My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 56: A Civilized Meal...

Chapter 56: A Civilized Meal...

Ramiro watched, his smirk ever-present, but his gaze sharp. He had seen enough battles—on the battlefield and in the political arena—to recognize the silent war unfolding before him.

Esteban, ever the mediator, cleared his throat. "It’s been a long journey. Matilda, Catalina, your rooms are prepared. We can continue this conversation inside."

Matilda, who had been observing the exchange with quiet amusement, turned to Esteban with a nod. "Lead the way."

Catalina didn’t move immediately. Instead, she lingered a second longer, holding Luzia’s gaze. A flicker of something—curiosity, challenge—before she finally stepped back.

Luzia didn’t look away until Catalina turned.

Behind her, Elena exhaled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That could have gone worse."

Luzia scoffed, rolling her shoulders as she turned on her heel and fell into step beside Elena. "That was nothing."

Elena shot her a sidelong glance. "For now."

Inside the grand hall, the flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the polished stone. Servants moved swiftly, taking coats and weapons—though Catalina kept a dagger at her hip, clearly uninterested in relinquishing it.

As they reached the dining hall, Beatriz, who had been silent for most of the encounter, finally spoke. "Luzia, will you be joining us for supper?"

Luzia nearly declined out of sheer spite. The last thing she wanted was to sit across from Catalina, pretending at civility while her father watched with that knowing look.

But then Catalina glanced at her, smirking ever so slightly. A silent dare.

Luzia set her jaw. "Of course."

Ramiro chuckled, low and knowing. "Good. This should be entertaining."

Matilda took a seat beside Esteban, while Catalina, without waiting for permission, dropped into the chair across from Luzia, one arm slung over the backrest in casual ease.

Elena sat beside Luzia, silent but ever watchful.

The first course was served—warm broth, fresh bread, and cured meats—but Luzia barely tasted any of it.

Catalina was the one to break the silence. She speared a piece of meat with her knife, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. "So," she mused, "are you as strong as the duke?"

Luzia’s grip on her spoon tightened slightly. "Depends."

Catalina smirked. "I’m asking you."

Luzia met her gaze evenly. "Strength isn’t something you talk about. It’s something you prove."

Catalina’s eyes gleamed, as if she had just been granted permission for something dangerous. "Good," she said, setting her knife down with deliberate slowness. "Then let’s prove it."

Ramiro leaned back in his chair, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "Now this," he mused, "this is going to be fun to watch."

Luzia didn’t need to look at him to know he was enjoying this far too much.

Catalina propped her chin on her hand, watching Luzia with open amusement. "Tomorrow, then. At dawn. The training grounds."

Luzia smirked. "Try not to be late."

Catalina grinned. "Try to keep up."

The challenge was set.

Ramiro’s smirk faltered. Wait... they were actually going to fight? His gaze flickered to Matilda and Esteban, who exchanged looks.

Esteban sighed, rubbing his temple. "I knew this would happen."

The rest of supper passed in relative quiet, though the tension remained—a simmering undercurrent that made even the clink of silverware against plates seem sharper.

Catalina ate with the ease of someone completely unbothered, while Luzia maintained a composed, almost indifferent expression. But every now and then, their gazes met across the table, brief but charged.

Ramiro watched with undisguised amusement, while Matilda, ever composed, sipped her wine as though she were watching a play unfold. Esteban, on the other hand, looked resigned, as if mentally preparing for whatever disaster tomorrow would bring.

Beatriz was the only one who seemed genuinely unconcerned. She had long since learned not to intervene in these matters, choosing instead to enjoy her meal in peace.

By the time supper ended, the air between Luzia and Catalina crackled with something unspoken—both a challenge and an unspoken agreement.

As they rose from the table, Catalina stretched lazily, her movements unhurried. "I’ll see you at dawn, then," she said, turning toward the hall.

Luzia nodded. "Try to get some rest. You’ll need it."

Catalina only laughed before disappearing down the corridor.

Elena waited until she was out of earshot before sighing. "You really couldn’t ignore her?"

Luzia scoffed. "You saw her. She wouldn’t let me."

Ramiro, still grinning, clapped Luzia on the shoulder as he passed. "Luzia, are you sure about fighting her? You don’t know how to use magic yet and your mana is unstable..."

Luzia stiffened, but only for a fraction of a second. She didn’t need Ramiro—or anyone else—to remind her of her weaknesses.

"I don’t need magic to win," she said flatly, brushing his hand off her shoulder.

Ramiro chuckled, but there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Luzia come with me."

Luzia narrowed her eyes but followed as Ramiro led her away from the others, down a dimly lit corridor. The torches flickered, casting shifting shadows against the stone walls.

When they were alone, he turned to her, his usual smirk absent. "You’re not ready for this."

Luzia scoffed. "You think I can’t handle her?"

Ramiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think you’re walking into a fight with someone who knows how to use magic while yours is still unstable. Catalina isn’t reckless—she wouldn’t challenge you unless she was confident."

Luzia folded her arms. "Then I’ll prove her wrong."

Ramiro studied her for a moment, then exhaled. "Alright, fine. If you’re dead set on this, at least let me help you."

Luzia raised a brow. "Help me how?"

Ramiro’s smirk returned, just a little. "Come to the courtyard with me."

She hesitated, but something in his tone—serious, almost uncharacteristically so—made her nod.

"Alright," she said.

Ramiro didn’t wait for further agreement. He turned on his heel, leading her through the winding halls and out into the courtyard. The cool night air prickled against Luzia’s skin, but she barely noticed.

The courtyard was mostly empty, save for the distant flicker of torchlight along the outer walls. Ramiro strode toward the center, rolling his shoulders. "I and Gregerio made some research on your case for the past two days and we found something that might just work."

Luzia’s brows furrowed. "My case?"

Ramiro nodded, his usual smirk absent. "Your mana instability. Gregerio and I went through old records, theories—hell, even some forbidden texts." He tilted his head. "Turns out, there’s a way to stabilize it. Temporarily, at least."

Luzia crossed her arms. "And you’re only telling me this now?"

Ramiro shrugged. "I didn’t think you’d be reckless enough to challenge Catalina before figuring it out."

Luzia exhaled sharply but didn’t argue. "Alright. What did you find?"

Ramiro glanced toward the castle walls, lowering his voice. "There’s an old method, something warriors used before magic was fully understood. It forces the body to bypass unstable mana and rely purely on raw physical reinforcement. It’s dangerous, but it could give you an edge."

Luzia’s eyes narrowed. "Dangerous how?"

"Because it pushes your body past its limits," Ramiro said simply. "Think of it like forcing a dam to hold back a flood. It might hold—or it might break you."

Luzia met his gaze, weighing his words. Then, after a beat, she nodded. "Show me."

Ramiro grinned, though something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. "I thought you’d say that."

Then his smirk faded slightly. "Since your mana refuses to settle in your heart no matter how much you try, I suppose we should stop forcing it."

Luzia frowned. "Leave it as it is? That doesn’t sound like much of a solution."

Ramiro shook his head. "Not leave it entirely—redirect it." He tapped a finger against her sternum. "Your mana refuses to settle in your heart, which means your body’s trying to function differently from most mages. Instead of fighting that, we use it."

Luzia tilted her head. "How?"

Ramiro stepped back, folding his arms. "By forcing your mana to circulate through your limbs instead of your core. It won’t give you refined spellcasting, but it’ll enhance your strength, speed, and reflexes—turning you into something closer to an old-world warrior than a mage."

Luzia considered that. "And the danger?"

Ramiro’s smirk was brief. "If you overdo it, your mana might tear through your muscles instead of reinforcing them. You’d get stronger—but only until your body breaks."

Luzia took a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. "Sounds manageable."

Ramiro chuckled. "Spoken like someone who has no idea what they’re getting into. But fine—let’s begin."

Roldan stood in the shadows, watching in silence. His presence was easy to miss—intentional, practiced—but his sharp gaze never wavered.

He had been listening, observing.

So, they had found a way to bypass Luzia’s instability. A dangerous method, one that could push her past her limits or break her entirely.

He smirked at the thought. Master wasn’t like other mages. She didn’t just bypass that limit—she shattered it, breaking the very foundation of what they called a ’mana heart.’

And now, Luzia was about to walk that same path again.

In the past, she learned it on her own—though it was too late. But now, after saving her father, she’s learning from him. I believe she will become even more powerful this way...

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. Whether she succeeded or failed, one thing was certain—Luzia was no ordinary mage. And soon, everyone else would know it too.