The Hero's Puppet Master

"Ronan," called a sweet, distant voice, soothing and familiar. He tried to focus, but her face was blurry, like a fading dream.

Before he could say a word, everything changed. The village was on fire, demon knights attacking without mercy. Ronan was pinned to the ground by a sword, unable to move.

"Ron!" the voice screamed, desperate and full of pain. He barely saw her being dragged away by demons before everything turned to chaos.

Ronan sat up with a jolt, his chest rising and falling quickly, his skin covered in sweat. His hands clutched the bedding beneath him as his heart beating on like a drum.

Before he could make sense of anything, a loud crash snapped him to attention.

He found himself near the door, staring at him frozen.

There was Finn, one of the orphanage kids. The tray he had been carrying was on the floor now, and food was scattered everywhere.

"Mama, Ronan is alive!" Finn yelled, running out of the room.

He sat up and looked around and felt his head clear up. Of course. The orphanage. His bed, by the window.

So I did. I killed that Usra? he thought, clearing out his head a bit more. He looked down at his hands and tried to call up a small flame.

Just before anything should go wrong, he heard rushed steps in the hallway.

Moments later, the village doctor came in, followed by a group of elders, including Aurelia and Eliana. The doctor knelt beside Ronan and started examining him.

"You have been unconscious for four days," the doctor said with a kind but firm voice as he worked. "We were worried you wouldn't wake up, but it seems your body just needed time to heal.

"Four days?" Ronan said in astonishment, rubbing his forehead in a move to get it all.

The doctor nodded while checking his pulse, touching softly the chest, arms and sides. "No injuries, only exhaustion; he is remarkable in that aspect to recover so."

He gets up, fully content with that. "A couple of days of resting with the proper amount of nutrients should regain full strength to this kid.

The room relaxed, breathing easier, but one of the elders took a step forward, his face severe. "Ronan," he said sternly, "we followed the creature and discovered Usra's body.

It's head was burned to ash by blue flames and everything around her was ruined. You were lying there, unconscious.

Ronan looked away, his face empty. "I… don't remember much," he said, his voice steady but tired. "It's all a blur. I remember rushing at it with the pickaxe, and then… nothing."

The elders exchanged uneasy looks but didn't press him further, at least for now.

"It's possible he awakened his mana," Eliana said cautiously, breaking the silence.

"Sometimes, under extreme stress, a person's mana can awaken unexpectedly. It usually happens around age 13, but…" She glanced at Ronan, then back at the elders. "Maybe he's… different."

"Acknowledging mana at such an age?" one of the elders muttered, stroking his beard. "That would explain the flames. But it's still very unusual."

As they spoke, Aurelia moved closer, her eyes sharp as she studied Ronan. She seemed to be trying to solve a puzzle.

"Ronan," she said suddenly, pointing at his chest near his shoulder. "When did you get that mark?"

Ronan frowned. "What mark?"

"That one," Aurelia repeated, her tone firm as she leaned closer.

Confused, Ronan reached for a small mirror on the bedside table. He held it up in front of him. What he saw made his breath catch. A crescent moon mark, with dark, swirling lines around it, was etched into his chest.

"What the…?" he muttered, running his fingers over it. It did not hurt or stick out, but it looked as if it had always been there.

Before he could understand it, Aurelia pulled down her collar a little, revealing a mark on her skin. It was a sun crest, a glowing faintly bright, with lines circling around it.

"They're the same," Aurelia declared firmly, suspicion in her voice. "Not just similar; they're connected. When did you get yours? Why do you have it?"

Eliana stood nearby, concern creasing her face as she gazed between them. "Do you think it has anything to do with the mana awakening?

Ronan shook his head, still staring at the mark. "I don't know. Maybe. But." He looked at Aurelia, then back at his chest. "This doesn't feel. random."

Ronan alone, a few days later stood in the training grounds near the edge of the village. He stretched his hand out, breathing slow and focused on the peculiar energy inside him.

The tiny flame flickered out of his palm, warmed, and grew with more intense focus. With a swift movement of his hand, he made it grow, and it flared out, catching at the ground.

"Not bad," Ronan muttered, the tiny smirk on his lips speaking words in itself.

Then he went for the air. With the hand held out, the palm sweeping forward, sharp gusts of wind would scatter dirt and leaves off the ground. The gesture had a natural feel to it though he could feel the tautness on his body.

It was enough.

Ronan clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. "Come on," he whispered, his voice low and determined. He closed his eyes, reaching deeper, calling for something that had been a part of him in his past life.

Darkness.

Shadows curled around his hands, the air turning colder. A deep, swirling blackness flickered in his palms, alive and shifting. It wasn't as strong as it had been before, but it was there—his magic.

A low laugh escaped his lips, rising louder until it echoed through the training ground. He fell to his knees, clutching his sides as he laughed wildly.

"It's not a normal awakening," he whispered to himself quietly, with a mix of joy and bitterness in his voice. "But… my powers… they're coming back."

His laughter faded away, giving way to a hard set look. Memories of his old life flooded his mind—memories of betrayal, loss, and the Demon Lord who had taken everything from him.

"Maybe," he whispered tightly, fists clenched in his hands. "Maybe I can get revenge. Maybe I can destroy him for what he did.

But even as the thought settled, Ronan felt the weight of the truth. Even with his powers returning, even with his knowledge, he wasn't strong enough.

Not alone.

He needed someone else. Someone who could match the Demon Lord's strength.

"Ronan?"

He spun around to see Aurelia walking toward him, her face filled with worry and confusion.

A dark smile spread across his face as a plan formed in his mind. She was the only one who could stand a chance against the Demon Lord. But if the temple took her after her awakening, she'd never reach her full potential.

"Aurelia," he said, his tone playful but edged with madness, "do you want to become a hero?"

She stopped, blinking. "What?"

The one who saves the world. The one who defeats the Demon Lord. The one who becomes a legend," he said, standing straight, his determination burning with fire in his eyes.