Clyde stared at Gorgon, curiosity flickering in his sharp eyes.
"What exactly does a hero do?"
He asked, tilting his head.
Gorgon blinked at him, caught off guard by the directness of the question.
"What do we do?"
He repeated, scratching the back of his head as if he'd never actually put much thought into it.
"Well... We help people. You know, make their lives better with our abilities."
Clyde narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Abilities? You mean like superpowers?"
Gorgon's brows furrowed.
"Super... what?"
Clyde almost chuckled. It confirmed what he had already suspected—Heroes in this world were just the equivalent of superheroes back in his old life. The term may have been different, but the concept was the same.
"I see."
He said simply, leaning back against the wooden frame of the wagon.
Gorgon, still looking a little overwhelmed by the conversation, gave him a wary glance before shaking his head.
"You ask a lot of questions, kid."
"I like understanding things."
Clyde replied without missing a beat.
Before Gorgon could respond, the wagon came to a halt.
"We're here."
One of the other travelers muttered.
Clyde shifted forward and peeked over the edge of the cart.
His stomach twisted slightly at what he saw.
Clyde had imagined cities before—grand structures, towering buildings, streets bustling with life and order. Even the castle, as much as he hated it, had a certain level of wealth that exuded stability.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
The city—if it could even be called that—was a mess of crumbling roads and uneven pathways.
Wooden houses leaned precariously against each other as if one strong gust of wind would send them tumbling down. Mud-covered streets stretched ahead, littered with debris. Children ran barefoot through the grime, their clothes ragged and thin despite the approaching cold.
It wasn't just poor.
It was neglected.
Clyde frowned as he climbed down from the wagon.
"This place… why does it look like this?"
Gorgon, stepping down beside him, gave a humorless chuckle.
"You really must've lived a sheltered life, kid, if you think this is surprising."
Clyde glanced at him.
"Why don't they just use magic to make their lives better?"
Gorgon's laughter was louder this time, but there was no real amusement in it.
"Magic? Kid, magic ain't for people like them."
He echoed.
Clyde blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Gorgon sighed, crossing his arms as he surveyed the town.
"Magic is a privilege. It belongs to the nobles, the wealthy, the ones who can afford to hoard it. Commoners like these people? They don't have access to that kind of power. They never will."
He gestured toward a grand building in the distance—one of the few that seemed properly maintained.
Clyde's brows furrowed.
"But why?"
"Because that's how the world works."
There was a grim certainty in Gorgon's voice, as if he had long accepted this reality.
"Magic isn't free. It isn't something just anyone can use. You need resources, education, access to tools that most people can't even dream of affording. And even if they could get their hands on something useful, the Magic Tower keeps a tight grip on all magical knowledge. They don't just give it away."
Clyde remained silent, absorbing the information.
It wasn't just that people were poor—they were kept that way.
A controlled system.
A society where only the powerful got to stay powerful.
It was frustrating.
He clenched his small fists, feeling an odd sense of irritation bubbling in his chest.
Seeing his expression, Gorgon exhaled and placed a heavy hand on Clyde's shoulder.
"Don't look so troubled, kid. That's just the way things are."
"But… can't they just make their own magic tools? Manufacture their own devices instead of relying on the Magic Tower?"
Clyde asked, tilting his head.
For a moment, Gorgon just stared at him.
Then, he threw his head back and laughed.
"Hah! Kid, you really think it's that easy? That's a novel idea, sure, but it's impossible. Magical Engineering isn't something just anyone can learn. It takes years of studying, a deep understanding of magic itself, and access to resources these people will never get their hands on."
He wiped at his eyes, still grinning.
Clyde pursed his lips.
It wasn't that he disagreed.
But he also wasn't convinced it was truly impossible.
"You're just giving up on the idea without even considering it."
He pointed out.
Gorgon smirked.
"I'm realistic, kid."
Clyde could tell that there was no point in pressing the conversation further.
Gorgon wasn't going to take him seriously.
So, instead, he dropped the subject and turned his attention back to the town.
"I want to look around."
He said, already taking a step forward.
Gorgon raised a brow.
"You sure? Not exactly a fun place for sightseeing."
"It's my first time outside."
Clyde replied simply.
Gorgon blinked at him.
"Wait—you've never been out of the castle before?"
"No."
There was a pause.
Then Gorgon shook his head, muttering something under his breath.
"Damn nobles."
Clyde ignored him and continued walking.
He didn't know what he was expecting, but something in him wanted to see more.
To understand.
Because in a world like this—where magic was hoarded, where commoners suffered while nobles thrived—
He was starting to realize something important.
Magic wasn't the problem.
The people controlling it were.
And if no one else was going to change that…
Maybe he would.
Clyde walked through the town, his small figure barely noticeable among the dilapidated buildings and worn-down streets. Yet, despite his size, people noticed him.
They noticed them.
It was subtle at first—the way villagers would pause their conversations when he and the others passed, how merchants would lower their heads as if trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves.
Even the children playing near the gutters quickly scattered when their eyes landed on Gorgon and his group.
Clyde frowned, glancing up at Gorgon.
"They're avoiding us."
The hero barely looked at him, his face set in a neutral expression as he adjusted the straps on his armor.
"Of course they are."
"Why?"
Clyde asked.
He felt curious to know what kind of answer he would get.