I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

“He didn’t even look at me,” Ivan whispered, sinking to the floor, his back sliding down the wall. “Not once. Like I’m already buried.”

His body trembled as he continued. “Grandfather—he—he gave him a title above me, above all of us, and I—I can’t—” He choked, smashing his fists into the stone floor.

The queen’s gaze darted to him, her eyes flickering with a mother’s pain before twisting back into fury.

“Don’t you say that!” she roared. “You’re my grandson—my heir! Julian’s nothing but Regina’s filth, and your grandfather’s lost his damn mind!”

She stumbled to the window, pounding her fists against the frame until the glass shuddered. “I should’ve seen it—I should’ve stopped her years ago! Strangled her, poisoned her—anything! And now he’s—he’s—”

She broke down, clawing at her face, her eyes heavy with unshed tears. “He has killed us, Hallie! My own husband—he has murdered us all!”

Hallie flopped back onto the bed, her hands masking her face to hide her cries. “Then why are we even here?” she sobbed. “He’s untouchable now—Father has made him a god! Ivan’s never getting the throne, and we’re—we’re nothing!” She buried her face deeper, her cries muffled but piercing.

Hearing her daughter’s defeated voice, the Queen walked back from the window and collapsed into a chair. “I can’t—I can’t stand it,” she said, her breathing ragged.

Ivan lifted his head, his voice a cracked whisper, barely audible over his ragged breaths. “Can’t we do anything?” His eyes, filled with raw desperation, locked onto his grandmother, pleading for a shred of hope.

The Queen broke down further, a fresh sob ripping out of her as she saw the despair in Ivan’s face—her grandson, begging for something she couldn’t give. She shook her head, her hands clenching around her gown.

“Nothing,” she admitted. “Nothing, Ivan—we’ve got nothing left.” Her head lowered further, tears splashing onto her lap.

The next moment,

Hallie’s voice cut through the moment. “How about we kill him, Ma?” She straightened on the bed, wiping her tear-soaked face with a trembling hand.

The Queen and Ivan snapped their heads toward her, stunned at the sudden, reckless suggestion.

“No!” the Queen blurted, leaning forward in her chair, her voice cracking with panic. “Don’t lose your mind, Hallie! He’s—he’s stronger than you think, far too strong!” You’d get us all killed—or worse!

“But we have to do something, right, Ma?” Hallie pressed on. She stood, her gown wrinkled and stained with tears. “We can’t just sit here and let him take it all—let Father bury us like this!”

The Queen shook her head again, slower this time, her eyes dull and lifeless. “We have nothing left to do,” she whispered, each word heavy yet final.

“The King’s decision is final. Unless we want to be banished, stripped of everything, we must keep silent. That’s all we have left—silence.” She slumped back, staring at the floor.

Hallie froze, her breath momentarily stopping, then wiped at her tears with a fierce swipe of her hand. “No,” she said, a spark flaring in her eyes. “I’ll meet with Julian.” She turned and took a step toward the door, her resolve hardening even as her hands shook.

The queen’s head snapped up. “Hallie, no—don’t you dare!” she cried, lunging halfway out of her chair before collapsing back, too weak to stop herself. “He’ll crush you—you don’t know what he’s capable of!”

Ivan stared at his mother, but he said nothing—just watched as Hallie marched toward the door, her earlier helplessness replaced by a reckless determination.

***

While the royal family schemed in their shadowed corner, Julian and his Guardians were tangled in something far stranger. The grand hall of Easvil’s guest quarters buzzed with a different kind of tension—laughter, clinking mugs, and the scrape of wooden pieces on a board.

Julian leaned against a table, his deep blue eyes glinting with mischief.

“Come on, Joseph, do something about it!” He shouted, his voice half-mocking, half-amused as he stared at the ridiculous sight in front of him.

Raphael, sitting in a chair nearby, laughed, nearly spilling his mug of ale. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning wide.

“Where’s that muscular body gone, Joseph? You’re shit without it!” He gestured at the board with his mug, clearly relishing Joseph’s suffering.

Meanwhile, Joseph, the talk of the moment, was sweating profoundly—his broad shoulders hunched, his massive hands hovering uncertainly over the board in front of him.

Beads of sweat covered his brow as he squinted at the board, trying to piece together some strategy. Opposite to him sat Lias, the mastermind of the group, looking entirely at ease. He leaned back with a lazy smirk playing on his lips, his fingers tapping calmly against the table.

“Move, you ox!” Julian laughed, crossing his arms. “Lias is making a fool of you—where’s that Sovereign Realm grit?” He smirked, glancing at Liam, who leaned against the wall, twirling a dagger between his fingers with a grin.

Joseph growled, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. “This isn’t fighting—this is torture!” he grumbled, his voice thick with frustration.

He grabbed a piece, hesitated, then shoved it forward, only for Lias to slide his in response, cutting off Joseph’s move immediately.

Joseph’s jaw dropped. “You sneaky little—”

Lias’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting mischievously behind his calm facade. “Brains over brawn, my friend,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You should’ve stuck to smashing heads—this is my arena.”

He flicked another piece into place, and Joseph grunted, slamming a fist on the table, rattling the board.

Raphael burst into laughter, ale dripping down his chin. “He’s got you pinned, Joseph! Archduke’s not saving you from this one!” He raised his mug to Julian, who shook his head, chuckling.

Julian stepped closer, glancing over Joseph’s shoulder at the board. “You’re embarrassing me, Joseph. I’m Archduke now—my Guardians can’t lose to a damn game!”

He clapped Joseph on the back, hard enough to make the big man grunt, then shot Lias a mock glare. “And you—stop grinning like you’ve already won.”

“Oh, I have,” Lias shot back, moving another piece with ease. “Checkmate—or whatever this game calls it.”

Joseph threw his hands up, falling back in his chair with a defeated huff.