Birthing Legends: My Womb Creates SSS Monsters-Chapter 140 - 100 Candidates vs a Dragonborn.

The hundred candidates did not move as a single army. They moved as seven rival Houses. Each House burned for its own glory. None wished to stand in the Dragonborn’s shadow—each sought to claim it.

Arteè of House Citrineclaw raised a gloved hand, his triple-bladed gauntlet catching the light.

"Halt. Let the savages exhaust him first. We are the House of precision. We are Citrineclaw! We wait... and when the Dragon tires, we strike—with elegance."

He was not wrong.

Killian of House Asulfang moved first. A howl tore from his throat, wild and sharp, as he lunged forward. His House followed like a starving pack, their formation loose, predatory.

"We draw first blood! We were born to hunt... even dragons!"

"AWOOOO!"

Steel flashed. Longswords, axes, bows—each weapon gleamed with that same dark sheen. The rare black metal, the very kind once used by King Drakovitch to wound the Primordial Dragon, Tiamat

From the sidelines, Percieval watched closely, studying each candidate with a keen and measured gaze.

"So few... Never before have the Houses stood with numbers this thin. Each House contributed only ten to fifteen warriors, totaling barely a hundred. The war against the demigods has brought us to this state..."

His gaze shifted to their black weapons.

"However, with these specialized black blades, though our numbers are diminished, each strike carries the force of a thousand ordinary soldiers."

From the opposite flank, a shrill laugh split the air. Cassandra of House Blackheart surged forward, her golden hair whipping wildly as her morningstar carved through the wind.

"OUT OF THE WAY, WOLVES! THE FIRST DRAGONGUARD WILL BE ONE OF OURS!"

Her laughter rang, high and unhinged, as the Reapers followed her charge—drawn to violence like moths to flame.

Draculeus, however, did not budge from his position. He remained at the center, waiting for the wolves and bloodthirsty warriors to reach him.

"Somehow... they remind me of my siblings... Perhaps everyone in Drakaria shares the same hunger... that same craving for battle."

His wings—equipped with sharp, powerful claws at the tips—snapped forward. He used them like a palm strike, sending a devastating shockwave with a single push.

WHAM!

The force slammed into the Asulfang and Blackheart warriors like they’d collided with a wall of steel. Killian’s eyes widened as the shockwave struck his chest.

"What—?!"

Cassandra let out a sharp laugh even as the blast hit her.

"HAHA! So this is a Dragonborn!"

Weak auras of magic and might shattered instantly. Bodies flew through the air like brittle weeds in a storm, crashing against the ground, against walls, against one another. Even their sturdy armor splintered under the impact—some warriors broke their backs, others their spines.

"AHHHH!!!"

Screams tore across the mountain peak, raw and panicked. Yet a few exceptional fighters resisted the shockwave. Killian drove his longsword into the stone, anchoring himself, slashing to regain balance. Cassandra’s massive morningstar skidded aside, but she planted her feet with unyielding resolve, a savage grin cutting across her scarred face. She would not fall.

In a single, devastating instant, both Houses were almost entirely wiped out—only one fighter from each remained standing. Killian spat blood onto the stone and lifted his sword again.

"...So this is what we’re up against."

Cassandra rolled her shoulder with a wicked smile.

"Good. I was worried this would be boring."

Draculeus slowly glanced at his clawed wings. The massive limbs flexed once, scattering dust across the arena floor. His brows lifted slightly, as if even he had not expected that much force.

"That... wiped them out? As expected, those weaker auras I saw were nothing..."

He rotated a shoulder and gave his wings a small stretch.

"Being a Dragonborn is... being a dragon itself, just in human size."

Behind the remaining fighters, Sairant of House Silverspines swallowed hard. His fingers twitched near the hidden daggers in his sleeves.

"Are you all seeing this?] That wasn’t even an attack... that was him stretching."

A young warrior of House Goldensight—Forsha—stared at Draculeus with wide, shining eyes. She clutched her staff tighter but did not move.

"His aura... he is... so COOL when fighting!"

Another Goldensight girl snapped her head at her.

"We are fighting him, not admiring him, Forsha!"

From House Citrineclaw, a warrior shifted nervously.

"Can we even win this?"

A third answered under his breath.

"...Not even close."

Arteè of House Citrineclaws calmly pushed up his glasses. His triple blades glinted as he stepped forward beside them. His voice was calm, almost amused.

"Win?"

He looked at Draculeus again, studying him carefully.

"No one here will win against that. Not today. Not in a thousand years."

The warriors went silent. Arteè’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Our goal is not victory."

He raised one clawed gauntlet.

"Our goal... is to impress him."

A moment of silence followed. The realization hit them harder than the earlier attack. Several warriors straightened their stance, gripping their weapons again. If they could not win, then they would show him their worth.

Across the arena, Draculeus slowly spread his wings again.

The massive limbs lifted, claws flexing as the air around him began to shift. Dust rolled across the stone floor as the pressure built once more. Anyone who had felt the earlier shockwave knew exactly what was coming.

Draculeus tilted his head slightly, cracking the joints in his wings, his gaze sweeping over the frozen candidates.

"Come on... this selection won’t be any fun if you all just stand there... Or... have you finally started thinking?"

The candidates tensed.

Across the arena, Draculeus stretched his wings wider and wider. The massive limbs spread until the joints bent back over his shoulders, the claws scraping against the stone behind him. The air around him trembled as dust began to rise from the ground.

Several warriors lowered their stance.

"...Here it comes!" someone shouted.

With a single motion—

WHOOOM!

Draculeus swung both wings forward like enormous fans. A far stronger shockwave exploded from the strike, ripping across the arena floor like a hurricane unleashed. Stone cracked, weapons rattled, and the warriors felt the air itself trying to throw them away.

Then a thunderous voice shattered the storm.

"NOW! FORM THE WALL!"