a/n: hugeass writer's block has taken away my ability to write. possibility for the future chapters to be even worse in the writing aspect is higher. so please bear with me! >~<

From one place to another, especially in the Defense Sector, Jungkook kept hearing more and more things about him. More comments, more opinions, more insults.

He’d been hearing critics since he was little. That he was going to be a good Defender when he grew up, but that would be it. Good. Not the best, not the greatest. Just, ‘good’. People said that he wouldn’t go as far as being the greatest. He would only be stuck at being good at it, because they said he was always satisfied with what he could do. Never wanted to have more than what he had.

He never let them bother him, but as he spent more and more time training, he realized that he was sick of them. Sick of the harsh comments. Perhaps, people were right. That he wasn’t going to improve not because he couldn’t, but because he wouldn’t allow himself to.

He thought of Chaeyoung and her passion to improve herself despite the harsh reality that it would be close to impossible for her to improve largely at once. Her kind of improvement was the type to go slow, but it would absolutely be possible for her to be there. Jungkook could see how she would do anything to get to where she wanted to be.

Unlike him.

Jungkook could easily get himself the biggest improvement if he wanted to, but he was all into the current satisfaction, believing that he was doing great. Perhaps, it was all in his head.

“It’s as far as he can get.”

“Others collect prizes, he collects wounds of all sizes.”

“Perhaps, he only looks great, but he’s the weakest.”

Those comments didn’t really affect him much, but then it was his grandfather’s own words that made him rethink of his own choice to feel ‘just enough’.

His grandfather requested for them to spar early in the morning, when the sun hadn’t yet risen. His grandfather also requested for Jungkook to not hold himself back just because he was old. Jungkook did as requested. He showed the older man his best, the way he’d perform on the training ground, because despite his age, the old man was far better than the men in Jungkook’s batch. He was an experienced Defender with loaded skills.

“The people were right, boy,” the old man said after their third round of sparring. “The longer you ignore your true ability to go further, no doubt you’re going to lose it forever.”

He’d ignored it, casually attacking his grandfather as though what the older man had just said was unimportant.

“Your lack of will to improve when you’re able to do it,” his grandfather scoffed. “That is what making you too vulnerable to all attacks.”

When his ring glowed, summoning him for his training session, he heard his grandfather said, “Multiple wounds wouldn’t always make a Defender stronger, it would only weaken him if he’s not going to open his heart to his own potential.”

Jungkook’s own reflection stared at him from the water of the pond. The people were right. People talked too much in the society, criticized too much, but there were truths everywhere around in every word they said. He needed to make into the cut, he wanted to serve the village in a way he’d always wanted to, he wanted to be front in line.

He wanted to fight when the battle would greet them. He wanted to be like his grandfather, not like his father.

He went through lots of denials, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t full of himself. It took him so long to fully understand what it would cost him if he was really ignoring himself, his own best potential. Despite getting his health restored that he was able to fight well, Jungkook realized that he was getting more and more vulnerable to attacks. Just like what the old man told him.

He considered the possibility of how his body was pampered with Chaeyoung’s healing touches to be the cause of it, but then it really wasn’t, he realized. It was because he’d ignored his own ability, his own potential. If it wasn’t for her, he would probably be at the end of his journey in life earlier than he would expect.

Jungkook looked at his own hands covered in active flames. He remembered the big arrow that was sent to attack Yugyeom but had pierced into his shoulder instead. He realized he wasn’t able to create something like that if he let his potential float away just like it was mere dust.

He recalled the times when he almost died, when the thick and big sword of burning flames had slashed his shoulder, plunged deep into his abdomen. He would be able to shield himself from it if he hadn’t been so satisfied with his armor. He’d thought his armor was strong enough to withstand anything at all, realizing it too late that he was wrong.

He shook his head, suddenly sweating at the horrible incident that was all so vivid in his head. His heart raced at the terrifying memory swirling in his mind. He must better himself. He must reach the highest point of his own ability no matter what.

The entire break time he used it on trying to sharpen his skills that he previously thought was already great. He tried to do what he could, tried to see what people meant when they said he could get it if he just tried. He tried and tried and tried and felt nothing of difference. He tried to play around with his daggers, his sword, his fists all made of flames. Nothing. 

Perhaps, he thought, he was too used to not practice variance in his life. He was too used to it that it was hard to let his true potential shine. Was this what his grandfather meant when he said that he was going to lose his potential the longer he ignored it? How long has it been? How long has it been since people realized that he had the potential in him but he chose to let it slide? How long has it been since they talked about it? Too long he couldn’t count, couldn’t remember.

Jungkook calmed himself, fisted his hands and blue fire began to envelop them. He opened his palms, faced them downward and daggers appeared effortlessly. He observed them as he thought of the daggers thrown by his grandfather.

The old man’s daggers were small underneath his palm. They were smaller than Jungkook’s daggers. But when they flew, they weren’t merely flying forward. They grew bigger, thicker, wilder as they made sharp turns, following Jungkook when he tried to dodge them. The daggers he had always used in his performance were nothing like that. Thinking of his grandfather, he realized how dull his skills were. How unexciting his ability was.

Jungkook commanded his daggers to fly toward a large stone across of him. They dashed forward, speedily that it was barely possible for people of different sectors to see them move. Even Defenders themselves would find it slightly hard to follow the daggers with their eyes.

He tried turning his body away, tried to aim the same stone. He failed at making his daggers turn.

He tried for at least a hundred or more times when he finally made it, though he still needed to perfect it. Five daggers floated for mere seconds before he pushed them off by air. They were slow at first, going forward for a few inches before they made a turn, flying in a ridiculous speed toward the darkness made of bushes.

Just before they could be in contact with the plants, Jungkook curled his fingers into a fist like he would stop a small stone from plummeting to the ground, so sudden of a movement. The fire daggers disappeared just like that, transforming themselves into smoke before vanishing into thin air.

The corners of his lips slightly curved, forming a small smile on his face. A sense of pride took place in him. Inhaling softly, Jungkook began doing the same thing over and over again, aiming at different places. His mind was then consumed with the thoughts of the other men who’d insulted him. How good it would be to prove them wrong.

So far, none of th