The Milf's Dragon-Chapter 110. Dragon King’s Judgement

Drak’thar’s barrier recognized Vorthraxx immediately. The dimensional wall parted without resistance, admitting them into the purple sky realm.

Owen felt the shift as they crossed. Reality changed texture. Mana density increased. The air itself carried power that made his scales tingle with recognition.

Celeste gasped. "It’s... beautiful."

Below them spread the dragon dimension in full glory. Violet fields extending to the horizon. The fields sprawling in an organized chaos. Dragons and Dragonkin circling in flight patterns that looked random but followed complex traffic rules. The Tower of Royals rising like a black spike at the center.

And on the floating palace platform, a single figure waited.

Dominus stood at the landing area, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Vorthraxx descended and shifted to humanoid form before his claws touched ground. Owen and Celeste dismounted quickly.

"Father," Vorthraxx said.

"My son." Dominus’s voice carried no warmth. "You have ignored my direct order."

"I acted within the letter of your instruction. You forbid Drak’thar intervention in a political manner. All I have done is provide asylum to a personal friend. Different actions."

"Semantics that fool no one." Dominus moved closer. His presence filled the space without effort. "You broke a prisoner from church custody. Burned their sacred archives. Escalated a minor diplomatic incident into international crisis."

"I saved an innocent woman from unjust execution!."

"You decided that based on personal attachment rather than objective assessment." Dominus’s eyes shifted to Celeste. "Miss Brennan. You’re welcome in Drak’thar as my son’s guest. But understand—your presence here carries consequences beyond your immediate situation."

Celeste stepped forward. "I never asked for rescue, Dragon King. I never wanted this escalation. If my return would resolve the crisis—"

"Your return would achieve nothing except your death." Dominus cut her off. "The church has declared you a heretic. Your execution is predetermined. Vorthraxx’s actions merely delayed the inevitable while creating additional complications."

"Then what do you suggest?" Vorthraxx asked.

"Determine the true purpose of that mark and Find a way to erase it if it exist."

Dominus gestured toward the palace. "You’ll have access to our archives. Our scholars. Everything we know about celestial mechanics. Use it."

"And if we succeed?"

"Then Miss Brennan returns home with proof the mark is neutralized. The church loses justification for execution. The Political pressure will resolve through normal channels." Dominus’s expression hardened.

"And if you fail, I guess she remains here permanently. Exile is preferable to martyrdom."

"The church won’t accept—"

"The church will accept what reality forces them to accept. They can condemn dragons for harboring heretics. They can impose. They can make diplomatic noise." Dominus turned back toward the palace. "What they cannot do is reach into dragon territory and extract her by force. Not without war they cannot win."

He walked toward the palace entrance. Paused at the doors.

"You have six months."

The doors closed behind him.

Vorthraxx exhaled. "That went better than expected."

"He’s furious," Owen said.

"Yes. But he’s giving us time and resources. That’s support even if he won’t call it that." Vorthraxx looked at Celeste. "Come on. I’ll show you to quarters. Then we start research."

The palace interior was vast. Corridors wider than necessary to accommodate full dragon forms. Ceilings that disappeared into shadow. Everything built to a scale that made humans feel appropriately small.

Vorthraxx led them through winding passages to a guest wing. The room he showed Celeste was larger than her entire workshop had been. Bed sized for dragons in humanoid form. Windows overlooking the violet fields. Furniture that looked delicate but was probably reinforced to dragon-scale durability.

"This is too much," Celeste said.

"It’s adequate." Vorthraxx opened the wardrobe, revealing clothing in various sizes. "These should fit. If you need anything else, tell me."

"I need my tools. My forge."

"We have smithies. I’ll arrange access." He moved toward the door. "Rest now. We start research tomorrow."

Celeste sat on the bed. The mattress was absurdly comfortable. "Vorthraxx."

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For everything. Even if it was stupid."

He grinned. "Especially because it was stupid."

The door closed. Owen and Vorthraxx walked back through the corridors toward the archive levels.

"Your father’s timeline is aggressive," Owen said. "Six months to crack a celestial binding that’s baffled human scholars for years."

"He’s being generous. Realistically we have maybe three before the church’s political pressure becomes unbearable." Vorthraxx descended a staircase that spiraled deeper into the palace structure. "The church will demand extradition. Human kingdoms will face pressure to join in on the politics. My father will resist but not indefinitely."

"What happens at three months?"

"He’ll give me a choice. Hand her over or face consequences for the realm." Vorthraxx’s tail lashed. "And I’ll choose her. Which he knows. Which is why he’s giving us time to find another option."

They reached the archive level. Massive doors inscribed with protective wards. Vorthraxx pressed his palm against the central seal and they opened.

The archives stretched beyond visual range. Shelves towering fifty feet high. Scrolls, books, tablets, crystal data storage—millennia of dragon knowledge preserved and cataloged. The smell of old paper and older magic.

"Everything we know about celestials is here," Vorthraxx said. "war records. Battle analysis. Theological scholarship. If deactivation methods exist, we’ll find them."

"And if they don’t?"

"Then we shall invent them." Vorthraxx moved toward a catalog station. "Dragons didn’t achieve sovereignty over reality by accepting limitations. We bent the rules until they broke. Same principle applies here."

Owen followed him deeper into the archives. Dragons in scholar form worked at various tables, their research undisturbed by the new arrivals. This was normal—the archives were always active.

Owen and Vorthraxx split research duties in the archive. While examining pre-war theological texts on celestials, Owen discovered key principles: celestials use geometric mana-thematics to encode will into reality (unlike dragons’ direct sovereign command).

Binding marks are programmed reality alterations that activate under specific conditions—they don’t control the host, just wait to execute.

Owen realized if they could fully decode Celeste’s mark’s geometry, they could identify its trigger conditions and potentially activate it safely in a controlled environment to burn out its function before the Arbiter could exploit it. After hours of research through multiple texts, Vorthraxx returned with additional materials.

Vorthraxx found post-war interrogation records from a captured celestial construct. It revealed that Arbiter bindings turn marked individuals into conduits for divine manifestation—when activated, the conduit’s body is consumed to anchor a fragment of the Arbiter in mortal reality.

Celeste would die and the Arbiter would gain physical presence. The information was extracted under dragon compulsion rituals, making it reliable. They agreed to map Celeste’s mark in detail the next day.

That night, while Owen slept. He received a message within his mental space. "THE CONDUIT WILL FULFILL ITS PURPOSE. YOUR INTERFERENCE IS TEMPORARY, YOUNG DRAGON. BALANCE WILL BE RESTORED."

The Arbiter was watching, could penetrate dragon wards, and mental space and considered their efforts futile.

Owen woke up in a haze, realising they were facing an active omniscience, heaven simply waiting for them to exhaust options before the inevitable occurred.