Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 181: Search and Rescue (and Ruin My Boots)

Mara's POV

I'd faced dragons, undead hordes, angry mobs, and in my more reckless youth my future mother-in-law. But nothing had prepared me for the delicate mission of uncovering precisely where our princess's favorite vampire had gone missing, and who exactly was now walking around pretending to be Velka Nightthorn.

"You're certain about this?" Elira asked, glancing at me over her shoulder as she adjusted the straps of her battle leathers. "You're absolutely positive?"

I sighed dramatically, cinching my sword belt a little tighter than necessary. "If Elyzara says Velka isn't Velka, then Velka isn't Velka. Simple logic."

Elira arched an elegant eyebrow. "Simple logic? Mara, nothing involving those two has ever been simple. They make romantic subplots in novels look straightforward."

I couldn't argue there. But Elyzara's worry had been genuine and surprisingly emotional. That girl could bluff her way through a council meeting or charm a rebel into submission with a glare, but when she'd quietly confided that Velka had changed—that she was softer, hesitant, uncertain I knew something was gravely amiss.

It didn't take advanced magical theory to know that Velka Nightthorn had exactly two default settings: snarky and terrifyingly snarky. Anything else was, frankly, unnatural.

"Look," I said, pausing by the entrance of the northern corridor. "The real Velka Nightthorn would rather chew glass than openly express affection in public. Yet yesterday, she smiled at me. Twice. Something is horribly wrong."

Elira looked amused. "So your primary evidence is that Velka was nice to you?"

"Exactly," I confirmed solemnly. "Nice Velka equals imposter Velka."

She laughed quietly, shaking her head as she stepped forward. "You know, if you're wrong, you're going to owe me a year's worth of foot massages."

"And if I'm right," I retorted confidently, "you'll finally admit I'm the more perceptive one."

Her lips curled slightly. "Now you're just dreaming."

We exchanged grins before slipping deeper into Arcanum's shadowed hallways, moving silently, our footfalls muted by years of training and far too many ruined boots.

The first challenge, naturally, was finding a starting point. Elyzara's suspicions were convincing, but she'd had no concrete leads just feelings, intuitive nudges, and hints from that infuriatingly vague system she never spoke about openly.

So we began where all secrets in this school seemed to start: the old library.

The doors creaked ominously as we slipped inside. Shadows pooled thickly between towering shelves stacked high with ancient tomes and ominously titled grimoires. A thin film of dust whispered beneath our boots, disturbed only occasionally by flickers of enchantments and memory spells.

"Typical," I muttered. "Every conspiracy starts in a library."

"You prefer conspiracies start elsewhere?" Elira murmured back.

"A nice tavern," I suggested lightly. "Better lighting. Ale."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head as we moved cautiously down aisles filled with aged parchment and forbidden magic. "Maybe next kidnapping."

"Deal," I said, eyes narrowing on something strange: a stack of books on ancient vampire rituals—neatly shelved, dust recently disturbed.

I stepped closer, trailing one gloved finger along the spine. "Someone's been reading up on forbidden magic. Vampire soul rituals, reincarnation… Elira, remind me: are these standard reading material for third-year students?"

Elira pursed her lips, examining a title. "Only if they're plotting something extremely illegal."

"So… entirely possible, given our usual clientele."

She snorted, amused despite herself. "Unfortunately."

I plucked a small notebook from the shelf. Flipping through pages, I found scribbled notes—quick, frantic handwriting detailing soul-binding, doppelgängers, magical cloning.

I held it up triumphantly. "Well, look at that."

Elira's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Any names?"

"No. Just instructions and theories," I said, closing it carefully. "But it's suspiciously thorough."

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Wonderful. Magical cloning. Because our lives weren't complicated enough."

We moved on, quietly scouting the corridors and storerooms. At each turn, the quiet hum of Arcanum grew more oppressive. Every shadow seemed thicker, every sound more sinister.

Eventually, we reached the forbidden wing the very same corridor Elyzara had been forbidden to visit approximately every other week. The heavy wooden doors, bound in rune-marked iron, stood imposingly ahead.

Elira studied the entrance thoughtfully. "Think we'll find anything useful here, or just more nightmares?"

"Probably both," I said cheerfully. "You ready?"

She sighed, drawing her sword. "No. But let's do it anyway."

The doors opened with a creak that could have woken half the underworld, revealing a corridor lined with portraits of former professors each one glaring suspiciously, eyes tracking us with distaste.

I grimaced. "Friendly welcome."

We moved cautiously down the hall, checking doors and hidden nooks until finally reaching the end, where a sealed doorway shimmered faintly. It was sealed by a complex magical rune darkly glowing, fiercely protective.

Elira stepped closer, running one hand lightly over the seal. Her fingers sizzled slightly, and she drew back sharply. "Anti-vampire runes."

I leaned in, studying the magic more closely. "Specifically vampire-targeted wards? Someone really doesn't want Velka getting out or anyone getting in."

We exchanged tense glances. The pieces were falling into place.

"Think you can break it?" Elira asked quietly.

"Of course," I said confidently, beginning to weave the counterspell. "It'll just take a minute, some patience, and maybe a creative swear or two."

As the wards flickered and shifted, I felt the subtle sting of the protective magic pushing back, angry and resistant. Sweat beaded my brow. I whispered curses under my breath in languages long-forgotten and painfully inventive, gradually unraveling the threads.

And then, with a burst of relief, the wards collapsed.

The door swung open silently, revealing a small cell, sparsely furnished and starkly lit. And there, sitting cross-legged on a cot, looking thoroughly unimpressed and absolutely furious, was Velka Nightthorn—the real one, her eyes glinting darkly beneath an annoyed scowl.

"About time," Velka snapped, her voice thick with dry sarcasm. "You know, I was beginning to think I'd have to chew my own arm off to escape."

"Glad you're well," Elira said calmly, stepping into the cell. "Nice accommodations."

Velka rolled her eyes. "If you enjoy abject boredom and questionable stew, they're lovely. Highly recommended."

I smirked. "Oh, it's definitely her."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Don't think I won't bite you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I retorted, grinning widely.

We quickly freed her from the magical chains, which sparked angrily as they shattered.

"Where's Elyzara?" Velka asked sharply, suddenly anxious beneath her glare. "She doesn't know about the clone?"

"Oh, she suspects," I replied lightly. "You're a terrible impostor far too nice."

Velka's face darkened. "I saw what that thing was doing smiling, making polite conversation. It was horrifying."

"Nightmarish," I agreed solemnly.

"Focus," Elira interrupted gently. "The fake Velka is still walking around. What's our next step?"

Velka straightened, determination flickering in her crimson eyes. "We find Aria. She's behind all this."

I blinked, startled. "Aria? Our Aria?"

"Well, not exactly our Aria," Velka drawled. "More like traitorous-evil-mastermind Aria."

I groaned. "I hate it when friends turn villainous. It's so cliché."

Velka's lips quirked faintly. "Welcome to my world."

As we stepped out into the corridor, Velka flexed her fingers, shadows dancing eagerly around her hands. Her lips curled in a faint, predatory smile the real Velka Nightthorn, dangerous and wonderfully unsettling.

Elira glanced at me, amusement flickering behind her eyes. "Still want to claim you're more perceptive?"

I grinned broadly, looping an arm around her shoulders. "Always."

Velka sighed dramatically, brushing dust off her sleeve. "Can we please go before Elyzara ends up dating my clone?"

Laughing softly, I shook my head. "Priorities."

Velka adjusted the sleeves of her cloak with theatrical grace. "I'd just like to go one entire day without being locked in a cell, cloned, or nearly assassinated. Is that really so much to ask?"

"Yes," Elira and I said in unison.

We shared a look hers tired, mine amused before stepping into the corridor outside the sealed chamber. The air felt different now. Stiller. Tighter. Like the castle itself was holding its breath.

I reached instinctively for my sword.

Velka froze.

A sharp, metallic click echoed behind us. Then another. Then six.

We turned.

Guards. Six of them. No insignia. No familiar faces. Just expressionless masks and drawn weapons each pointed straight at us.

"Oh, come on," Velka muttered, eyes narrowing. "I just got out."

One of them stepped forward. "You are in violation of internal containment protocol. Surrender immediately."

"Containment?" I echoed. "Are we virus strains now?"

"You are considered a breach-class entity."

Elira stepped protectively in front of us, her voice cold. "On whose authority?"

"Director's orders."

I blinked. "We don't have a Director." freёweɓnovel.com

Velka's fingers twitched, shadow gathering.

"We're not surrendering," I said flatly.

The guard raised his staff. "Then you are classified as hostile."

"Oh good," Velka growled. "I was in the mood to hit someone."

And with that, everything exploded into motion.

Velka moved first a blur of pale fire and shadow as she dove sideways, knocking over a suit of armor with a crash that sent the guards flinching. Elira lunged forward, blades flashing silver, intercepting the first strike with a snarl. I spun, drawing my own weapon just in time to parry a blow aimed at Velka's exposed back.

"She's not even my girlfriend and I'm doing this much work!" I yelled, kicking a guard squarely in the chest.

"Debatable!" Velka shouted, ducking behind me and throwing a knife of compressed darkness straight into another's chestplate.

It didn't pierce but it hurled him backward.