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."
