Seneca paused to think.

  For a moment, she set everything aside and focused solely on her thoughts.

  It was not the skills she needed to consider, but herself.

  She felt the answers might lie within her.

  "What kind of person am I?"

  "What kind of adventurer could I become?"

  She continued to ask herself these questions, delving deeper into her mind.

  ...

  First, Seneca pondered her swordsmanship.

  As a swordswoman, she was already far ahead of her peers in terms of skill.

  She could not surpass Lucius, but she felt confident she could defeat any other child her age.

  Her swordsmanship relied on agility and technique.

  With a light, nimble stance, managing the right distance, swinging her bde, and parrying all flowed together to confuse her opponents. She had trained with this approach since she was a child.

  Seneca’s father, a master of the great sword, was exceptional at controlling distance in battle. She had watched him fight with all his might on several occasions, but even now, Seneca couldn't understand why he was so strong.

  When her father struck at a monster, it almost seemed as though the creature accepted the attack, standing still without resistance.

  Seneca tried to imitate him by practising on small animals in the forest, but her efforts were in vain. She had no idea what she was doing wrong.

  When she asked her father for guidance, he grinned and offered some advice.

  "Seneca, you must read your opponent's breathing. After they exhale, they must inhale, and in that moment, their focus weakens."

  Seneca vividly remembered the spark of excitement in her eyes as she listened.

  "Next, you must understand your opponent’s field of vision. By stepping forward when their attention shifts from the whole to a part, they’ll lose track of the distance between you."

  Though Seneca didn’t fully grasp the concept at the time, whenever she faced her father in sparring, she’d sometimes find his bde coming at her with no warning. She pushed herself to practice desperately, believing that mastering these techniques would make her as strong as he was. But before she could fully learn, her father was gone.

  While Seneca knew she wasn’t at her father’s level and tended to emphasise speed over power, she found comfort in realising she was following in his footsteps.

  If she were to become a famous adventurer in the future, it would be through striking at the gaps in her opponent's awareness, cutting them down in a single blow, much like her father did.

  This thought helped her reaffirm her path, but she wasn’t sure how this understanding would help her resolve her current situation. She couldn’t think of a way to bance sewing and swordsmanship effectively.

  ...

  Next, Seneca turned her thoughts to her magic.

  She possessed an unusually high amount of magical power.

  Her mother, an ice mage, also had significant magical reserves, but Seneca’s own was said to be extraordinary, far surpassing her mother’s.

  She began to wonder if the key to mastering her magic y in learning how to wield this vast power effectively.

  Seneca sought her mother’s guidance many times, trying to learn how to control and use her magic. Even after she was sent to the orphanage, she trained on her own, determined to wield magic.

  As a result, she had learned to use fire magic, producing small sparks, although it was still rudimentary.

  Through her training, she developed a method for controlling her magic. Though still clumsy, her ability was remarkable for someone without a magic skill. Because of the sheer quantity of magic she possessed, she found it easier to perceive and control, which made her practice progress more quickly.

  Seneca wondered if there was a way to use her magic to pierce leather.

  Though she wasn't sure of the exact outcome, she had a hunch that channeling her magic through a needle could help her achieve this.

  As was her way, once the thought crossed her mind, she immediately set to work, training herself to direct magic through the needle.

  At first, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get any magic to flow from her fingertips. But when she imagined gathering all her magic from her entire body and concentrating it, she managed to move just a tiny bit of it into the needle.

  Seneca leaped into the air, overjoyed.

  Knowing that Kito would notice her progress soon enough, she immediately went to consult her.

  Kito jumped with joy along with her, thrilled at her success.

  She didn’t want Seneca to push herself too hard, but she also wanted her to achieve her dreams.

  ...

  Once she focused on mastering magic manipution, Seneca’s progress became much steadier.

  By concentrating on her task, she noticed small, incremental improvements day by day.

  Seneca discussed with Kito and the others, and they decided to return to the orphanage.

  On the way back from Kito’s house to the orphanage, Seneca reflected on why she felt so calm. She began to analyse the reason for her newfound peace.

  It dawned on her that it wasn’t the skill of sewing that she disliked—it was the fact that she hadn’t inherited her parents’ abilities, and that had troubled her deeply.

  Without realising it, she had expected their skills to pass on to her, as part of their legacy.

  But when she thought it over, Seneca realised that her father’s swordsmanship was within her.

  She also realised that she could apply the magical control techniques her mother had taught her to the skill of sewing. It wasn’t about inheriting a particur skill; it was about carrying their strengths forward within herself.

  With this realisation, Seneca found herself quietly weeping.

  Now, she could focus on using the magic her mother had passed down to her to improve her sewing technique. Once that was under control, she would turn her attention to mastering her father’s swordsmanship.

  With that resolve in mind, she took a step forward.

  Suddenly, a memory resurfaced in her mind.

  "Hey, what’s Dad’s skill? Is it something like [Swordsmanship] or [Greatswordsmanship]?"

  "Hmm, not quite. It’s not that impressive, really. But for now, let’s keep it a secret. You’ll focus better on your training this way. When you’re ten and you unlock your skill, I’ll tell you then."

  "Oh, do I have to wait that long? I want to know now!"

  "Alright then. How about this? If you manage to nd a hit on me in a spar, I’ll tell you what it is."

  "Okay, I’ll do it! I’ll take you down in no time!"

  This was before Seneca had met Lucius, during the time she spent training alone in the forest.

  Later, when Lucius asked her about her father’s skill, Seneca, embarrassed by her ignorance, had told him it was [Greatswordsmanship]. Over time, as she repeated this lie to various people, she forgot about the promise she made with her father.

  Seneca stood frozen in front of the orphanage.

  "If that’s the case, then what was Dad’s skill, really?"

  It seemed to her that no one in the world knew the answer anymore.

  ...

  Seneca refocused and resumed her life at the orphanage.

  She greeted Nord, Pike, and Mitz, engaging in light conversation, but the topic of combat was avoided. Still, she knew they were all training desperately.

  She never forgot the weekly herb deliveries. This time, she had been tasked with collecting evening primrose, a herb used to treat paralysis, which she brought back in excellent condition. Yuria praised her for the quality, and Seneca beamed with pride.

  Going forward, Seneca would be asked to gather rare materials to make higher-quality potions.

  ...

  Seneca continued her relentless effort to channel magic through the needle.

  Though the magical energy only reached the size of her pinky nail, she was able to transfer it. However, she still couldn’t make it reach the tip of the needle.

  Frustration began to grow within her.

  She was improving steadily, but she began to doubt if she was headed in the right direction.

  Curiosity and impatience urged her to test if she was on the right track.

  So, she decided to try sewing through thin leather.

  She realised that by holding the needle shorter, the magic could reach the tip more easily. But even with this adjustment, the magic could only penetrate thin leather.

  She charged ahead, convinced this would work, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t pierce the leather with the needle.

  No matter how many times she tried, the needle wouldn’t pass through, and several needles were ruined in the process.

  Her optimism faltered; it seemed her idea might not work after all. Magic alone might not allow her to sew through the leather.

  She considered giving up and trying a different approach.

  But rather than quitting, Seneca resolved to give it her all before she abandoned the idea.

  Taking a deep breath, she gathered all her focus and concentrated every bit of her magical energy into her fingers.

  With all her strength, she sent the magic into the needle.

  As the energy surged, the needle became razor-sharp, reinforced to its utmost limits.

  "Sharper, sharper."

  In her mind, she visualised the needle becoming perfectly pointed and indestructible.

  Then, she thrust it into the leather.

  Pop!

  The needle pierced through the leather with a satisfying crack, successfully passing all the way through!

  "I did it!!"

  Seneca pushed the needle further, threading the string through it.

  Using magic to manipute the needle was extremely taxing, and she could feel the strain on her body. She was exhausted.

  But Seneca was determined to thread one more stitch—she wanted to make at least one return stitch.

  She focused once again, gathering her magical energy.

  Knowing she could do it now, it was easier to manage the flow.

  With resolve, she drove the needle into the leather again.

  Pop!

  As before, the needle penetrated the leather, and she threaded the string through it.

  "I did it!!"

  Just as Seneca celebrated, her heart pounded in her chest.

  Her vision blurred, and her mind went white.

  ...

  [Level 2 reached. The skill [Sewing with Magic] has been acquired. Interference power has increased significantly. Sub-skill [Magical Needle] obtained.]

  The familiar voice echoed in her head, and Seneca found herself overwhelmed, losing control of her body as she colpsed with a loud thud.