My Taboo Harem! Chapter 617: Gone Is the Precious Little Cage!

The pressure did not crest... it instead raped the world.

When the breaking point arrived, the do did not shatter with any clean, rciful finality. It rotted—slow, intimate, obscene—peeling away layer by layer like infected skin being flayed from still-living at—slow at first, almost reluctant, as though the structure itself possessed a will that refused to yield even as it was being devoured.

The do trembled.

Its flawless blue surface, once radiant and absolute, flickered in uneven pulses as the layered energies sustaining it struggled to maintain cohesion beneath the relentless assault. Each ripple that passed through it carried strain, each pulse weaker than the last, its once-perfect geotry beginning to warp under a pressure that had never been ant to exist within the sa reality.

The Unfinished Children did not relent.

They had beco sothing else... the Unfinished Children had indeed transcended re hunger.

They had beco worse.

What had begun as flickering, half-ford abominations now stabilized into sothing far more monstrous: limbs lengthening with wet, deliberate purpose, claws hardening into black-glass scythes, maws blooming with concentric rings of rotating teeth that chewed on the very concept of "protection."

The colossal dragon-thing no longer convulsed in instability. Its jaws had fused into a single, unbreakable vice around the do’s surface, grinding deeper with every heartbeat, its eyes—now countless and weeping black ichor—burning with the cold intelligence of sothing that had learned how to violate reality itself.

And still it was not enough.

The do was collapsing inwardly.

Not explosively outward in glorious ruin, but sucked inward like a dying star folding into its own corpse. Blue light fractured into dissolving rivers of corrupted radiance, each thread of sacred energy unraveling as invisible claws reached into its core and began to pull.

The air around the barrier scread—a high, wet, endless sound like every throat in creation being slowly crushed.

The dragon’s maw tore deeper.

Hundreds of lesser horrors piled onto the wound in a writhing, orgasming mountain of unfinished flesh, bodies fusing together mid-impact, limbs lting into shared sinew so they could strike as one blasphemous organism.

Roots tore themselves from the earth in suicidal frenzy. Trees exploded into clouds of screaming splinters. The ground itself buckled and wept black tar that hissed with the voices of unborn worlds.

Then—

the first layer died.

A silent, sucking implosion.

The light at the focal point simply vanished, swallowed into a void that left behind only a perfect circle of absolute nothing. The fracture did not spread like glass... it saw itself spread like cancer—slow, heavy, inevitable—black veins racing across the do’s surface, bloating and splitting the remaining layers as they went.

The second layer failed with a sound like a god’s spine snapping broken.

The third followed in a wet, gurgling collapse.

And with every dying layer, the Unfinished Children began to pay.

Reality, having been violated beyond endurance, turned on its rapists with glacial, rciless hatred.

The winged predator that had just adapted to the barrier’s fire slamd forward—only to wink out of existence mid-leap, its entire form erased so completely that not even dust remained... the sudden, surgical absence, as though the universe had reached in and deleted a mistake.

The dragon roared—once.

Its hardened scales suddenly liquefied, sloughing off in steaming sheets of shadow. Its colossal skull twisted at an impossible angle as sothing inside it began to tear it apart from the marrow outward. Claws dissolved into smoke. Jaws unmade themselves with a series of wet, crunching pops.

The massive body that had nearly devoured the barrier simply unraveled, collapsing into a swirling vortex of screaming darkness that spiraled back into the abyss like vomit being sucked down a drain.

Hundreds followed in grotesque succession.

Bodies flickered, bloated, imploded. Limbs tore free and dissolved mid-air. Mouths that had been chewing on divinity suddenly turned inward and began devouring their own throats. The entire horde unraveled in a cascading orgy of self-erasure, their stolen stability revoked by a cosmos that had finally rembered how to hate.

Until nothing remained but fading echoes of wet screaming.

And then—

the do gave its final, broken gasp.

The last layer imploded with a sound like the death of prayer itself.

The blue brilliance collapsed inward into a single, fading heartbeat of light before snuffing out completely, leaving behind only warped, bleeding air and the faint, dying whimper of a power that had once believed itself eternal.

Silence fell.

Thick.

Rotten.

Suffocating.

The abyss recoiled—not in defeat, but in sated, lazy satisfaction—pulling back just enough for the ruined forest to bleed back into view. Trees lay splintered like broken spines. The earth gaped open in raw, pulsing wounds.

The air still tasted of spoiled creation, thick enough to choke on.

At the center of the carnage, Sienna fell on her knees... slamd into the torn soil with a dull, fleshy sound. The iron control she had maintained finally shattered. Her shoulders heaved with raw, animal breaths. Sweat and sothing darker poured from her skin.

Thin, black blood—too dark, too slow—slid from the corners of her eyes like tears from a corpse, carving obscene trails down her cheeks.

She did not wipe it away.

She simply knelt there, staring at the empty space where the barrier had died, chest rising and falling like a bellows that had just pumped hell itself into the world.

Cassiopeia could not move.

Her body remained sprawled where terror had dropped it, legs useless, fingers clawing uselessly at the living, twitching earth. The fear had gone past screaming. It had settled into her bones like rot, quiet, permanent, complete.

She no longer saw a girl in front of her.

She saw the thing that had fed the abyss her own world as an appetizer.

Sienna exhaled—a long, wet sound.

Then she pushed herself upright.

Her legs trembled violently for a mont, exhaustion clawing at every muscle, but she forced her body back into obedience through sheer, hateful will. The black blood continued to leak from her eyes, dripping onto her collarbone, yet she ignored it completely.

She turned her head slightly toward Cassiopeia without fully facing her.

"Get up."

The voice was quiet again. Calm again as fuck as if she had not just torn a hole in the skin of existence.

Cassiopeia flinched like she’d been struck.

"The Maxtons will feel this," Sienna continued, already stepping forward through the broken forest. "It won’t take them long to co sniffing."

Cassiopeia forced her legs to obey. They scread and her body resisted with every cell. But she rose—shaking, unsteady, eyes wide and hollow.

"What..." Her voice cracked like dry bone. "What are you really here to do?"

Sienna kept walking.

Cassiopeia swallowed hard, the words scraping out of her throat like glass.

"All Phei told was to investigate and report back. That’s it. Not... not this. Not breaking through and forcing our way inside like—"

Sienna stopped.

Turned.

Slowly... her aunt, forr aunt, shivered in fear.

Sienna’s gaze finally locked onto Cassiopeia, and for the first ti since the do fell, sothing cold and sharp surfaced beneath the calm—dry, cutting irritation edged with sothing far older and far aner.

"Yeah," she said, voice flat and dripping with sarcasm. "I ripped open the entire fucking barrier just so we could do a little investigating."

The words hung in the poisoned air like a blade that cut Cassiopeia’s common sense which she was starting to doubt.

Then Sienna scoffed, soft and humorless, already turning away.

"Get your pathetic ass moving. We don’t have ti for your crisis of faith."

She began walking again, voice cooling into sothing brutally practical.

"Why waste ti investigating when we can just take her and spare ourselves the return trip? Why do you think I even bothered coming along?"

Cassiopeia’s entire body shivered as if fever had seized her.

The logic was simple.

Too simple.

Terrifyingly, obscenely simple.

"...but we can’t just take her without—"

"The longer you stand there pissing yourself," Sienna cut in, her tone calm yet carrying an edge that killed the rest of the sentence instantly, "the faster they’ll realize their precious little cage is gone."

Cassiopeia hesitated, mouth dry, soul colder than the abyss itself.

Cassiopeia hesitated, and in that hesitation sothing fragile stretched thin inside her chest, as though the last thread of sanity was not born from doubt but from raw animal instinct — a buried, screaming warning that whatever lay ahead was not ant to be approached so directly, so recklessly, not after the abomination she had just watched Sienna birth into the world.

The forest itself seed to echo that warning.

The air remained heavy, thick with the lingering afterbirth of the abyss, a clotted residue that refused to dissipate.

Trees groaned low in their trunks, branches twitching like severed nerves.

Roots twisted upward through the soil like knotted spines trying to claw free of a grave.

The ground itself felt wrong beneath their boots — damp, pulsing, splitting open in wet gasps that scattered fragnts of half-rotted leaves and things that had once been alive. Every breath she took tasted of spoiled creation, as if the world had not yet finished vomiting up what had been forced into it.

Then she nodded.

Not because she believed it was right.

Because there was simply no longer any room left for refusal.

And they ran.

The forest after the do barrier did not welco them. It resisted.

Branches whipped across their faces like whipping limbs, drawing thin lines of blood that burned with unnatural cold. Roots surged upward like bony fingers trying to trip them into the earth. Leaves trembled and curled away from their passing bodies, as though even the foliage could sense the corruption still clinging to Sienna’s skin.

The further they pushed, the more the forest seed to thin — not in number of trees, but in presence. Life itself was shrinking back, withdrawing into trembling silence, leaving behind only hollow shells of bark and wood that leaned away from their path.