Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 66

Chapter 66: The Art of Defiance
My parents were many things tyrants, rulers, notoriously overprotective but subtle? Never.

So, when they informed me at breakfast that today’s training would be “significantly advanced,” it hardly came as a surprise. Sylvithra had a suspiciously bright smile, and Verania had been quietly chuckling into her morning tea. Clearly, something sinister was in the air, but I’d learned long ago that questioning their decisions rarely ended well.

At least today I had company. Smaug perched defiantly on my shoulder, occasionally glaring at passing servants as if they personally insulted his draconic dignity.

[Your dragon is sulking again.]

“Not my fault he underestimated toddlers,” I muttered, earning a tiny puff of smoke aimed at my cheek.

Sylvithra turned toward me, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and expectation. “Today, my dear, we’re finally putting away your training swords.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my voice level. “I thought the whole point of the plastic sword was to avoid accidental dismemberment.”

“You’re ready,” Verania said, her voice confident yet terrifyingly casual. “And besides, today you’re training with us.”

I stared blankly. “With you?”

My mothers two of the most terrifying warriors this world had ever known smiled simultaneously.

Oh, gods. This was how I died, wasn’t it?

[Relax. Death by parent is only marginally embarrassing.]

I ignored the system, following Sylvithra into the courtyard. My grandparents lounged on a nearby balcony, their smiles eerily synchronized. They waved, clearly anticipating quality entertainment.

Smaug perched himself safely atop the stone fence, tail flicking with barely contained excitement. “I expect an entertaining show.”

Sylvithra tossed me a wooden training sword at least, I hoped it was wooden and picked up her own weapon with terrifying ease.

“Ready, Elyzara?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked cautiously.

“Not at all,” Verania replied cheerfully, leaning against the fence surrounding the practice grounds. “Consider this motivation.”

Sylvithra struck first.

Fast. Precise. Merciless.

I barely raised my blade in time to block her swing, my arms trembling under the impact. It reverberated through me, shaking my bones and nearly knocking me off my feet.

[First lesson: Avoid dying.]

“Very helpful,” I grunted mentally.

Sylvithra danced back gracefully, eyes narrowed in approval. “Good. Reflexes sharp, footing stable.”

“She’s perfect,” Verania murmured, watching proudly from the sidelines.

Sylvithra’s next strike came without warning a blur of motion nearly impossible to follow. I scrambled back, barely raising my sword in time. The clash of our blades sent shockwaves up my arms, rattling me to the bone.

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Isn’t this… a bit intense for a five-year-old?”

Sylvithra tilted her head slightly. “No.”

Oh. Well, that settled it, then.

We continued sparring. Each swing she took was perfectly measured, a strike calculated to test, not injure. Yet every blow felt impossibly heavy, pushing me closer to my limits. Sweat trickled down my neck, hair plastered against my forehead, breaths coming in short, rapid gasps. Still, I held firm, parrying, ducking, countering whenever I could manage.

And it felt good. Better than good it felt exhilarating. I felt alive.

The more I fought, the more something stirred within me. A familiar spark, a whisper of power that rose slowly from my core, like a sleeping beast finally waking. It took effort not to let it burst forth. Using my magic here would be disastrous, and I was still unsure I could even control it properly.

But my restraint faltered as Sylvithra landed a swift strike that knocked me off balance. I stumbled backward, nearly falling to one knee, and a flare of frustration lit within me.

My vision pulsed, reality rippling around me for just an instant. In that heartbeat, Sylvithra’s sword twisted midair, curving strangely away from me, as though reality itself had nudged it aside.

She froze, eyes wide with surprise, and glanced toward Verania, who raised an intrigued eyebrow.

I felt my pulse quicken not from fear, but exhilaration. Had I just altered reality instinctively?

Sylvithra recovered quickly, masking her surprise behind a pleased expression. “Fascinating technique. Accidental?”

I managed a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

She smirked slightly, adjusting her grip. “Let’s test it further.”

Our sparring continued, but I began testing my new limits. Each time Sylvithra’s strikes drew near, I reached out instinctively, guiding reality itself to protect me. Wood struck air, missing by mere inches, diverted by something unseen. It was exhilarating and more than a little terrifying.

[You’re using your magic.]

“No kidding.”

Sylvithra laughed, genuine delight in her eyes. “You’re full of surprises today, Elyzara.”

Verania stepped closer, folding her arms as she observed intently. “Sylvithra, increase the difficulty.”

My mother paused, considering. “Are you sure?”

“She can handle it.”

Sylvithra gave a brief nod, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “As you wish.”

She moved suddenly, blade flicking toward me faster than before. Instinct took over completely, and this time, I felt a surge rush through me—a ripple through reality itself.

I shifted the sword.

Not by moving myself, but by moving reality around it. Sylvithra’s wooden blade struck something unseen, shattering as if it had hit solid metal. Splinters exploded outward, raining around us like sharp confetti.

Smaug let out an approving roar. “Magnificent!”

Verania’s smile widened dangerously, her eyes gleaming with pride. Sylvithra blinked at her empty hands, stunned, before turning toward me with undisguised admiration.

“Our daughter’s magic must have a name,” she declared decisively, glancing eagerly at Sylvithra, who nodded in agreement.

Sylvithra crossed her arms thoughtfully. “Something grandiose, naturally. She is manipulating reality itself, after all.”

Grand Empress Saelira stepped forward gracefully, her violet eyes shining with excitement. “Indeed, such extraordinary power deserves a name that will echo through the ages.”

Grand Warlord Eryndor rubbed his chin, his gaze distant yet calculating. “What about ‘Infinite Dominion?’ It’s suitably imposing.”

Grand Strategist Veylen shook his head with subtle disapproval. “Too generic. It should reflect the depth and complexity of her abilities.”

Grand Consort Ilythia inclined her head elegantly. “Perhaps something with ‘Requiem’ in it? Something hauntingly beautiful.”

They all turned to me simultaneously, their collective gazes intense enough to burn a hole through stone. Even Smaug perched curiously on my shoulder, waiting eagerly for my answer.

I hesitated, momentarily overwhelmed. Naming my magic felt oddly personal. But as the system chimed cheerfully inside my head, I mentally groaned. It had already named my magic, of course. Trust the system to take away even this small bit of dignity.

[Just use the name I gave you. It’s perfect.]

I sighed inwardly. “[Fine. What is it again?]”

[Abyssal Requiem. Try to make it sound dramatic.]

Well, at least it sounded ominous enough. I raised my chin slightly, projecting confidence I didn’t entirely feel.

“It’s called Abyssal Requiem,” I announced clearly.

The effect was immediate.

Verania’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Magnificent.”

Sylvithra nodded approvingly, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Absolutely chilling. Perfect.”

Saelira clapped her hands together. “Marvelous! Truly fitting.”

Even Eryndor nodded solemnly, visibly impressed. “It carries both mystery and menace.”

Grand Strategist Veylen looked satisfied for once, his sharp eyes thoughtful. “A fitting name for a power capable of reshaping the fabric of reality itself.”

Grand Consort Ilythia smiled warmly, her elegance never faltering. “Beautiful and terrifying, just like you, Elyzara.”

Smaug, ever helpful, chimed in with smug approval. “I like it. Sounds suitably intimidating.”

I nodded, hiding the fact that I was mostly relieved to have avoided the exhausting debate that would’ve surely followed if they’d disagreed.

Verania stepped closer, eyes gleaming. “From now on, everyone will know and fear the name Abyssal Requiem.”

Sylvithra smirked, already looking proud. “Our daughter, the wielder of Abyssal Requiem.”

Oh gods.

[Congratulations. You’re officially terrifying.]

I rolled my eyes internally.

This wasn’t exactly the low-profile life I’d hoped for. But at least my magic had a suitably dramatic name.