Prologue

“Lord Woody’s aptitude is… ‘Tree Planting.’”

The church fell silent.

Even though there were dozens of people in the sanctuary, not a sound of murmuring could be heard.

Of course, I—Woody Conrad—was one of those keeping his mouth shut.

“‘Tree Planting’… no matter how you look at it, that’s hardly a combat-related aptitude.”

The one who spoke was one of my father’s concubines.

Having borne a child the same age as me, she made no attempt to hide her delight that my aptitude was clearly unsuited for battle.

In these turbulent times, what a noble house needed to survive was, first, military power, and second, military power.

As proof, even though Father was the fifth son, he had been granted the aptitude of ‘Great Magus,’ displayed overwhelming martial might, and claimed the position of duke.

“Of all things, a production aptitude…”

“Hah.”

With a sigh heavy with exasperation, Father let out his breath.

When I raised my eyes, I saw him staring at me with an expressionless face.

It was a gaze filled with disdain, as though looking down on me with contempt… a look I had never been given before, one that made me shrink involuntarily.

“Woody, you have disappointed me. ― Ashid, step forward to the altar.”

When nobles reached the age of fifteen, they underwent the Rite of Blessing.

It was then that God would bestow upon them their aptitude.

The Conrads had almost always been granted combat-related aptitudes.

Aptitudes such as ‘Swordsman’ or ‘Swordmaster,’ which allowed one to wield a blade like a true master.

Or aptitudes such as ‘Fire Magic’ or ‘Mage,’ which enabled one to unleash high-powered spells strong enough to fell even a giant bear in a single blow.

Nearly all members of House Conrad possessed combat-related aptitudes directly tied to martial ability.

At least until now, there had never been an example of receiving a non-combat aptitude… much less a production-type aptitude, the most unnecessary of all in a noble house.

…That was, until the very moment I became that exception.

“This is—it is Lord Ashid’s aptitude, ‘Great Magus!’”

A cheer rose up from all throughout the church.

Like one’s features or hair color, aptitudes were often inherited from parent to child.

That was why so many in House Conrad possessed combat aptitudes.

Marriage itself was almost always political, arranged solely to preserve excellent aptitudes.

What Father sought in his children was excellence.

In other words, whether they inherited the same ‘Great Magus’ aptitude as him.

The ‘Great Magus,’ granting the wielder destructive, large-scale spells simply by possessing it, was a powerful aptitude that manifested only within our Conrad lineage.

“Oh! As expected of Ashid, my son!”

Father completely ignored me as though I wasn’t there, and instead wrapped his arms tightly around Ashid—who, until a moment ago, had been shrinking in fear.

The contempt he had just shown me vanished as if it had never existed.

But that smile was directed not at me, but at Ashid.

Yes, this was… reality.

“Father—this Ashid shall devote himself and prove worthy as a warrior, unashamed of the Conrad name!”

“Oh! That spirit is commendable!”

Incidentally, Ashid was the child of the very concubine who had just ridiculed me.

Together, she and her son frequently used the servants to harass me, and so I despised them.

While being embraced tightly by Father, Ashid turned toward me.

Then—taking advantage of the fact that his seat blocked others from seeing—he raised his middle finger at me.

He stuck out his tongue mockingly and,

(Idiot)

silently mouthed the word, exaggerating his lips to ridicule me with all his might.

Perhaps because venting his pent-up frustration was satisfying, he looked terribly amused.

Those nearby surely saw Ashid mocking me.

“……”

Yet no one said anything.

Yes… there was no longer anyone in House Conrad willing to protect me.

Granted a non-combat aptitude, I had already become an unwanted child in the Conrad household.

My body trembled violently.

Why.

Why, oh why.

――Why would You not grant me the aptitude of ‘Great Magus’?

“Out of the way! Move aside!”

Shoving aside my mother, Father’s legal wife, Ashid’s mother stood proudly by his side.

Father gave a satisfied nod, then drew in a deep breath.

“From this day forth, the heir of House Conrad shall be Ashid!”

Thus, my life as the duke’s heir came to an end.

“If your aptitude is ‘Tree Planting,’ then go plant trees in the desert that will never grow for the rest of your life! Nothing suits you better, dear brother!”

Even after I had lost my place, had my engagement annulled, and been stripped of everything, Ashid still was not done tormenting me.

With the Rite of Blessing finished, and his true nature now bared, his cruel suggestion was quickly approved by Father—cheered by the discovery of a new successor to the ‘Great Magus.’

North of House Conrad’s domain lay a desert wasteland where no one settled.

Even if you planted greenery, nothing would grow properly, and even if settlers were moved there, development was impossible.

To make matters worse, monsters appeared, and violent clashes with locals sometimes broke out, leaving the land written off as barren and hopeless.

And so I, cast aside by all, was sentenced to exile in that forsaken desert…