A Mother's Anger is NOT to be Trifled With

She barely made it two steps before her breath caught in her throat.

Chiori's small frame lay crumpled against the ground, her breathing shallow, her mana completely drained. Even unconscious, she looked like a storm that had spent all its fury—violent, uncontrolled, and now eerily still.

Too much. It was too much.

She knew this would happen. She knew. But knowing didn't make the sight of her daughter collapsed on the battlefield any easier.

Lelyah moved before she could think, kneeling beside her. Her hands hovered over Chiori's chest, feeling only the faintest traces of residual mana, a stark contrast to the overwhelming force she had wielded just moments ago. Her reserves weren't just low; they were emptied, her body struggling to hold itself together without the magic it so heavily relied on.

Her fingers trembled slightly before pressing against Chiori's forehead, searching for the fever she knew would be there. And just as she feared, heat rolled off her skin in waves—a clear sign of MES beginning to take root. This wasn't simple exhaustion; her daughter had pushed herself far past her limits, and now her body was paying the price.

Satoshi's presence loomed beside her, unreadable as always. "She isn't in danger."

Lelyah clenched her jaw, but she kept her voice even. "Not right now."

Her fingers ghosted over Chiori's forehead, brushing aside sweat-dampened strands of hair. She was burning up, her body struggling to recover from mana depletion, her reserves dangerously low.

She pressed a hand to Chiori's chest and let her magic flow—a gentle, cooling pulse, stabilizing the worst of the backlash. Not a cure, but something to ease the burden while her body recovered.

But this—this wasn't just fatigue. The signs were all there.

Her daughter was showing the early symptoms of Mana Exhaustion Syndrome. The backlash, the uncontrolled depletion, the heat rolling off her like fevered embers—her mana system was dangerously drained, fighting to replenish itself. It hadn't fully collapsed, but if she wasn't careful, it could.

Lelyah's hands curled into fists. She had seen MES before. She had treated patients whose bodies had never fully recovered from it. Chiori was young, but that didn't mean she was immune to it.

Calamitas exhaled, rubbing the back of her head. "I told you she had potential. If I hadn't stepped in when I did, she would've been in far worse shape."

Lelyah snapped her head up, eyes sharp. "And what good is potential if she destroys herself before she can even use it?"

Calamitas raised a brow. "She wouldn't be the first prodigy to push past their limits."

"No," Lelyah shot back, voice low. "But she is my daughter. And if you think I'll sit back and watch her run herself into the ground, you're mistaken."

The tension hung in the air, thick and unyielding. Calamitas didn't flinch. If anything, she almost looked amused.

Satoshi shifted beside her, his arms crossed. "This was bound to happen eventually."

Lelyah inhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. She wasn't angry at Calamitas. Not entirely. She wasn't even angry at Satoshi.

She was angry at the circumstances that made this necessary.

"She needs rest," Lelyah finally said, her voice softer now. "And she needs to understand that just because she can push past her limits doesn't mean she should."

She glanced at Satoshi. "If you want to fix this, start by making sure she doesn't do it again."

His eyes flickered slightly, but he only nodded.

Calamitas let out a slow breath. "She's five, Lelyah. No training, no structured control—just instinct. But if she doesn't learn how to manage that mana properly, she won't last. If I hadn't intervened, she would've suffered a full collapse. I caught it before it got worse.". No training, no structured control—just instinct. And yet, she held her own. She's going to make mistakes, but if we don't teach her now, those mistakes will only get worse."

Lelyah's lips pressed into a thin line. "Learning from mistakes is one thing. Letting them destroy her is another."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Calamitas smirked slightly. "Fair enough."

Lelyah sighed, running a tired hand through her hair. She didn't want to admit it, but Calamitas was right. Her intervention had kept Chiori from tipping over the edge, from falling into a state she might not have recovered from so easily. Chiori would recover, she knew that much.

But after this? She had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

The realization settled deep in her chest, an unease she couldn't shake. Chiori had always been different—too aware, too capable for a child her age. Now, with her mana fully unleashed for the first time, the weight of what she was truly struck Lelyah with full force.

This wasn't just about a child learning magic. This was about a child born with a power so rare and immense that it could not go unnoticed forever.

And what then?

What happened when the world realized what she was? What could she do?

Lelyah cast a glance at Calamitas, who seemed entirely too relaxed given the gravity of the situation. Did she understand what this meant? Did she see what Lelyah saw?

Satoshi, silent but watchful, seemed to sense her thoughts. His gaze met hers, and for once, she saw it—the same fear, the same quiet resolve. They had spent years protecting their daughter from outside scrutiny. But after today, that might no longer be an option.

Reilan carried Chiori inside, his expression unreadable as he carefully adjusted her in his arms. The weight of responsibility pressed heavy on his shoulders, and though he said nothing, his silence spoke volumes.

Lelyah walked ahead, opening the door to Chiori's room and gesturing for him to place her down. The moment he laid her on the bed, he took a slow step back, watching as Lelyah instinctively tucked the blankets around her.

"She's lighter than I expected," Reilan murmured, breaking the silence. "It doesn't feel right."

Lelyah's hand stilled for a moment before she smoothed Chiori's hair. "That's because she drained everything she had."

Calamitas leaned against the doorframe, watching with an unreadable expression. "A kid that small shouldn't be able to move the way she did. Let alone hold her own in a fight."

Satoshi crossed his arms, standing beside her. "And yet, she did."

Calamitas smirked. "Yeah. That's what makes this so interesting."

Lelyah shot her a glare. "This isn't a game."

"Never said it was," Calamitas replied, unbothered. "But whether you like it or not, she's special. And sooner or later, everyone else is going to figure that out too."

Lelyah's voice, tight with barely restrained anger, sliced through the tension. "This—this—should never have happened." Her hands trembled as she channeled a cooling pulse of magic into Chiori's chest, easing the worst of her body's rebellion. But it wasn't enough. It never was.

Calamitas, ever the provocateur, spoke lazily. "She has potential. If I hadn't stepped in—"

"If?" Elara's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with fury. "Who even are you?" She surged to her feet, her body tense. "Satoshi—who is this woman you brought into our home?" Her voice carried accusation and disbelief. "You let a stranger—a threat—near our daughter without so much as a word to me?"

Calamitas, unfazed, tilted her head. "Threat? Please. If I meant her harm, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Elara's glare cut through the air. "Then what are you? Because from where I stand, you're just another danger Satoshi decided to invite into our lives without asking."

Satoshi, his voice controlled but weighted with meaning, replied, "She's here because Hinata invited her to these lands, knowing about Chiori's element before we could decide. Also…she was our teacher many moons ago. He wanted her to be the one to train her."

Elara's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "So Hinata decided our daughter's fate—without me?"

Satoshi, his jaw tight, responded poorly—his words clipped and cold. "You would've let emotion cloud judgment. Someone had to act."

Elara's eyes flared, her fury sharpening into something lethal. "Emotion? You mean the love of a mother willing to protect her child with everything she has? Or was it your pride that decided I didn't deserve a say?" Her hands clenched, her voice shaking from years of frustration. "I begged you, Satoshi. Since the day she showed magic—six months old—I wanted to teach her myself. But you chose fear. And now look—your fear almost cost us everything."

Satoshi's next words struck like a blade—sharp and dismissive: "You've always wanted to shield her from the world. But protection isn't what she needs—control is."

Elara's voice, laced with raw accusation, cut through his coldness. "No—because you never gave her the freedom to learn control. You caged her power until it broke free. And now, we are left to face the storm you refused to prepare her for."

Reilan, tense from the rising storm, moved to leave, his expression tight. "This is not for my ears," he muttered. "I shouldn't—"

But before he could step away, Calamitas' voice, smooth and laced with amusement, cut through the tension. "Oh no, you're staying," she purred, a wicked grin curling her lips. "This is just getting interesting."

Satoshi's eyes flashed. "You wanted to throw magic at her like a toy. But look at her—barely able to hold herself together. She's a disaster waiting to happen because her magic is juvenile—barely above instinct. She couldn't hold a candle to Asmodeus."

Elara's mana surged. The room trembled as her expression turned ice-cold, her voice deadly. "Because we never let her!" Her voice trembled, carrying the echo of countless arguments. "I fought you—for years. I wanted to teach her. You denied her every chance to learn. Asmodeus thrives because he was allowed to fail, to grow. You smothered her potential—and now you have the audacity to compare them?" Her words, low and dangerous, struck hard.

A sudden, tense silence fell.

Reilan stepped forward cautiously, his voice low and measured. "Lady Elara, please—this isn't—"

Several maids, their faces pale with unease, hovered at the edges of the room, uncertain whether to intervene or flee the tension that threatened to crack the air itself.

"Enough." Elara's voice shattered the room's breath, raw power rippling outward. The maids paled. Mana pulsed—wild, untamed—summoning energy thickening the air.

The space behind her shifted—a Summoner's call forming, unseen but felt.

Calamitas' eyes flashed. "Oh, I know that feeling—" Her body moved before the summoning completed. With a flick of her wrist, the space collapsed. The forming entity dissipated in a crushing fold of mana.

"Not today," Calamitas said, eyes glinting with both warning and delight. "I like my battles when the board is set."

Elara's breathing was ragged, her chest heaving, the summoning crushed before release.

Satoshi's voice, now strained and yielding, broke the silence. "Elara... enough."

And in his voice, she heard it.

Not command.

But fear.

She did not yield.

Her gaze locked onto Calamitas, sharp as a blade. "You saved my daughter. But that does not mean you get to teach her." Her voice was cold, final. "I don't trust you. Not with her. Not yet."

With that, she turned and stormed from the room, her presence leaving the air frigid and cracked with tension.

The silence was broken only by Satoshi's uneasy breath, his body rigid from the force of her will.

Calaimtas's gaze lingered on the space Elara had left, her voice a dark thread of thought. "That wasn't rage," she murmured, her tone edged with something grim. "That was a warning."

Satoshi, his voice low and tight, answered with the weight of a man who knew it well. "You're damn right it was."

Yet as the words left him, his jaw clenched, the bitterness of regret surfacing. His thoughts churned—Hinata's meddling, his own choices, and a sudden, sharp awareness that this confrontation was far from over. A reckoning awaited, not just with Elara... but with Hinata himself.

Outside, the cold night bit at her skin, but her anger burned hotter. She paused, fists clenched, the tension coiling in her chest. For a brief moment, her breath slowed, the fury giving way to a sharp ache in her heart—fear, doubt, and love tangled into one. She felt the weight of what had passed and what was still to come, and the air around her seemed to still, heavy with the echoes of her decision. Yet, no retreat would come. Only resolve.

Reilan appeared, his steps measured. "My lady…" he began, his voice cautious.

"Spare me," she snapped, her voice taut but cracking. "I know the path Satoshi would place her on. I will not let them shape my daughter into a weapon before she's had a chance to be a child."

Reilan's voice was low, careful. "But Calaimtas—"

"—is dangerous," Elara cut in, her eyes sharp. "But so is this world. I will decide who shapes her future."

Reilan hesitated but nodded, sensing the weight behind her words. As Elara's gaze lifted to the sky, her voice dropped to a whisper, raw and certain: "No one else will decide her path. No one."