Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 165: System Update: You Are Screwed

(POV Elyzara)

I closed the heavy wooden doors of my chambers behind me, grateful for the sanctuary they provided. Outside, the palace hummed gently, servants moving quietly through marble corridors, nobles engaged in whispered conversations about politics and prophecy. Inside my room, however, it was blissfully quiet just me, a dragon currently asleep in the corner, and my increasingly unhelpful magical conscience.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, rubbing my temples with both hands. The day had barely begun, and already it felt long enough to fill an entire novel series one filled with unnecessary drama, unresolved romantic tensions, and cryptic magical artifacts.

The mark on my hand pulsed faintly, almost sympathetically, as if acknowledging my frustration. I glared at it irritably. "Quiet, you. You’ve caused enough trouble."

[Technically,] the system interjected, cheerful as ever, [it’s more accurate to say the trouble caused you.]

I scowled deeper. "You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?"

[If I did, would I still be stuck with you?] the system retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. [Let’s face it: my entire existence is one long exercise in questionable life choices.]

"At least we agree on something," I muttered dryly. "So, oh wise and sarcastic magical entity, what’s next on the agenda? Another vague prophecy, a forbidden love triangle, or perhaps an invasion by enraged unicorns?"

[None of the above,] the system said, sounding almost sheepish. [But since we’re on the subject of questionable life choices, we need to talk about you and Velka.]

My heart gave an uncomfortable thud. I sighed, flopping backward onto the soft bedcovers, staring blankly at the ceiling again. "Must we?"

[Sadly, yes,] the system replied, less mocking now. [Because this is serious. Even by our spectacularly low standards.]

I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling beams. "Fine. Enlighten me."

The system hesitated, its usually smug voice suddenly subdued. [Look, Elyzara. I’m going to level with you I have absolutely no idea what’s going on.]

I blinked in surprise. "Wait what?"

[I know. Shocking, right?] it muttered sarcastically. [But in all seriousness, your connection with Velka isn’t just unusual; it’s practically unheard of. I’ve analyzed every magical thread, traced every rune, recalculated every possibility. And all I’ve got is one very unsettling conclusion.]

"Which is?"

[You and Velka aren’t just bound by some obscure prophecy. You’re linked across multiple realities. Past lives, alternate timelines every scenario imaginable. Basically, you’ve been cosmically tied together through fate’s own twisted sense of humor.]

I groaned, burying my face in a pillow. "Lovely. Why can’t I ever have something simple, like normal teenage angst or acne?"

[Where’s the fun in that?] the system teased lightly. [But jokes aside, your situation is rapidly approaching a critical point. These memories, visions whatever they are are bleeding through because your bond is destabilizing. Without intervention, you might relive that tragedy from your dreams.]

I lifted my head slowly, a sense of dread pooling in my stomach. "Then tell me we have options. Any options."

The system paused, its silence distinctly uncomfortable.

"System," I warned softly. "You’re scaring me."

[There is… one possibility,] it said reluctantly. [But I must stress: it is incredibly dangerous, ridiculously reckless, and almost certain to end badly.]

"Fantastic," I muttered dryly. "Sounds perfect. What is it?"

Another pause this one pregnant with tension before the system finally spoke again, voice unusually hesitant. [We’d have to reboot an ancient memory from your shared past. To fully understand your connection, we need to unseal an artifact locked beneath Arcanum.]

I swallowed nervously, already suspecting the worst. "Which artifact?"

[The Throne of Lost Memories,] it said dramatically. [Sealed beneath the oldest foundations of Arcanum. Only accessible to those whose bloodlines were involved in its creation which conveniently includes you and your vampiric paramour.]

I exhaled sharply. "You’re not making this up just to torture me, right?"

[I wish I was,] the system sighed. [It would save us both a lot of headaches. But no. The throne is real, dangerous, and has been deliberately forgotten for good reason.]

"Let me guess," I said bitterly. "Because anyone who tries to use it ends up cursed, insane, or explosively deceased?"

[Usually all three simultaneously,] the system agreed. [But in fairness, none of them had your particular blend of stubbornness, reckless bravado, and spectacular luck.]

I scowled deeper. "Your confidence is touching."

[I’m simply realistic,] it said airily. [So your choice. Attempt something suicidal and potentially world-ending, or risk your bond collapsing entirely.]

I fell silent, staring at the ceiling again, mind racing with the implications. The throne beneath Arcanum was legend even by Velmorian standards. Created from pure magic and blood sacrifice, it had been sealed away long ago. Opening it again was madness.

But so was ignoring this.

I took a shaky breath, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable beneath the enormity of it all. "And Velka must do this too?"

[Yes,] the system said gently. [She has no choice. Your bond is mutual. Only together can you activate the throne.]

My chest tightened painfully, my heart twisting at the thought of involving Velka in something so dangerous. She hadn’t asked for any of this not the visions, not the prophecy, certainly not me.

"System," I whispered softly, "is there no other way?"

[If there was, I’d have suggested it,] it said quietly, almost sadly. [I’m sorry, Elyzara. I genuinely am.]

I closed my eyes, gathering my resolve. "Then we have no choice."

The system sighed dramatically. [I’ve seen worse ideas. But this one’s close.]

"Your encouragement is legendary," I muttered, pushing myself slowly upright. I crossed the room to the ornate mirror by my wardrobe, catching my reflection briefly pale, tired, determined.

"How do I tell Velka?" I whispered softly, heart hammering nervously. "’Hello, sorry to interrupt your day, but apparently we’re ancient, tragic soulmates doomed to repeated romantic failure and now must risk death and madness together care for lunch after?’"

[Actually, that’s not bad,] the system said lightly. [Maybe add some flowers? Chocolates?]

"Shut up," I groaned, resisting the urge to throw something at my own reflection.

[Seriously, though,] it said more gently, [she deserves the truth. And frankly, Elyzara, so do you.]

I exhaled slowly, steeling myself for the inevitable conversation that lay ahead.

It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t be safe. And it certainly wouldn’t be comfortable.

But then again, when had anything involving Velka Nightthorn ever been simple?

"I suppose," I murmured finally, meeting my own gaze resolutely, "it’s time to face destiny preferably without setting the entire palace on fire."

[Ambitious goal,] the system said approvingly. [But perhaps doable. Maybe.]

"Your optimism continues to inspire," I replied dryly, turning toward the door.

[It’s a gift,] it agreed smugly.

I narrowed my eyes at the air in front of me, as though I could throttle the invisible smugness floating in the room. "One day," I whispered darkly, "I’m going to install a sarcasm filter on you."

[And deprive yourself of my sparkling commentary? Blasphemy,] it gasped, faux-offended.

I grabbed my cloak off the back of the chair with more aggression than necessary. "I’m going to talk to her."

[Good idea,] the system said. [Just… maybe avoid phrases like ’interdimensional soul entanglement’ right off the bat. Vampires tend to faint less elegantly than you’d expect.]

"You’re insufferable."

[Thank you.]

I took one last glance around the room, as though it might give me courage. Smaug snored gently in the corner, curled like a great pile of scales and stubborn affection. The sunlight poured in from the balcony, warm and golden, like the universe was pretending nothing chaotic was happening at all.

Liar, I thought at the sun.

I stepped toward the door, hesitated with my hand on the knob, then whispered aloud to myself, "What if she doesn’t want to know?"

[Then you deal with that,] the system replied, suddenly serious. [But at least you tried. And trying is the one thing your past selves never got quite right.]

The mark on my palm pulsed softly less like a warning now, more like a heartbeat.

Steady. Waiting.

"All right," I breathed. "Let’s do this."

[Famous last words,] the system muttered.

I threw the door open dramatically, half-hoping the hallway would explode with fate and lightning.

It didn’t.

Just a quiet corridor, and the long walk toward truth.

And possibly my second existential meltdown of the week. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

The corridor stretched ahead, deceptively peaceful in the late afternoon light. Velvet runners muffled my footsteps, the carved sconces flickering with enchantment—elegant, refined, and utterly unaware that I was about to march myself into an awkward emotional conversation that might or might not trigger another magical apocalypse.

[Left wing, third hall, down past the tapestry of the goat battle,] the system said helpfully. [Velka’s room. You remember the one with the door that hates you.]

"It only bit me once," I muttered.

[Once is a pattern when it comes to cursed architecture.]

I passed a group of second-years studying spellcraft, pretending not to stare at me. My presence always caused whispers, which was deeply unfair considering I hadn’t destroyed anything in at least three whole days.

I reached the infamous tapestry the Battle of Gruffhorn Ridge, where allegedly three enchanted goats defeated a battalion of undead. I’d never looked closely at it before, but now one of the goats was definitely making eye contact with me.

"Wish me luck," I murmured to it.

Its woven eyes sparkled.

[That goat believes in you,] said the system solemnly.

"…That might be the most terrifying thing I’ve heard all day."