Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Tyrant Lessons 101

And gods help me…

some part of me wanted it.

Which, frankly, was terrifying.

Because if I was already entertaining thoughts of world domination at the tender age of four with the magical control of a drunk squirrel what would I be like in ten years?

Worse, I wasn’t even the most enthusiastic person in the room about this whole “conquer the world” thing.

No. That title belonged to my four very eager grandparents, who now looked at me with a mix of pride, excitement, and barely restrained murderous intent.

Saelira, ever the calm strategist, clapped her hands gently. “Now that you understand the scope of your potential, we can begin.”

“Begin what?” I asked warily.

“Your training,” Ilythia said with a serene smile. “You can’t rule an empire without knowing how to properly intimidate your subjects.”

Eryndor grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Or how to crush rebellion before it starts.”

Veylen, ever the voice of unsettling logic, added, “And it’s never too early to learn how to manipulate the economy for your benefit.”

I blinked. “What… what kind of training is this?”

Saelira’s eyes glinted. “Tyrant lessons.”

My jaw dropped. “That’s not a real thing.”

Ilythia chuckled softly. “Oh, sweet child. It is now.”

[ Tyrant Lessons? Seriously? Do you know how exhausting it is to micromanage a kingdom? Imagine the paperwork. Do yourself a favor become a humble farmer. Or a librarian. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve murder, taxes, and public speeches. ]

“Oh, now you care?” I shot back mentally. “Where was this sensible advice when you let me pick the pendant that made my fireballs 70% more dramatic?”

[ That was different. That was for self-preservation. This is for… effort. ]

“You are the worst.”

[ And yet, here we are. ]

Before I could argue with the system further, Eryndor stepped forward, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm that frankly should have concerned me more.

“Lesson one,” he declared, “is all about presence.”

“Presence?” I echoed.

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “A true tyrant enters a room and immediately commands attention.”

Veylen nodded sagely. “If people don’t feel slightly threatened when you walk in, you’re doing it wrong.”

I stared at them. “Is that… is that a rule?”

Saelira smiled gently. “It is now.”

I sighed. “What, do I glare at everyone until they cry?”

Eryndor clapped me on the shoulder. “Exactly!”

I blinked. “I was kidding.”

[ Oh great, we’re learning the ‘art of psychological terrorism.’ What’s next? Public executions? A ‘how-to’ on maniacal laughter? ]

I rubbed my temples. “Okay, fine. What do I do?”

Ilythia stepped forward, graceful as ever. “Watch me.”

She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. The air around her seemed to shift, growing heavier, colder.

Her gaze alone could have curdled milk at ten paces.

I gulped. “Okay, that’s… that’s a look.”

Veylen chuckled. “It’s all about balance. Too much, and they’ll faint. Too little, and they’ll think you’re approachable.”

“And being approachable is bad?” I asked.

Eryndor scoffed. “Absolutely. If people aren’t at least a little scared of you, they’ll start asking for things. Constantly.”

[ Pro tip: The peasants tend to riot less when they don’t actively fear for their lives. Just saying. ]

“Alright,” I sighed. “Let me try.”

I squared my shoulders, furrowed my brows, and tried to channel every ounce of intimidation I could muster.

Silence.

Then, Eryndor burst out laughing.

Saelira hid a smile behind her hand.

Ilythia’s lips twitched with amusement.

Veylen simply sighed. “Adorable. But no.”

“Hey!” I scowled.

Eryndor grinned. “You look like a grumpy kitten.”

[ Fear the mighty kitten overlord. Bow before her tiny paws of doom. ]

“Oh, shut up.”

Ilythia, ever patient, approached me. “Your presence is more than just your expression. It’s your entire aura. Your magic, your posture, your silence.”

Veylen nodded. “The right silence can be more terrifying than the loudest threat.”

“Show me,” I challenged.

Without another word, all four of them… shifted.

They didn’t move.

They didn’t speak.

But the air became so oppressive, I could barely breathe.

The weight of their combined presence pressed down on me like a tidal wave.

My heart pounded. My palms grew sweaty.

I felt like a mouse trapped in a room full of very bored, very hungry cats.

“Okay, okay!” I gasped. “I get it!”

The pressure vanished instantly.

Saelira smiled softly. “You see?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I see that I’m going to die before I ever figure that out.”

[ Don’t worry. You’ll get there. Probably. Maybe. Eventually. I mean, if you survive. ]

“You’re really bad at encouragement.”

[ Thank you. ]

“Lesson two,” Eryndor announced cheerfully, “is how to make threats sound polite.”

I blinked. “What?”

Ilythia chuckled. “A well-crafted threat doesn’t always need violence. Sometimes, the most terrifying words are the ones that sound the most civil.”

Veylen nodded. “For example, if someone is being… problematic, you don’t say, ‘I’ll have you executed.'”

I tilted my head. “You don’t?”

Saelira smirked. “No. You say something like, ‘I would be most displeased if anything unfortunate were to happen to you.'”

Eryndor grinned. “Same threat. Less… obvious.”

[ Translation: Tyranny, but make it subtle. ]

I sighed. “This feels like a lot of work.”

Veylen arched an eyebrow. “Ruling an empire isn’t easy.”

“Then why do you want me to do it?”

Saelira chuckled. “Because you’ll be good at it.”

[ Sure. Let’s entrust world domination to a four-year-old with the impulse control of a hyperactive squirrel. What could go wrong? ]

I ignored the system’s mocking and took a deep breath. “Okay. Let me try.”

I squared my shoulders, forced a smile, and said sweetly, “I would be most displeased if anything unfortunate were to happen to you.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Eryndor burst into laughter again. “You sound like you’re threatening a stuffed animal.”

Ilythia hid a smile behind her fan. “It needs… finesse.”

Veylen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will take time.”

“Lots of time,” Eryndor added, still grinning.

[ Tyrant Training Progress: 0.5%. Pathetic, but not hopeless. ]

Before I could respond with a well-deserved mental insult, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the training grounds. I turned, blinking in surprise, as my mothers, Verania and Sylvithra, strode in with the effortless grace of apex predators returning to their den.

“What’s going on here?” Verania asked, golden eyes narrowing in curiosity as she took in the scene: me, looking exhausted and frustrated, and my grandparents looking far too pleased with themselves.

Sylvithra raised a delicate eyebrow. “Training, I assume?”

Saelira smiled serenely. “Correct. We’re teaching Elyzara how to be a proper tyrant.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh!” Verania’s face lit up with pure, unfiltered pride. “That’s my girl!”

Sylvithra’s lips curled into a pleased smirk. “Finally. I was worried we weren’t starting her early enough.”

I blinked. “You… you’re okay with this?”

“Okay with it?” Verania grinned. “I’m thrilled!”

“Every empire needs a strong ruler,” Sylvithra added. “And who better than our daughter?”

Ilythia chuckled softly. “Exactly what we thought.”

Eryndor slapped me on the back. “She’s a natural!”

I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or deeply concerned.

Verania stepped closer, crouching in front of me with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “So, what’s the first step in your tyrannical journey, sweetheart?”

I opened my mouth to answer probably something about learning to glare without looking like a grumpy cat when Sylvithra interrupted smoothly.

“I suggest imprisoning that boy you spend time with. Riven, was it?”

I froze.

“Wait, WHAT?”

“Oh, excellent idea,” Verania agreed. “No ruler should have attachments that can be used against them.”

I gaped at them. “You want me to lock up my only friend?”

“Exactly,” Sylvithra said with a pleased nod. “You’re learning already.”

[ Well. This escalated quickly. ]

“I hate all of you,” I muttered.

“Perfect,” Verania said proudly. “You’re halfway there already.”