Birthing Legends: My Womb Creates SSS Monsters-Chapter 158: The Dragon Palace Is Under Attack — Part 3.

Far above the palace, the night sky stretched vast and silent. The full moon hung heavy over the kingdom, bathing the rooftops and towers in pale silver light. Against that glowing disk, a pair of immense wings slowly spread.

Draculeus hovered in the air, the wind from his wings whispering through the night. In one hand, he still held the limp, swinging body of Shuna. Her broken form swayed slightly with the movement of the air.

His midnight blue eyes stared down at the palace below. He muttered quietly to himself.

"So... it begins."

His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the darkness of the world stretched far beyond the kingdom’s walls.

"Father said it would happen... That sooner or later... the others would come. The ones who carry the blood of the Primordials."

Below him, the palace burned with battle. Lightning crackled. Flames roared. Steel clashed. Draculeus watched it all in silence.

"They’ve finally started invading us."

His gaze shifted toward the grand celebration hall where the chaos raged the fiercest.

"I should help them."

His wings flexed, the massive membranes catching the bite of the cold night wind. He looked down at the spot where the King remained locked in his own private war. A faint, jagged smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Father can handle that beauty below... but the hall needs me."

He snapped his wings. Once. Twice.

Something was wrong. The familiar lift didn’t come; instead, his wings felt like leaden weights dragging at his shoulders. Draculeus frowned, his muscles bunching as he flapped harder, straining against the atmosphere. The air pushed back, but it wasn’t enough to carry him.

"What?"

He beat them again, putting his weight into the stroke. Instead of rising, his body dipped. The moon drifted farther away.

Again.

He forced his wings to slam downward, the air exploding from the sheer power of the motion. Still, he dropped. Lower.

"No."

The weight was becoming immense. His breath sharpened into a jagged hiss as he poured every ounce of strength into his back. Veins bulged along his arms, his muscles straining to the point of snapping. Yet the result remained the same. He was falling—slowly, undeniably—the palace roofs creeping up to meet him.

His eyes widened.

"Why are my wings—"

He beat them again, a desperate, violent rhythm to reclaim the sky. His gaze narrowed. It wasn’t his wings. It wasn’t the air.

Slowly, he looked down at the body dangling from his hand.

The girl.

Shuna.

Her body hung limply from his grip, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle where he had snapped it. Her arms swayed with the wind, lifeless... or so he had assumed. But now, his eyes sharpened. There. At the side of her neck. A faint glow pulsed beneath her skin.

Dark violet energy seeped from the broken place where her neck had been snapped, crawling along the fracture. The power clung to the torn flesh, holding the bones together just enough to keep the head from fully separating.

The crack he had made... had not finished the kill.

"Oh? So that’s it... you’re not dead."

The wind howled as they plummeted. The ground rushed up to meet them, and then—

BOOM!

Draculeus hit the courtyard like a falling star. Stone shattered beneath his feet, and marble tiles exploded outward in a violent ring of debris. The impact cratered the earth, sending a cloud of dust and jagged rock into the night air.

The moment his feet touched the solid earth, Shuna moved.

Her body twisted violently in midair. Using the momentum of the fall, she planted a hand against Draculeus’s shoulder and flipped away with a sharp, acrobatic spin. Her feet slid across the shattered stone as she landed several meters away, dropping into a low crouch.

For a moment, she remained still, her breath heavy and uneven. Slowly, her fingers rose to the side of her broken neck. A sharp crack echoed as she forced the bones back into place. Violet energy pulsed along her throat, sealing the fracture.

She rolled her shoulders once, testing the movement, as if the injury had never been there at all.

A crooked smile spread across her face.

"Heh..."

Her voice was rough, but alive.

"You dragons really are heavy handed. Your strength is no joke but the Gigante doesn’t break that easily, little Prince. My neck is made of the same roots that hold up the mountains."

In the open ground of the gardens, the King and Gin stood frozen in a deadly stare. Drakovitch didn’t move. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, the moonlight reflecting off his silver eyes.

"I wondered... I searched my memory for your House. I looked at your skin and your eyes, searching for a name among my vassals. But I found nothing. Now I see why."

He stepped forward, the grass singing under him.

"You aren’t a lizard at all. You are a Gigante. A daughter of the Primordial Giant... Ymir."

Gin tightened her jaw. Her golden eyes burned with an ancient hatred.

"Give it up, Drakovitch. The era of the Dragon is already over. You reptiles are the most dangerous thing in the world, tyour primordial was created to protect themselves but you, their primordial blooded, causes others to protect themselbes... against you!"

Her voice rose, the anger finally spilling out.

"Do you even understand what your kind has done? An entire primordial race has been erased from this world because of you!"

Her fist tightened.

"You hunted them. You slaughtered them like animals because they dared to stand against your ’Dragonborn supremacy.’ Poor demigods..."

She spat the words, her teeth clenching until her jaw ached.

"How dare you. You think you can mass produce Dragonborn like livestock? You exploit their poverty, dragging hundreds of women into breeding halls. Children are born only to be burned, tested, and discarded—all so you can play God."

Her golden eyes locked onto Draculeus.

"That cruelty. That arrogance. That disgusting, unethical madness."

Her aura surged violently around her fists.

"That ends tonight."

She lowered her stance, her center of gravity shifting as she prepared to launch. The raw power rolling off her was no longer that of a mere infiltrator; it was the heavy, crushing pressure of royalty.

"We Gigante won’t let the dragons rise again. I... the Princess of the Gigante, will make sure you won’t multiply. I will not let this ’Restoration’ continue. I came here to erase the last of you!"

The declaration hung in the air, a death sentence delivered in the heart of the Dragon King’s own palace.