God of Trash

Rhys took a deep breath. “No. You’re wrong. I only have average talent, at best. Actually, I’m probably more like absolute trash-tier talent. I struggle to learn any martial skills. In all my battling with you, I still haven’t picked up one tier in Sword Proficiency or Barehanded Combat. My only talent is recognizing my path early, and working hard to bring it to life.”

“You’re young to have already recognized your path,” Cynog flattered him.

Rhys shot him a look. “It’s trash.”

“Eh?”

“My path is trash. The only thing I can reliably learn any skills in, is trash. If a skill isn’t associated with trash, I’m useless.”

Cynog’s brows furrowed. He opened his mouth.

“…Or I would be, if your Schoolmaster, or even you, had evaluated me. But instead, Straw saw value in me. He took me in and trained me, and in doing that, gave me value twice over. Value from his teachings, and value in him taking me in, which made me just interesting to your Schoolmaster for her to take me in.”

“But you’ve comprehended Intent. No matter the Intent, that’s a feat at your age.”

“I only have it because Straw trained me relentlessly toward obtaining an Intent, any Intent. Only because someone else saw value in the trash that was me, and polished me; and only because I then saw the value in myself, and continued to work on it, am I now a ‘talent’ to you. But that’s not talent at all. It’s luck, the dedication of everyone around me, and hard work. Don’t call me a talent. I’m not. I couldn’t be further from a talent. What I am, is a piece of garbage that no one gave up on. Least of all myself.”

Before Cynog could speak, he pointed at the man. “And that includes you. I might have fooled you into seeing me as a talent, but nonetheless, you also chose to polish me and not give up. Think about it, Cynog. If an idiot like me who can only grow stronger by playing with the trash, can be polished to the extent that you mistook me for a talent… how much could you polish all those students under you? I’m still too weak to polish anyone else, but you are an expert. You have that power. With your skill, you could make those students really shine. But because you dismiss them out of hand as ‘not talented,’ you don’t even try.”

Cynog frowned. His brows knitted.

“Thank you, Cynog. I deeply appreciate everything you’ve done to help me. But when you go back to your class, look at your students, and know that they all started with more potential than me. This time, don’t give up on them. Try treating them the same way you did me, and see how much they grow.”