The Milf's Dragon

Chapter 221. Drak’thar

The gate opened onto floating islands.

Owen was met with the familiar sight of massive chunks of stone suspended in mid-air. Crystalline structures rose from the islands’ surfaces, glowing faintly beneath the daylight. Gardens spiraled across terraces. Bridges of pure energy connected the floating masses.

Drak’thar.

"You’re home, Dragon, you’re home..." Gorvax said quietly beside him.

Owen was still trapped in his hybrid form — jagged scales, wrong-colored eyes, Architect essence bleeding from his body as streams of golden light. He was damaged. Unstable. Running on fumes of CE and draconic bloodline power.

Below the nearest island, figures emerged.

They moved fast.

Yuki was in front, her dark eyes wide with recognition and shock. One hand rested protectively against her swollen belly, and Owen felt the realization hit him like a physical strike.

She had been pregnant when he left.

Yuki had carried his child alone for almost a year while he fought through Prison World.

Odessa was there too. Leah stood beside her, her lion-like mane still as vibrant as ever. Alfred appeared last, his elderly frame moving with practiced efficiency despite the urgency.

Yuki reached Owen first.

She grabbed him without hesitation, her arms wrapping around his scaled neck as she pressed herself against his chest. For a moment, Owen forgot about the hybrid form. Forgot about the instability. Forgot about the Architect corruption clawing through his body.

All he could focus on was the fact that Yuki’s embrace was warm and real, and that he was finally holding her again.

"You’re back..." she whispered into his scales. "Owen, you..."

Gorvax stepped between them.

The Sower’s hand settled firmly on Owen’s shoulder. His abyss-black eyes studied Owen’s condition with cold precision.

"He needs to heal," Gorvax said. "The hybrid form is collapsing. His bloodline core is overheating. We need the Tower of Royals immediately."

Yuki’s grip tightened for a brief second before she forced herself to let go. Her focus shifted from relief to concern as she looked between Gorvax and Owen.

"The Tower of Royals..." she said quietly. "Okay... alright..."

Yalira stood apart from the group.

She watched Yuki hold Owen. Watched the way his clawed hand instinctively rose to touch her face. Watched the effortless intimacy between them — the kind built through years that existed long before Prison World.

Yalira’s amber eyes remained steady. Her tail did not move.

But something in her expression closed off.

Gorvax released Owen and turned toward the others.

"I am taking him now," the Sower said. "He cannot wait."

Odessa stepped forward, her violet eyes sharp and assessing. She studied Yalira carefully, immediately recognizing a new variable.

"And you are?" Odessa asked.

"Yalira," she replied. "Just... a companion from Prison World."

"I am Odessa Wayne," Odessa said evenly. "And I would very much like to know what happened to Owen out there, and why he returned looking like something born inside a corrupted dungeon."

"He killed an Architect," Yalira said flatly. "Then absorbed its core. Forced the integration because there was no time for control. It pushed him from Tier 5 to Tier 4 and shattered his form in the process."

Odessa went still.

"...I see," she said quietly. "We can discuss the details later. For now, the Sower is correct. Owen needs stability."

Gorvax hoisted Owen into his arms.

The Sower was smaller than Owen’s current hybrid form, but his strength was absolute. He lifted Owen’s massive body as though it weighed nothing, cradling him securely against his chest.

Yuki instinctively reached toward them before stopping herself midway. She understood.

Healing came first.

Owen’s eyes found hers as Gorvax slowly rose into the air.

"I’ll be back..." Owen said, his voice rough and barely stable.

Yuki nodded.

"I know," she whispered. "Heal first. We’ll talk after."

Without another word, Gorvax launched into the sky with Owen in his arms, cutting through the air toward the Tower of Royals like a living comet.

Yuki watched them ascend into the sky. Beside her, Uru — the small primordial slime in his child form — reached up and took her hand.

"Dragon uncle... is hurt?" Uru asked softly.

Yuki swallowed before nodding.

"Just for now..." she said. "He’ll be okay."

She did not look away from Owen’s retreating form until they disappeared into the tower itself. Only then did the tension in her shoulders finally begin to crack.

Behind her, Odessa had already begun questioning Yalira about Prison World and yalira answered each question with precise efficiency.

But every few seconds, her amber eyes drifted back toward the tower where Owen had disappeared.

---

Gorvax crossed the final distance to the Tower of Royals in seconds.

The massive crystalline gates reacted before he even reached them.

Ancient runes ignited across the tower’s surface. Golden patterns spread through the crystal walls like veins of light, and the enormous entrance slowly opened with a low resonant hum that echoed through all of Drak’thar.

The Tower had recognized them.

Or rather... It had recognized Owen.

Normally, entrants were separated immediately upon entering the Tower. Different floors. Different trials. The Tower tailored itself to each individual, forcing growth through combat, survival, or impossible challenges.

But this time, no barriers formed. No division occurred. The Tower did not sense a warrior seeking strength.

It sensed a Dragon King on the verge of collapse. Gorvax stepped inside.

The interior was silent. There were no combat arenas. No shifting environments. No enemies waiting in the dark.

Instead, the chamber resembled a sanctuary.

Crystal walls curved overhead like the inside of a cathedral. Soft golden light drifted through the air in slow currents. At the center of the chamber flowed a shallow stream of luminous silver-blue fluid, the surface glowing faintly with ancient restorative energy.

Healing waters. The Tower itself had chosen recovery over trial. Gorvax approached the stream and carefully lowered Owen into it.

The moment the fluid touched Owen’s scales, the reaction was immediate.

Golden Architect essence hissed violently from his body before slowly stabilizing. Cracks along his jagged hybrid form began knitting together. The overheating energy inside him eased slightly as the stream absorbed the excess power bleeding from his bloodline core.

Owen exhaled shakily. For the first time since fighting vasek, the pain lessened.

His massive body slowly settled deeper into the glowing stream. Then his eyes closed.

The healing began in earnest. Gorvax remained silent for several moments.

The Sower simply sat near the edge of the stream, one arm resting across his knee as he watched the Dragon King recover.

The chamber’s light reflected faintly in his abyss-black eyes.

Quiet. Stillness. After everything Prison World had been, the silence almost felt unnatural.

Gorvax leaned back slightly against the crystal wall.

His thoughts drifted far beyond Drak’thar.

Beyond Owen. Beyond even this Tower.

The Tribunal. His jaw tightened faintly.

He wondered how much longer she could endure there. The woman he loved had always been stronger than most understood. Strong enough to stand before beings who governed worlds. Strong enough to survive the endless politics and cruelty of higher powers.

But the Tribunal consumed people. Slowly. Patiently. Even immortals eventually bent beneath its weight.

Gorvax stared at Owen’s unconscious form.

Perhaps that was why he had chosen to help the Dragon King in the first place.

Because Owen still fought against impossible systems instead of surrendering to them.

Because somewhere along the way, Gorvax had grown tired of watching powerful beings become prisoners wearing crowns.

The healing waters rippled softly, Owen did not wake.

Outside the Tower of Royals, Yuki stood near the entrance with her arms folded tightly across herself, her eyes fixed upward toward the crystalline structure.

Footsteps approached behind her.

Odessa arrived first, visibly energized despite the situation. Alfred followed calmly while Leah walked beside Yalira, the lionfolk occasionally glancing curiously toward the Prison World Prisoner.

Yuki turned as they approached.

Odessa looked like she was barely containing herself.

"Yuki," she said immediately, "you are not going to believe half the things she told us."

Yuki blinked.

"What?"

Odessa pointed directly at Yalira.

"Apparently your husband killed some higher cosmic being called an Architect."

There was a brief silence.

Yuki stared at her.

"...He what? Higher what?"

Yalira shifted awkwardly under the attention.

"It was complicated" she said carefully.

"No, no," Odessa said quickly, visibly fascinated now that the immediate danger had passed. "Forget complicated for a second. Do you understand how insane that sounds? An actual cosmic alien from the outer galaxy. And then he absorbed the core afterward."

Yuki slowly looked toward the Tower.

Her expression became complicated very quickly.

Concern. Shock. Confusion. Pride. Fear.

All at once.

"...That sounds like Owen," she muttered quietly.

Alfred adjusted his glasses.

"From what Miss Yalira described, Master Owen’s survival inside Prison World borders on statistical impossibility."

"Not just survival," Leah added. "From the sound of it, he became one of the monsters in there."

Yalira’s amber eyes flickered slightly.

"He already was," she said softly. "Prison World just forced him to accept it."

The group fell briefly silent after that.

Above them, the Tower of Royals continued glowing softly against the sky of Drak’thar.

Healing its king.