SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 680: Petty Dragon King

Vorathar the Unbroken. The Dragon King. The most powerful demi-human in existence.

And he was visually magnificent.

His hair was a mane of thick, dark curls, barely touched by grey despite three centuries of life. His beard was trimmed short and perfect, framing a jaw that looked carved from the same obsidian as his palace.

His skin was a deep brown, while his crimson eyes burned with an intensity that made lesser beings instinctively look away.

His body was tall and powerful, draped in robes of black silk and crimson embroidery that flowed around him like shadows given form.

This was a man who who walked into any room in any realm and immediately became its center of gravity.

Kings bowed to him. Queens curtsied. Warriors knelt.

But right now, despite all of that grandeur…

…absolutely no one in this room was paying him any attention at all.

Korra didn’t look at him. She never did anymore.

Their marriage had curdled years ago—his infidelities, his neglect of their daughter, his constant absence.

Nuri didn’t look at him either. Her father had never been there. Not for her first flight. Not for her molting ceremonies. Not for any of the moments that mattered.

He had been off charming foreign dignitaries while his daughter grew up without him. She had stopped expecting anything from him long ago.

Charlotte, Astrid and Anya simply ignored him because they could.

They were the daughters of Battle Angels. Future SSS-class Blessed. One day, they would rule the world. And if they decided not to acknowledge a dragon king, that was their decision.

Maria ignored him because Nuri and Korra ignored him. It was that simple. She had chosen her side.

And seeing this obvious disdain proud, mighty Vorathar seethed!

‘Dammit!’

He was a good king, in many ways.

He implemented fair laws, maintained peace and negotiated trade agreements that benefited everyone. He had the proper makings of a ruler.

But he also had an ego the size of a mountain, and that ego was currently being trampled by a room full of women who couldn’t be bothered to glance in his direction.

Vorthar’s jaw tightened.

He should have expected it, he supposed.

His wife had every right to hate him. His daughter had every right to resent him. The Battle Angels’ daughters were untouchable.

The only true mystery was Maria.

A human girl with no blessing, no family name, no standing whatsoever. And yet she treated him with the same casual disregard as everyone else in the room.

When he’d first encountered her, he’d been certain the that underneath her mask she was trembling in her boots like any sensible creature should be.

But no. He’d probed her with everything short of direct mental intrusion, and all he’d sensed was…nothing.

No fear. No wariness. Not even simple respect.

It was infuriating. And yet he couldn’t touch her—she was his daughter’s dearest friend, and the moment he so much as frowned at the girl, Nuri would likely breathe fire in his face.

But there was one person in this room he could take his frustrations out on.

One person standing right in front of him, smiling with that insufferable, innocent charm.

Mika.

Vorathar looked at the ordinary, unremarkable human boy who was moments ago holding his daughter in his lap and felt a familiar surge of irrational hatred.

He didn’t understand it. By all accounts, Mika was polite. Helpful. Always greeted him with a smile and asked about his day.

There was no logical reason to dislike him.

But every dragon instinct in Vorathar’s body screamed that this boy was his natural enemy.

That this boy was taking something from him, something precious.

And the worst part? The instincts were right.

Mika had claimed his daughter’s affection. His wife’s…something. The specifics eluded him, but the feeling didn’t.

And it wasn’t just that.

Every powerful woman in his life—his wife, his daughter, the Battle Angel daughters, the Battle Angels themselves, all of them—looked at Mika like he hung the moons.

And Vorthar couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

The brat was just a human. A bit smart, perhaps, with decent manners, but a short-lived creature that would be dust in a century while dragons lived on for millennia.

‘Well.’ Vorthar thought, a smile spreading across his handsome face. ‘I might as well deal with this brat and blow off some steam.’

He analyzed Mika one more time, from head to toe.

No remarkable physique. No trace of significant power. Just a thin, average human boy with an annoyingly contagious smile.

‘One game would do it. One little game, and he’d show this brat, and everyone else in the room, exactly what a true dragon king was made of.’

“Brat.” Vorthar said, the word dripping with casual condescension. “Would you like to play a game with me?”

Korra’s head snapped up. The flush of pleasure evaporated from her face, replaced by something sharp and protective and dangerous.

“What exactly are you trying to do, Vorthar?”

Her husband blinked, momentarily thrown. “I’m merely extending a friendly invitation—”

“You never do anything ‘merely,'” She cut him off, ice in her voice. “And you’ve never once offered a game to Nuri’s friends before. So I’ll ask again: what are you doing?”

The three sisters had gone still. Their eyes had narrowed to gleaming slits, and the faint pressure of their combined attention pressed against Vorthar’s skin like the weight of an approaching storm..

But he was the Dragon King. He couldn’t falter now—not with his wife and daughter watching. He waved a dismissive hand.

“I’m not doing anything, my dear. I simply recalled that the other day, our daughter was singing the boy’s praises.”

He turned his smile on Mika, who was still standing there with that pleasant, unreadable expression.

“She said you’re terribly smart, Mika. Helping her with her homework, solving problems that stumped her tutors, that sort of thing.”

“That’s right!” Nuri puffed up proudly. “Mika is the smartest person in the entire world! I’ll swear it on my honor as a dragon princess!”

Vorthar chuckled approvingly.

“Exactly what I was hoping to hear.” He looked at Mika. “You see, I recently acquired a rather grand set of Dragon’s Mountain from a friend of mine. It’s a relic, really—used by the previous king himself some eight hundred years ago. And I thought, since I have such a brilliant young man here, why not enjoy a game together?”

Dragon’s Mountain.

Anyone in the known realms who knew anything about board games recognized the name. It was chess, if chess had been designed by a sadist with a god complex.

A hundred times more pieces, each with its own labyrinthine movement rules. Spell cards that altered the board’s properties mid-game.

A multi-tiered playing field of interlocking boards that could rotate, shift, and connect in ways that made the whole thing effectively three-dimensional.

It was a game that took decades to learn, centuries to master, and an incalculable mind to truly excel at. Normal humans could not even comprehend it, let alone play it.

Korra clicked her tongue in annoyance at the idea.

Of course. Of course, her husband, one of the top ten Dragon’s Mountain players in the world, a man who’d been playing the game for hundreds of years had decided to challenge a human boy who’d probably never even held the pieces before.

It was so blatantly, pathetically transparent that she almost felt embarrassed for him.

“Mika.” She said, her tone careful and caring. “You don’t have to accept. You’re a guest in this palace, and no one here expects you to indulge anyone’s silly games—”

“Of course I’ll play, Auntie Korra.”

Mika’s voice was cheerful, bright, utterly unbothered.

“You’ve been so kind to me. The least I can do is oblige the king’s request.”

“Mika—” She tried again, genuinely alarmed now.

“Auntie Korra.” Anya placed a hand on Korra’s arm. Her voice was quiet, but perfectly confident. “Let him play.”

“But—”

“Trust him.” Charlotte said, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Just sit back and watch the mighty dragon king fall.”

Astrid’s tails wagged just slightly. She didn’t say anything, but the smug curve of her lips said enough.

Korra looked between them. They were so confident. So utterly certain. It was like they knew something she didn’t. Something about Mika that she had never been permitted to see.

She hugged Nuri closer and said nothing.

Vorathar, meanwhile, had already settled into the master’s seat and pulled a black box from his spatial ring. He set it on the table between them and pressed a small button on its side.

The box unfolded and it was like watching a universe being born.

Board after board emerged from the small container, unfolding and stacking and floating into position until a three-dimensional grid of chess-like surfaces hung in the air between them.

The main board dominated the center, a battlefield of obsidian and pearl, its squares alive with faintly glowing runes.

Above it, three smaller boards floated at different heights, connected by luminous bridges.

Below it, two more. To the sides, auxiliary boards for captured pieces and spell effects.

And the pieces themselves. Hundreds of them, each one unique.

Dragons with wings that actually moved. Sorcerers with tiny crystal staves. Fortresses that glowed with internal light. Shadows that flickered and shifted form. Each piece had its own rules, its own movement patterns, its own special abilities.

Dragon’s Mountain was not merely difficult. It was the kind of game that broke minds.

Vorathar settled into his chair with the comfortable confidence of a master.

“I’ll even let you go first, boy. Consider it a courtesy.”

“That’s very generous of you, Uncle.”

Mika sat himself down with ease before looking at the dragon king before him.

“Let’s have a…fair game.”

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