Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion Chapter 498- Dragon is too Hard

Rika’s face went through several things.

She did not answer.

Which was, itself, an answer.

Esvan’s jaw set.

Sothing moved behind the fine-featured eyes — a calculation, a decision, the particular stubbornness of a person who has decided that whatever is happening, they are not going to be the one who backs down from it.

The hand moved again.

Toward Raven.

Raven’s finger moved first.

It was a small gesture — one finger, lifted from his side, the motion of a man operating a switch rather than performing an action.

The world went white.

Then black.

Then — nothing moved.

The street froze.

Not slowly. Not with a gradual slowing of motion that gave anyone ti to process it. Between one fra and the next, everything stopped. The rchant three doors down, mid-step. The child at the well, mid-pour. The woman at the window, mid-breath. A dog, mid-scratch.

The colors drained out of everything.

The world beca a painting of itself — black and white, flat, the shadows fixed, the light frozen in whatever direction it had been moving, every particle of dust in the afternoon air suspended at the altitude it had reached.

Every particle except one.

Rika.

She stood in full color in the middle of the stopped world.

Her dress was warm brown. Her skin was warm-toned and milky. Her hair was dark and loose. Her eyes were wide and aid at the stopped form of Esvan, who stood with one arm raised mid-movent, face fixed in its expression of soone about to make a very bad decision.

Esvan had stopped.

Everyone had stopped.

Everything was black and white and silent except for Rika, who existed in color, and the breathing of one other person.

"Kill your husband."

The voice ca from behind her.

Low. Quiet. Without ceremony or performance.

Rika burst into tears.

She turned.

She dropped to her knees.

The flagstone of the main street of Edenveil received her knees with the cold, hard indifference of stone receiving a woman who has run out of options and has chosen the floor. Her thick body went down — the wide hips hitting the backs of her heels, the heavy warm weight of her tits pressing forward against her dress as she folded, her hair falling around her face.

Her hands pressed against the stone.

"Please," she said.

The word ca out in pieces — split by the crying, by the desperate exhale of a woman who has been terrified since morning and has finally reached the place where terror becos begging.

"Please forgive him." She raised her head. Her eyes found him above her — his full height, his purple eyes, his expression which was not cruel and was not kind and was sothing else entirely. "He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand. Forgive my husband, please, he ant no disrespect, he was only protecting , he—"

She lowered her head again.

Her forehead pressed toward the stone.

"Please. Dragon. Please."

The word dragon left her mouth and hung in the frozen air.

Raven looked down at her.

The thick dress spread around her on the flagstone, the fabric pulling across her wide hips, the back of it tight across both heavy cheeks. Her hair was splashed around her head in the halo of a woman who had co down fast. Her hands were flat on the stone, knuckles pale with pressure.

At her side, three feet away, Esvan stood frozen in black and white — arm raised, face fixed, completely unaware that the world had stopped.

Raven looked at Rika.

He looked at the back of her dress.

He looked at the wide hips, the thickness of her pressed against her heels, the warmth of her skin visible at the back of her neck where her hair had fallen forward.

He breathed.

"Soothe my anger," he said.

His voice was quiet. Flat. The tone of a man issuing an instruction rather than making a request.

"Before it bursts."

He looked at her bent head.

"Take it upon your body." A pause. "Act like a slut now."

The frozen street held everything in place — the rchant, the child, the dog, the dust — while the one woman left in color knelt on the flagstone in the stopped afternoon, her thick body warm and trembling in her commoner dress, her husband frozen mid-gesture three feet away, her tears dropping onto the stone between her palms.

The sound of them was very loud in the silence until a tremble went throufh her body.

"P...plea...please... How can I—"

Rika’s whole body shook.

Not the refined trembling of a woman composing herself. The deep, full-body convulsion of soone whose legs had stopped working at the structural level, whose hands were pressing flat against cold flagstone because the stone was the only thing still making sense.

Her tears dropped onto the stone in slow, fat impacts.

One. Then another. Then a third.

The frozen street held everything in monochro silence around her — Esvan locked mid-lunge three feet away, arm raised, face set in its furious expression, the fine-featured jaw clenched, the short hair displaced from the forward motion that had been stopped mid-fra.

Rika could see all of it from the floor.

She could see her husband’s face.

She could not stand up.

"P-please..." The word ca out of her in fragnts, broken by the crying into syllables that didn’t quite connect. "How can I — I have a husband — I have — he is right there — please, Dragon Lord, please, I am begging you, please just let him go, I will do — I will do anything else, I will—"

Raven moved.

He stepped forward, past her, toward Esvan’s frozen form.

Rika’s head ca up imdiately. Her wide eyes tracked him. Her hand reached out from the flagstone — not touching him, just reaching, the instinctive extension of a woman who has run out of words and is trying to stop sothing with proximity alone.

"Wait—"

He did not wait.

His hand found the front of Esvan’s shirt.

His fingers found the buttons — three of them, down the chest — and pulled.

The fabric opened.

Rika was on her feet before she knew she had stood up. Her thick body lurched forward, her heavy tits swinging inside her dress with the montum of the motion, her wide hips carrying her across the flagstone in two stumbling steps.

"Please—" Her hands found his arm. She pushed. "Please, leave him, leave—"

Her eyes went, involuntarily, past his arm.

To Esvan’s chest.

The shirt had fallen open completely. The fabric hung at both sides of the lean torso. And there — across Esvan’s chest — was the bandaging. Strips of cloth wrapped flat and tight around the ribcage, compressing what was beneath into the flat, unremarkable plane of a man’s chest.

Rika’s mind registered this in the background and filed it sowhere it would not be accessed for several hours.

She focused on Raven.

Her hands were on his arm. She pushed again. She was not strong enough to move him — she knew this in the way you know the immovability of a wall — but she pushed anyway, because she had nothing else to offer and her husband was standing three feet away frozen with his shirt open and she needed to be between them.

"Please," she said into his arm. "Please. Sir. Dragon. Please leave him."