LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 6: BIZZARE PARENTING
CHAPTER 6: "BIZZARE PARENTING"
Thrain stood tall, his eyes locked onto King Arin's, as Cormac and Hitel positioned themselves on either side of him. The air was heavy with tension, the throne room's silence punctuated only by the soft crackling of torches.
Suddenly, the brothers attacked, their movements swift and synchronized. Cormac's massive fist hurtled toward Thrain's face, while Hitel struck at his ribs. Thrain, anticipating the assault, didn't flinch.
The blows rained down, each strike precise and brutal. Thrain's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, as he absorbed the punishment. But when a particularly vicious kick sent a rib cracking, Thrain's patience wore thin.
With a swift kick, he sent Hitel crashing to the ground, the sound of his skull bouncing off the stone floor echoing through the room. Cormac retreated, his chest heaving.
Thrain straightened, blood streaming down his face, and locked eyes with Cormac. "Can't you see? He's just making us fight each other for no reason," Thrain pleaded, his voice laced with desperation.
Cormac's expression twisted in rage. "Shut up. You don't deserve a place here."
King Arin's voice cut through the tension, his tone laced with disappointment. "Mmhhhm... What did I tell you about holding back? Ryker trained him well, so if it comes to hand to hand combat, it'll be a problem for you two."
Cormac took a deep breath, and flames erupted from his fists, casting flickering shadows across the room. Hitel stood, mirroring his brother's action, their eyes burning with fury.
Arin's voice rose to a scream. "Are you going to keep holding back? Huh, Thrain?! Show me your true power!"
Thrain's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked onto the king. His breathing slowed, his stance widening, as if daring his brothers to come closer. The air seemed to vibrate with anticipation, the outcome of this battle hanging precariously in the balance.
The standoff persisted, the silence stretching to an unbearable 10 seconds. King Arin's patience snapped. He strode to the back of his throne, his movements deliberate and menacing. His hand closed around the hilt of a whip, its golden length coiled like a serpent.
As the whip emerged from the shadows, the brothers' eyes widened in terror. Cormac's and Hitel's flames died down, extinguished by the dread that gripped their hearts. Thrain's gaze locked onto the whip, his mind racing with dark memories.
The whip's reputation was etched into their minds since childhood – a tool of merciless discipline, wielded by their father's unforgiving hand. Its cracks still echoed in their nightmares.
Arin slammed the whip onto the stone floor, the sound crackling through the throne room like a thunderclap. The brothers flinched, their faces pale.
"Is no one going to attack?" King Arin's voice boomed, his eyes blazing with fury.
Cormac and Hitel exchanged nervous glances, their fear of the whip eclipsing their rage. Thrain's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with defiance, but even he couldn't shake the deep-seated dread.
Cormac and Hitel charged at Thrain, their eyes blazing with a fierce determination. Their hands radiated an intense, golden aura – a manifestation of their skill, "Augment." The air around them seemed to ripple, as if the very fabric of reality was bending to amplify their strength and speed.
Thrain, anticipating their assault, danced around them with fluid elegance. He dodged Cormac's lightning-fast jab, sidestepped Hitel's crushing blow, and weaved between their strikes with a precision born of desperation.
For the first time, Thrain fought back with equal ferocity. His fists clashed with Cormac's, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. He parried Hitel's flurry of punches, his feet barely touching the ground.
King Arin settled into his throne, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Finally," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
The throne room echoed with the sound of crashing fists, grunts of effort, and the heavy breathing of the combatants. Cormac and Hitel's Augment-enhanced blows sent Thrain flying across the room, but he sprang back, refusing to yield.
Arin leaned forward, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "More. Show me more!"
The brothers' relentless assault overwhelmed Thrain, their augmented blows raining down on him like a tempest. Every dodge was met with another strike, every block preceded by a fresh attack. It was as if he faced an army of skilled warriors, not just two.
Thrain stumbled, his vision blurring, as the brothers' combined force sent him crashing into the wall. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, and he slid to the ground, dazed.
"Get up, loser," King Arin sneered, the whip's golden length hovering mere inches from Thrain's face.
Suddenly, a blast of flame erupted in the throne room, sending everyone stumbling backward. The inferno's intensity was so great that even Thrain, its unwitting source, was propelled across the room.
The throne, once a symbol of Arin's power, now lay damaged and smoldering. The room was in shambles, debris scattered everywhere.
As the flames dissipated, Thrain struggled to his feet, his mind reeling. He realized that his powers only activated when he was afraid, in need, or under attack. But what if there was no time to react? He knew he needed to master it.
*****
Thrain rose to his feet, surveying the devastation around him. His eyes widened as he thought, "I did this."
The throne room lay in shambles, the throne itself damaged beyond recognition. His brothers, Cormac and Hitel, stood tall, their faces etched with a mix of shock and caution. King Arin, too, stood, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.
"Hahaha!" Arin's laughter echoed through the room, a manic, psychotic sound. "I am impressed. You, the loser, actually did something this astonishing."
Thrain's gut twisted with foreboding. He knew his father's praise was never without a price.
"You can all go," Arin declared, his voice dripping with sinister intent. "Thrain, from now on, you're no longer to be seen as a loser."
As the royal family turned to exit, a fleet of guards burst into the throne room, alarm etched on their faces.
"Your Majesty, we heard an explosion!" one guard exclaimed.
King Arin waved his hand dismissively. "Be calm, nothing happened."
The guards' gazes swept the room, their faces frozen in disbelief. Rubble littered the floor, the throne lay in splintered fragments, and scorch marks blackened the walls.
One guard's eyes widened. "Nothing happened, sire?"
Another guard whispered, "Did... did the decor get a bit... enthusiastic?"
A third guard nodded vigorously. "Yes, it's... um... a new style. 'Explosive Chic'?"
The guards exchanged skeptical glances before hastily retreating, murmuring among themselves.
"Well, that's... reassuring, sire."
"Nothing happened," one repeated, shaking his head.
As they fled, King Arin's laughter echoed through the ravaged throne room once more.
*****
As the brothers departed, Hitel abruptly stepped into Thrain's path, his eyes locked onto his brother's unmarred face. Thrain's brow furrowed, his fists clenched.
"Do you want a beating or something?" Thrain growled, his voice low and menacing.
Hitel's expression transformed, his eyes pleading. "No, no, no, Thrain. I just... I want to apologize. For her."
The ambiguity hung in the air for a moment before Thrain's eyes narrowed. "For who?" he spat.
Hitel's gaze faltered, but his voice remained steady. "You know who."
Thrain's face darkened, his jaw clenched. The unspoken name echoed between them, the red-haired girl.
"Fuck you, man," Thrain snarled, his voice laced with venom. "Get the fuck out of my way."
Hitel's words had struck a nerve, and Thrain's anger simmered just below the surface. He sidestepped Hitel, leaving his brother standing alone, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.