Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 58

Chapter 58: The Weight of Reality
I was no stranger to power. No stranger to the authority that came with being born into this family. But this?

This wasn’t some game of thrones. It wasn’t a contest of who could wield the most force. It was something more… real.

The executions kept coming, one after another. Each one sharper, more gruesome than the last. The crowd cheered, their voices rising in sync as the traitors were struck down, their blood staining the execution block like ink spilled across parchment. I tried to hold on, tried to remain stoic, but my stomach churned in a way I couldn’t control.

[ You are doing well. ]

No.

No, I wasn’t.

I couldn’t do this.

I thought I was ready. I thought I understood this world. I had grown up with the whispers of death in the corners of every conversation, the cold reality that it was always a step away. But witnessing it, seeing it happen in front of my eyes this was something else entirely.

I pressed my hand to my mouth. I could taste the bile rising, threatening to spill over. I couldn’t do this.

[ You can. ]

The world spun around me, blurry and disorienting. My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I turned and bolted.

The cheers of the crowd faded as I sprinted through the palace courtyard, my heart pounding in my chest like a wild drum. My feet stumbled beneath me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the sharp, nauseating reality I was running from.

I barely made it behind a column before I vomited. The taste was sickening, the smell even worse. It wasn’t just the blood. It wasn’t just the brutal spectacle I had witnessed it was the raw, crushing truth that had hit me like a freight train.

This was the world I lived in. This was the world I was supposed to rule.

The tears burned in my eyes, but I didn’t have the time to cry. Not when my body trembled so violently. The image of the woman, her face serene as the axe fell, lingered in my mind, refusing to leave.

[ It’s okay. ]

But it didn’t feel okay.

[ You’re not expected to be invincible, Elyzara. ]

I took a shaky breath. “I wasn’t ready for this.”

[ No one ever is. ]

I stood there for a moment, catching my breath. I felt weak, but I was also alive. And that felt like something unfamiliar to me. The world outside this column still roared, still celebrated. But I had seen something that made me understand how fragile it all was.

“Elyzara?”

I blinked and looked up to see Mara standing there, her expression soft, but concerned.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice gentle, careful.

I nodded quickly, wiping the last of my tears away. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But she saw right through me. “No, you’re not.”

I inhaled sharply, stepping back from the column. Why was I still shaking?

“You don’t have to hide it,” Mara said, her voice steady. “It’s normal to feel this way. Even your parents… they’ve been through it. They’ve seen it, felt it. They were your age when they saw their first execution.”

I looked at her, unsure how to process the fact that my parents and grandparents were not so different from me. I had grown up with them, under their watchful eyes, with their unshakable confidence, their power. But the fact that they were so accustomed to this… it made me feel like a child.

“Did they feel like this?” I asked.

Mara shrugged slightly, her voice soft. “They didn’t have the luxury of feeling like this. They needed to be strong. For their people, for their kingdom. But, Elyzara, you’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to be human even when the world expects you to be more.”

I looked down at the floor, feeling the weight of her words pressing on me. I couldn’t just be human. Not when I had a kingdom to rule.

Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me. It was Elira. Her expression was soft, understanding, but I could see the quiet strength in her eyes. She didn’t speak, just laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I didn’t say anything either. I wasn’t sure I had words for what I was feeling.

The sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. I turned and saw my parents approaching, their faces drawn but composed.

“Elyzara,” Verania said softly. “Are you well?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Your grandfather wanted to speak with you,” Sylvithra said, her voice gentle but firm. “He’s… concerned.”

I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. I stood still as they approached, their presence overwhelming, but comforting at the same time.

They didn’t ask me to explain. They didn’t demand anything from me.

They simply stood there.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. What could I do? What was there left to say?

Then Verania spoke again, her voice low, yet firm.

“Death is a part of this world, Elyzara. It is the price of power.”

She turned her gaze to the execution grounds, where the crowd was now starting to disperse.

“You will face it again,” she continued. “And when you do, you will know exactly what to do.”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.

[ It’s not the same for you. ]

I blinked, the words from the system echoing in my mind. What did that mean?

I wanted to ask, but before I could, the weight of my parents’ words settled deeper into my bones.

[ You’re not ready to face the darkness yet. ]

Well, no shit.

I was still trying to force my heartbeat back into a normal rhythm, still feeling the ghost of bile in my throat, still grappling with the horrifying realization that I was going to have to do this again someday.

But before I could spiral too deep into that existential crisis, Verania clapped her hands together with an air of finality.

“Well, that was enough gloom for one day,” she declared.

Sylvithra nodded, inspecting me critically. “You look like you need a distraction.”

I blinked. “A distraction?”

“Yes, dear,” Verania said smoothly. “Your first execution didn’t go perfectly, but that’s to be expected. You’ll improve.”

I had no idea whether to be comforted or concerned by that statement.

“Now,” Sylvithra said, shifting the topic with the speed of a war strategist, “how shall we cheer you up?”

Mara, sensing my growing distress, cleared her throat. “Perhaps something… lighthearted?”

Verania gasped dramatically. “We should teach her how to gamble!”

Sylvithra immediately hummed in agreement. “A necessary skill for any ruler.”

Mara and Elira visibly paled.

“Uh—Your Majesties—”

“Elira, fetch the cards,” Verania ordered.

Elira, to her eternal credit, opened her mouth to argue, but Sylvithra’s sharp eyes flicked toward her, and she promptly shut it again. With a long-suffering sigh, she disappeared to do as she was told.

I stared. “Wait. I’m five.”

Verania waved a hand dismissively. “And?”

“And?” I repeated, baffled. “Shouldn’t we , I don’t know do something normal?”

Sylvithra raised a delicate brow. “Gambling is normal. How else will you learn to manipulate the weak-willed into forfeiting their fortunes?”

Mara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your Majesties, I don’t think—”

“No, no, let them continue,” I interrupted, my curiosity piqued. “I want to see how deep this insanity goes.”

Verania grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

By the time Elira returned with the cards, my fate was sealed.

And so was everyone else’s.

The first round of whatever game they taught me was an absolute mess. I had no idea what I was doing, Mara looked like she was contemplating quitting her job, and Elira was losing. Badly.

Verania was cheating. I knew she was cheating. I saw her cheating.

Sylvithra, the picture of grace, sipped her wine like she wasn’t systematically destroying everyone at the table.

“You’re all terrible at this,” I informed them after losing another hand.

Verania smirked. “That’s because you’re playing by the rules, darling.”

Oh.

Oh, this was what they were teaching me.

It wasn’t just gambling. It was deception, control, and strategy.

Sylvithra set down her cards and gave me a slow, knowing look. “Are you ready to play properly now?”

I picked up my cards with renewed determination.

Mara muttered something about bad influences.

By the end of the game, I had lost miserably but I had also laughed more in one hour than I had in the entire day.