“Will you fucking pick up your sword?”. My father groaned, knocking my sword out of my hand for the third time, injuring me in the process.

I glared at my father, rubbing my sore hand. "Father, Why are you being so hard on me today?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Maybe if you have been training hard instead of following the triplet around like a little slut you are. You won’t call this being hard. And it’s beta to you, I am not your father”. He snapped.

I felt a stinging ...