Game of Thrones: Bastard? I’m the Damn Heir!

Seeing how Joffrey had gone from pitiful pleading one second to snapping back into his old, snarling self the next, the moment he thought someone might save him—

Kal couldn't help but twitch at the corner of his mouth.

This damn brat changed his face faster than flipping a page. It was honestly beyond words.

The little bastard from the original story, the one that made people grind their teeth in hatred, really was that repulsive.

So Kal tugged slightly at the riding crop in his hand, and his expression twisted into something vicious.

He stepped forward, leaned down, and looked at Joffrey—whose eyes were wide with panic, a prince once noble and proud, now crawling in filth and mud on the ground.

"Your Grace, the noble prince," Kal said with a smile, "your Hound has fallen asleep."

"So let's not disturb him, shall we?"

Kal's smile grew as he looked at Joffrey. He folded the riding crop in his hands, pulling it taut with sharp snapping sounds.

Then, as the sound faded, Kal used the tip of the crop to lift Joffrey's chin. His face now bore a far more dangerous expression.

"Oh, right. As a reward for your lovely performance just now, we've got a little event we'd like to invite you to join!"

"And this event is called—Log in and get a hundred draws!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Kal suddenly raised his hand without warning.

The riding crop cracked through the air, the tip slicing the wind with a sharp, explosive snap!

Joffrey froze in place, startled stiff by the sudden strike. Tears slid once again down his cheeks.

And then Kal caught a familiar stench in the air once more.

Kal threatened the little bastard in front of him without the slightest trace of guilt.

What he didn't expect, however, was how pitifully weak this little shit's mental fortitude turned out to be. Just a mild threat—and the boy broke down completely.

Seeing him in such a pathetic state, Kal paused with the riding crop still raised midair.

He hadn't actually intended to go that far. His only goal had been to scare this sadistic little psycho a bit.

At most, he'd planned to whip him senseless—just enough to make him lose his mind, to make him beg for death without being able to die.

After all, that furious slap from earlier had already nearly killed the boy, and Kal had more or less vented his worst anger with that strike.

It's not like he was some pervert, nor was he a neurotic like Joffrey.

He had no real interest in doing anything excessive to a child barely into his teens—even if the kid was an absolute bastard.

But what did that have to do with him?

Everything that happened today was simply because this little bastard had the misfortune of getting in his face.

And with the added mess stirred up by his insane mother, Kal had finally lost control of the fire in his chest.

But who would've thought? This little bastard didn't learn his lesson at all. One moment he was groveling on his knees—and the next, as soon as he felt he had the upper hand, he became even more arrogant than before. A pure-bred bastard through and through—and it reignited Kal's rage.

So with his arm still hanging in the air, Kal was seriously considering whether he should just bury this trash right here and be done with it.

Because whipping him suddenly didn't feel like it would be enough.

But then—when Joffrey realized that even his guard dog wouldn't be saving him, and that the bastard in front of him might actually go through with it—

The fragile courage he'd mustered completely crumbled. Once again, he became that pathetic wretch: tail between his legs, shrieking like a beaten dog, soiling himself in terror.

He snapped back to his senses, dropped to his knees in a panic, and clutched Kal's pant leg, sobbing shamelessly as he pleaded: "Please! Please! Spare me! Don't kill me!"

"I can give you anything!"

"The Lannisters are rich—my father can knight you!"

"No, not just a knight—he can make you a noble! He can grant you a castle! Gold dragons! As many as you want! The Lannisters have mountains of gold!"

Desperate and terrified, Joffrey finally thought of a way to save himself—and blurted it out without hesitation.

He flipped over, knelt properly, and banged his head against the floor again and again, throwing out promises more outrageous with every breath.

But Kal simply stared down at him coldly, not even acknowledging a single word.

Seeing Kal remain silent, Joffrey—head still bobbing but trying not to smash it too hard against the floor—carefully looked up.

Kal's expression was blank, completely unmoved.

So Joffrey chose to raise the stakes again.

"Kal Stone! Whatever you want, we can give it to you—as long as you're willing!"

"Oh, right! Right!"

"You're actually my brother—you're my real brother! You're the king's son too!"

"I can have Father strip your bastard status! He can acknowledge your birthright!"

"The king can make you a noble—he can even legitimize you! That's his exclusive right!"

"As long as you don't kill me, I'll give up my claim to the throne! I'll let you be the heir to the Iron Throne!"

"It's true! You have to believe me—I'm not lying!"

"If you agree, you won't be some lowborn bastard anymore—you'll be the king's legitimate son, a prince! You could even take the Baratheon name!"

"That would make you the first in line to inherit the Iron Throne!"

"Just spare me—please don't kill me! Everything I said can be done—I swear!"

In that moment—when he had called out for help from his protector but was met with silence, when he felt the murderous intent boiling within Kal—Joffrey's mind raced desperately. Driven by sheer survival instinct, he blurted out every promise he could think of.

And to make his words sound more convincing, he even revealed Kal's true identity.

All of this had been told to him by his mother, Cersei Lannister. Although at the time, her tone had been laced with fury and venom, swearing she would see that wretched bastard dead.

But now, to survive, Joffrey had no choice but to beg.

Even the title of heir to the Iron Throne—he was willing to give that up.

That alone was enough to show how thoroughly broken he was.

Joffrey wept, snot and tears streaming down his face. He groveled shamelessly, offering whatever he could just for the slimmest chance to live.

Even if it meant making promises he could never actually fulfill.

And for a while, Kal said nothing.

He simply stood there, silently watching Joffrey Baratheon grovel in the dirt—once a prince high above, now reduced to a writhing maggot.

But as Joffrey noticed his silence, he slowly raised his tear-streaked face, eyes wide with the glimmer of hope.

Kal hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken.

And that was when hope began to bloom in Joffrey's eyes.

Kal only chuckled softly the moment hope began to flicker in Joffrey's eyes. Then, he shook his head.

"Your promises aren't even worth a donkey's fart after overeating hay—at least that stinks."

"But no need to panic, Prince Joffrey."

"Because everything you just offered me—I can get it myself."

"And I will get it my way. Only my way."

Kal spoke with a grin, smiling as he said it.

Then he crouched down and reached out, gently lifting Joffrey's chin with his hand.

"What I want—I'll take with my own hands, not rely on scraps thrown by someone else."

"Because anything gained like that was never mine to begin with. It never will be."

"But before that… there are still a few things I need to take care of."

"So—you'll cooperate, won't you?"

Kal finished with the same casual smile, then slowly stood up as Joffrey stared up at him in a daze, not understanding what was coming.

The riding crop, which had been lowered, was suddenly raised high once more. A sharp crack tore through the air as it came lashing down on Joffrey.

Because Kal had realized—blunt strikes didn't hurt enough.

Only this method—one that struck the skin with the smallest contact area—would do the job properly.

And right now, he had plenty of time.

Kal's fingers flicked again. A soft green shimmer of light flashed at his fingertips.

The spell Minor Healing drifted toward Joffrey, and a faint glow bloomed over his battered body as his wounds began to knit back together at a pace visible to the naked eye.

His mana reserves were still full. And there was still plenty of time before he needed to return.

"What I want, I'll take for myself. Not accept from someone who grovels and spews promises like dog shit in desperation."

Kal continued to whip Joffrey without mercy, watching him twist and scream in the mud like a worm.

And on his face, wearing a faint smile, his deep eyes shimmered with a cold, quiet light.

---

I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar

---