?" he whispered.
"Why can't I...?"
Ryose approached his son and placed his large hand on Shinichi's shoulder.
"That's enough for today. Your body needs rest."
"But—"
"Shinichi," this time Ryose's voice was firmer.
"Pushing yourself won't help you."
"I don't want you to damage your own Mana Core because you're being too hard on yourself."
Shinichi could only nod weakly. He was too tired to argue.
They both returned to the house with stumbling steps. Stelle, seeing their condition, could only smile sadly while preparing towels and warm water.
The days passed with the same pattern.
Training. Failure. Frustration. Rest. Then repeat.
Shinichi began to lose count of how many times he had tried and failed. Dozens of times? Hundreds? Maybe thousands by now.
But the most painful part wasn't his failure itself.
The most painful part was watching the gazes of those around him slowly change from hope to pity, then to... disappointment.
Especially from his grandfather, Moro Sunvolt.
The old man rarely visited, but every time he came, his gaze toward Shinichi was always the same.
A cold stare that seemed to judge, condemn, and finally... give up.
And tonight, his grandfather came again.
Shinichi sat in his room on the second floor, directly above the living room.
He had just finished bathing and was getting ready for bed when he heard loud voices from below.
"How long are you going to keep letting this continue, Ryose?!"
Moro's voice thundered throughout the house.
Shinichi froze. His hand holding the comb stopped in mid-air. He could feel his heart beating faster.
"Father, please don't start again—" Ryose's voice sounded tired.
"Don't start again?! Your son has been training for three months and there's been no progress at all!"
"Even children with Grade E affinity can still produce something better than him!"
Shinichi slowly walked to his bedroom door and opened it slightly. He could hear more clearly now.
"Shinichi is still young, Father," this time it was Stelle's voice speaking.
"He's only five years old. There's still plenty of time to develop."
"Time?" Moro laughed cynically.
"Time won't change an affinity that's been set since birth, Stelle!"
"You think I don't know that?!"
"I've lived decades longer than you both!"
"I've seen thousands of children with all kinds of affinities!"
"And there isn't, there ISN'T a single one of them who had an affinity as low as my grandson's and still managed to become something meaningful!"
Silence blanketed the house.
Shinichi gripped the edge of his bedroom door tightly. His fingernails nearly pierced the wood.
"Father... don't talk like that..." Ryose's voice was low, strained.
"Why? Because it's the truth?" Moro continued with an increasingly loud tone.
"Listen, Ryose. I understand you love your son."
"I love my grandson too."
"But love won't change the fact that Shinichi Sunvolt will NEVER be able to become a true Sunvolt!"
"Our family is a family of adventurers."
"A family whose name is carved in history as S-class monster hunters!"
"But what can that boy do?! Produce light the size of a firefly?!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
Ryose's voice thundered. Shinichi could hear something fall—maybe a chair or table that had been knocked over.
"Don't... don't talk about my son like that in front of me," Ryose's voice trembled, a mixture of rage and sorrow.
"I'm talking like this BECAUSE he's your son!" Moro shot back.
"Because I don't want to see the Sunvolt family become a laughingstock!"
"There are already whispers among the nobility."
"There's already mockery from other families."
"They say the great Sunvolt family now only has an heir who can't even light a candle with his magic!"
Stelle was crying. Shinichi could hear his mother's gentle sobs from below.
"That's why," Moro continued with a tone slightly calmer but still firm.
"I've made my decision."
"Shinichi will not be trained as the Sunvolt heir."
Shinichi's heart stopped.
"W-what do you mean, Father?" Ryose asked.
"What I said is simple."
"Rather than forcing him to become something impossible, it's better we let him live as an ordinary person."
"A merchant like you, perhaps. Or a farmer. Or anything that doesn't require strong magical ability."
"If he has no talent for any of that, then just send him straight to the Underground of the Weakling!"
"No!" Stelle screamed.
"He's still my son!"
"He's still your grandson!"
"How can you give up on him like that?!"
"I'm not giving up on him, Stelle," Moro answered in a tone that sounded tired.
"I'm just being... realistic."
"This world is cruel."
"This world doesn't want to wait for the weak to become strong."
"Better he lives happily as an ordinary person than dies pointlessly trying to become something impossible."
"And can't you both see?!"
"He's already being too hard on himself!"
"Every day I hear about him training until he passes out!"
"A five-year-old should be playing, not torturing himself!"
Silence.
Shinichi could no longer hear anything except his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"So... my decision is clear," Moro said.
"Starting tomorrow, I don't want to see Shinichi training anymore."
"Let him be an ordinary child. That's what's best for him."
"If you keep training him then I have no choice but to banish him to the Underground."
"Father—"
"Enough, Ryose. I've decided."
"And as the head of the Sunvolt family, you must respect my decision."
Footsteps sounded. The front door opened and closed hard.
Moro had left.
All that remained was the sound of Stelle's crying and the heavy silence from Ryose.
Shinichi closed his bedroom door slowly.
His hands trembled. His entire body trembled.
He walked unsteadily to his bed and sat on the edge. His eyes stared blankly at the wooden floor beneath him.
His grandfather's words echoed in his head.
Will never be able to become a true Sunvolt.
Underground of The Weakling.
Light the size of a firefly.
A laughingstock.
Better he lives as an ordinary person.
Each word stabbed deeper than anything he had ever felt.
Even deeper than the truck accident in his old life.
Because this time, the pain didn't come from his body.
The pain came from somewhere far deeper.
From a soul that had hoped for change.
From a heart that had believed this time would be different.
But it wasn't.
Shinichi lay down on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling of his room.
Tears began to flow from the corners of his eyes, soaking the pillow beneath his head.
I... can't do anything...
Even to defend myself...
I can only... listen...
Listen to how people give up on me.
Listen to how they consider me useless.
Listen to how they decide my future without asking me.
But what can I do?
What can a five-year-old child with the weakest affinity in this world do?
Nothing.
There was nothing he could do except listen and accept.
Shinichi closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold back his crying so it wouldn't be heard by his parents who might still be downstairs.
But the tears kept flowing.
Flowing endlessly throughout that night.
A night that taught him the cruelest lesson of his new life.
That sometimes, a second chance doesn't always mean a better chance.
Sometimes, it's just a chance to experience failure in a different way.
And that night, Shinjiro Shun as Shinichi Sunvolt felt that failure with absolute clarity.
So clearly it almost made him give up.
Almost.
Because behind the flowing tears and the pain gripping his chest, there was one small thing still burning in his heart.
A tiny spark.
A spark of rage.
Rage at his own weakness.
Rage at the unfair world.
Rage at a fate that seemed to mock him.
And that rage, though small, was still enough to keep him going.
At least for one more night.