What Power Cannot Buy

—Your Majesty, with all due respect… that man is unfit.

The throne room was silent.

Not the comfortable silence of obedience, but the dense, uneasy kind that appears when someone speaks a truth no one wants to hear.

Aira remained kneeling, back straight, her sword resting beside her. She did not raise her voice, nor did she gesture. She didn’t need to.

—Hero Alexander has no technique —she continued—. He doesn’t understand the rhythm of combat, he can’t read his enemies or his allies. His power is high, yes… but it’s hollow.

The king closed his eyes slowly.

—Aira —he said—. You know I cannot remove him.

—I am not asking that —she replied—. I am asking you to force him to train. To stop treating this war like a game. If he continues like this, he will die. And he won’t die alone.

The king rested his elbow on the arm of the throne, bringing a hand to his forehead.

—He refuses —he admitted—. He says training is a waste of time.

Aira clenched her teeth.

—The other hero trained until he collapsed unconscious —she said, without realizing she had changed tense—. And even then… he doubted himself.

The king opened his eyes.

He didn’t say his name.

But he understood.

—I will do everything in my power —he promised—. That I can assure you.

Aira inclined her head.

But when she rose, her expression showed no relief.

Alexander laughed.

He was sprawled across a wide bed, surrounded by translucent curtains. Two maids massaged his shoulders while another offered him fruit drizzled with honey.

—Come on, don’t be so stiff —he said—. Relax. The hero is in a good mood today.

—Of course, Lord Alexander —one of them replied, blushing—. The entire kingdom believes in you.

He smiled, satisfied.

—And they’re right to.

Fine clothes, hot baths, endless meals. Every day was a celebration, and every celebration reinforced the idea that the world owed him something.

He didn’t read reports.

He didn’t listen to warnings.He didn’t ask about casualties.

When someone mentioned training, he waved a hand in annoyance.

—When the time comes, I’ll fight —he said—. That’s how this works.

From the doorway, Aira watched in silence.

She didn’t see a hero.

She saw someone who had never had to pay the price for his mistakes.

The forest was calm.

Kaito moved forward with a steady pace, water gently condensing around him. At his side walked another young man, dark-haired and sharp-eyed, holding a short staff covered in inscriptions.

—Three magical signatures ahead —said the mage—. Two hostile, one… confused.

—Then we only attack the first two —Kaito replied—. We flank the other.

—As always —the mage smiled—. You like resolving before destroying.

The fight was clean. Coordinated. Water and support magic flowing as one. When it ended, they sat on a rock, sharing a canteen.

—I never thought I’d end up helping to save the world —the mage said, looking at the sky—. I just wanted a shop.

Kaito laughed.

—I just wanted to see real magic. I guess neither of us got exactly what we asked for.

—But we’re not doing badly —the other replied—. We’re alike. We don’t like the spotlight.

Kaito nodded.

—As long as I can keep improving… that’s enough.

The mage watched him a moment longer.

As if he wanted to say something.

The shop smelled of dried herbs and crystal.

The man behind the counter carefully adjusted a blue potion when the doorbell chimed. He greeted the customer with automatic kindness, but his mind was far away.

Five years.

Five years since the last time he had fought alongside him.

He looked at the bottle in his hands. The liquid glowed steadily.

—It didn’t fail… —he murmured—. It wasn’t a mistake.

His fingers closed around the vial.

—It disappeared… —he said softly—. His magic disappeared.

And that thought unsettled him more than any demon.

Aira was walking through one of the castle’s upper corridors when she heard Alexander’s laughter in the distance.

She stopped.

She remembered Kaito training in the rain.Repeating spells again and again.Failing.Correcting.Trying again.

She remembered how the calamity had emerged earlier than expected. Days earlier. The calculations failed. There wasn’t enough time.

—If he’d had a little more… —she thought—. Just a little more.

She looked at the current hero.

And the comparison was inevitable.

Night enveloped the fields.

Kaito sat at the table, a steaming cup of coffee and a piece of bread in front of him. The house was silent, broken only by the distant song of insects.

He looked at his hands.

—Five years… —he whispered.

He took a sip.

He thought of Aira.

Of the mage.Of the kingdom preparing to repeat the same mistake.

He set the cup down.

—I think… —he said, standing up— it’s time to start doing something.

The night gave no answer.

But the wind stirred.