The Milf's Dragon-Chapter 53. 6th & 7th Seats Vs The Party

At another part of the ShadowGraves, Lyra’s sharp eyes scanned their surroundings with growing frustration as the mist continued to press against them.

"This damn fog has directional distortion properties," she said, her voice filled irritation.

"We’ve been walking in what should be a straight line for ten minutes, but I’m almost certain we’ve passed this rock twice."

Isaac shifted his massive shield, the weight now just another burden in this oppressive atmosphere. "So we’re lost."

"We’re not lost," Lyra sharply corrected. "We’re... tactically repositioning until the environmental conditions become more favorable."

"So we’re lost," Felicity repeated, her bow held tight with an arrow nocked but not drawn.

Lyra opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. "Ah, fuck it. We’re lost. Okay? Happy now?"

The admission hung in the air between them, making their situation feel even more dire.

They had been separated from Yuki and Owen, how or when exactly none of them could say.

One moment the party had been together, the next they had been alone in the fog. No sound of combat. No indication of attack. Just... absence.

"We need to find high ground," Isaac suggested, his mind working through their limited options. "Get above this mist and reorient ourselves—"

"There is no high ground," Lyra interrupted. "The terrain is completely flat. I’ve been checking. It’s like the Shadowgrave is deliberately designed to disorient intruders."

"Well that’s just great—"

Felicity held up her hand sharply, cutting off Isaac’s complaint. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

They all went silent, straining to hear past the oppressive quiet of the mist.

Then it came. Footsteps. Multiple sets. Dozens, maybe more. The sound of shuffling feet dragging through dirt, approaching from multiple directions simultaneously.

"Formation," Lyra commanded, her dual blades appearing in her hands.

Isaac’s shield came up and felicity drew her bowstring, arrow aimed at the direction with the heaviest concentration of approaching sounds. They pressed their backs together, creating a defensive triangle that would let them cover all approaches.

The shadows emerged from the mist like spirits materializing from the afterlife.

Hollow men. Dozens of them. Maybe forty, maybe fifty, it was hard to count through the fog and their constant, swaying movements. They wore tattered robes of various colors, their skin uniformly pale and corpse-like, their eyes those same terrible voids of infinite blackness.

And at the front of the horde, two figures stood.

The first was a dark elf: tall and skinny, with dark grey skin that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Her white hair was pulled back in a severe braid, and her red eyes gleamed with cruelty and fanaticism. Twin daggers hung at her hips, the blades curved and serrated like a saw.

The second was a dwarf: short and stocky, barely four feet tall but built like a boulder, all muscle and compact power. Bald with His beard that was braided with metal rings, and he carried a warhammer that looked too large for his frame but which he hefted with ease. His expression was sour, like he had spent his entire life tasting something bitter.

"Well, well," the dark elf purred. "What do we have here? Lost little adventurers, separated from their pack?"

"Shut yer pretty mouth, elf," the dwarf growled, his voice like gravel in a cement mixer. "I do the talkin’ here. I’m the Seventh Seat, which means I outrank yer skinny ass by one whole position."

The dark elf’s eye twitched. "Are you daft you shit for brains, do you not know maths anymore? Six comes before seven, you pathetic little shit that stumbled into the cult just because of some weak ass blacksmithing—"

"WHO YE CALLIN’ PATHETIC?!" the dwarf roared, his face reddening. "At least I didn’t join up because I got my feelings hurt by some high elves! ’Oh boo hoo, the high elves think they’re better than me!’"

"HOW DARE YOU!" the dark elf shrieked, one hand moving to her dagger. "Those pompous, arrogant bastards deserve to burn! They look down on dark elves like we’re trash, like our magic is somehow inferior just because we draw power from the shadow and darkness instead of nature and light! But when the Great One descends, when I have the power to crush every high elf kingdom under my boot—"

"Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard yer revenge fantasy a hundred times," the dwarf interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "At least my reasons for joinin’ are practical! I’m a craftsman, see? But in my kingdom, my skills are mediocre. Average. I’ll never rank up my crafting abilities naturally, never be more than a third-rate smith. But with the Great One’s blessing, I can enhance my crafting speed, my precision, my—"

"Oh, so you’re just lazy," the dark elf sneered. "Can’t be bothered to actually practice and improve like everyone else, so you’d rather take a shortcut by worshiping an Outer-Divinity. How very dwarven of you."

"WHY YOU—"

"Are they seriously arguing right now?" Felicity whispered, her arrow still trained on the bickering cultists.

"Let’s...not interrupt them," Lyra murmured back. "The longer they talk, the more time we have to assess the situation."

"...or run away" Isaac added.

The situation was bad. Isaac’s analysis catalogued their disadvantages with brutal efficiency: they were outnumbered at least fifteen to one. The two cultist leaders were clearly experienced combatants. And most importantly, they had no idea where Yuki and Owen were or if they could expect any backup.

Their only advantage was that the enemy leadership was apparently more interested in their mutual hatred than in actually directing their forces.

But that advantage evaporated when the Sixth Seat—the dark elf—seemed to remember that they had an audience.

"Enough," she said sharply, cutting off the dwarf’s latest insult. "We can continue this discussion after we’ve dealt with these intruders. Agreed?"

The Seventh Seat grumbled but nodded. "Aye. Agreed."

They both turned to face the trapped hunters, and their expressions shifted from mutual animosity to a shared cruelty.

"Kill them," the Sixth Seat commanded.

The hollow men surged forward like a wave.

Felicity’s arrow flew first, punching through the eye socket of the lead hollow man and dropping it instantly. She nocked and released with sharp precision—one arrow, one kill, one arrow, one kill—her A-rank archery creating a brief gap in the advancing horde.

But there were too many. For every one she dropped, three more filled the gap.

Isaac braced himself behind his shield as the wave crashed against him. The impact was tremendous, dozens of bodies pressing against the metal barrier, hands reaching around the edges, trying to grab and pull as His boots dug trenches because he was being pushed backwards.

"Lyra! I can’t hold them!"

Lyra was already moving, her dual blades flashing in the mist-filtered light. She danced through the gaps in Isaac’s defense, her strikes surgical and precise. Each blade’s movement served multiple purposes—a parry that redirected grasping hands, a slash that opened throats, a pivot that repositioned her for the next strike.

Her A-rank swordsmanship made her movements look effortless, but the strain in her expression could be seen. They were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Felicity switched targets, focusing on creating space rather than kills. Her arrows began targeting knees and ankles, dropping hollow men and creating obstacles that the ones behind had to navigate. It slowed the advance but didn’t stop it.

One hollow man got past Isaac’s shield, lunging for Felicity.

She didn’t have time to nock another arrow, so she reversed her grip on the bow and used it as a club, smashing it across the creature’s jaw with enough force to snap its neck.

Two more immediately took its place.

"We need to thin their numbers!" Lyra shouted, her blades carving through corrupted flesh. "Concentrate your assault on one flank and break through—"

She was cut off as the Sixth Seat entered the fight.

The dark elf moved like shadow, her twin daggers appearing in her hands as she closed the distance to Lyra with a speed that seemed like she moved through the shadows.

The blades came at the A-rank hunter from impossible angles: low, high, spinning, reversing. A kaleidoscope of deadly steel that forced Lyra to go completely on the defensive.

"You’re skilled," the Sixth Seat acknowledged, her red eyes gleaming as she pressed the attack. "For a human. But you lack the killer instinct of someone who’s had to fight for survival every day of their life."

Lyra didn’t waste her breath in responding. She parried and countered, her dual blades meeting the dark elf’s daggers in a rapid exchange that created sparks in the dim light.

But the Sixth Seat was fresh, and Lyra had already been fighting the hollow men. The dark elf’s strikes were getting through more frequently, shallow cuts on Lyra’s arms, a slash across her stomach, a stab that nearly found her kidney but was deflected by her armor at the last second.

Meanwhile, the Seventh Seat had engaged Isaac.

The dwarf’s warhammer came down like a meteor, the massive weapon swinging with power that defied the wielder’s small stature.

Isaac caught the first blow on his shield, and the impact drove him to one knee, his arm going numb from the shock.

"Hah! Thought that fancy shield would save ye?" the dwarf taunted, already winding up for another strike. "I’ve been hammerin’ metal since before ye were born, boy! I know exactly where to hit to make things break!"

The second blow targeted the edge of Isaac’s shield, the point where the metal rim met the reinforced center. The warhammer connected, and Isaac felt something crack—not the shield itself, but the strapping that held it to his arm.

The third blow tore the shield from his grip entirely, sending it spinning away into the mist.

Isaac scrambled backward, now defenseless, as the dwarf advanced with his warhammer raised for a killing blow.

Felicity saw Isaac’s predicament and shifted her aim, loosing an arrow at the Seventh Seat. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

The arrow flew strong and would have taken the dwarf in the throat but he swatted it out of the air with his warhammer like it was a bothersome fly.

"Nice try, lass!" he called out. "But I’ve got the Great One’s blessing enhancing my reflexes! Yer little sticks can’t touch me!"

Then he brought the hammer down toward Isaac’s skull.

Felicity screamed.

Lyra tried to disengage from the Sixth Seat but was immediately punished with a dagger across her shoulder, the blade biting deep.

And Isaac, lying on his back with no shield and no way to dodge, watched the warhammer descend and thought about Oak.

About how the tank had died protecting Felicity. About how that was what tanks did , they took the hits so others didn’t have to.

"At least I’ll die doing my job" Isaac thought with strange calmness that came when one’s achieved life is flashing before them.

The warhammer was three feet from his face when a black blur intercepted it.

The impact of collision rang out like a bell, metal meeting scales and claws with force that sent shockwaves through the ground. The warhammer stopped dead, caught in a clawed hand.

Owen stood over Isaac in his humanoid form, his six-foot frame somehow seeming larger and more imposing. His golden eyes burned with fury as he gripped the Seventh Seat’s warhammer and, with a casual flex of his arm, wrenched it from the dwarf’s grasp and tossed it away into the mist.

"That’s enough," Owen said, his voice carrying a bass rumble that made the air vibrate.

At the same moment, on the opposite side of the combat zone, Yuki emerged from the mist like an avenger.

Both her katanas were drawn,her original blade and Veridra’s gift, and she moved through the hollow men with a devastating quickness.

Each strike was lethal, each movement precise and not wasteful. The hollow men trying to overwhelm Felicity suddenly found themselves being cut down from behind, their corrupted bodies falling in pieces.

"Yuki!" Felicity gasped, relief flooding her voice.

Yuki was already engaging the hollow men threatening Lyra’s flank.

Uru materialized on her head, immediately extending acidic tentacles that dissolved hollow men.

The Sixth Seat disengaged from Lyra, her red eyes widening as she took in the sight of the newcomers. "What!? how did you—"

"In you’re wondering about the lizardman..." Yuki explained, not breaking stride as she carved through another attacker. "...he’s dead"

The Seventh Seat had recovered his warhammer and now faced Owen with a significantly less confidence than he had shown seconds earlier.

Up close, the dwarf could feel the pressure rolling off the dragon in waves, Dragon’s Aura, though weakened by the restrictions, still potent enough to make lesser beings want to flee.

"Yer... yer a dragon, alright" the dwarf stammered. "A real dragon. I thought the restrictions would make ye weak—"

"They do," Owen agreed pleasantly. "I’m operating at about half strength. But half of what I am is still more than enough for you. In more ways that one" he said as he sized the dwarf down.

Then he moved.

The Seventh Seat swung his warhammer in a desperate horizontal sweep that would have pulverized stone but Owen ducked under it, stepped inside the dwarf’s guard, and delivered a single palm strike to the cultist’s chest.

The Seventh Seat flew backward like he had been hit by a battering ram, crashing through three hollow men and skidding to a stop fifteen feet away. He tried to stand after but coughed blood, and collapsed.

Not dead, but definitely out of the fight.

The Sixth Seat saw her companion fall and made a tactical decision. She activated her blessing.

Dark energy erupted from her body as black smoke. Her eyes shifted from red to void-black, and her already impressive speed doubled. The twin daggers in her hands began dripping with a corrosive energy that ate through anything it touched.

"I was hoping to save this," she hissed, her voice layered with something inhuman. "But you’ve forced my hand. Let me show you what true power—"

Yuki was already there.

She had closed the distance while the dark elf was monologuing, both her katanas moving in perfect synchronization.

The Sixth Seat’s enhanced reflexes let her parry the first strike, but Veridra’s venomous blade bit into her dagger and began corroding the metal.

The second strike, Yuki’s original katan, found the gap in the dark elf’s defense and opened a deep cut across her ribs.

The Sixth Seat staggered back as black mist began pouring from the wound along with blood. "How...you’re just...a human...you shouldn’t—"

"I trained in a place beyond your comprehension," Yuki said quietly, both blades ready for the finishing strike.

Then she moved. Two strikes, faster than the eye could follow.

The Sixth Seat’s head separated from her shoulders, and her body collapsed, the dark mist dissipating into nothing.

Owen, meanwhile, had reached the recovering Seventh Seat. The dwarf had managed to get to his feet and was desperately trying to activate his own blessing, black mist began leaking from his skin.

But Owen’s tail whipped around and caught him in the forehead with a strike that pulverized his skull. The dwarf dropped dead as the blessing faded before it could fully manifest.

The remaining hollow men, with their commanders dead, seemed to lose coordination. They milled about aimlessly for a moment, then simply... stopped. Stood motionless. Whatever intelligence had been directing them was gone now, leaving only empty shells.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

Lyra was leaning against a rock, one hand pressed to the bleeding wound on her shoulder. Isaac sat on the ground, still processing how close he had come to death and Felicity had collapsed to her knees, still clutching her bows in her trembling hands.

Yuki and Owen stood among the carnage, both breathing calmly as they were unharmed from this fight.

"You’re late," Lyra said with a weak smile.

"Sorry," Yuki replied, sheathing her katanas. "We got held up by other cultists"

"I fought a werewolf and she fought a lizardman," Owen announced cheerfully.

"Hmmm, are—...are we just going to accept that the dragon has turned into a man and is talking now?" Isaac said grimly, accepting Owen’s offered hand and pulling himself to his feet.

"At this point, i don’t think anything about Yuki and her dragon is going to shock me anymore" Felicity added, finally finding her voice as she looked at Yuki and Owen with something like awe.

Yuki and Owen exchanged glances.

"We’ll explain later. Right now, we need to figure out where the Dragon King’s egg actually is." Yuki said.

"And hope...." Owen added darkly, "...that the remaining cultists aren’t stronger than the one I fought."