The grand halls of Mary Geoise echoed with the sound of hushed whispers, but the air within the palace felt heavy with anticipation. In a chamber draped in golden silk, where the light of the sun filtered through stained glass, a momentous event was unfolding. The heir of the Figarland family was about to be born.

St. Garling Figarland, Supreme Commander of the God Knights, paced anxiously outside the birthing room. His sharp features, typically composed and stoic, now bore the weight of concern. The lineage of the Figarland family was steeped in power and privilege, yet it was at this moment that the true nature of his title weighed most heavily upon him. A son would not only carry the name of their family but also the expectations of a legacy built on authority and dominance.

"Commander, everything will be fine," one of his aides said, attempting to offer reassurance. "The doctors are the best in the land."

St. Garling halted his pacing, fixing his intense gaze on the side. "What if it's a daughter?" he replied, his voice low and measured. "A daughter may bring alliances, but a son—" He paused, his brow furrowing as he turned to face the door again. "A son is what this family needs. He will carry on the Figarland name."

Just then, a cry pierced the air from within the chamber. St. Garling's heart raced, and a wave of relief washed over him. He stepped forward as the door opened, revealing a physician beaming with pride.

"It's a boy, Commander," the physician announced, holding the swaddled infant carefully in his arms. "Your son is healthy and strong."

"Ronan," St. Garling murmured, taking a step closer. The name felt powerful on his tongue, embodying both strength and destiny. He reached out, gently accepting his son into his arms, the soft fabric of the blanket brushing against his skin. The baby's small, delicate features reminded him of the potential that lay ahead—a future that could reshape the world.

As he cradled Ronan, the emotions within him swirled like a tempest. Pride, hope, and a flicker of fear danced in his heart. "You will be a great leader one day," he whispered, his voice low, only meant for the tiny ears of his newborn son.

The years passed swiftly in the gilded cage of Mary Geoise. Ronan grew under the watchful eyes of his parents, surrounded by the opulence that defined the Celestial Dragons. He was a child of privilege, raised amidst luxury, yet the world outside those towering walls was one he could barely fathom.

"Ronan, do sit still!" his mother, Lady Marguerite Figarland, chided gently during a lavish banquet. She was a figure of grace, with flowing silks and jewelry that sparkled like stars. Yet, beneath her refined exterior lay a fierce protector of her family's legacy. "You must learn to present yourself well, especially with the other families watching."

Ronan, his dark hair tousled and his blue eyes wide with curiosity, glanced around the grand hall. The long tables were laden with decadent dishes, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses. He felt the weight of many eyes upon him, and a shiver of unease crept into his young heart. "But Mother, I want to explore!" he protested, his youthful voice tinged with rebellion. "There's so much to see!"

"Exploring can wait, my dear," Lady Marguerite replied, her tone softening. "There are expectations to uphold. You are the heir of the Figarland family, and you must learn how to navigate our world."

The words settled heavily in Ronan's mind, a reminder of the burden he carried. As he watched other children play outside, laughter echoing through the courtyard, he felt an unquenchable yearning for freedom. The lush gardens beyond the palace walls beckoned, and for a moment, he imagined himself running wild, unrestrained by duty.

His daydream was interrupted when a familiar voice broke through the chatter. "Ronan!" A boy around his age bounded toward him, his wild hair matching the spirit in his eyes. "Come on! Let's go outside! There's a whole world waiting for us!"

"Zane!" Ronan exclaimed, a smile breaking across his face. Zane was his closest friend, the son of a lesser noble family, yet he carried a carefree spirit that often drew Ronan away from the weight of his title. "I can't. My mother—"

"Forget your mother! Just for a little while!" Zane insisted, tugging at Ronan's arm. "No one will notice. We can climb the trees and see the view from the top!"

Temptation swelled within Ronan. The thought of scaling the ancient trees, feeling the wind against his face, was intoxicating. With a quick glance toward his mother—who was deep in conversation—he made his decision. "Okay, let's go!"

Together, the boys slipped out of the grand hall, laughter spilling from their lips like a bubbling brook. The world outside the palace was vibrant, alive with the colors of nature and the laughter of children. Ronan felt an exhilarating rush of freedom as they raced toward the towering trees that dotted the estate.

Once they reached a sturdy oak, Zane began to climb, his movements swift and confident. "Come on, Ronan! You can do it!"

Ronan hesitated for a moment, but gathered his courage & climbed up to the top branch.

Ronan's dreams that night were vivid, filled with images of vast oceans and towering mountains, of battles fought and friends made. He imagined himself as a pirate, free from the gilded cage of Mary Geoise, commanding a ship that soared through the waves. The thought of adventure ignited a fire within him, one that would not be easily extinguished.

Days turned into months, and those fleeting moments of freedom became rare treasures for Ronan. As he grew, so did the expectations placed upon him. Lessons in diplomacy and swordsmanship replaced the playful afternoons he once cherished. Tutors arrived regularly, each trying to instill the weight of responsibility that came with his title. Yet no matter how often they lectured him on the importance of the Celestial Dragons' legacy, his heart longed for the thrill of the unknown.

"Ronan, concentrate!" Master Aleron, his swordsmanship instructor, barked during a training session. "You are not just wielding a blade; you are wielding the legacy of the Figarland name!"

Ronan gritted his teeth, frustration boiling within him as he sparred with his instructor. The clang of metal rang in his ears, but all he could feel was the weight of expectation pressing down on him. "I understand, Master Aleron," he replied, forcing himself to focus. "But I also want to learn how to fight for something I believe in, not just for a name."

"Your beliefs will come in time," Aleron replied, parrying Ronan's strike. "For now, you must learn the art of war. Your father has high hopes for you. Do not disappoint him."

Ronan's jaw clenched. He felt as if he were living in a shadow, constantly compared to the illustrious legacy of his father. Each swing of his sword felt heavy, filled with the burden of his lineage. He struck again, more fiercely this time, determined to prove himself.

Later that evening, as he left the training grounds, Ronan found Zane waiting for him outside the gates of the palace. The boy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Hey! I heard you were battling with Master Aleron again. Did he finally admit that I'm a better swordsman?"

"Very funny," Ronan replied, shaking his head. "He said I need to focus more. Apparently, I'm not worthy of the Figarland name yet."

"Bah! You're way better than him! He's just a grumpy old man who spends too much time polishing his sword." Zane laughed, the sound brightening Ronan's mood momentarily. "Come on, let's sneak into the courtyard. I brought some fireworks!"

"Fireworks?" Ronan's eyes widened, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. "You snuck those past your parents?"

"Of course! They think I'm at a study session. Just a little distraction from your royal duties, eh?" Zane winked, leading Ronan through the hidden passages of the palace.

The courtyard was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of lanterns. The stars twinkled above, a beautiful reminder of the vast world waiting beyond the walls. Zane set the fireworks down, his expression bubbling with enthusiasm.

"Alright, stand back!" he called, lighting the fuse with a spark from a nearby lantern. Moments later, colorful bursts of light exploded across the sky, painting the night with vibrant hues. Ronan couldn't help but laugh, his worries momentarily forgotten as he watched the sparks dance.

"See?" Zane grinned, "This is what living is about! Not some stuffy meetings and sword lessons!"

"Yeah, you're right," Ronan admitted, his heart racing with the thrill of rebellion. "This feels amazing."

As the last firework fizzled out, Ronan's laughter faded into contemplation. "What if we could do this all the time? Just… be free, without any of the guards following constantly?"

Zane's eyes glinted with mischief. "Why can't we? We're Celestial Dragon; the descendants of those who built this world. There's a whole world outside those walls. We could do anything, go anywhere, no one is there to stop us, we are literally the God, Our influence of power & authority is spread across the sea.

The word hung in the air like a challenge, igniting Ronan's imagination. "Sea" He echoed, envisioning the sea, the adventures, the thrill of the unknown. "But I'm a Figarland. I have responsibilities."

"Responsibilities?" Zane scoffed, throwing his hands up. "What about your dreams? You're stuck here while the world's out there waiting for you to explore!" Don't forget we are noble, all those riches would go to waste if we don't learn to enjoy them.

Ronan opened his mouth to protest, but the truth of Zane's words rang clear. He felt torn between duty and desire, a constant battle within him. "Maybe one day, I'll find a way to be both."

The two boys sat in silence for a moment, letting the stars above guide their thoughts. Ronan felt the flicker of determination growing within him. "Zane, if I ever leave this place… I want you to come with me."

Zane's expression shifted from surprise to excitement. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yeah," Ronan replied, a smile breaking through his earlier frustration. "Together, we could carve our path."

That night, as Ronan lay in bed, he envisioned the future he yearned for. He imagined himself standing at the helm of a ship, the wind whipping through his hair, with Zane by his side. The thought fueled his dreams, igniting a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could break free from the chains of expectation.

Yet as dawn broke the next day, reality came crashing back. The sunlight streamed through his window, illuminating the lavish decorations of his room. He was still a Celestial Dragon, still bound to the legacy of the Figarland name.

In the weeks that followed, Ronan found himself increasingly disillusioned by the life he led. Meetings with other Celestial Dragons felt like a masquerade, filled with hollow conversations about power and wealth. He was expected to smile and nod, to play the role of the perfect heir, but inside, he burned with a desire for something more.

During one such gathering, he found himself seated beside a fellow Celestial Dragon, the arrogant and self-important Donquixote Doflamingo who was a few years older than him. Doflamingo, known for his flamboyant personality and ruthless ambition, leaned in closer, a sly grin on his face.

"Ronan Figarland," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The heir to the throne of the Figarland family. How delightful to see you here, pretending to enjoy the company of your betters."

Ronan clenched his jaw, forcing a smile. "I'm merely here to represent my family, Doflamingo. Not that you'd know much about that."

Doflamingo chuckled, clearly unbothered by Ronan's jab. "Ah, the burden of legacy. It must be exhausting, playing the dutiful heir. But don't worry, little prince. I have no intention of letting you steal my spotlight."

"Spotlight?" Ronan repeated, incredulous. "You think your antics are worthy of admiration?"

"Everything I do is worthy of admiration," Doflamingo replied, leaning back with a smirk. "One day, you'll understand that power is all that matters in our world. And you—" he gestured dismissively, "you'll always be in my shadow."

Ronan's heart raced, a mix of anger and resolve boiling within him. "I refuse to be just a shadow. I will carve my own path, Doflamingo. And one day, you'll regret underestimating me."

Doflamingo laughed, the sound chilling Ronan to his core. "We'll see about that, little Figarland. But remember, the world isn't as simple as you think. It's filled with treachery and deceit, and the higher you rise, the harder you fall."

As the conversation continued, Ronan felt a fire ignite within him. Doflamingo's words lingered in his mind, but instead of instilling fear, they fueled his determination. He would not be a mere puppet in this game of power. One day, he would break free from the chains of expectation and embrace the life he longed for.

That evening, as Ronan stood on the balcony overlooking Mary Geoise, he gazed at the horizon. The sun dipped below the mountains, casting the world in shades of gold and crimson. He felt a connection to the vastness beyond, a reminder that the life of a Celestial Dragon was not his only option.

"Ronan," a voice called softly behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. It was his mother, Lady Marguerite. "What troubles you, my dear?"

"Nothing, Mother," he replied, turning to face her. But he could see the concern etched on her features. "I'm just… thinking."

"About your future?" she asked, stepping closer. "You know, the world can be a dangerous place. But your ancestors have worked tirelessly to ensure their future generations have everything they need to succeed."

"Success," Ronan echoed, frustration creeping into his voice. "Is that all that matters? Power and influence? What about happiness?"

Lady Marguerite's eyes widened, surprised by his boldness. "Ronan, happiness is a luxury not everybody can afford. You should feel grateful to be born as a Figarland.Your duty is to protect our family's legacy."

"But what if I don't want that legacy?" he challenged, his heart racing. "What if I want to explore, to be free?"

His mother's expression softened, a flicker of understanding breaking through her composure. "I know it feels suffocating, my love. But there she continued, her voice softening, "are sacrifices we all must make for the greater good. You were born into this world with a purpose, Ronan. Your father and I have always believed in your strength, but that strength must be used wisely. The Figarland name is more than just a legacy — it's a responsibility. And while you may seek freedom, remember that true freedom comes not from running away, but from shaping the world into a place where you can be both free and responsible, and for that you would need power to stand high among your peers"

Ronan turned away, gazing out at the city below, the sprawling estates of the other Celestial Dragons, the opulence and grandeur of Mary Geoise. It all felt like a gilded prison. His mother's words echoed in his mind, but they didn't quiet the storm that raged inside him.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that," Ronan admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can be what you and Father want me to be."

Lady Marguerite stepped beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You are stronger than you realize, Ronan. There is greatness in you, but it is up to you to decide how you will use it. Whether you become the leader this family needs or the man you want to be, you will find your path. But remember, you are not alone in this."

Ronan clenched his fists, feeling the weight of his mother's words. He wanted to believe her, to believe that he could forge his own destiny without abandoning everything his family stood for. But the allure of the sea, the pull of the unknown, was growing stronger with each passing day.

"I need to get away from all this," Ronan muttered, more to himself than to her. "Even just for a little while."

His mother's eyes softened further, a look of deep understanding passing over her face. "Then go, Ronan," she whispered, surprising him. "Take time to find yourself, to understand what you truly want. But when you return, come back with the conviction of the man you are meant to be."

Ronan blinked, taken aback. "You… you're telling me to leave?"

Lady Marguerite smiled faintly. "The world is vast, my son. You will learn more out there than you ever could trapped here. But remember, your father has enemies. The sea is not for the weak, only the strong can sail there. Be cautious in your journey."

For the first time in a long while, Ronan felt a spark of hope — a glimmer of possibility. The thought of leaving, even temporarily, was exhilarating. His heart pounded at the idea of breaking free from the shackles of Mary Geoise and seeing the world for himself.

"Thank you," Ronan said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'll make you proud, Mother. I'll find my path."

Her smile widened, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You already have, Ronan. You already have."

With that, she left him alone on the balcony, her words lingering in the cool night air. Ronan looked up at the stars, feeling the weight of everything that had been said, and something within him shifted.

The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Ronan stood at the gates of the mansion, dressed in a simple cloak, his sword strapped to his back. The world beyond the walls beckoned to him, full of danger, excitement, and opportunity.

This was it. The beginning of his journey. The first step toward freedom, toward becoming not just the heir of the Figarland family, but his own man. He knew it wouldn't be easy.

---

End of Chapter One.

Next Chapter:- Path to Strength