I awoke to the smell of bacon. “Breakfast is ready, you lazy freeloader!” A gruff voice shouted up the stairs. I rolled off the bed, and unceremoniously fell face-first to the floor. The first few moments of consciousness were always rough for me. A morning almost never passed where I had the forethought or coordination to get out of bed with my feet on the floor. Thankfully, in a moment of utter brilliance, I had the idea to pad my fall with pillows last night.

After remembering I still had two working legs, I stood up and walked to the wardrobe. There was no mirror there anymore. Father had stress-eaten too many times for us to keep anything metal in the house. Instead, I had a basin of water to view my reflection in. I had short hair with the texture and color of grass. My Eyes are hazel, and my hands and feet, calloused by years of manual labor, have turned to wood. Besides that, I appear basically human. Finished being enamored by my own reflection, I put on a leather tunic and long stockings, and headed out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Sylas.” Mother spoke in her usual cheerful voice, with her usual bright smile on her face. She was a tall woman with long, curly, brown hair that reached halfway down her back. Her hair was adorned with a crown of white and pink flowers. Her skin was olive-green, and she had leaves instead of fingernails, and wooden fingertips. A dryad through and through. She usually wore a floral-pattern dress, or went au naturel, to my chagrin, and father’s pleasure. Today, though, she was wearing a brown ceremonial robe. She only wore that when she had to travel.

Sitting in front of plates of bacon and eggs were my father and one of our neighbors. Village elder Amos’s grandson, if I recall.

Father was a middle-aged human with jet-black hair and stubble. He wore a fur-skin vest that showed too much of his chest hair, and around his neck was a cord containing multiple thin bars of various metals and minerals.

“mornin’ ma’, mornin’ pa’” I replied, then turned to the other man and bowed, continuing my greeting in a formal tone. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Sylas. There is no need to be so formal with me in your own home.”

Taking his cue, I sat down next to a plate with a spinach and bacon omelet, a side of toast, and three glasses of water. “You’re wearing your travel cloak today. Going somewhere, ma’?”

“Yeah, thanks for noticing! It’s so nice when people notice my efforts.” She replied, still smiling, but staring disappointedly at my father. He shrugged, and went back to eating. “The local wolves have been acting unusually aggressive, and there are reports of a monster nearby. Amos sent Arnold here to ask their resident nature-druid to go investigate. We'll be in Almer forest for a day or two. Three if we visit my family at Tycoed.” She finished, and reached out as the branch of an apple tree grew in through an open window and deposited its fruit into her hand.

“The bacon is delicious, Hald.” Arnold commented, and Hank grinned. Arnold turned to my mother “You sure you don’t want some, Olewydden? Do dryads not need meat?”

“Dryads technically don’t need to eat at all. We can get our nutrition from the soil, but most of us choose not to. As for digestion, there are a few who can’t digest meat, but most Dryads, those of us born of Coeden included, are omnivores. But I still can’t have any. My Powered Deprivation was my ability to digest meat.” Olewydden explained. “And after all these years, I’m still surprised at how many people tell me someone who eats rocks every day is a good cook.”

“Minerals, Olewydden. And metals. Only Rocks I’ve eaten were back when I was a boy.” Hald turned to the Arnold “I Can’t use my stone-skin without them.”

"Hald, you were eating rocks before you knew it was related to your powers." Olewydden snarked

“Well yes, but in my defense, I was a dumb kid.”

I finished my breakfast and decided it was time to go, grabbing an extra slice of toast before heading towards the door. Before I could leave, mother stopped me. “Don’t you leave without a hug!” She exclaimed, squeezing until my eyes began to bulge and I tapped out. “Say hello to the kids for me”, father said.

"Say hello to Uncle Rhannu if you see him." I replied. Rhannu was mother's brother, born of Coeden, the great tree, like most Dryads from Almer Forest were. Technically, all other Dryads from Almer were my aunts and uncles, but none of them were as close to my mother as Rhannu was. He's the only dryad I know of, other than mother, that spends any meaningful amount of time in Norbury.

The sun beamed down as I walked towards the village’s school. Norbury village was mostly just a bunch of newly built farms, fields, and houses in a three mile radius in the plains of Ostea. Its population is currently 1,500, but it was twice that ten years ago, before the band of elven suns came. To the East of Norbury was the Ostea-Kyhun river, which defined the border between the two countries of its name-sake. To the West was the Almer forest and Tycoed, the Dryad town where my mother was born. To the south were various villages, the closest being about a four day walk from Norbury. To the north was the city of Aurelia. I had been there once before, but hadn’t traveled much. It’s usually too risky to leave the area of the mana-well as a Powerless.

I arrived at Norbury school half an hour after leaving home. A few of the staff, Johnson’s parents, were setting up a stage for the graduation ceremony later this week. It was rather rare that anyone ever bothered. There was no graduation ceremony between school years, and almost nobody made it all the way to graduation. Most people left the school when they gained their powers, either to start adventuring or to take specialized lessons. That typically happened to humans and halfs when they were ten years old.

From our class of 20, only Johnson and I were Powerless. We’re both 18 already, and at our age, very few people ever gained powers. Johnson was born of two other Powerless parents, so it was impossible for him to gain powers. It was still technically possible for me, but I've given up hope.

Heading through the crowds of 4-10 year olds, I arrived at the building where we held fencing class. I stopped at the door to put on boots before heading inside. The instructor wasn't there yet, but some of the kids were. Thankfully, Johnson was there too. Not that I'm too thankful, but the kids might be. If John wasn't here, one of the younger kids would have to spar with me, and I take great pleasure in winning. Even — no, especially — against opponents weaker than me. Of course, I'd never admit it out loud.

"Hey Sylas. How's it going?" Joseph asked

"Same as any other day, I guess. I saw your parents setting up the graduation booth just outside. It's almost time for us to say goodbye to this place… Or at least for me. Are you still planning on becoming a teacher like them?"

"Yeah. It's not like there's many other jobs available for Powerless like us. It's the only thing in the village that doesn’t basically require a relevant power. Unless of course I plan to become a freeloader like you."

"Hey now, you know I spend most afternoons and weekends tending the fields."

"Yeah, but your mother could do what you do in a day with the snap of her fingers. The only reason she doesn't is because she doesn’t want you to feel like you’re completely useless."

I gritted my teeth. Johnson wasn't wrong, but belittling my efforts seemed unnecessary. It wasn’t like I could become a teacher too. Years of dealing with classmates half my age has shown I don't have nearly enough patience to deal with kids all my life.

"You'll pay for that comment once we start sparring, dick."

"I'd like to see you try." Johnson grinned

10 minutes later, the fencing instructor arrived. As usual, Johnson and I were paired up. We donned our masks, grabbed our foils, and headed to the piste. The moment the instructor called for the spar to begin, we engaged.

I aimed straight for John’s face with the first lunge. John tilted his head a few inches, dodging the point, and took a step forward, stabbing at my torso. I couldn’t retract my sword arm fast enough to parry the attack. Instead, I stepped left and shifted my torso just enough to dodge the blow, and palmed Johnson’s arm away with my other hand. I retracted my sword arm as I twisted, then turned back the other way, going for a thrust at Johnson’s chest. Johnson blocked from below, and forcefully deflected the strike upwards. With both our foils still above our heads, I used the opportunity to kick at Johnson's stomach. Johnson jumped back before the kick landed, blunting the impact. He forcefully grabbed onto my boot, and twisted. Before I fell, I pulled my foot out from my boot and rolled to the side, off the piste. Before I could recover from the roll though, Johnson had already stabbed me in the back of the head, winning the match.

The instructor glared daggers at me for my numerous rule violations, but years of dealing with my antics had shown him that calling me out on it would do nothing. I would do them again in a heartbeat if I thought it meant winning the fight, rules or disqualification be damned. “Sylas, Try to aim for center mass when engaging. Too easy to dodge otherwise. And make sure not to show your back to the enemy, especially when you’re still in their range.” The instructor called. “Johnson, textbook work there. I know it’s not easy to fight someone who doesn’t abide by the rules, but I’m sure fighting Sylas all these years has helped with that. Good fight.”

A few hours of bouts and exercises later, the fencing class was dismissed, and I headed for my other class of the day: history. It only took a few minutes of lecture for my eyes to glaze over. I used to love history back when I still had aspirations to be an adventurer. Now though, I felt there was no point in a Powerless who would never be able to leave the village in learning about what happened in other cities, countries, and planets centuries ago. I suppose there's no point in fencing either, or any of the other fighting courses, but at least those were fun.

History class was dismissed a few hours later, and I headed straight to the family farm. Today, my task is to care for the Ostean Giant Flytraps. Swarm season is upon us, and mother had spoken at great lengths about the importance of keeping the pests from her fields. She handled the watering and general upkeep, so all I had to do was empty the flytraps. The swarm greatly outnumbered the flytraps’ capacity to hold them, and when a trap closed, it usually took a week before it opened again. If they weren’t emptied daily, the fields would be overrun with locusts, curious children, and other pests within a week.

I dropped my backpack, grabbed a notebook labeled “encyclopedia”, and turned to the page for Ostean Giant Flytraps. Since mother was both nature-aligned and a druid, I'd kept a notebook on every species I've encountered, and wrote whatever knowledge I had on them. I had hoped that it would aid in gaining and controlling my powers, assuming I took after her, but nothing ever came of it. My hope is gone, but the habit still remains.

‘Ostean Giant Fly Trap:

Size: averages 3 feet tall and 10 feet wide

Alignment: n/a

Rank: F

Description:

The Ostean Giant Flytrap produces a sweet and acidic substance that attracts, sticks to, and dissolves most tiny insects. For larger insects and other species, the hair-like teeth are usually enough to capture its prey.

Ostean giant flytraps can be emptied by pouring a basic solution into their mouths. This will neutralize their acid, and cause them to open.

Ostean Giant Flytraps are considered a delicacy in some areas. It is usually wise to neutralize them beforehand, though.

Personality: n/a

Diet:

The Ostean Giant Flytrap primarily gets its sustenance from the insects it eats. It does, however, still require soil, water, and sunlight.

Combat:

Although the Ostean Giant Flytrap is magically engineered, and can contain more mana than other natural plants of its size, it is not a monster, and cannot make use of its mana. As is standard for plants and creatures incapable of using mana, it has a ranking of F.

Although the teeth will not puncture skin, small children may become trapped by them, should they be dumb enough to climb inside.

Origin:

The Ostean giant flytrap is a domesticated and magically engineered species of flytrap created by crossbreeding the Kyhun Giant Snaptrap, the Ostean pitfalltrap, and several other similar plants.

’

I finished the passage and took out a jug and a straw broom from my pack. For the next few hours, I poured the mixture into each trap then swept out the partially dissolved insect slurry. I was most of the way done when a weak voice came from one of the closed traps. “Help, please! I’m stuck!” it cried.

I walked over, sighing, and went to pour the solution into the trap. I stopped, and felt a sadistic smile creep over my face. “Hey kid, are you in there?”

“YES, yes, I’m in here. Please save me!”

“You know, you’re not supposed to be on this property. I’m fairly certain your thrashing around in there killed the plant. The owner does not appreciate her property being trespassed, nor killed.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please let me out.”

“I don’t want to hear sorry. I just want to know you’ll never be back here again. Otherwise, I’ll just leave you in there.”

“I won’t! I’ll never come back so long as I live.”

“Promise?”

“I Promise!”

Satisfied, I poured a good amount of the jug into the plant and over the kid. When it began to open, I yanked the boy out, and checked him for acid burns. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t bad. I stuck a thumb over my shoulder and spoke “exit’s that way.” The boy ran, without uttering so much as a thanks.

I stared at the corpse of the flytrap. Given the area it was in, I'm fairly certain I had been the one to plant this a few months back. “Explains the dislike for children” I muttered. “Wow, I really need therapy. Maybe I’ll visit a mind-aligned one of these days.”

My stomach grumbled. I skipped lunch today, and since mother and father are out, I have to make dinner. Thankfully, it seemed the main course was right in front of me.

I dragged the flytrap to a clearing, and grabbed some salt and firewood to cook it with. After an hour of prep-work and cooking, I took my first bite. The outer skin was crispy, and the inner flesh was soft and juicy. It tasted sweet, salty, and slightly sour, almost like pork belly cooked with pineapple, but with a good deal of earthiness to it. I stuck my feet into the ground, and absorbed the nutrients and mana from the earth, sun, and food. “Maybe I’ll never get to be an adventurer, but I guess a simple life isn't so bad.”

The sun had set, and I stood up to go back home. I tried to move my feet, but stumbled, firmly rooted in place. I looked down, and found my limbs to be rapidly shrinking and turning green. A dull burning sensation spread throughout my body, quickly growing in intensity until I felt I felt as if my nerves had caught fire. My consciousness blurred. My eyes shut and dissolved into my face. My mouth rapidly grew outside of my head, until it was as large as I had been. I screamed, my scream turning to a hiss, my hiss turning to a gargle, and my gargle turning to silence.

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