The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 86. Father’s regret

Chapter 86: 86. Father’s regret

Leo flinched at the name Ashtarya, a vivid flash from his dream, a woman standing in flames, over a scorched wasteland, his voice sharp. "Who’s this Goddess Ashtarya? And why’s the cult obsessed with ’releasing’ her or whatever?"

Duke Alric leaned back, sipping his tea. "She’s no goddess, despite what they claim. Ashtarya was a witch who lived centuries ago, she was unstoppable, called as destruction." He paused, his gaze distant. "Few know the story, and even that’s murky. She was so powerful, even Goddess Celestia couldn’t touch her." Leo’s eyes widened with mention of Celestia.

Alric noticed, his eyes sharpening, but he continued. "When the world was on the brink of annihilation, one man rose. He has a strange, radiant aura, uniting every race, elves, dwarves, beastmen, and humans against her. They called him the Ruler, the one destined to lead."

Leo leaned forward. "Did they win?"

Alric shook his head. "Not fully. He sealed her, but couldn’t destroy her. From that, the prophecy was born." His voice grew heavy. "When the seal weakens, another Ruler will rise, walking the same path, but this time to end her forever. The prophecy says this Ruler will be unmatched, destined to rule the world." He fixed Leo with a piercing stare. "That’s why I called you here, Leonhardt. Your enemies aren’t just the cult. The royal family will see you as a threat to their throne. They’ll stop at nothing to eliminate you."

Leo ran a hand through his hair, frustration simmering. "Why’s all this crap landing on me?" He frowned. "So the royals are coming for me now?"

Alric’s smile was faint but reassuring. "Don’t worry. I’ve handled it. Only your professors, the principal, Serion, and I know the truth."

Leo’s jaw tightened. "But the cult knows. And that black sheep in the academy is still out there."

Alric sighed, rubbing his temple. "Serion’s on it. Let him deal with that."

Shifting gears, Alric leaned forward, his tone lighter but probing. "Now, let’s talk about personal matters. I’m impressed, son, that you killed a demon commander."

Leo shrugged, his voice cool. "Thanks."

Alric’s eyes narrowed slightly. "But why the sudden warmth with Lucian? You resented him most of all, yet you risked your life to save him."

Leo stared into his coffee, his reflection rippling in the dark liquid. He thought of Leonhardt’s pain, then spoke, his voice steady. "You think I hated Lucian? He’s always respected me, even when I didn’t deserve it." His gaze lifted, locking onto Alric’s. "The real problem was you, Father."

Alric stiffened, but Leo pressed on, his words cutting. "You never gave me love, respect, or even a glance. Not because I was useless or talentless—plenty of parents love their kids no matter what." Memories of his past life flashed, his own father’s violence, Alric’s neglect, two sides of the same coin. "You shut me out because I’m not Maria’s son. Just the kid from the woman you were forced to marry."

Alric closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, guilt etching lines into his face. He’d ignored Leonhardt for years, and even now, his concern stemmed from duty and guilt, over the royal threat. Leo stood, his voice cold but resolute. "If there’s anyone to hate, it’s you. But Lucian? Vivien? They’ve shown me love and respect, even after all I put them through. I can’t hate them."

He turned to leave, but Alric’s voice stopped him. "What about the assassination attempts? Besides the cult?"

Leo paused, hand on the doorknob, glancing back. "You mean her?"

Alric nodded, his face unreadable. "I know who’s behind it and why. Want me to punish her?"

"No," Leo said, his voice like ice. "Let her try. She can come at me a hundred times—I won’t die." With that, he walked out, leaving Alric staring at the closed door, a faint smile tinged with regret.

Later, the head butler, Alberk, knocked and entered the study. He found Alric slumped on the couch, lost in thought—a rare sight for the man he’d served since childhood. Clearing his throat, Alberk asked, "Master, how was your talk with Young Lord Leonhardt?"

Alric ran a hand through his hair, a wry smile breaking through. "Alberk, what do you think of my son now?"

The old butler hesitated, then spoke carefully. "I’ve watched him since he was a boy, my lord. He’s... changed. There’s a killer’s edge to him now, a fire. Honestly, he feels like a different person."

Alric stood, pacing to the window, his voice low. "Not like—he is different." He turned to Alberk, his eyes glinting with a mix of pride and pain. "I’m a Duke, meant to command, to lead. Yet I was a fool—hating my first wife, neglecting Leonhardt. And now, the boy who once feared me looked me in the eye, called out every failure, every flaw, with a calm that felt like a blade at my throat."

Alberk’s brow furrowed. "Do you wish for his forgiveness, my lord?"

Alric laughed, bitter and soft, staring out at the darkening sky. "Forgiveness? No, Alberk. I want him to keep hating me. It’s what I deserve."

Leo paused in the elegant hallway of the Caulem manor, looking at the late portrait Duchess Seraphina Caulem. Leonhardt’s mother. Leo’s expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his crimson eyes. He stands for a moment, then turned and continued down the hall.

The next morning, as dawn painted the sky in hues of gold, Commander Dian marched toward the training grounds, his boots crunching on the gravel. The soldiers should’ve been drilling by now, but instead, they stood in a loose cluster, staring at the field.

Dian’s temper flared. "What the hell are you lot doing?" he barked. "Why isn’t training started?"

The soldiers snapped to attention, faces pale. One stammered, "Nothing, sir! We’re just... we saw something surprising on the grounds."

Dian’s brow furrowed. "Surprising? What’re you talking about?" A rhythmic thwack-thwack cut through the air, followed by the clatter of wood. He looks past the men, his eyes locking onto the training field—and his jaw dropped.

There stood Leo, wearing a sleeveless black tunic and loose pants, his lean muscles sweating. He hits a wooden training dummy with a practice sword, each strike precise and brutal. A pile of broken wooden swords lay scattered nearby, and as Dian watched, the sword in Leo’s hand cracked. With a grunt, Leo tossed it aside, wiping sweat from his brow, his crimson eyes burning with focus.

Dian stood frozen, mouth agape. The scrawny, timid Leonhardt he’d known was gone—this was a warrior, his every move radiating power. The soldiers whispered among themselves, some in awe, others skeptical.

"Oi, that’s the first son?" one muttered, smirking. "Still think he’s just a puffed-up noble. Bet he can’t

handle a real fight."

Another nudged his friend, grinning. "Yeah, all that monster-killing talk’s probably fake. Let’s test him. Hey, Young Lord!" he called, stepping forward. "care for a spar? Show us what you’re made of!"

Leo glanced over, his expression unimpressed. He grabbed a towel from a nearby bench, wiping his hands. "Pass," he said coolly, turning to walk away, his black tunic clinging to his frame.

The soldier’s face reddened, stung by the dismissal. "What, too scared to face a real man?"

Before Leo could respond, Elynn’s voice chimed in his mind, bright and eager.

[Sub-mission activated: Defeat opponents in sparring!]

[Reward: 50 Mana Shards per each victory.]

[Accept?]

Leo stopped mid-step, a slow, dangerous smirk curling his lips. He turned back, his crimson eyes glinting with something predatory. "Alright," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Let’s play."