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

Chapter 682: Sadistic Test

The roar shattered the moment.

Vorathar had risen from his chair. His fist came down on the Dragon’s Mountain board with enough force to send pieces flying in every direction. The ancient, irreplaceable eight-hundred-year-old relic shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Childish!” He bellowed again, his voice echoing through the palace. “What a childish game! This proves nothing! Nothing!”

Everyone in the room stared at him. Nuri had ducked behind Korra. Maria’s hand had frozen mid-stroke on Korra’s shoulder.

Vorathar’s chest heaved. His crimson eyes were wild, darting from face to face.

And then, with visible effort, he forced himself to calm down, straighten his robes and put on a condescending smile.

“The truth is.” He said, his voice still slightly unsteady. “I was holding back from the very beginning. I assumed the boy was a weak player, so I gave him every advantage. And he—cleverly, I’ll admit—took advantage of my generosity.”

He chuckled weakly. “That’s all this was. A fluke. Nothing more.”

The room was silent.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Astrid sighed and massaged her temples. Anya simply smiled her cold, knowing smile.

Even Nuri, who usually had boundless energy for her father’s excuses, looked unimpressed.

But Vorathar’s ego was a fortress that had stood for three hundred years. It did not crumble easily.

Instead, he strode toward Mika, his tail lashing behind him. Korra tensed, ready to intervene—but Vorathar didn’t attack. He simply loomed over Mika, glaring down at him.

“Let’s do something else, boy. Something that actually matters. A proper test. A dragon’s test. To see who truly has the soul of a dragon.”

“But Mika isn’t a dragon.” Nuri protested. “He’s a human—”

“SHUT UP, NURI!” Vorathar snapped. “THIS ISN’T YOUR TIME TO SPEAK!”

Nuri flinched and shrank back against her mother, her eyes going slightly wet.

And for the first time all evening, Mika’s expression changed.

All this time, he had been amused. Indulgent. He had pitied Vorathar, really—the man was his future father-in-law, technically, and he had been playing around with his wife for months.

There was something almost sad about watching the dragon king flail.

But this—

This was different.

“You raised your voice at Nuri…” Mika said quietly.

The temperature in the room dropped.

Vorathar didn’t notice. He was too busy working himself up.

“A board game means nothing! I’ll show you a real challenge! Something that tests true perseverance! True willpower!”

He snapped his fingers.

The world lurched. When reality reasserted itself, they were no longer in the cozy living room.

They stood in a vast stone hall, ancient and imposing.

Massive pillars carved in the likenesses of dragons supported a ceiling lost in shadow.

The walls were etched with murals depicting battles between draconic titans.

Armored training dummies lined the perimeter, their surfaces scarred from centuries of use.

Korra recognized it instantly and her face went pale.

“The Hall of Ascension.” She breathed. Then her voice rose to a furious roar. “VORATHAR! You brought him HERE?! Have you lost your mind?!”

“What is this place?” Charlotte asked, her eyes scanning the hall warily.

Anya, as studious as she was, already knew the answer.

“The Hall of Ascension. It’s where future dragon kings are chosen. In the past, the Dragon King would have multiple children from different consorts. Choosing an heir was…difficult. One of the primary methods of selection was a test conducted in this very room.”

“What kind of test?” Astrid asked.

Vorathar smiled maliciously. “A test of pain.”

Nuri gasped.

“This room.” Vorathar continued. “Can make you experience the worst kind of agony imaginable.”

He gestured grandly, and suddenly both he and Mika were covered in scales—thousands upon thousands of golden, shimmering scales that formed living armor over their bodies.

“When the test begins, scales will be removed. One by one. And the sensation…” His smile turned eerie. “It’s identical to having an actual dragon’s scales torn from your flesh.”

Nuri went white. “No! That’s—that’s too cruel! Father, you can’t—”

“Quiet, girl!”

But Nuri was shaking her head frantically. As a dragon herself, she knew. The removal of a dragon’s scales was worse than being skinned alive.

Scales weren’t just attached to the surface—they were embedded deep in the flesh, connected to nerve clusters that ran throughout the body. To lose a scale was to lose a piece of yourself.

Korra knew it too. She had lost scales in battle before—accidents, attacks, close calls. She still had nightmares about the pain.

And now her husband wanted to subject Mika,.a human to that same torture?

“You pathetic excuse for a dragon!” Korra’s aura exploded outward, black and crimson and furious. “You lost a board game to a boy, and now you want to torture him?! Are you so fragile that you can’t accept defeat with even a shred of dignity?!”

“I’m testing his mettle!” Vorathar shot back. “My brothers and I did this all the time when we were young! It’s tradition!”

“It’s sadism! And do you want the Battle Angels knocking on your door?! If even one of them hears what you’ve done to Mika, they’ll tear you apart piece by piece and there’s nothing you or your kingdom or your pathetic pride will be able to do to stop them!”

Vorthar’s fury flickered—even he, in his blind rage, understood that provoking the Battle Angels was suicide.

But his eyes found Mika, still standing there, examining his own golden scales with idle curiosity. Still smiling.

“It’s just a friendly game.” Vorthar said, forcing calm into his voice. “The youth of today lack steel in their spines, that’s all. I’m merely testing him.”

He gestured at the three sisters. “Look—even the Battle Angel daughters don’t seem troubled. Why are you so concerned about the boy, dear wife?”

Korra turned to look at the sisters and found, to her astonishment, that he was right. Charlotte, Astrid, and Anya were watching with expressions of calm—even amusement. Not a single trace of alarm.

“Why aren’t you stopping this?!” Korra demanded.

Charlotte shrugged. “Mika hasn’t asked us to.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Astrid added quietly.

Anya’s smile was the coldest of all. “This is going to be a very good show.”

Korra stared at them, utterly baffled. Then she turned back to the hall, ready to tear her husband apart with her bare hands if necessary—

“Korra…”

Mika’s voice. It was utterly without fear.

“It’s all right.”

Korra froze. “Mika—”

“I want to play.” Mika stepped forward, his hands clasped casually behind his back.

He looked at Vorathar with an expression that was almost…eager.

“Honestly? The board game was a bit childish like uncle said. This seems much more my speed.”

His eyes then narrowed slightly, just enough to make Vorathar’s instincts scream a warning he didn’t understand as he added,

“Besides. I’ve heard that the winner of this test usually claims something from the loser. And there’s something you have, Uncle, that I want very, very much.”

Vorathar’s sneer returned. “Oh? And what’s that, boy? I have treasures beyond counting. What could you possibly desire?”

“We’ll discuss it when I win.” Mika’s smile was pleasant. “For now—do you agree to give me what I want if I’m victorious?”

Vorathar laughed. This brat—this human brat—thought he could win a contest of endurance against the Dragon King?

The same Dragon King who had defeated all his brothers in this very hall and endured more scales removed than any contender in generations?

“Of course!” Vorathar exclaimed. “You have my word as Dragon King. Anything in my possession is yours—if you win. Which you won’t.”

“Splendid.” Mika clapped his hands together. “Then let’s begin.”

“Mika, no—” Korra lunged forward, but Maria caught her arm.

“Come along, Auntie.” Maria said quietly. “Mika knows what he’s doing.”

“But the pain—you don’t understand—”

“I understand better than you think.” Maria’s voice was soft, but there was something dark beneath it. “Mika has been through far, far worse than this. Trust me.”

The sisters exchanged glances. Memories flickered behind their eyes—dark memories, painful memories. Things they didn’t speak about.

Korra stared at them. At Maria. At the weight sitting behind their eyes.

Again. That same feeling. That everyone else knew something about Mika that she didn’t and she was the only one left in the dark.

Her teeth ground together.

‘When this is over.’ She swore to herself. ‘I’ll drag every secret out of that boy if I have to!’

Astrid, meanwhile, was coaxing Nuri away from the center of the hall.

“It’ll be all right, Nuri. Come along. Mika will handle this.”

“I know he will!” Nuri said, and her confidence was so simple, that it tugged at something in Astrid’s chest. “Mika can do anything!”

The two competitors took their positions, facing each other across the scarred stone floor. The golden scales gleamed across both their bodies—thousands upon thousands, layer over layer, a second skin of simulated draconic armor.

Vorthar rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.

“Since you went first last game, I’ll take the first move this time.”

Mika gestured magnanimously. “By all means, Uncle. Make your move.”

Vorathar’s grin turned savage. He reached up and grabbed a chunk of scales on his chest—not one, not five, not ten.

Fifty. A full fifty scales in a single grip.

“VORATHAR, NO—” Korra screamed.

He tore them off.

Squelch!

The sound was wet and horrible. Scales clattered to the stone floor, shimmering gold, and Vorathar’s body went rigid.

“Mmmm—!!!!!!”

His jaw clenched so hard his teeth creaked. His eyes bulged. Every muscle in his body locked up as the pain surged through him—that terrible, familiar, indescribable pain of having part of yourself ripped away.

Normally, the trial was played conservatively—one scale at a time, or five. Ten, for the bold. This was a war of attrition, a slow grind designed to break the mind as much as the body.

Vorthar had no patience for any of that.

He’d torn out fifty scales at once. Enough to make even him, a three-hundred-year-old dragon king, flinch and tremble.

Meanwhile, a fragile, weak, mortal human would be reduced to a screaming, weeping wreck.

He looked up, expecting to feast on the sight of Mika’s suffering.

But to his shock…Mika was standing perfectly still.

No flinch. No scream. Not even a sharp intake of breath. He simply looked down at his own chest, where a small section of golden scales had shimmered and vanished into the air, mirrored, as promised, from the King’s own removal.

And nothing else.

“What —” Vorthar’s voice cracked. “What’s going on?! Why aren’t you moving?! Why aren’t you screaming?! Why aren’t you thrashing around in agony?!”

Mika tilted his head. “Am I supposed to be?”

“Of course you are! The pain should be coursing through your veins right now—it’s unbearable!”

“Hmm.” Mika considered this. “Well, I did feel a sort of numb sensation on my chest, a moment ago. It was…okay, I suppose. I can manage it.”

Vorthar’s jaw dropped.

This pain was making him tremble, and Mika was discussing it like a mild itch.

Korra had her hands over her mouth, her eyes huge. She’d felt that pain. She knew what it was like. And Mika —

Mika was smiling.

“Fine!” Vorthar growled, baring his teeth. “I’ll just take more! I’ll take this!”

He ripped another patch from his other pectoral, then another from his stomach before Mika could even speak, and hurled them to the ground.

“And this! And THIS!”

Sweat beaded on his brow. His body shuddered from the accumulated agony.

But he forced himself to look at Mika—

And Mika still hadn’t moved. The corresponding scales on his body dissolved into mist, and his expression remained utterly placid.

“IMPOSSIBLE!” Vorathar roared. He tore off more scales. “FEEL IT! FEEL THE PAIN! SCREAM! WHY WON’T YOU SCREAM?!”

He was ripping scales off his own body now like a man possessed—clawing at himself, tearing away piece after piece, trying desperately to make the boy in front of him show even a flicker of discomfort.

His own body was on fire. His nerves were shrieking. His vision was going white at the edges.

He looked up, panting, trembling…

….and still saw Mika standing, bored almost, as more golden scales shimmered away from his body like fairy dust on the breeze.

“Impossible.” Vorthar collapsed to his knees. “IMPOSSIBLE! How are you standing?! How are you not feeling —?!”

He wanted to accuse the boy of cheating, of somehow blocking the connection—but he knew the old magic. It had never failed in a thousand years. It couldn’t fail now.

Mika was genuinely feeling the pain. The same pain that had brought the mighty Dragon King to his knees.

And he was unaffected.

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