My Prospective Mother-in-Law Is Invincible
Camellia and Airi burst through the doors of the ceremony hall. I couldn’t tell whether they pitied me for having no guests at all, or whether they were original-work Taliban fairies who simply couldn’t forgive me for deviating from the plot by holding an engagement ceremony with Glacia.
The Precious Mirror of the Mind had said that speaking of material gain in matters of marriage was the custom of barbarians. That was why I had planned to tell everyone that I wouldn’t need anything like congratulatory gifts when I eventually got married. Yet Camellia and Airi had brought one anyway. Of course, it wasn’t money or treasure. The gift they delivered was pure, unadulterated chaos.
Look at that shattered door flying through the air and smashing the statue standing nearby. That statue was clearly an artifact as old as the hall itself, yet they had destroyed it so thoroughly. UNESCO would have thrown a fit if they saw it. Melissa, apparently a UNESCO agent, was shaking with such fury that her whole body trembled. Of course—if you destroyed cultural relics like that, someone tied to UNESCO couldn’t possibly overlook such cultural desecration. In Melissa’s eyes right now, Camellia and Airi must have looked like Red Guards.
Melchior, maintaining a neutral position, simply let out a quiet sigh. I wasn’t sure whether he didn’t want to get involved or simply found the coming mess annoying, but from his expression and the overall atmosphere, it was clearly the latter. Why was the barbarian warrior the calmest and most rational person here? It was like watching a passing saint shave her head and start reciting sutras. Utter nonsense.
Anyone could see that Melissa was furious, yet she forcibly pasted a fake smile onto her face and asked her question. Her aura suggested that if the answer displeased her, she would immediately use blood magic to tear them limb from limb.
Ah, for that kind of venue, Camellia and Airi really ought to bow their heads and apologize. Lee Baek had once said that memories are like treasures. That it was fine to kill anyone who trampled on them, and that even God would forgive it. Therefore, no matter what Melissa did now, God would surely overlook it. Who is Lee Baek? Not the poet—the friend from my previous life, before reincarnation.
Whether from rage or not, Melissa’s speech kept breaking. I knew her personality well, and Glacia and Melchior—her actual family—knew it even better. They understood exactly what that tone meant. It meant that even if they offered a Talulah-level excuse, she would still tear them apart without mercy.
Look—blood wings had already sprouted from behind Melissa’s back, and droplets of blood were gathering from every direction. Was there a bloodmobile parked nearby or something?
Blood wings erupted behind Melissa as droplets of blood converged from every corner of the hall, swirling with murderous intent.
But we weren’t the only ones who understood her personality. Camellia had been our comrade for many long years, so she knew Melissa’s temperament just as well.
"You’re already planning to kill us, aren’t you? No matter what reason I give, you’ll still try to kill us, Melissa. I don’t see any point in answering."
"Haha… You know me so well, you annoying bitch."
"The time I’ve spent around you amounts to nothing more than a fleeting year, but I’m not foolish enough to miss a personality like yours."
"This little bitch and her sharp tongue…"
A single year counted as fleeting, and she was calling a half-elf like Camellia a little bitch? Short-lived species like Melchior and me had no way to keep up with that exchange. Melchior must have felt the same, because our eyes met and we both shook our heads at the same time. The meaning behind those shakes was probably identical: those two long-lived turtles are fighting; if we butt in now it’ll only get worse, so let’s keep our mouths shut.
Was the barbarian warrior really the most rational and reasonable person here?
The answer was simple. Fake madness like that of barbarian warriors could never catch up to the real madness produced by a vampire and a half-elf. No matter how hard a dullard tries, they can never defeat a genius. Just like in Naruto—no matter how much you train your taijutsu or practice ninjutsu, you can never overcome a bloodline spoon or a reincarnation spoon.
It was the same principle. No matter how loudly barbarian warriors roared, how many demonic beasts they tore apart, or how much blood they bathed in, they could never match the accumulated madness of a vampire and half-elf who had lived for countless years.
"Little bitch, huh… Now that you mention it, Melissa, you really are old. Come to think of it, just by age, your marriage to Melchior is practically a crime. Though judging by appearance it’s a crime in the other direction."
"Shut your mouth."
"But if you’ve lived that long, shouldn’t you act your age? It would be proper for you to start behaving like someone with your years."
"You damn pointy-eared bitch!"
Melissa’s momentary rage finally boiled over. She spread her blood wings and shot forward. In an instant she formed a massive hand out of blood, snatched Camellia, and flew straight out of the hall. They smashed through the wall on their way out, but I wasn’t worried. They were all monster-tier heroes, after all. The real concern was the poor shattered wall.
Doing something like this to a building full of memories—sure enough, Melissa was a Red Guard too. Since she was a blood magic user, every spell she cast tended to be dyed in shades of red.
The guests had no idea how to react to the sudden uproar, but they stayed glued to their seats, trembling. They knew that leaving the hall without permission might invite whatever Melissa would do to them. That damn vampire had instilled real terror in these people. If vampire hunter Abraham Lincoln had seen this, he would have smacked her over the head with a silver cane and told her not to trample on free will.
Melchior let out a long sigh.
"Haa, damn it all… Werner, what do we do?"
"That’s something big brother has to think about and solve from now on."
"Wait, why do I have to solve it again?"
"Isn’t Sister Melissa your wife?"
Camellia and Melissa might be comrades, but strictly speaking they weren’t my immediate family. Melchior, however, was undeniably Melissa’s husband. Lee Baek had once told me never to stick my nose into fights involving someone else’s family. Nothing good ever came from getting involved in that kind of annoying business.
So I decided to take one step back from this whole affair and simply enjoy the show. Popcorn would have been perfect. Original salted flavor is the best, after all. Onion flavor and caramel flavor are all heresies. I’m not righteous enough to stop people from walking the heretical path, but if they try to drag heresy into matters involving my own money, I will unleash a flurry of Confucian punches.
In simpler terms: if I asked someone to buy popcorn and they came back with onion flavor, I would beat them like a dog on a hot summer day. Unfortunately, there was no popcorn among the food in the hall.
But a far more interesting spectacle than popping corn caught my eye. Glacia and Airi were glaring at each other from an extremely close distance. It looked exactly like the staredown fighters have before an MMA match. The sparks flying from their eyes weren’t some cartoonish exaggeration used by manga artists—it was real.
I piled a plate high with butter biscuits and offered it to Melchior. He took a huge bite.
"They’ve gone cold and dry. Completely tasteless now."
Right then—clang!—the sound of blades colliding rang out. Airi had thrown a knife as her opening move, and Glacia had drawn her sword in an instant to deflect it. As expected of my disciple—she hadn’t forgotten the lesson that the first strike leads to victory. There’s a reason attack speed is always a solid baseline option in any game.
"Brother, aren’t you going to stop them…?"
Glacia closed the distance in a single breath and swung a wide slash at Airi’s side. If that strike had landed cleanly, Airi would have been sliced into A-i-ri, but the girl twisted her body backward at the last moment and evaded. Whether she possessed god-tier control or the God of Side-Stepping was on her side, it was an incredible dodge. Must be because her instructor’s skills are excellent.
Today, I think it’s acceptable to praise myself.
Melchior, on the other hand, continued watching their fight with great interest, arms still folded.
"Interfering in a battle between warriors is the act of a coward. Northern warriors never intervene in a duel, even if it’s their own child fighting. Besides, my daughter is not weak, Werner."
Ah, right. In a makgora, having outsiders interfere is a tremendous dishonor.
"Hmph, of course you’d say that."
"Still, your disciple is no ordinary talent. Well, given her bloodline it’s only natural, but the instructor’s skill must be exceptional too. She’s reading every single one of my daughter’s movements."
"Really? Until just a month ago her movements looked rather sloppy."
"Those movements are no different from a warrior who has crossed the Asura battlefield, Werner."
I hadn’t given Airi much proper real-combat experience yet, but if her skill was already on par with a warrior who had surpassed the Asura field… it could only mean my teaching ability was truly outstanding.
From today onward, I am the Great Teacher Onizuka… No. I am the Great Teacher Werner.