"Today is your special day, children—you will find out whether you have a talent for the grand art of magic and could study in the Blue Bismuth School, or you will spend your lives toiling in the fields. You…"
The middle-aged teacher in a white robe glowered at his audience, realizing that almost none of them were listening.
Almost fifty of five-year-old kids were standing in front of him, barely kept in check by their parents or other Blue Bismuth School instructors. Some were yawning, some were talking to each other, one was picking his nose.
The Evaluation Plaza was full of noise instead of solemn silence.
In this crowd, a single kid with eyes too sharp for his age went entirely unnoticed.
"Oh, this happens every year. I'm a teacher of magic, not a nurse!" the middle-aged teacher grumbled, waving his hand. "Instructors, lead the kids to the Affinity Orb!"
Following his order, the instructors led the kids toward a stone pedestal with the glass Orb. One by one, the toddlers put their hands on the artifact.
Usually, there was no reaction from the Orb.
But sometimes, it glowed in response, and the middle-aged teacher loudly announced the results:
"A strong Water Affinity and a medium Wind Affinity!"
"A weak Four-Elements Affinity!"
"A strong Fire and Earth Affinity!"
The future magi were led away by happy parents, and the talentless kids by sad ones. Eventually, there were only a few kids left in the crowd, and no parents at all.
All these children were orphans taken in by the Blue Bismuth School. Among them was a kid with unusually sharp eyes.
His name was Reynard Artemy, and he was the only child here who fully realized what would happen if he were talentless.
'Please! Please, the mysterious Power-that-be that reincarnated me in this world after I died on Earth—give me an Affinity! I'm just an orphan in this world, being a magus is my only chance to have a good life! I don't want to spend the rest of my life cleaning Blue Bismuth School's toilets! Power-that-be, you already didn't give me a system or any other cheat, can I have at least this much?' he prayed silently.
Then an instructor ushered him toward the Affinity Orb.
With bated breath, Reynard put a hand on the glass and grinned in relief when it changed color, turning pitch-black without a single spark of another color.
Black was a color of the Earth element, Reynard knew already.
But the teacher squinted at the orb in surprise.
"Oh, how rare. A Pure Earth Affinity!" he announced, then shook his head and looked down at Reynard. "Kid, you have a truly cursed luck. It would've been better for you to be talentless. At least you wouldn't have any illusions of becoming a magus…"
Reynard opened his mouth in confusion. When an instructor took his hand and pulled Reynard away, he asked:
"Instructor, is Pure Earth Affinity bad?"
"How to put it, kid… It's amazing if you are rich and terrible if you are poor. While others gather mana by breathing, sitting near rivers, and starting fights, you will need to consume expensive materials to advance. And you, little Reynard, will never be able to afford it."
Reynard's heart sank.
This had to be a joke… An evil joke from God.
A pay-to-advance affinity for an orphan on the school's payroll?!
In his past life, he died because he was too poor to pay medical bills when he was diagnosed with diabetes. Being from a poor family that already struggled, he tore himself into pieces for several years. Between medical bills, rent, and having to eat on occasion, there was never enough money, even with three jobs.
After a year of this, Reynard lost his apartment lease, and then his body just couldn't withstand it anymore.
Death felt like a welcome rest at that point, and being a baby again was a blissful period of not having to care.
But now…
'Curse you, Power-that-be… Curse you! You are dooming me to die young again as soon as any random disaster strikes, because I'm too poor! But I swear, I will become rich yet. I will become the richest and the most powerful magus there is, just to spite you! And then I will become immortal, because FUCK YOU!'
***
Eleven years later.
Reynard grew into a handsome youth with short dark hair and sharp brown eyes. But as the teacher predicted years ago, Reynard's magic never grew strong enough that he could move even just to the second grade.
Now he was standing in a tiny stone room, surrounded by shelves filled with many instruments of alchemy and crafting. There was even a tiny forge and a small wooden workbench.
This place was one of the several workshops for Blue Bismuth School students, and one that Reynard visited often in the past years for homework and his personal projects. Even as the lowest-rank magus, First Cycle Nigredo, Reynard could use some spells for smithing and alchemy.
In a world of magi, there was no need for modern inventions. The rich could afford artifacts that kept their food fresh and entertained them with pretty moving pictures; the poor didn't matter anyway.
While the world's knowledge of magic improved over the centuries, technological advancement never went past the medieval age.
Thus, Reynard's ideas to earn money by selling modern inventions had failed before he could even remember how to make soap.
But Reynard didn't give up on the idea. He just realized he was thinking in the wrong direction.
Now, he placed several items on the workbench: achemical weights, a tiny spoon, a small steel ball, a sealed flask, a ramrod, and a gun.
It looked like one of the ancient pistols from pirate stories, but it was better. Reynard spent four years learning how to smith and re-inventing the design. The barrel was enchanted to not fall apart during shooting, and the trigger was missing entirely.
Humming, Reynard opened the flask and got a tiny spoonful of shimmering blue powder.
"Ah, my pretty Boom Powder… Four more years of work and stipends spent on inventing and buying ingredients for you. Another reason why I couldn't afford to move up even a single Cycle," he muttered, measuring a precise amount of powder with the spoon and weights.
Reynard poured the Boom Powder into the pistol's barrel, put the steel bullet next, and used a ramrod to make sure it all fit tightly.
Finally, he hid the pistol and the rest of the Boom Powder in the deep pockets of his black robe. These pockets, many of which Reynard sewed onto the robe himself, were already filled with his tools and items he didn't dare to leave in his dormitory room. The pistol was entirely unnoticeable.
Reynard grinned.
"Finally! Sixteen years… Sixteen years without something as simple as a hot shower! But it's time to change my underdog status—or to die and reroll my character!"