The village of the quiet orcs was no longer quiet. The air, usually thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, was now a joyous mix of roasting meat, woodsmoke, and the excited grunts of hundreds of orcs.

It was a festival born of pure, unexpected hope. In the center of it all, Light sat with the children, the talent appraising ball glowing in his hands like a captured star.

He had already identified a few interesting talents: a boy who could make plants grow slightly faster, a girl with an uncanny sense of direction. But now, he focused on a young orc whose ball had displayed the words [Healing Air].

"This talent of yours is meant for healing," Light explained, his voice calm and encouraging. "As the name suggests, you can infuse the very air with your life force. Try it. Close your eyes, and imagine your own energy, your mana, flowing out and becoming one with the air you breathe."

The boy, a stocky child with earnest eyes, tried to concentrate on what Light had just instructed. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a soft, green light began to emanate from his hands.

It wasn't a solid spell, but a shimmering mist of glowing green particles that floated gently into the air. The particles drifted towards the crowd of watching villagers and, as if guided by an unseen intelligence, settled upon those who were old, ill, or injured.

An old warrior, his back bent from a century of battles, suddenly straightened up with a loud crack, a look of utter disbelief on his weathered face as a pain he had lived with for fifty years simply… vanished.

A mother nursing a sick child watched in awe as the feverish flush on her infant's cheeks began to fade. The healing was weak, a temporary relief, but it was a miracle nonetheless.

"See?" Light said, patting the little orc's shoulder. At his touch, the boy's eyes snapped open, and he saw the looks of gratitude and wonder on the faces of his kin.

A huge, never-ending smile stretched across his face. He had a gift. He was special.

"You just need to practice," Light joked, his voice full of warmth. "Once you reach the S-Grade, or even become a demigod, you'll be known far and wide. Don't forget your old teacher at that time, okay?" He winked and moved to the next child.

"Walkthrough," Light read from the ball. "A vague name, but a wonderful ability." He walked to a nearby tree, and with a perfect, controlled pulse of mana, sliced a thick, solid piece of bark from its trunk. He returned and placed it upright on the ground.

"Now," he said to the child, a small, nervous-looking orc. "Close your eyes. Imagine your body isn't solid. Imagine it's like the wind, like a ghost. And then, just walk straight."

The little fellow did as he was told, his small hands clenched in concentration. He took a hesitant step, then another, walking directly towards the slab of wood. The villagers held their breath, expecting a comical collision.

But a miracle happened. As the child's foot touched the bark, it didn't stop. It passed right through. His whole body followed, phasing through the solid wood as if it were nothing more than a curtain of smoke. He emerged on the other side completely unharmed.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd, a sound like the wind being knocked out of a hundred powerful lungs at once.

In their world of solid, unyielding reality, they had just witnessed the impossible. They erupted in thunderous applause.

The child, startled by the noise, opened his eyes. "What? What did I do?" he asked, looking at the happy faces around him. His father rushed forward, sweeping him up into the air.

"You have an amazing talent, son!" the father boomed with pride, explaining what had just happened.

The excited child immediately tried to do it again, running full-speed at the bark, and collided with it head-on with a loud thump.

Light laughed. "Ah, I forgot to tell you. You need to maintain your focus until you truly master it. And beware of the mana consumption. In the future, you might even be able to walk through walls."

He left the boy to practice and moved to the next child, a quiet orc who was nervously trying to hide his glowing ball. Light gently took it and read the words. "Dark Magic Affinity." He looked at the child, who refused to meet his gaze, his shoulders slumped in shame.

"Are you sad because this talent sounds evil?" Light asked gently. The little orc nodded rapidly.

Curses and necromancy were things of nightmares, stories told to scare naughty children.

Light looked down, so his eyes were level with the child's. "Listen to me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Is a river evil because it can flood? Is fire evil because it can burn? No. Power is just power. It is the hand that wields it that chooses its purpose. You can use this to curse your enemies, or you can use it to break the curses of others. The choice, little one, will always be yours."

The child looked up, a spark of understanding in his eyes. He tentatively held out his hand, and a small, swirling ball of black mana, shot through with veins of cool violet light, appeared in his palm.

It wasn't scary. It was actually… kind of cool.

Light's ability to guide them so swiftly was a gift in itself. It was the S-Grade "Learning Teacher" blessing from Isiah, which amplified his teaching effectiveness a hundredfold, allowing him to turn complex concepts into simple, intuitive lessons.

As he finished with the last child, a familiar, high-pitched voice called out. "Teacher! Teacher!" It was Tiya, the chief's daughter, running towards him, her cute dress and big orc eyes a combination that could melt a heart of stone. "Check my talent, too! Check my talent, too!"

"Yes, yes, of course," Light laughed, holding out the talent appraising ball.

Tiya placed her tiny, chubby hands on the orb. For a second, nothing happened. Then, the ball glowed.

But it was not the steady, gentle blue of before. It was a deep, hungry violet, a color that seemed to absorb the light around it.

Light's smile froze on his face. The name of the talent pulsed with a quiet, terrifying potential.

[Emotion Eater (A-Grade)]

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