Birthing Legends: My Womb Creates SSS Monsters-Chapter 141 - 100 Candidates vs a Dragonborn — Part 3.

Luavier of House Verdantwings led the attack with precision, his black bladed spear slicing through the air with deadly elegance. He leapt from the backs of the Crimsonscales again and again, spinning his body midair, using every gust of wind to lengthen his strike.

His movements were flawless, a blur of steel and motion, but even his perfectly timed thrusts could not pierce the dragonborn’s shimmering midnight blue scales.

He hovered in the air for a heartbeat, wings barely keeping him aloft from the gusts Draculeus’ strikes had stirred. He tightened his grip on the black bladed spear, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing.

"Impossible..."

He muttered under his breath, spinning to avoid the Dragonborn’s snapping claws. His breath came faster, heart hammering, but his focus sharpened.

"No matter... I will find a way."

Luavier twisted midair, launching another precise thrust toward a joint in Draculeus’ wing. Sparks flew as the tip scraped against the dragonborn’s scales. He landed lightly atop the backs of the Crimsonscales, chest heaving, and muttered to himself,

"I can’t pierce him... but I will keep striking. Keep testing. Keep moving. I must be selected!"

More of the Verdantwings surged forward, falling into rhythm with him. Their movements aligned, building into a coordinated assault.

Draculeus met them head on. He turned in the air with fluid ease, wings flaring wide as his claws snapped outward. One sweeping motion sent attackers scattering, bodies thrown aside like leaves caught in a violent gale.

Luavier came again, his strike spinning toward a blind angle. Draculeus shifted. With a slight turn of his shoulder, he caught the spear between his claws and flung Luavier clean past the Crimsonscales’ wall. Another sweep of his talons sent two more Verdantwings crashing into the dust.

Still, Luavier pressed on, weaving through the air, striking from unexpected angles, pushing the limits of his speed and agility. Draculeus’ eyes followed him like a predator’s, blocking and countering with effortless precision, each motion a dance of deadly power and flawless timing.

"Good... very good. But you’ll need more than agility to touch me."

The Verdantwings continued their assault, but the cracks in their formation began to show, the pressure of the Dragonborn’s counterattacks forcing them back, even as Luavier’s spearwork remained unmatched in skill.

"SILVERSPINE! SUPPORT THE WINGS!"

The Silverspine warriors, led by a still-trembling but determined Sairant, surged forward.

"Y-You look and move terrifying, Y-Your Highness! B-But my father will be far scarier if I stand here and do nothing... and fail to be chosen by you!"

These were the masters of the Wyrmfoot Their bodies were unnaturally flexible, their spines snapping and bending like steel springs. They slipped between the legs of the Crimsonscales with fluid precision, their short blades striking low, quick and disruptive.

It was not meant to wound, but to distract. To bind Draculeus’ attention to the ground... just as the Verdantwings descended from above.

"Impressive!" Draculeus roared.

He swung a massive wing to swat Luavier out of the air, but the Verdantwing leader folded his body mid flight, the wind carrying him just an inch past the obsidian claws. At the same instant, a Silverspine warrior bent his body backward in a complete circle, dodging Draculeus’ talon swipe and lunging forward with a jagged blade aimed at the Prince’s ankle.

CLANG!

The blade hit the midnight scales and bounced off with a shower of sparks.

"Your skin is impenetrable!"

Hank of House Crimsonscales roared, bracing his shield just as Draculeus’ fist crashed into it. The impact thundered outward, a shockwave cracking the stone beneath Hank’s greaves—yet the giant did not yield an inch.

"But these black blades were forged to pierce even something that hard! NOW!"

Hank barked a command, voice carrying over the roar of battle.

"Circle him! Form the ring! Trap him inside!"

The Crimsonscales surged outward, moving as one living wall, pivoting to create a rotating cage around the Dragonborn. Every massive frame pressed together, shoulders and shields locking until there was no gap.

Draculeus felt the pressure tighten. For the first time, he had to think.

The Verdantwings darted above like hawks, their spears snapping dangerously close to his eyes and neck. The Silverspines slithered along the ground, bending and twisting like living snakes, tripping him, striking at his legs and ankles with uncanny precision. And the Crimsonscales? They formed the unyielding cage, a circle of iron and muscle that forced him to calculate every movement.

A deep, amused laugh rumbled from him.

"You use the wind to fly and the bone to bend! and now you’ve managed to cage me."

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with approval.

"You move like the very monsters you hunt. Good! Very good!"

From the sidelines, Percieval’s eyes shone brighter than Draculeus’ own.

"These Houses... they’ve been trained from their youngest days. Every move, every strike, every leap—they’ve inherited techniques passed down through generations. And here they are... against a Dragonborn who hasn’t even begun real training."

He shook his head slightly, pride mixing with awe.

"The White blooded grow fast, drink the primordial blood, and survive, then the true training begins. Draculeus has never had that. This is his first real fight... one hundred against one."

To keep the pressure unrelenting, House Goldensight joined the fray.

Forsha, eyes wide and sparkling, hovered with her staff in hand, utterly mesmerized by Draculeus’ movements. She struck with precise, crushing force, each blow timed to hit harder than any other warrior, and yet, her admiration shone in every swing.

"Magnificent... so powerful!

Even as she attacked relentlessly, Draculeus merely tilted his head, absorbing each blow with an almost amused calm. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"Ah... so everyone’s finally decided to come at me."

The circle was closing. The Crimsonscales groaned as they leaned their massive weights inward, their shields overlapping. Above, the Verdantwings were a green blur of descending spears, and below, the Silverspines were a silver nest of biting snakes.

Draculeus stood at the center of the storm. For the first time, his movements were restricted. Every time he tried to spread his wings to fly, a dozen black spears from Luavier’s unit pinned them down. Every time he tried to stomp, a Silverspine warrior bent their body to trip his ankles.