Onyx Magical Academy (GXG)

Chapter Twenty

As I stood before him, I couldn't help but take a closer look at my father. Though he possessed an impressive strength as a level 9 wizard, his appearance told a different story. In this world, people with advanced abilities—wizards, knights, healers—could often slow down their aging, even extending their lives well beyond what I'd known on Earth. Powerful figures could live to 200 years or more, each level they reached adding years to their lifespan. Yet, my father didn't look as if he were someone blessed by time. Instead, his features had the weariness of someone closer to fifty, despite being well below that by the calendar.

His eyes held a heaviness, as though weighed down by burdens he could never share. His hair had streaks of silver, a rare sight in those at his level, and faint lines traced the edges of his gaze. I wondered if the constant demands of his title, the relentless battles with demons, and the responsibility of raising us under the weight of my mother's legacy had taken a toll even his power couldn't shield him from.

"Is something on your mind?" he asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I hesitated, then shook my head. "No, Father," I replied, my voice softer. It felt strange to wonder about his burdens when I had only recently come into my own in this world. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he was carrying more than he let on. Perhaps even a powerful duke had his limits.

As he continued speaking, the duke's voice returned to its steady, resolute tone. "Flynn, your growth is promising, but remember that power alone is not the mark of greatness." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "You have talent, yes, but you must also have patience, wisdom, and control. There's a fine line between ambition and recklessness, and I expect you to know where that line is drawn."

"Yes, Father." I nodded, absorbing his words. I could see that his intentions weren't just those of a ruler assessing my potential. They were those of a parent trying to steer me toward a life he could one day look upon with pride—perhaps even relief.

As he dismissed me, I glanced back over my shoulder before leaving, seeing his expression soften for just a moment. For a man of his power and title, it seemed my father had not escaped the same vulnerabilities as anyone else. And with that thought, I left his office, a pang of guilt twisted in my chest. Standing there, looking at the weight etched into my father's face, I couldn't ignore the feelings that had started to take root—feelings I could barely admit to myself. Every time I thought of Lady Selene, I felt a strange pull, a mixture of admiration and something much more complicated.

I knew it was wrong. She was my father's wife, my stepmother. And yet, I couldn't deny how drawn I was to her—the way her fierce strength, her quick mind, and her occasional rare smiles seemed to linger in my mind, even against my better judgment.

The guilt was like a stone in my stomach. Here was my father, a man who had sacrificed so much, fought through countless battles, and endured endless responsibilities for his family and his dukedom. And I—his child—was harboring feelings I had no right to feel. It was an impossible situation, yet I couldn't escape it. I wanted to be loyal to my father, to respect the boundaries he had set for his family. And yet, those feelings for Selene wouldn't fade, no matter how much I tried to ignore them.

Before I left, I gave my father one last look. The lines around his eyes seemed a little deeper, his shoulders carrying burdens I could only guess at. The guilt inside me deepened, knowing that if he ever realized my feelings, it would only add to his troubles.

I squared my shoulders, silently promising myself that I would find a way to control these emotions, to honor the family bond that held us together—even if it meant burying this impossible crush deep inside.

The next day, I could feel a new tension between my brothers and me, sharper and heavier than before. In our family, the position of heir wasn't set by birth order but by who proved themselves the strongest and most capable. And that meant any signs of "potential"—talent, skill, and power—were like flags waved in a race.