Supreme Magus novel Chapter 4173

Chapter 4173: Old Scars (Part 2)

Lith had gifted Baron Wyalon the artifact intended for Count Lark, making him one of the few owners of a fully loaded DoLorean.

"Great." Wyalon laughed merrily. "There is not a single stuck-up, powdered-nose noble of the Kellar region that doesn’t eat their heart out when they see it."

"Eiros, it’s not nice to talk about our neighbors like that." It was supposed to be a reproach, but it was clear from the Baroness’ tone that she was gloating.

Mirias giggled as she scolded her husband, and her cheeks flushed with pride, giving her pale visage a rare spark of color.

Since the Ernas were already inside, the last guests to enter were Zinya and Zogar Vastor, Duke and Ryssa Marth, and the Royals.

"Manoa... I mean, your son is growing up big and strong, Headmaster Marth." The King said, doing his best to smile and sound jovial.

There was something unsettling in Dhiral Manohar Marth, and it wasn’t just the black hair streaked with silver of his human form. That was the only physical resemblance he bore to the Mad Professor, and plenty of people shared those traits.

What truly upset Meron was the way the baby boy looked at the people around him and listened whenever someone talked. It was as if Dhiral were studying his surroundings and paying attention to what was said.

The spark in his eyes wasn’t that of a curious boy trying to understand the complexities of the world around him, but of someone who measured the people in his same room and found them wanting.

The same gaze of the late god of healing.

’It only lacks the ill-concealed spite and the condescending attitude to match the original.’ The King thought.

"Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty." Marth replied. "Dhiral is indeed intelligent for his age, and he has never gotten ill. The only issue with him is that he’s very... curious, and he likes to experiment with his Dryad powers."

"You are a smart boy, aren’t you?" Queen Sylpha took the baby boy’s small hand, talking in a soothing voice. "Can you say, Dada? Can you?"

"I’m sorry, miss." The baby boy took back his hand, staring at the Queen with eyes full of compassion. "I don’t speak stupids."

At those words, the Royals went pale and froze as if Mogar had struck them down with a lightning bolt.

"Dhiral!" Ryssa’s light green cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not nice to speak to strangers like that?"

"Does he say that often?" Meron swallowed hard.

"But Mom, the old lady talks weird!" Manohar the Second replied. "Unless she has a concussion, that’s not normal."

"A concussion?" Sylpha stuttered, refusing to believe that a child that young could know medical terms.

"See? She even parrots my words." Dhiral leaned towards the Queen. "Her pupils are not dilated, but I suspect she suffered a blow to the head-"

"Dhiral!" Marth bowed to the Royals in apology and rushed the baby boy toward the crib while Manohar the Second was still diagnosing the most probable causes for the Queen’s mental impairment.

"I’m so sorry." Ryssa bowed so low that her golden hair brushed the stairway. "He doesn’t mean it. Dhiral is too young to understand the difference between baby talk and brain damage."

"I see." The King nodded, needing sheer willpower to keep his countenance.

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