Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: A Battle of Egos
The tension crackles.

[Oh, this is going to be fun.]

For a brief, beautiful moment, silence reigns. The three heirs Zareth, Seraphina, and myself stand there like pieces on a game board, waiting for someone to make the first move.

And then, as expected, the parents ruin everything.

“I must say,” the Celestial Empress begins, adjusting the sleeves of her pristine robes, “Seraphina is truly a remarkable child. She has mastered three divine spells before the age of five, an accomplishment unheard of in the history of the Sky Dominion.” She tilts her head slightly, her smile edged with superiority. “Her teachers call her a prodigy of celestial magic.”

Seraphina, to her credit, remains impassive, though I catch the slight flicker of satisfaction in her silver eyes.

The Demon Lord chuckles, the sound deep and resonant. “Impressive.” He doesn’t sound impressed. “But Zareth has already led a battalion exercise. He can wield demonic energy with precision beyond his years.” He gestures toward his son, who smirks like he’s been waiting for this moment. “Strength, discipline, power he embodies the essence of true leadership.”

I glance at Zareth, unimpressed. He winks.

I turn away before my fists decide to move on their own.

Not to be outdone, my mother Verania leans forward, her expression practically dripping with amusement. “That’s all very adorable,” she says sweetly, in the same way one might compliment a particularly untalented child for managing to walk in a straight line. “But Elyzara oh, where do I even begin?”

She taps her chin, as if struggling to condense the sheer magnitude of my existence into words. “She’s already mastered the art of intimidation without even trying. Just today, she made an entire ballroom of nobles tremble by simply sitting down.”

Sylvithra nods, ever composed. “Her presence alone commands obedience.”

Eryndor folds his arms, looking pleased. “She also has a disturbingly good aim with throwing knives.”

“Disturbingly excellent aim,” Saelira corrects.

Ilythia, not to be left out, adds, “She is, quite frankly, a natural at making grown men rethink their life choices.”

[They’re actually competing. This is incredible.]

Seraphina shifts slightly, adjusting her wings with a flicker of irritation. Zareth sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. I stare ahead, expression blank, wondering if throwing myself into a pit of wild beasts would be less painful than this conversation.

The Celestial Empress, unwilling to concede, smiles thinly. “How charming. But Seraphina is also deeply compassionate. She has a natural affinity for guiding others toward righteousness.”

The Demon Lord scoffs. “Zareth, on the other hand, understands the necessity of crushing weakness.”

Verania waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, we’ve already crushed so much weakness out of Elyzara. She hardly needs instruction in that department.”

I press my fingers to my temples.

[I swear they’re about to start a full-scale war over whose kid is the most terrifying.]

I know.

And it’s only getting worse.

“My daughter can fly,” the Celestial Empress states.

“My son can rip through steel with his bare hands,” the Demon Lord counters.

“My daughter can make people wish they’d never been born just by looking at them,” Verania says, smirking.

That one actually gets a pause. The Celestial Empress’s smile tightens. The Demon Lord hums in consideration.

Sylvithra nods in approval. “It’s true. Her presence alone is a deterrent.”

I stare at my family, mildly horrified.

Seraphina clears her throat. “Perhaps,” she says slowly, voice smooth as glass, “we should move on.”

Zareth smirks. “Getting uncomfortable, angel?”

Seraphina doesn’t react. “Just impatient.”

I exhale sharply. “You both talk too much.”

The three of us lock eyes. The competition isn’t over.

It’s just beginning.

The second half of the night is dedicated to what is supposed to be bonding time.

[This is going to be a disaster.]

The three of us are seated at a smaller table, apart from the main banquet. The idea, apparently, is for us to get to know one another as future rulers. Build trust. Establish diplomatic relationships.

In reality, it’s an absolute nightmare.

Zareth slouches in his chair, legs stretched out, arms crossed behind his head like he’s already bored. “So. The little empress actually talks.”

I glare at him. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Seraphina sighs, taking a sip of her water like she’s already regretting being here. “Is there a point to this, or are we just going to exchange insults all evening?”

“That depends,” I say, folding my hands on the table. “Are you worth insulting?”

Seraphina blinks, clearly taken aback. Zareth, to my horror, lets out a bark of laughter.

“I like you,” he grins.

“Don’t,” I warn.

[Instant rejection. Beautiful.]

Seraphina exhales through her nose. “Fine. If we must interact, let’s make it productive.” She sets down her goblet. “What is your greatest weakness?”

I stare at her. “What.”

Zareth snorts. “You think we’re just going to tell you?”

She shrugs. “Why not? If we are to be allies—”

“Who said anything about allies?” I interrupt.

She blinks again, slower this time. “It is inevitable. Our parents have already begun discussions of trade, treaties—”

I lean back in my chair, unimpressed. “That’s their problem.”

Zareth nods. “Agreed.”

Seraphina purses her lips. “You two are impossible.”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

[This is my favorite dinner party ever.]

Zareth kicks his feet up onto the table, much to the horror of a passing noble. “Alright, if we’re not going to discuss weaknesses, let’s talk strengths.”

I sigh. “This is insufferable.”

Seraphina, straight-backed and impossibly composed, doesn’t miss a beat. “I have been told I have the intelligence of the scholars of old.”

Zareth raises an eyebrow. “I can break people in half.”

They both turn to me. I raise an eyebrow.

[Say something dramatic. Really sell it.]

I take a sip of my wine, then set the goblet down with deliberate care. “I don’t need to do anything. People fear me just fine without it.”

Silence.

Zareth whistles, low and appreciative. “Damn.”

Seraphina exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

I smirk. “Not us.”

[Oh, I like this trio. Absolutely no teamwork. Glorious.]