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

"Shut up," I replied silently, though a faint smile lingered reluctantly on my lips.

The moment passed like a breath fragile, brief, barely real. By the time the afternoon sun poured through the Arcanum's long stained-glass windows, throwing fractured color across the courtyard stones, that strange moment of almost-friendship had faded beneath the usual rhythm of structured chaos.

It was Duel Day.

Or as Riven called it The Annual Parade of Fragile Egos.

The practice field outside the eastern wing had been cleared for the occasion, runes carved into the flagstones glowing faintly to ensure no one left permanently broken. Students gathered along the perimeter, their voices hushed with anticipation as pairs were called forward one by one. Magical duels at Arcanum weren't optional. They were tradition. A training exercise disguised as entertainment. A way to weed out the weak, test the reckless, and humiliate the overconfident.

Guess where I fit in.

"You know," Riven said, leaning against a tree with a polished apple in hand, "you could always fake a twisted ankle. Dramatic limping. Swooning, maybe."

"I'm not faking anything," I muttered, adjusting the cuffs of my training jacket. "But if I accidentally set someone on fire, I'll blame you for distracting me."

"Flattered," he said, and took a loud bite of his apple.

Aria stood beside him, arms crossed, lips tight with worry. "You should be careful. Last year, someone turned their opponent into a swan."

"I like swans," I offered mildly.

"She didn't reverse it for a week."

"Ah."

The voice that interrupted was smooth as always—polished velvet wrapped in quiet condescension.

"Thorne."

I turned.

Velka stood a few feet away, pale arms folded over her chest, black training robes tailored with surgical precision, her crimson eyes fixed on me like I was a puzzle she hadn't yet solved.

"What," I said flatly.

"Pairings have changed," she said, arching one elegant eyebrow. "You and I are dueling together."

"What."

"Headmistress Nyx's idea," Mara added, stepping into view with Elira just behind her. They wore their guardian uniforms and expressions that read somewhere between stern approval and mildly murderous patience.

"She said it would build 'interpersonal cohesion,'" Elira added dryly.

"With the vampire?" Riven said. "Should we alert the medics now or after the fight?"

Velka turned her gaze to him coolly. "Still breathing, I see."

"You wound me," Riven replied with a bow. "Truly."

I sighed and stepped forward. "Who are we against?"

Elira handed me a clipboard. "Fourth-years. Taren and Brynn. Strong, but too flashy. You can outmaneuver them."

I scanned the names, lips tightening. Brynn was known for elemental strikes that melted practice dummies. Taren could weave shadow-magic with the precision of a master tailor.

Velka read over my shoulder, unimpressed. "Should be fun."

"Try not to stab me in the back," I muttered.

"I'd never," she said, placing a hand to her heart in mock sincerity. "I prefer face-to-face murder."

The crowd parted as we stepped onto the practice field. Above us, enchanted wards shimmered like translucent glass, locking the battlefield in a dome of protective containment. It buzzed faintly with anticipation. Magical energies lingered like humidity on the air, charged and expectant.

Our opponents were already waiting.

Taren stood tall, arms wrapped in bands of runic shadow. Beside him, Brynn smiled lazily, flames dancing in her palms like pets.

"Oh, you're the little heirs," Brynn said. "Cute."

I didn't reply. Velka did.

"Speak again and I'll rearrange your teeth."

The referee a pale professor with tired eyes and a clipboard raised his hand.

"This is a two-on-two sanctioned duel. Containment wards are active. No lethal spells. Begin on my mark."

Velka and I took our positions. For a heartbeat, we were still two shadows cast long against a marble floor, staring down older, stronger adversaries.

"I'll handle Taren," I murmured under my breath.

"Brynn's mine," Velka whispered, crimson eyes glittering.

The professor dropped his hand.

The world moved.

Taren surged toward me, shadow-tendrils erupting from his palms like spears. I twisted, flames blooming from my fingertips, not bright and wild like before but controlled. Sharpened. Focused.

I ducked low and countered with a pulse of heat that turned his attack into ash. The crowd gasped, but I didn't hear them. Only the roar of blood in my ears.

I pivoted, dragging a line of fire through the air with one hand, shaping it into a cage that sliced downward. Taren blinked, barely managing to deflect. His counterspell cracked one of the runes underfoot, but I was already gone appearing behind him in a shimmer of heat-haze, magic sparking along my arm.

Meanwhile, across the field, Velka was dancing with fire.

Brynn's flames lunged toward her, roaring like a beast. Velka didn't flinch. She moved like silk through water, gliding, weaving, vanishingand then reappearing at Brynn's side in a blink, hand pressed gently to the taller girl's back.

An instant later, Brynn dropped to her knees, gasping.

No one saw what she'd done. No spell. No chant.

Just precision. Silence. Grace. Terrifying in its restraint.

The crowd erupted.

I caught Taren with a finishing burst of flame, knocking him clean off his feet non-lethal, but just barely. He groaned as he hit the edge of the containment dome, the wards flashing angrily before stabilizing.

Velka and I stood side by side again, breathing hard, victorious.

The referee looked shaken. "Match concluded. Victory: Thorne and Nightthorn."

Velka tilted her head toward me. "You held back."

I smirked. "So did you."

We stood in silence a moment longer as the crowd stared. Then, Velka brushed imaginary dust from her sleeve.

"Well," she said. "That was tolerable."

"Tolerable," I repeated, deadpan.

She offered a faint smile just the corner of her mouth. "You don't fight like a princess in a cage."

I looked her up and down. "You don't fight like someone who actually needs to be here."

She shrugged. "Doesn't mean I don't have my reasons."

I didn't press. For now, we'd won.

Behind us, Aria was clapping politely. Riven gave a mock-bow from his perch on the fence.

"That," he called, "was the most terrifying tea party I've ever seen."

Mara and Elira approached, their expressions unreadable.

"You both held back," Elira said quietly.

Velka and I didn't deny it.

Mara folded her arms. "Next time, don't."