Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 70

Chapter 70: The Tyrant’s Abyss
But it was already too late.Because I was done playing fair.A single breath. That was all it took.

Power pulsed through me, ancient and boundless, a current of raw existence that rebelled against reality itself. It crackled beneath my skin, not an external force like elemental magic, but something deeper a rewriting of the world, not through destruction or creation, but through sheer defiance of what was supposed to be.

The air shifted. The basilisk felt it instantly. Its amber eyes, filled with cold reptilian calculation, flickered with something rare. Hesitation.

I didn’t give it time to process , a single step forwardand the ground obeyed.

Beneath my boots, the arena floor rippled like water, a distortion of matter responding to my will. The very concept of “solid ground” bent as I launched forward, blurring through space faster than my own body should have been able to move.

The basilisk reacted but not fast enough.

My sword flashed the sky screamed a torrent of black fire erupted from my blade, a roaring inferno that defied the usual nature of flame. This wasn’t mere heat it was the concept of fire itself, rewritten to burn without needing fuel, without consuming, without mercy.

The basilisk reared back, hissing violently, its iron-plated body resisting the flames but not untouched.

Dark cracks splintered across its armored hide, veins of abyssal energy crawling over the surface like living fractures.

It lashed out , I didn’t dodge , I stepped through space itself.

One moment, its tail was coming straight for me, a blurred mass of coiled muscle strong enough to pulverize boulders.

The next I was behind it not through speed. Not through teleportation.

I had simply skipped the distance in between.

[ Warning: You are tapping into spatial manipulation without sufficient mastery. Distortion risk: 72%. ]

Shut up.

I tightened my grip on my sword, feeling the chaotic, unstable nature of the power thrumming through me. I wasn’t in full control. I knew that.

But neither was the world around me.

The basilisk twisted, trying to track me, but I wasn’t bound by normal movement anymore.

The moment its massive head turned, I was already somewhere else.

A flash of electricity crackled at my fingertips I clenched my fist and the air obeyed.

A crackling bolt of lightning tore down from the sky, summoned not by an incantation but by sheer intent. It arced toward the basilisk, too fast to dodge, too direct to block.

It hit a deafening crack split the air as the force of a miniature storm slammed into the monster’s armored hide, sending it skidding back.

The iron plating held but just barely.

The smell of burnt ozone and scorched scales filled the arena.

[ Mana Stability: 64%. Control is slipping. ]

I exhaled sharply, gripping my sword with both hands. I could feel it—the creeping instability of Abyssal Requiem.

It was an unchained force, a magic not meant to be wielded by something as small as a single person. I was bending reality itself, but it was like trying to hold back an ocean with my bare hands.

Too much, and I would lose control.

Too little, and I would lose this fight.

The basilisk shook itself, its powerful body recovering with terrifying efficiency , Its hesitation was gone now it was angry.

With a deafening roar, it lunged again, its tail whipping around faster than before.

This time, I couldn’t step out of its range.

The impact slammed into me, sending me skidding back, my boots dragging trenches into the dirt. My entire body rattled from the force, but I dug my sword into the ground, stopping myself from being launched further.

Pain flared up my ribs but I wasn’t done.

I pushed off the ground, charging forward even before the dust had settled.

Fire. Water. Air. Earth.

They weren’t separate. They were pieces of the same thing.

And I could bend them all.

I threw out a hand.

A gale-force wind erupted at my back, launching me forward at inhuman speed.

The basilisk’s pupils contracted sharply.

Too late.

I flipped my grip on my sword, and for the first time I let Abyssal Requiem fully infuse it.

The blade shimmered.

Not with normal magic. Not with elemental energy It became something else.

A sword that did not cut flesh, but concept.

[ Abyssal Requiem: Active Weapon Infusion ]

I struck the blade cleaved down and the basilisk’s armor that had withstood fire, lightning, and pure brute force split.

A single crack carved down its plated hide, deep and jagged, as if reality itself had decided that the iron no longer belonged there.

The basilisk howled, recoiling, its massive body thrashing in agony.

I staggered back, gasping, the sheer weight of the magic nearly pulling me under.

It wasn’t just an attack I had rewritten the rules.

[ Mana Stability: 41%. Critical risk of magical backlash. ]

I didn’t care I gritted my teeth, forcing my stance to steady.

The basilisk was injured. Wounded.

But not finished.

I could see it in its burning amber eyes.

The fight wasn’t over yet.

Not until one of us fell.

I exhaled, adjusting my grip on my sword.

The magic still surged within me, wild and barely contained.

This was it , the final exchange.

One last clash and only one of us would be left standing.

The basilisk roared, its body twisting in fury, molten blood leaking from the gash I had carved into its once-impenetrable armor. It lunged, desperation driving it forward, fangs bared, aiming straight for me , but it was already too late.

Because I had learned something crucial.

I didn’t need to be faster. I didn’t need to be stronger.

I only needed to make reality agree with me.

The ground ceased to exist beneath the basilisk.

For a single, terrible moment, it plummeted into nothingness a void of rewritten existence where even gravity refused to function properly. Its body twisted, instincts flaring as it tried to regain control and I moved.

Space itself bent to my will, pushing me forward like a force unseen. My sword burned with abyssal energy, the edge glowing with an unnatural, devouring darkness as I raised it and brought it down.

The blade connected.

A single, perfect strike reality shattered around us.

The entire arena collapsed in on itself, cracks of abyssal distortion ripping through the stone walls, the reinforced floors, even the enchanted barriers meant to withstand battles.

The basilisk let out a single, final howl before the energy tore through it, not just slicing its body, but rewriting the very concept of its existence.

For one breathless moment It simply ceased to be.

Silence.

I stood there, breathing hard, my sword still raised, the final echoes of the spell dissipating into the ruined remains of what had once been an arena.

Dust settled.

A horrified cough from somewhere behind me.

I turned.

My parents, my grandparents, both of my personal attendants, and Smaug, my supposedly fearsome dragon all of them stared at me with varying expressions of disbelief.

Sylvithra’s usual composed demeanor was shattered, her golden eyes wide with shock. Verania had actually stopped drinking her wine, which, frankly, seemed like the more unbelievable feat.

Mara had her hands clasped over her mouth. Elira, normally composed and unreadable, looked like she was reconsidering all of her life choices.

Smaug, my supposedly mighty, terrifying dragon?

He was hiding behind Elira.

The silence stretched, too heavy, too unnatural.

Sylvithra cleared her throat. “What.”

Verania squinted at the destruction. “That’s… going to be expensive.”

I blinked. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

She shrugged. “Darling, I’m proud, but have you seen the state of this place?”

I looked around.

The arena was gone.

Not just damaged. Not just in ruins. Gone.

Chunks of stone floated in distorted pockets of air, debris hovering like gravity itself was confused. The reinforced pillars had been split in half, with what looked like void cracks still pulsing faintly along their edges.

Oops.

Mara let out a weak, horrified laugh. “So, uh… who’s going to explain this to the repair team?”

Elira exhaled. “More importantly, who’s going to explain this to the nobles?”

Verania snorted, already pulling out her wine flask. “Oh, I’d love to see their faces.”

Sylvithra pinched the bridge of her nose. “We were supposed to train her, not let her commit reality annihilation.”

Smaug, finally recovering from his shock, waddled up to my side. He stared at the remains of the basilisk, then at the arena that no longer existed, then at me.

And, in the most deadpan voice possible, muttered:

“I’m not cleaning this up.”