The Milf's Dragon

The atmosphere of the transport felt almost sterile and Clinical. Everything designed to remind prisoners that they were no longer free.

Owen and Gorvax sat in separate holding cells. Transparent energy barriers separated them from the corridor. CE-suppressing restraints on their wrists reduced their usable power to barely 10%.

Owen’s effective CE: 520.

Gorvax’s effective CE: 6,000.

Still dangerous, but manageable.

The cells were small. Three meters by three meters. A bench bolted to the wall. No windows. Just the barrier and the corridor beyond.

Owen tested the restraints. They hummed against his skin. Every time he tried to gather CE, the restraints absorbed it and bled it away into nothing.

"Yeah. I Can’t break these... not at this power level"

Across the corridor, Gorvax sat motionless. Staring at nothing. His hands rested on his knees. His breathing was controlled but shallow.

Waiting.

---

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Kaelon appeared. The Enforcer captain’s silver skin reflected the corridor’s cold light. His circuit patterns pulsed faintly with each step.

Behind him, two more Enforcers. And between them, a hover-platform.

On the platform, Seri.

She was unconscious. Tubes ran from her arms to medical equipment built into the platform. Monitors beeped softly, tracking vital signs. Her skin was paler than Owen remembered. Her breathing labored.

Gorvax stood immediately. His hands pressed against the energy barrier.

"Seri!"

Kaelon stopped the platform in the corridor. Positioned it where both cells could see.

"She’s stable..." Kaelon said. His voice was flat, professional. "...the Medical scans show her condition hasn’t worsened during transport. She’ll receive proper care aboard this vessel until we reach Tribunal HQ."

"Let me see her." Gorvax’s voice was tight. "Let me speak to her."

"No."

"She’s dying—"

"Which is why she’s under constant medical supervision." Kaelon’s expression didn’t shift. "You will not interact with the prisoner until your trial. Those are the terms."

Gorvax’s CE flared. The restraints absorbed it immediately, but the intent was clear.

Kaelon didn’t flinch. "Resist, and her care will be... deprioritized."

Gorvax’s hands clenched. Then slowly, deliberately, he sat back down.

Kaelon nodded. "Good."

He gestured. The two Enforcers wheeled Seri’s platform past the cells. Toward the ship’s medical bay at the far end of the corridor.

Gorvax watched her go. His eyes never left her until she disappeared around the corner.

Then he slumped against the wall.

Owen said nothing. What could he say?

---

Hours passed.

The ship’s engines hummed. A constant, low vibration that Owen felt in his bones. They were moving. Fast. Warp speed, probably.

The corridor remained empty except for occasional patrols. Enforcers passing by every two hours. Always in pairs. Always armed.

Owen cycled what little CE he could access. Practiced his Restoration-Cultivation-Technique under suppression. It was like trying to fill a bucket with a hole in the bottom. But he did it anyway.

Anything was better than sitting still.

Across the corridor, Gorvax hadn’t moved.

Then footsteps approached from the other direction.

Not Enforcers. Different rhythm. Heavier. Slower.

A group of prisoners appeared, escorted by guards. They were being transferred to cells further down the corridor.

Owen counted four.

The first was massive. Nearly seven feet tall. His skin looked like rough stone—grey, cracked, with moss growing in the fissures. His eyes glowed faintly green. He moved slowly, deliberately, like every step required thought.

The second was smaller. Sleek. Her skin was translucent, showing glowing organs beneath—heart, lungs, something that pulsed with light where a liver might be. Her eyes were large, curious, scanning everything.

The third was stocky, broad-shouldered. His skin had a greenish tint with faded red tribal markings across his arms and chest. Horns jutted from his temples, but they’d been filed down to stubs. Scars covered his body.

The fourth was the most unsettling. Cat-like. Silver fur. Violet eyes with vertical pupils. She moved with predatory grace, every step silent despite the restraints.

They passed Owen’s cell.

The translucent-skinned woman glanced at him. Her eyes widened slightly.

"You’re the False Fist," she said. Her voice was soft, melodic.

Owen blinked. "Yeah."

"I watched your fight against Vrex. In the Crucible." She smiled. "You’re smaller than I expected in person."

The guards shoved her forward. "Keep moving."

She complied, but called back: "Good luck, False Fist. You’ll need it where we’re going."

They were led to cells further down. The energy barriers activated. The guards left.

Silence returned.

---

Owen waited an hour. Then spoke loud enough for his voice to carry.

"Where are we going?"

A pause.

Then the translucent woman’s voice: "Tribunal HQ. For trial."

"And after the trial?"

The massive stone-skinned man answered this time. His voice was deep, grinding, like rocks shifting. "Prison World. If you’re lucky."

"And if I’m not?"

"Execution." The cat-like woman this time. "But you won’t be executed. Too valuable. The Tribunal doesn’t waste useful assets."

Owen processed this. "You’ve been through this before?"

"Twice," the stone man said. "Thoss. Tier 5, five-stars. Convicted of desertion from the Ordained military."

"Vrinn," the translucent woman said. "Tier 5, four-stars. Illegal cosmic energy experiments."

"Yalira," the cat-like woman purred. "Tier 5, five-stars. Assassination of a Tribunal Civil servant. Minor one, but still."

The green-skinned man with filed horns didn’t speak.

Owen glanced at Gorvax. He was listening but not engaging.

"What’s Prison World?" Owen asked.

Vrinn answered. "A dead basic world. Orbital cameras. Galaxy-wide broadcast. Prisoners fight to Survive and Entertain."

"Bloodsport," Yalira added. "The Noble Races watch. Basic worlders watch. Everyone watches. If you’re entertaining enough, you earn credits. Top earners get pardons."

"Whoe, so like reality TV, huh.... How many seasons have you survived?" Owen asked.

"This will be my third," Thoss said.

"My second," Vrinn said.

"My fourth," Yalira said. "I keep earning just enough credits to survive, but not enough to pardon. It’s exhausting."

Owen’s jaw tightened. "And Gorvax? What happens to him?"

Silence.

Then Yalira spoke, quieter now. "The Sower? He won’t get pardon eligibility. His crimes are just as severe. They’ll sentence him to Prison World, but it’s just a death sentence with extra steps."

Owen looked at Gorvax.

Gorvax’s eyes were closed. But Owen saw his jaw tighten.

He knows.

---

The journey stretched.

Days passed. Owen lost count. The ship’s lighting never changed. No windows. No sense of time except the patrols and the meal deliveries.

The food was nutritionally complete but tasteless. Designed to sustain, not satisfy.

Owen ate. Trained. Waited.

On the third day—or what he thought was the third day—the transparent woman, Vrinn, spoke again.

"False Fist. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you surrender?. You could have run. Hidden. The cosmos is vast."

Owen was silent for a moment.

"Someone I care about needed help. Running wasn’t an option."

"The woman on the hover-platform?"

"Yeah, but Not mine. She’s His." Owen gestured toward Gorvax’s cell. "she matters to him. So she matters to me."

Vrinn’s glowing organs pulsed brighter. "That’s... rare. Most people in the cosmos look out for themselves. Loyalty like that is almost extinct."

"Maybe that’s the problem," Owen said quietly.

Yalira laughed. Soft, bitter. "Oh, you’re an idealist. Prison World is going to eat you alive."

"Maybe. But I’ll still be standing when it tries."

Thoss’s deep voice rumbled. "I like him."

---

On the fifth day, Seri woke.

Owen knew because Gorvax suddenly stood. Pressed against the barrier. His eyes locked on something down the corridor.

Footsteps approached.

Kaelon appeared with the hover-platform. Seri was sitting up now, supported by restraints. Her eyes were open. Tired. Pained. But aware.

She saw Gorvax.

"Gor."

Gorvax’s voice cracked. "Seri."

Kaelon stopped the platform between the cells again.

"Two minutes," he said. "No physical contact. Speak only."

Then he stepped back. Still watching. Still ready to intervene.

Gorvax knelt by the barrier. "Are they treating you well?"

"As well as can be expected." Her voice was weak. "They stabilized me. The Tribunal’s doctors are... competent."

"I’m sorry. I should have been there. I should have—"

"Stop." She raised a trembling hand. "You did everything you could. This isn’t your fault."

"It is. They took you because of me."

"And I’d let them take me again." Her eyes softened. "Gor, I knew what I was choosing when I left my world with you. Five hundred years. We’ve had five hundred years. More than most beings get."

"It’s not enough."

"It never would be." She smiled. Sad. Accepting. "But I need you to promise me something."

Gorvax’s jaw tightened. "Anything."

"Survive. Whatever they sentence you to. Survive it." She glanced at Owen. "And take care of him. He’s good, Gor. Better than either of us. Don’t waste that."

Owen met her eyes. Nodded once.

Gorvax’s hands pressed against the barrier. "I will. I promise."

Kaelon stepped forward. "Time’s up."

Seri reached toward the barrier. Her fingers stopped just short of touching it. "I love you, Gor. Always have. Always will."

"I... love you too."

The platform began moving. Seri’s hand dropped.

She disappeared around the corner.

Gorvax stayed kneeling. Staring at the space where she’d been.

Then, quietly, he spoke.

"Thank you. For staying."

Owen didn’t respond immediately.

Then: "Travel Partners. Remember?"

Gorvax almost smiled.

---

On the tenth day, the ship’s engines changed pitch.

The vibration shifted. Slowed.

Kaelon’s voice echoed through the corridor via intercom.

"Attention prisoners. We are approaching Tribunal HQ. Prepare for disembarkation. Resistance will be met with force. Compliance will be rewarded with continued medical care for associated parties."

Owen stood. Stretched. His CE reserves had climbed slightly through constant RCT practice under suppression.

540.

Not much. But something.

The barriers deactivated. Guards appeared. Ten of them. All armed.

"Exit your cells. Single file. No sudden movements."

Owen stepped out. Gorvax followed.

The other prisoners joined them. Thoss. Vrinn. Yalira. The silent green-skinned man.

They were led through the ship’s corridors. Past crew quarters. Past armories. Past the medical bay where Seri was being kept.

Gorvax’s eyes lingered on the door as they passed.

Then they reached the airlock.

It cycled open.

Beyond, Owen saw it.

Tribunal HQ.

A station so massive it dwarfed anything he’d seen. Larger than Veridian Crossing. Larger than the black market station. Larger than cities.

It orbited a neutron star. The dense stellar remnant pulsed with radiation, casting eerie blue-white light across the station’s hull.

The architecture was impossible to categorize. Five distinct styles merged into one structure. Elegant draconic curves. Organic bioluminescent sections. Perfect geometric crystals. Tribal-futuristic green pillars. Savage, raw metal plating.

The five Noble Races. All represented. All present.

Owen’s breath caught.

"This is the center of the cosmos."

Kaelon’s voice was flat. "Welcome to Justice."

Then they were marched onto the station where their trial awaited.