Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes-Chapter 63: The Destined Fighter

7:30pm, dinner time.

As Ivaim reached for the roasted beef on the dinner table, his hand froze mid-air when Grandma Neli’s voice broke the quiet.

"His father... my husband, was part of the Council of Champions," she said, her tone distant, as though she were speaking to ghosts only she could see.

Ivaim slowly lowered his spoon, his appetite forgotten.

"The Council of Champions?" he prompted gently, sensing she needed someone to listen.

Neli nodded, her eyes fixed on the flickering candlelight.

"You might not know this, but when you’re part of the Council of Champions, you carry more than a title. At the end of every Coliseum of Chosens, the victor earns the right to challenge one of the Council’s members."

Her voice grew heavier as she continued.

"If someone chooses to challenge you, they have two choices for their wager. The first is your seat on the Council—defeat you, and they claim your place. The second... is far more dangerous. They can ask for something personal, something specific."

Ivaim frowned, a sinking feeling settling in his chest.

"My husband was great," Neli said, a flicker of pride softening her features for a moment.

"Stronger than most. His skills were unmatched, and his name alone was enough to keep challengers at bay. For years, no one dared to face him. They knew they couldn’t win."

She paused, her expression darkening.

"But then... there was one challenger. A man who didn’t seek the power of a seat on the Council. He sought something far crueler."

Ivaim leaned forward a bit, trying to listen attentively.

"What did he ask for?"

Neli’s voice trembled, but she pushed forward.

"He demanded my husband’s life—and the lives of our entire family. The only exception was me, his pregnant wife. He wanted me to live, to carry the weight of it all."

Ivaim’s heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts racing.

’What kind of monster would make such a demand? That’s definitely the Master of Cruelty...’

She glanced at him, her eyes glassy but unwavering.

"My husband couldn’t refuse. As a member of the Council, he was bound by honor and the rules of the arena. To deny the challenge would be to forfeit everything—his title, his legacy, his life."

Ivaim swallowed hard, the roasted beef on his plate untouched. "And the challenger... he followed through with it?"

Neli’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the table.

"He did. My husband fought with everything he had, but the challenger’s strength... it wasn’t just physical. It was malicious. Cruel. He didn’t just kill my husband; he made sure I would never forget."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. Ivaim struggled to find the right thing to say, his mind a storm of anger and disbelief.

"I am sorry for your loss.." he said finally, his voice quiet but sincere.

She gave a faint, bitter laugh.

"It was a long time ago, boy. But that pain never really goes away." She met his gaze, her eyes fierce despite the tears threatening to fall.

Ivaim sat silently, his throat dry. He wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of her words held him in place.

Neli took a deep breath and continued.

"When I came face to face with the aftermath—when I saw what he’d done to my family—I asked him why. Why even bother sparing me?"

Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, her fingers curling into fists on the table.

"What did he say?" Ivaim finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She let out a humorless chuckle, her lips curving into a bitter smile.

"I told him I would rather die. I begged him to let me join my husband and the rest of my family. But do you know what he did?"

Ivaim shook his head, dread building in his chest.

"He laughed," she said, her tone venomous. "That monster laughed at me. He said my husband was strong—so strong that he’d been entertained. At first, he claimed he was going to spare my husband and kill me along with the rest of our family."

She paused, her jaw tightening as she fought to steady her voice.

Ivaim’s heart clenched at the thought, but he didn’t interrupt.

"But then..." Her voice dropped, barely audible. "Then he learned I was pregnant. And everything changed."

Ivaim thought for a second, before responding.

"Because of the child?"

Neli nodded slowly, her eyes distant as if she were staring into the past.

"He said sparing me was an experiment. He wanted to see if the child I carried would grow to be as strong—no, stronger—than my husband. He said he hoped that one day, this child would rise, seek him out, and take revenge. Can you imagine that? He killed everything I loved and left me alive just to see if I could raise a weapon for his amusement."

Ivaim felt a surge of anger bubbling in his chest.

"That’s... that’s monstrous," he muttered, his voice tight.

"Monstrous," Neli repeated softly, her shoulders sagging. "That’s exactly what he was. A monster wearing the guise of a man."

She fell silent for a moment, her hands trembling slightly as she placed them on the table.

"Do you know what it feels like to raise a child under that kind of shadow? To love them, nurture them, but always wonder if you’re pushing them toward a destiny of bloodshed? It’s a burden no one should bear."

Ivaim stayed silent, unsure if his words could ever carry enough weight to match hers.

"I did everything I could to keep him away from that life," she said, her tone growing firmer.

"I never told him about his father, never mentioned the arenas or the bloodshed. I made sure our home was far from anything that might spark his interest in that world. I thought... I thought I could protect him by keeping him in the dark."

Her gaze grew distant, and a faint, bitter smile touched her lips.

"I even set up this bakery. I wanted to teach him that there’s strength in creating something beautiful, something simple and good. I hoped he’d find joy in kneading dough and crafting bread, in making something with his hands that didn’t involve violence."

She paused, her voice faltering.

"But fate has a cruel sense of humor, doesn’t it? One day, he came running home after a trip to the market, his eyes shining with excitement. He told me he thought he had a talent for fighting. That maybe... just maybe... he was destined for it."

Ivaim’s heart clenched at the image of a younger version of her son, full of hope but blind to the pain that lay ahead.

"What did you say to him?" he asked softly.

"I cried," Neli admitted, her voice breaking.

"I cried all night. It was like hearing the past knock on my door again, dragging me back to a nightmare I’d barely managed to escape. But he was so stubborn. As he grew older, I begged him to stop, to abandon the foolish notion of fighting. I told him everything—about his father, about our family, about why I kept him far from that world."

Her hands gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white.

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"But it didn’t stop him. If anything, it only fueled him more. He said he wanted to honor his father, to avenge our family. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t listen. He was consumed by it."

Ivaim frowned, his mind racing with thoughts.

"And you... you just gave up?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Neli shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"I didn’t give up on loving him. I could never do that. But I did stop fighting him. Because what kind of mother would I be if I forced him to live a life he didn’t choose? I love my son, I truly do. And that is why... I let him go. I let him walk the path he believed was his, even if it broke me."

Her voice cracked, but she pushed on.

"Because sometimes, love isn’t about keeping someone safe. It’s about letting them make their own choices, even when those choices lead to pain. Even when it means losing them."