Sons of a devil-Chapter 129: The crackheaded royals

In the dining hall, Eren was trying—failing—to have a serious royal strategy meeting with Cain.

"...and so, if we flank from the east wall," Eren explained, "we can—"

Suddenly, a flying spoonful of mashed potatoes splattered on his face. Dead silence.

"Leo," Cain said slowly, turning to his youngest, who sat frozen, mid-launch with a second spoon.

"I plead the fifth," Leo said, dropping the spoon like it was a cursed sword.

Zara chuckled from the corner. "Our daughter started it."

Indeed, Rina stood proudly on the table, tiny fists on her hips, yelling, "Food fight rules! No magic—only mashed!"

Chaos erupted. Plates flew, forks spun through the air like mini-javelins, and the royal family, once feared across kingdoms, was now flinging chicken wings and yelling like children at a birthday party.

Even the ghost of Queen Isolde (who occasionally haunted the library and tutted at bad grammar) peeked through a portrait and sighed, "They've completely lost it."

After the mess was finally cleaned up—by magic, because let's be real, no one was about to mop—the three young warriors sat in the garden.

"I swear," Caelan groaned, still brushing gravy off his tunic, "we've defeated dark armies, ancient curses, and survived war... but a five-year-old girl with mashed potatoes brought us to our knees."

"She's a menace," Azrael Jr. muttered.

"She's our menace," Leo added proudly, getting a hug tackle from Rina.

They sat in silence for a moment before Rina shouted, "First one to blow up the moon wins!"

"NO!" everyone shouted at once.

But by then, Rina had already started glowing.

"Okay, okay—no blowing up the moon!" Cain ran into the garden, panic all over his face. "We just fixed the east tower last week, Rina! No more glowing unless it's a bedtime night-light!"

Rina pouted and crossed her arms. "Fine. I'll blow up something smaller. Like Uncle Eren's royal speech scrolls."

"Excuse you?" Eren appeared behind her, holding said scrolls. "These are for the diplomatic meeting tomorrow—"

Suddenly, a rogue gust of wind (courtesy of Caelan's still-uncontrolled power) sent the scrolls flying into the air like a flock of confused birds.

"MY NOTES!" Eren screeched, leaping like a ninja librarian to catch them midair.

Azrael Jr. looked at Caelan. "You've really got to stop doing that wind thing when you sneeze."

"Not my fault! It's allergy season!" Caelan yelled, just before he sneezed again—and accidentally launched Eira's hat across the garden.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

"MY CROWN!" Eira gasped, chasing it with surprisingly athletic speed for a royal.

Meanwhile, Leo sat calmly under a tree, munching on an apple.

"You know," he said to Zara, who was busy trying to tie Rina's flaming hair into a braid without catching on fire, "sometimes I wonder if we're really royalty or just the stars of a magical circus."

Zara smiled. "Both. Royalty and chaos gods in disguise."

Suddenly, bubbles floated in the air—dozens of them. But instead of popping, they hissed and crackled with mini-lightning bolts.

"RINA!" Cain barked.

"What?" she said innocently. "I made electric bubbles this time! For defense purposes!"

Eren ran by, a scroll stuck to his face, "She's trying to electrocute the daisies!"

Cain turned to Selene, who had just arrived with a cup of tea and zero concern. "We need to enroll her in combat school or clown school. I can't decide which."

Selene laughed. "Why not both?"

That night, as everyone collapsed into chairs for dinner (after dodging bubble bombs and mashed potato traps), Rina sat proudly between her parents, a tiny crown tilted sideways on her head.

"You know," she said, "when I grow up, I'm gonna be the queen of mischief and also the empress of snacks."

"You already are," Caelan muttered, covered in peanut butter.

"Long may she reign," Azrael Jr. added, raising a chicken leg like a toast.

And somehow, despite the madness, the laughter echoed louder than any war cry had in the past.

Because peace might be rare—but comedy? In this palace?

Unstoppable.