Chapter 2: Useless heir
After all, in the grand scheme of things, even the greatest lineages sometimes produced a less-than-perfect heir.
Yet that was not the case with Gon. His mother, the Duchess, was no ordinary woman.
And had she chosen to pursue a full life as a mage, the Duchess would have undoubtedly reached the highest seats of power.
Her potential was great, far beyond what many could even dream of.
Her mastery of magic was not merely a result of hard work, but a natural gift, one that could have rivaled the greatest mages in the land.
She had it all: the intelligence, the talent, and the passion.
Had she dedicated herself fully to magic, there was no doubt she would have been a force to be reckoned with.
Therefore, Gon had no excuse. His bloodline was pure, flowing with the strength and potential of not one, but two powerful families.
His father, the Duke was a great man, both politically and magically, and his mother, the Duchess was a mage of extraordinary skill.
Together, they formed the perfect combination of power and from this union, the world had expected nothing less than greatness.
It was the usual expectation that surrounded children of such powerful and capable parents: that they would be wonders in their own right.
They were meant to rise above their peers, to surpass the limits of what had come before them, to achieve feats that would become legends in their own time.
The town watched with eager anticipation, waiting for Gon to reveal the extraordinary talents they were sure lay dormant within him.
But instead, what they saw was nothing like the expected.
Instead of the child who would reshape the world, they saw a boy who struggled with even the simplest of tasks, powerless in a world that demanded greatness.
Naturally, Gon became the subject of scorn and ridicule.
People whispered behind his back, some openly mocking him, while others pitied him in the most condescending way.
To them, he was a disappointment, a shadow of what he should have been.
He carried the weight of those expectations wherever he went, and with each failed attempt to prove himself, the burden grew heavier.
Even his own father, Duke Edmond, had a hard time hiding his disappointment.
Though the duke tried his best to mask his feelings, to show Gon the love and guidance a father should, it was clear to anyone who watched that he struggled with his son's lack of ability.
The great Duke Edmond had known no such failure in his own life, and the idea that his only heir, the future of his name and power, could be so utterly ordinary bothered him.
He tried not to let it show too much, tried to mask his frustration behind cold indifference or stern words, but Gon could see it in the small things.
the way his father's gaze would falter when he looked at him, the way his praise always felt empty and his reprimands sharper than they should have been.
No matter how hard Gon tried, it was never enough.
He could never live up to the high standards set before him, and the more he failed, the more the space between him and his father seemed to widen.
It wasn't hatred, not exactly, but it was the kind of coldness that hurt deeper than any anger.
It was the quiet despair of a father who could not understand why his son had turned out so differently from what he had imagined.
Gon had grown used to this behavior. The years had dulled the sting of people's harsh words and dismissive glances.
The hatred and disdain had faded into something more impersonal, like indifference.
Not many bothered to mock him anymore, but neither did they offer any warmth or respect.
He was simply there, acknowledged as the next heir, but rarely taken seriously.
People let him exist, as if he were a shadow that moved quietly in the background.
Now, as he walked alongside the Duke, his advisor Lord Thorne, a tall, imposing man, and a small group of guards, Gon kept his head low, trying to avoid the eyes of the townsfolk.
They passed through the town's square, the usual noise of market stalls and chatter filling the air.
A group of people sitting on a nearby bench paused as they noticed the procession.
They exchanged whispers, their eyes lingering on the group as it passed.
When their gaze landed on Gon, the mood shifted. A few of them frowned, their faces twisting with disdain.
"Look at the duke's son, with no mana," one of them muttered, his lips curling into a sneer.
The words were soft but sharp, laced with mockery. The others nodded, their eyes scanning Gon with a kind of pity, as if his lack of magic were the greatest flaw a person could have.
In a way, it was.
It was nothing new to him, he had learned long ago to ignore the looks and the whisper but the weight of their judgment still pressed against him.