You are a good wizard in a run of the mill medieval fantasy village, and your good magic has made the villagers the most boring and unadventurous people in the world.

The kingdom of Loria was as dull as it was prosperous. They had plenty of food, and plenty of fresh water, and plenty of jobs to work and plenty of work to be done. <br><br>The kingdom of Loria was run by a competent and fair-minded council, the police and soldiers were just and fair. <br><br>The kingdom of Loria had access to numerous trade routes, and was the seat of a healthy and well managed rail network. <br><br>The kingdom of Loria was prosperous and happy, at peace with its surroundings. <br><br>I sat at my desk, in my tower on the outskirts of town, and I sighed. <br><br>Why had I ever wanted to be a wizard? <br><br>I wasn’t even a very good one. Transmutation and pyromancy were beyond me, necromancy went against my personal code of conduct, and enchantment and illusions were such a chore. <br><br>I was really only good at healing. <br><br>I had made the mistake of using this magic on the village that housed my tower in my early days of wizardry. <br><br>At first, it had been a blessing. When a farmer cut his hand with his scythe, I could instantly heal the wound. If a child fell from a tree, I could mend their broken bones. <br><br>But over time, something became very evident. <br><br>The villagers had lost their sense of danger, their sense of risk. <br><br>A blacksmith’s apprentice would jam his hand into a roaring fire to fetch a piece of hot metal, knowing that I would be there to heal the burns. They wouldn’t even scream when their flesh cooked and smoked, because they knew that a few days wouldn’t even be enough for the scars to set in. <br><br>The local children would climb the tallest trees, and then leap from the highest branch, knowing that if they fell I would fix their shattered pelvises. <br><br>I tried to stop them, to tell them that what they were doing was dangerous, but they would just laugh at me. <br><br>“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” They would say, as they went about their reckless behavior. <br><br>I had a soldier stab himself in the chest once, just to see what would happen. <br><br>I healed him, he went home to his wife. He didn’t even miss a meal. <br><br>I had long since stopped trying to warn people away from dangerous behavior. If they got themselves hurt, I would fix it. But I would not warn them. <br><br>If they were going to act like children, I would treat them like children. <br><br>I wanted them to hurt. To hurt so badly that it stuck with them forever. <br><br>But no matter what they did, I was there to heal them. <br><br>I was the reason they behaved as they did. <br><br>I stood, and walked to the window. I looked out, over the village. <br><br>I had made this place. <br><br>I had made these people. <br><br>I had made this whole awful situation. <br><br>It was time for me to end it. <br><br>I picked up my hat, and packed a small bag. I left my tower, and started walking away from the village. <br><br>I was going to leave, and never come back. Never again would I give my magic to them. <br><br>Never again would I see a broken child in the dirt, with no scratch on them. <br><br>Never again would I have to mend a broken pelvis because someone thought they could fly. <br><br>I was going to leave this place, and I was never going to come back.