Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 114: When Reality Comes Knocking

Just as I was enjoying the sweet relief of victory and silently congratulating myself on my brilliant transformation of kidnappers into furniture, the atmosphere shifted. I felt it first—a chill slipping along my spine, cold and unsettling, a whisper of darkness that drained the warmth from the room.

The laughter and casual conversation instantly died away, replaced by tense silence. My family turned as one toward the shadowed doorway, their playful expressions hardening, becoming sharp, dangerous.

Then he stepped into the room, as calm and arrogant as ever.

His pale face, framed by dark hair, appeared ghostly beneath the dim torchlight, his piercing gray eyes glittering with a cold, cruel amusement that sent a wave of nausea twisting through my stomach. His gaze swept casually over the room, taking in the trembling bandits crawling around like obedient dogs, the unfortunate pair still frozen in position as my makeshift throne, and then, finally, he met my eyes.

"Quite the unexpected turn," he said softly, his voice smooth and deceptively mild. "It seems my hospitality was inadequate."

I stiffened immediately, my throat tightening painfully. Beside me, my mother, Verania, stepped forward swiftly, golden eyes narrowed dangerously, magic already crackling sharply around her fingertips.

"You," she growled quietly, voice filled with an icy menace I'd rarely heard, the kind of chilling tone that made even me want to shrink back instinctively.

The young man smiled faintly, utterly unbothered by the powerful assembly before him. "Lady Verania. What an honor." His eyes drifted slowly toward Sylvithra, then my grandparents, amusement deepening slightly. "Such distinguished company. Clearly, I've underestimated Elyzara's worth."

"You've underestimated far more than that," my mother replied coldly, stepping forward with fluid grace, positioning herself protectively between him and me. "Tell me do you have a name, or would you prefer an unmarked grave?"

He laughed softly, genuine amusement coloring his expression. "A threat? From the great Verania Thorne herself? I should be flattered."

Verania's eyes hardened sharply, the atmosphere around her shifting ominously, the air crackling with barely suppressed power. She raised her hand smoothly, golden magic swirling fiercely around her fingertips, illuminating the room in warm yet deadly brilliance.

"Perhaps flattered isn't the word you're looking for," she said softly, dangerously gentle. "Terrified might be more appropriate."

He inclined his head slightly, mockingly respectful. "By all means, impress me."

Then he moved.

He surged forward impossibly fast, shadows erupting violently around him, sharp and biting, slicing like obsidian blades toward Verania. She met his attack instantly, a brilliant wave of golden magic flaring protectively, a clash of dark against light erupting with deafening force, the impact vibrating sharply through the chamber, rattling the walls and shattering the wooden furniture nearby.

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I stumbled backward instinctively, heart racing painfully, eyes wide with shock. I'd never seen my mother like this—never seen her forced to fight so fiercely, so seriously. Magic surged from her effortlessly, a constant torrent of radiant energy, fierce and unyielding, but he matched her blow for blow, shadows writhing menacingly, relentless and brutal.

My grandparents watched silently, tense and alert, clearly prepared to intervene, yet they remained still, respecting Verania's fight.

"Is…is she alright?" I whispered shakily, voice tight with fear.

Sylvithra rested a gentle hand firmly on my shoulder, though her eyes never left the fierce battle unfolding before us. "She'll be fine. Trust your mother."

Yet, beneath her steady words, I felt tension radiating from her, anxiety she couldn't quite conceal.

I watched helplessly, heart pounding painfully, breath quickening as Verania lunged gracefully, golden magic exploding violently outward, briefly illuminating every corner of the chamber. Her opponent hissed sharply, shadows momentarily faltering beneath her assault but only for an instant.

Then he retaliated swiftly, shadows surging fiercely, slicing sharply across her shoulder. My heart froze, breath catching painfully as Verania staggered backward slightly, a thin line of crimson appearing starkly against her pale skin, blood trickling slowly down her arm.

I gasped sharply, horror gripping me fiercely. I'd never seen my mother bleed not once. In my mind, she'd always been invincible, untouchable.

Seeing her wounded shattered something deep inside me.

"Mother!" I cried out desperately, instinctively stepping forward, magic surging sharply beneath my skin, protective anger replacing shock instantly.

But Sylvithra's grip tightened gently, holding me firmly back. "Let her fight, Elyzara," she murmured quietly, though tension filled her voice. "She can handle this."

I swallowed thickly, trembling uncontrollably, watching helplessly as Verania straightened gracefully, eyes blazing fiercely, ignoring the blood still dripping steadily from her wound. She smiled faintly, dangerously, magic swirling protectively around her once more, stronger, brighter.

"Is that all you've got?" she asked softly, mockingly, stepping forward confidently despite her injury.

Her opponent hesitated slightly, shadows flickering uncertainly, clearly surprised by her resilience. But his hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before he lunged fiercely again, their fierce dance resuming violently, a breathtaking spectacle of shadow and gold, brutality and grace.

Finally, with a fierce, powerful surge, Verania broke through his defenses, golden magic slamming him violently backward, crashing brutally against the far wall, stone cracking sharply beneath the impact. He slumped heavily, momentarily stunned, breathing harshly, gray eyes glaring fiercely with newfound respect and hatred.

Verania stepped forward slowly, deliberately, her expression cold and merciless, magic swirling gently, poised to strike again.

"Yield," she commanded softly, voice edged with quiet menace. "Or I promise, this ends far worse for you."

He smiled bitterly, eyes glittering sharply, defiant despite his obvious defeat. "For now, Lady Verania. But we'll meet again soon enough."

Darkness surged suddenly around him, shadows engulfing his form instantly, swallowing him completely before anyone could react. Then he vanished, leaving only silence behind, tense and heavy.

Verania exhaled sharply, relaxing slightly, magic fading gently. Her golden eyes softened instantly, concern and relief replacing fierce determination as she turned swiftly toward me, stepping forward urgently.

"Elyzara," she murmured gently, kneeling gracefully before me, eyes searching my face worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head slowly, tears burning hotly in my eyes, overwhelmed by relief, guilt, and lingering shock. "No…I'm fine. But you—you're bleeding."

She smiled faintly, brushing gently at the shallow cut on her shoulder, clearly dismissing it as trivial. "It's nothing, dear. I've faced far worse."

I swallowed painfully, trembling uncontrollably, breath hitching sharply. "Mother…he—he tortured me. Him and—and that woman."

Instantly, the room shifted again, rage and tension surging violently through my family. Verania stiffened sharply, golden eyes blazing dangerously, magic sparking furiously around her fingertips.

Sylvithra's expression darkened ominously, fists clenching tightly, power pulsing fiercely beneath her skin. My grandparents stepped forward grimly, expressions hardening fiercely, powerful and protective.

"They…they cut me," I whispered shakily, shame and lingering pain choking my voice, tears trickling silently down my cheeks. "They hurt me."

Verania's expression softened instantly, pain flickering sharply in her eyes. She reached out gently, brushing my tears away tenderly, voice fiercely gentle. "They'll pay dearly, Elyzara. No one harms my daughter without suffering consequences."

Sylvithra stepped forward swiftly, expression fiercely protective, silver eyes blazing coldly. "No one will ever touch you again."

Grand Empress Saelira placed a comforting hand gently upon my shoulder, voice soft yet filled with steel. "We'll ensure they're dealt with permanently."

Grand Warlord Eryndor nodded solemnly, eyes fierce and determined. "Your tormentors will regret their very existence."