CH: 12 Blood Debt and Shock

The banquet went well. Toast here, toast there.

The air at the banquet was thick with toasts, and all eyes were on the assembly of my father's wives, a gathering that included my mother. Amid the festivities, she occasionally stole glances in my direction, and although we both knew it, I chose to pretend indifference.

Our relationship, or lack thereof, had taken a tumultuous turn in the past few years. The once-close bond had deteriorated into a distant and strained connection. Despite sharing the same table during these communal meals, our exchanges had dwindled to an almost eerie silence. I had tried, unsuccessfully, to mend the rift, only to be met with rejection and a growing bitterness that hung in the air like an unspoken truth.

And since I and Maria started with our little play, the distance between us only grew wider. As she denied all my approach I also said fuck it I don't care anymore.

Was it being a brat of me maybe yes but did I care no hell no.

Beside me sat my youngest sister, merely 4 years old, the 19th daughter of our lordly father. The passage of time had seen my father venture into matrimony four more times, bringing the count of his wives to a staggering 16.

Initially, the sensation of being present at my father's nuptials alongside his already-married sons felt peculiar, the peculiar experience of attending my own father's weddings.

but after encountering this scenario twice before, I had grown accustomed to the unique dynamics of my father's ever-expanding family.

My father's 16th wife was surprisingly younger than even his daughter, a mere 19 years old.

Did it matter to me? No, it did not, and neither was it going to. I had to let that old cuckold enjoy himself while he still could. In fact, the fact that he had so many wives was the reason we hadn't been discovered until now.

Maria was hardly appreciated by him anymore, as he was infatuated with his latest wife, to whom he devoted all his nights.

I noticed that throughout the banquet, the party was divided into different factions, much like at my old man's last wedding.

My second brother Marcus magnar was surrounded by his father's first, second, and twelfth wife. Besides that there were several nobles of lower rank and a few of my brothers, such as the twelfth and eleventh son of my father, the two twins.

My third and fourth siblings also formed a similar group that monitored each other regularly. Some of these groups even looked at me, urging me to join them but he ignored them.

Apart from those groups there were some scattered ones, like my older sister and her husband, her uncle and family, some high-ranking nobles and outcasts like my mother or old cuckold's 14th wife.

I wasn't naive; I recognized these factions forming in the ongoing struggle among my brothers for the position of Lord of Rodmandia…

The root cause behind the inability of major noble families, who live for as long as 300 years, to produce individuals surpassing 200 years is the intricate web of internal politics.

The reasons why I don't have any grandma.

It irked me.

If you want to fight go and do it elsewhere, The one of the three immediately, will get my full support.

If you seek battle, seek it elsewhere; I just wants to fuck, fuck and fuck. The one who can give me that will earn my full support.

But why do it anyway?

I was just waiting and watching it all turn out.

I do not care about the position of lord of Rodmandia. The only good thing about that position was that I could marry as many wives as I wanted.

But although a common lord cannot have more than five wives, he could have several secret lovers.

And

Here, only power reigns supreme. With it, you can shatter laws and rules without anyone batting an eye.

TINN TINN TINN

A rotund fatso acquaintance in his late teens waddled up to the table, tapping on a glass to draw attention.

"I am very happy to have all of you here, joining me on this very special day." The man smiled. "I am a very fortunate man to have the privilege of being engaged to such a wonderful woman." The man stretched out his long arm like an invitation, which a delicate hand answered.

The girl was only 15 years old but she was already a woman and a beauty. Blonde, long and wavy hair. Charming and attractive green eyes, small nose and thin and beautiful lips. In addition to a body with great curves.

In truth, the fat bastard had hit the jackpot of a lifetime.

"I am a man of few words, and here in front of my future wife, I kick off the festival of the Moon Goddess." The applause was immediate from the audience, their excitement palpable for the so-called festival of the Moon Goddess.

The festival was a ritual that was performed at all weddings in the kingdom. It was the way in which the betrothed showed his strength to everyone and how he was able to protect his woman.

"I Geremias Lawather challenge Mateo Magnar to a duel."

Mateo Magnar is the third son of Magnus. Since Marcus is the flagpole now heir to Rodmandy he could not be challenged by just anyone, furthermore women were not allowed in this kind of duel.

In this world, a lamentable reality unfolded—the male-to-female ratio stood at a staggering 20-80.

Despite having 16 wives, even Magnus could only boast 7 sons out of his 21 children. The glaring imbalance persisted, with the majority—14, to be precise—being daughters.

In such a world, having a son was an esteemed privilege, given the scarcity of male offspring.

Consider my uncle's plight—an inability to beget a son left him with only two daughters, an unfortunate circumstance preventing them from inheriting his lands.

The servants worked diligently, transforming the grand hall into a spectacle-ready arena, arranging seats around a vast center for the impending duel.

"Ana come here!"

I called Ana and gently seated her on my lap. Ana could feel a large meat between her two small buttocks, but she remained silent, accustomed to the sensation.

Mateo Magnar was a miniature version of my father. He was very much alike in everything, but a playful little smile graced his face.

This challenge, while seeming significant, was mostly a formality. It was common for the challengers to be allowed to win after a bit of theatrical display. The underlying message was that if the challenger couldn't win, it suggested the man's inability to adequately protect the woman, resulting in the cancellation of the wedding.

Both families - Magnar and Lawather had arranged the marriage, there was no reason to take these challenges seriously.

And just as I expected, Mateo only gave a brief show and gave up afterwards. But the Guilds were not happy with just this and also challenged Gerald Magnar, Magnus' third son to a duel, which he also won.

Out of the expectations of everyone at the banquet, the man went and challenged the next man in the family. One of the twins who is only 11 years old.

Magnus's brows drew together in disgust at Geremias Lawather's behavior. Challenging an 11-year-old boy to a duel was clearly undignified.

But what unfolded next left everyone equally stunned. Beneath Magnus Magnar's furious gaze, Geremias mercilessly battered the boy into unconsciousness, transforming the battlefield into a bloody mess.

"Hahahahaha, is this the entirety of the Magnar family's contribution? Truly pathetic. Hahahahahahaha."

The mocking laughter reverberated through the great hall, further hushing the already stunned guests, deriding the Magnar family for their supposedly feeble offering.

Magnus clenched his teeth in irony as he stared at the wrinkled face of his companion.

"What does this mean, Julian? !!"

The old man just smiled happily.

"In the festival of the Goddess of the Moon, it is typically a test to see if the husband is strong enough to protect his wife. But it can also be the other way around. Is your daughter worthy of one of my children? Well, until now, it hasn't been demonstrated."

"How dare you?" Magnus roared as his body began to secrete jets of fiery magma. "You did this on purpose, to make a fool of me."

"No no no. How can you say that?" The old man firmly shook his head. "Only how can you see, there is no one worthy in your family."

The old man's last words were followed by a chilling cold vapor emanating from his skin.

'Ah, the perfect finally some drama. Now, all that's missing is a big bucket of popcorn and a refreshing Coke.'

I was excited, things were getting interesting.

Looks like we're in for some real entertainment.

My father seemed to want to start a fight with Lord Lawather. and that tubby fool seems determined to keep challenging.

I bet at some point, my old man would explode and there would be a riot.

'A riot I'd be more than happy to join.'

I can't recall the last time I could go all out in a fight. Thanks to my sexual points, I raised my magic to a terrifying level for anyone in this room.

"In fact, I have this sneaking feeling that the only ones who could put up a fight one-on-one with me are my father and the Lord of Lawather."

Their magic stats seemed to have crossed 1000 as well.

But what happened next surprised me and everyone alike, including Lord of Lawather.

"I, Lord Lawather Guilds, challenge you, Maxwell Magnar, to a duel."

His words completely silenced the feast and its murmurs.

The smile on my face hardened and my face darkened completely.

It was widely acknowledged that the dominance of the lightning element surpassed all others, including other forms of magic wielders such as the 'Psychic Type,' known as Espers, 'Body Magic' also known as the Cultivators, and even 'Soul Magic,' which were Soul Sorcerers tended to avoid in direct confrontations. Lightning users, wielders of the most rare and formidable element, held a strategic advantage that struck fear into the hearts of their magical counterparts.

This held particularly true for the wielders of the water element, which held the reins of power. However, the notable difference was that one of them was 19 years old, while the other was merely 11.

The Guilds' intentions were crystal clear to those around me. Exploit Maxwell's current age and his lightning element, defeat him, humiliate him, and boast about the accomplishment for years to come. After all, not many could claim they had triumphed over a Lightning user, a rarity in the magical world.

They all reacted differently. María and Ana remained completely calm, confident in the belief that the lump of flesh challenging me would need divine intervention to beat me. My mother and the bride, my lovely older sister, looked at me with concern. How fortunate I am to have even the bride worried about me. My uncle, brothers, sisters, and nobles displayed intrigued expressions upon witnessing the unfolding spectacle.

My father on the other hand had a rare smile on his face. After all, the old man kept track of the progress I made.

"Step forth, child. Or does fear bind your limbs?" Guilds scoffed.

I lowered Ana from my lap legs and got up slowly. And after placing Ana on my seat

I looked in the direction of my old man who nodded and whispered, "Destroy him !!"

'My heart began to beat with excitement. Ever since I was told my lovely older sister, with whom I had just started to build a relationship, was getting married, I felt a surge of anger. All the time I spent with her could be lost like tears in rain, making me furious. I really wanted to ruin this festival, but that would put me in a bad position in front of my father.'

'I wouldn't have cared if I wasn't just clapping his wife and had plans to clap all of his wives.'

'With these fools, I effortlessly achieved my desires, and now, I must say, my luck stat must be off the charts to have an entire family to myself. Finally, I was allowed to loosen up a bit.'

'The old man didn't say defeat him, he didn't say incapacitate him, he didn't say kill him... he said destroy him.'

∆∆∆

3rd Person POV:

""I've always heard stories about the mighty lightning element. Today, I want to see how big it really is." Geremias, the Water Guildsman, wielded his mastery over water. With a swift gesture, he summoned a substantial amount, shaping it into a protective shield around him. Meanwhile, the remaining water coalesced into a miniature water dragon, a creature brimming with aquatic energy. The dragon, swift and relentless, lunged toward Maxwell, its liquid form poised for confrontation.

"Was he always this powerful?"

"'Water Shield' and 'Water Dragon' aren't skills mastered by just anyone. The lightning boy is in a bind."

"Haiss, poor thing."

Magnus clenched his jaw and fist, eyeing the old man beside him, who responded with a small, knowing smile.

"Unfortunate!"

The great hall fell into a breathless hush as the lifelike dragon wreaked havoc, hurtling swiftly toward Maxwell.

Roarrrrrrrrr!!!

The dragon unleashed a furious roar, opening its massive jaws to engulf Maxwell.

Max's father rose in fear, but the old man observed from the side, unperturbed.

Screams of terror erupted from many women in the room, including Max's mother.

Rumble!!

Crashh!! Crashh!! Crashh!!

The cacophony was abruptly stifled by an unfamiliar rumbling.

BOOOOOOMMM!

The grand hall resonated with a tremendous uproar as an immense force expelled everyone, and scalding droplets of water showered over them.

In shock, they lifted their heads to witness Maxwell standing in the exact spot, utterly unscathed, not a single drop of water touching him.

Covered in a sheath of lightning, his entire body radiated a vibrant azure glow from his deep-blue eyes.

"Kid," Max's voice resonated through the hall like a clap of thunder, "Today, you'll learn firsthand— not just the power of the lightning element, but the true extent of my power."

Lightning began to flash across the great hall with max as its epicenter. He looked like a lightning bolt himself with thousands of bolts hitting him regularly as Electric tendrils danced around Max.

"Damn! How dare you call me a child!" Geremias screamed like a madman, conjuring hundreds of arrows and water javelins, launching them in Maxwell's direction.

But none could approach within two meters of him before being pulverized into water vapor, then disintegrated further until all traces of the vapor vanished into the void of nothingness.

"How can it be?" Stuttering Geremias.

"Fool," Max scoffed, an ethereal glow of electricity enveloping him. In the next heartbeat, everything metallic, except for jewelry, succumbed to an irresistible force, converging toward Max—plates, spoons, bowls, and even wine glasses held by the crowd. Only the larger objects like tables and chairs resisted the compelling pull.

Before Max, all the gold levitated, surrounded by dancing sparks of lightning. In an awe-inspiring display, the temperature in Max's surroundings rose as the various golden items seamlessly fused, reshaping themselves into something new. As the process concluded, Max wielded a plane golden hammer, forged entirely from the amalgamated gold— a spectacle akin to the divine craftsmanship of a certain thunder god.

This transformative act left the onlookers in a state of astonishment, as this was something nobody thought was possible. And this was the result of Max's constant practice and high Thunder Mastary the scene resonated with a sense of awe, capturing the undivided attention of all who witnessed this remarkable demonstration of a power never seen before.

"Bout time I am getting bored of this."

"What did yo..." Geremias did not get to finish his words for the Golden Hammer suddenly slammed into him, sending him flying into the high roof and into the horizon.

Geremias struggled to push the hammer off of him but the weapon zapped him with lightning over and over again, making him feel sluggard. They crashed back into the grand hall, with Geremias expertly landing while making the hammer fall off him. He stood up to access his surroundings only for him to see Max already in front of him, a punch already going for his head.

The force of Max's heavy punch sent shockwaves through Geremias, his head slamming onto the ground with a resounding crack, causing fractures to snake across the building's floor. Disoriented and bleeding, Geremias struggled to regain his focus.

Steadying himself, Geremias rose to his feet, right hand outstretched, conjuring a water weapon. He shook his head trying to get rid desiness with a bloody head. just as his focus came back, seeing Max looking at him with patience.

"I've been waiting for this. You may not know I have a tradition called "blood payments." It means I get a piece of you, for what you took from my family. You'll pick it up."

Max said before clapping his hands in front of him in a thunderclap, the shockwave hitting Geremias behind, destroying the nearby area and the wall behind him being reduced to boulders.

Geremias was quick to his feet, just in time to block a punch coming his way, but the strength difference between two clearly be seen on the face of Geremias as griffed his teeth.

His feet dug into the broken floor as he was been pushed backwards, his eyes widened as he saw the impossibility, his water axe was slowly cracking from Max point of contact. Quickly, he used Max's own momentum to make him fly past him as he created a water shield, eyeing the smaller man warily.

""That was for Mateo Magnar. Now show me what you got, fatso." The taunting words hung in the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere of the ongoing battle. Max said before snapping his fingers. Golden hammer flew into his left hand palm before it started to morph again, changing into a golden Axe in a clap of thunder.

Max looked at Max with a mad furry with a scrutinizing eye and realized something, this man was vastly different from the Max Marcus has been telling him about. That Max seemed like a little kid whose pride would get in the way of a fight. That Max was unhinged and easily emotionally manipulated. This Max seemed like he was an entire person entirely. His actions, his words, his gaze, everything about him was making him become more and more wary plus all this strength.

'Fuck this fucker!' he roared deep down before charging at Max.

He did a wide slash with his axe only for Max to block at the last moment, he wasn't even shaken, taking the blow with one hand and seeming so bored he might fall asleep at any time! Geremias did not give up, slashing and hacking with every technique he could master but each and every blow was blocked by the immobile Kid of thunder.

"Look at you, struggling to remember how you moved. How much have you eaten to even struggle at this pitiful display of power!" Max said in disgust, his words burning deep inside Geremias, making the fat Nobel continue his furry of slashes. But they were all futile.

Breathing a little hard, he took a step back in order to re-evaluate his approach only for Max to disappear in his eyes. Suddenly, the sky was upside down and then a pain assaulted his body, followed by a boom that shook the ground beneath him. He couldn't breath as a powerful grip held his neck, squeezing his trachea shut.

"It seems I have beat all the fat out of you," Max said, lifting him up by his neck and slamming him on the ground, over and over again.

Geremias could feel his consciousness fading with the last breath in his lungs violently knocked out. He looked at his water axe which has lost its shape and stretched his hand trying to attack Max with it, but Max caught the water axe.

"Hmmph, it's your trash," Max said in disdain before and crushed it with bare hand.

"It will take a while before you create trash like that. In the meantime, we can spend the time with your screaming," Max said as his eyes glowed with lightning. A beam of lightning fell onto Geremias, making him roar in pain.

"Max's booming voice echoed through the hall, a relentless force matching the beams that fell upon Geremias. The intense heat seared his skin and shattered bones, his agonized roars filling the air. Max continued, disdain evident in every word.

"You think you can come here, try to get a wife, insult the Magnar family, and everything will be okay? That's not how it works. You are nothing but trash. Overfat, over ugly fatso."

"Ana"

As Max delivered his scathing words, another thunderbolt struck Geremias, the burning impact reducing parts of his inner skin to crisps. The once-confident challenger now writhed in pain, his roars taking on an almost animalistic quality amid the onslaught.

In the midst of the one-sided beating, Max's voice sliced through the chaos, addressing the little girl, Ana, who occupied his seat. All eyes swiveled towards her, momentarily diverted from the one-sided onslaught. Despite the scrutiny, Ana didn't waver. Her response was a confident nod, fixing her gaze firmly on Max.

"I'd like to bring today's lessons here. Remember, I told you there are some rules for combat," Max declared, his words breaking through the tumult with an authority that demanded everyone's attention.

In a moment that left everyone breathless, Max's voice cut through the turmoil. "Lesson 1: Anything and everything can be used as a weapon," he declared. The swift brutality that followed shocked onlookers. Max seized Geremias, placing a firm foot on his chest. The realization of what was about to transpire sent ripples of unease through the crowd. Geremias' anguished screams pleaded with Max to stop, but the sacred ritual dictated no interference.

A gasp swept through the assembly as Max, with unyielding determination, tore Geremias' hand free spring blood everywhere. The visceral cries of pain echoed through the hall. But Max wasn't done. In a savage twist, he swung the uprooted limb across Geremias' face, each blow a visceral punctuation to the brutality unfolding. The sight, gruesome and unrelenting, held the spectators in a ghastly trance, their reactions ranging from shock to a morbid fascination with the unfolding spectacle.

As the crowd recoiled from the gruesome spectacle, Max seamlessly transitioned into the next lesson. "Lesson 2: Always beat your enemies senseless until they completely lose the will to fight, so they won't bother you for a second time."

Swift as lightning, Max materialized in front of Geremias, seizing his badly burned and battered bald head. With a ferocious slam, he obliterated a nearby chunk, a testament to the unbridled force of Max's fury.

The onslaught didn't end there. Max, relentless in his demonstration, yanked Geremias up and smashed his head onto the unyielding ground, creating horrific drag marks as he continued the assault. Geremias, in a desperate struggle, attempted to free himself, but with each passing moment, his face became a gruesome canvas of agony—skin peeling, eyes bloody, nose shattered, and his fractured skull ominously visible. The grotesque scene unfolded as a stark reminder of Max's mercilessness.

""I thought I would enjoy my fight here, seems I got my hopes up for nothing." With that, he actually slammed Geremias onto the ground to his right as he got on top of him and started landing bone shattering blows onto him, over and over again, not stopping even as Geremias started bleeding, actually reveling in the sight.

Geremias could feel it, the embrace of death. He was tired, so very tired, and in pain. So much pain, The pain kept growing with each punch and with the pain, came a welcoming feeling of just letting go of it all. He could feel it, his life slipping at the last punch, comforting darkness welcoming him into its embrace.

"Oh, no... I say when we're done!," a thundering voice reached him even in the darkness before a sharp pain brought him back into the light. He groaned in pain, his sight onto the smirking Max as he uses his hammer as a defibrillator to bring Geremias back to life again he used while his fourth degree burns in his chest.

"There you are, thought it lost you for a little there," Max chuckled as Geremias rolled to his side and coughed out the blood in his lungs."

Max's stern voice cut through the tension, "Well, you are a disappointment. You let me down. At this rate, I might as well go and do something better."

His focus shifted to his right arm, and a chilling silence enveloped the hall. "So just die already."

As Max extended his arm, a brilliant white flash emanated, blinding everyone. The subsequent rumbling felt like the castle itself was on the verge of collapse.

When their vision cleared, the horrifying tableau revealed Geremias embedded in the opposite wall. Two arms and a leg were missing, his body severely burned, eyes gone, and the gruesome sight of his exposed skull sent shivers through the onlookers.

Hisssssss

A collective hiss of fear rippled through the audience, for Geremias was now practically dead, a testament to the merciless might of Maxwell Magnar.

As Max turned to look at old man Julian and said "Sorry about your son! Julian you preachy old stiff!"

The enraged voice of old Julian echoed through the hall, "How dare you, little brat?!"

The great hall's temperature plummeted as numerous ice swords materialized around it. In a formidable display, they all surged toward Maxwell.

Maxwell's eyes sparked with lightning, enveloping his body and empowering him to move at inhuman speeds. With almost effortless grace, he skillfully dodged each oncoming ice sword, turning the lethal assault into a mere dance of lethal beauty. But a beauty nobody saw.

***

Few reviews for the poor author.