The Milf's Dragon-Chapter 143. The Breaking

After months of preparation, The seal Finally shattered.

Owen felt it first, a crack in the world, a wound reopening. He was standing on the palace balcony, watching the Hatchery’s light pulse in the distance, when the Royal bloodline bond that connected him to Vorthraxx suddenly pulsed within him.

His muscles tensed and yuki—sensing his distress—was beside him instantly, her hand on his shoulder and her voice sharp with alarm. "Owen! What is it?"

"The seal." His voice came out strangled. "It’s broken."

Across the world, the prison dimension collapsed.

It happened without a fanfare. No explosion, no light show. One moment, the dimension that had held Vorthraxx for a thousand years was within the void of existence and the next, it was gone: imploding, folding in on itself.

Vorthraxx emerged into the mortal realm once again, breathing in its air with a deep inhale.

He was in humanoid form, as he had been when Owen first met him in the second dungeon’s memories. The same golden eyes, but with dark hair that had once been red, His skin was pale, almost grey, threaded with veins of purple that pulsed with an ominous glow. His hands ended in claws that oozed a bad aura.

He stood at the edge of the demonic continent, where the Will’s seal had been weakest for a thousand years. Then He raised one hand and swung it against the continent.

The seal that had held his armies for a millennium shattered like glass.

And Demons poured through.

A unified army. Demons who had been waiting for this moment since the Will first sealed them away, who had bred, trained, prepared.

They came through the breach in waves. Thousands. Tens of thousands. More than Owen had seen in any of the dungeon’s memories, more than the allied armies had prepared for. They spread across the dead zone around the demonic continent, and from there, across the world.

Portals tore open across every continent.

In the human territories, rifts appeared in Nexus Prime’s harbor, and the other Human Cities. Demons emerged from each one, organized, directed, killing anything that moved.

In the beastfolk continent, the Auric Savanna burned again. The capital that Sael had rebuilt was the first target. The Pride-Mother’s warriors met them at the gates, but there were too many, and more were coming.

In the elven forests, the blight that the Corrupter had seeded bloomed into something worse. Trees that had been healed turned black again. Flowers that had been harmless opened jaws. The elves who had emerged from their isolation found themselves fighting a war on two fronts.

In the dwarven mountains, the tunnels that had been mined for centuries became killing grounds. Demons poured through old passages, collapsed new ones, hunted the dwarves in the dark they had always called home.

And everywhere, the sky changed. A purple glow that marked Vorthraxx’s presence spread across the world, bleeding into the clouds, blocking out the sun.

---

Vorthraxx’s first act was not an immediate conquest like a mad man, but instead, it was memory, a lust for nostalgia.

He appeared over a small human town on the human continent, a location that was at the exact spot where Celeste had lived, where she had worked, where she had died. It was nothing now, it held no structure that reminded him of her. Transformed through the passage of time into just a farming community that had grown around the ruins of the cathedral where she had been executed. The people who lived there didn’t know the history. Didn’t know the woman who had been burned in their square. Didn’t know that the Desecrator’s war had started with her death.

He hovered above the town for a long moment, looking down at the streets, the houses, and a new church that had been built where the old one had burned, probably serving some made up God now that the celestias had been bleeped out of existence.

Then he raised his hand again, pressed it down and the town ceased to exist.

Not destroyed. Erased. The same way the celestials had been erased when the Will woke. The same way the dragons had been erased. Vorthraxx had learned something in a thousand years of isolation. He had learned a new magic by imitating the Actions of the Will and Manipulating the outer divinity miasma that now flowed through his veins.

The magic [Unmake], a magic that directly uses the Outer-divinity Miasma to instantly corrupt and disintegrate anything with mana in it.

When he lowered his hand, there was nothing where the town had been. No rubble. No bodies. No ash. Just empty earth, waiting for something to fill it.

He stood at the edge of that emptiness, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Hmm. How Nostalgic" he said to no one. "I wanted to see where she died, I wanted to remember...but, this will do."

---

In Drak’thar, Owen felt it.

The bond between them had been forged in the second dungeon’s memories, in the hours they had spent training together, in the moment they had recognized each other as brothers. One bloodline, two heirs, Marching towards a singular fate.

Owen stood on the balcony, his claws digging into the stone railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sky trembled according to his worries. Yuki was beside him, her hand on his arm, her face pale. Uru was a child in her arms, awake now, her eyes reflecting the light.

"How bad is it?" Yuki asked.

"The seal is gone. The demon continent is open. His armies are moving." Owen’s voice was steady, but his hands were shaking. "He’s already destroyed a town at the location where Celeste died."

Yuki’s grip tightened.

"I’m guessing He wanted to see it. Before everything else, he probably just wanted to ’see her’ one last time" Owen looked at her. "He is but a man who has been grieving for a thousand years and has decided the world should grieve with him."

Solhart appeared at the palace entrance, from one of the open portals Owen had installed as a way through to Drak’thar for his allies. his sword drawn, his face grim. "The rifts are opening everywhere. Nexus Prime is under attack. The beastfolk capital is burning. The elves are fighting back. The dwarves are ambushed in their holds."

Owen turned to Yuki. "Get everyone ready."

She nodded and ran off.

---

The war council convened in the plaza. Five months of preparation, and now they had hours.

Solhart had already sent word to the human armies. Sael’s messengers had been dispatched before the rifts opened. Sylnara’s scouts had been tracking Vorthraxx’s advance since the seal broke. Borin’s engineers were reinforcing the holds that hadn’t fallen. Caelen was already in the field, the druids moving to contain the blight. Asteria was everywhere and nowhere, her fairies carrying messages faster than any magic.

Owen stood at the center of it all, his scales catching the light that was bleeding across the sky.

"We can’t fight him everywhere," he said. "I bet He knows that and is counting on it. He’s going to spread us thin, hit us where we’re weak, break us piece by piece."

"Then we won’t fight everywhere," Solhart said. "We will concentrate our efforts..We hold what we can. We let him take what he can’t hold." He said coldly.

"Let him take?" Leah’s voice was sharp. "Let him burn more towns? More cities? Kill more People!?"

"We let him overextend his army and himself for now" Solhart’s eyes were cold too. "He’s been waiting a thousand years. He’s not going to wait for us to be ready. He’s going to push, and push, and push, until he’s stretched thin. Then we hit him where it hurts."

"And Where exactly does it hurt?" Yuki asked with a sharp expression, obviously not happy about this cold calculation between Solhart and Owen.

Solhart looked at Owen. "Where it always hurt. His brother."

The plaza went silent.

Owen met Solhart’s eyes. "You want me to bait him."

"Yes, you be reader when he comes. Because he will come. Not for the armies. Not for the cities. For you. You’re the only thing in this world that matters to him. The only thing the closest to him since Celeste died, the only thing that can stop his conquest."

Owen looked at the people around him. Yuki, her hand on her katana. Leah, her mane blazing. Odessa, her dragon coiled above. Alfred, his shield raised. Uru, a child beside Yuki, watching him with eyes that held something that seemed like wisdom older than her form.

"Then...so shall it be," Owen said. "I shall be bait"

He turned to Solhart. "Can he reach Drak’thar?"

"Unlike the past. This isn’t situated in a singular position in the mortal world, it’s my own personal pocket dimension, but with him having such a link to me with out bloodline, I won’t be surprised if he someone’s makes his way into it"

"I will lead the battle elsewhere." Owen’s voice was stern.

Then the gathering dispersed.

---

Owen stood alone in the plaza, watching the sky darken.

Yuki joined him, Uru still in her arms. "You’re scared."

"I’m terrified." He didn’t look at her. "In the dungeon, I fought him once, and was only able to get an upper hand by using a power that destroys me from within and have no control over."

She moved closer. "You don’t have to stop him alone."

"I know." He finally looked at her. "And that might be the only reason I think we might survive this."

Uru reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were small, warm, solid.

"Dragon Uncle..." she said. "...We fight together."

Owen’s chest tightened. He looked at the child who had been a slime, at the woman who had tamed him, at the kingdom he had built from nothing.

"Yes..." he said. "...We fight together."

Outside the pocket dimension, the sky continued to darken. Somewhere in the world, Vorthraxx was moving. The armies were marching. The war that had been waiting a thousand years had finally begun.

And Owen, the last Dragon King, stood ready.