Chapter 13: Milf

The silence of death had left the air in the stone hall. It was a silence so deep that it seemed to press down on everything like a heavy blanket, suffocating and absolute. Instead of stillness, the space was filled with the pounding of awakened instincts — raw, uncontrollable, and wild. The dim light from the flickering torch was no longer enough to light the path clearly; instead, it only cast long, twisted shadows that danced along the cold stone walls. These shadows stretched and warped into strange, nameless creatures — mythical beasts creeping on the floor like ghosts summoned from nightmares.

Aerax stood there, his breathing slow and heavy, yet each breath seemed to tear his chest apart as if something inside him was breaking. Sweat and blood mixed together, dripping from his body onto the cold stone floor, staining it with a dark, sticky promise — an oath unfinished and fragile. He had believed, deep in his heart, that he could predict every attack, every move, every cunning trick the divine beast would throw at him. But what he had just witnessed was unlike anything he had ever imagined; it shattered his thoughts as forcefully as a stone dropped from an axe's blade.

"Just a big bull," he had thought. A huge beast, born from the madness of the gods and the darkest ancient nightmares. White fur that seemed almost to glow faintly in the dim light. Curved horns sharp as blades. A raw, primal power that was tireless and fearless. This was a creature driven not by reason but by pure instinct — slashing and roaring endlessly.

He had guessed most of it right. But there was one thing he had not expected.

What was flowing from Minoros's chest?

It wasn't blood. It wasn't sweat.

It was… milk.

Aerax froze for a moment, caught between disbelief and horror. A thick, white substance seeped slowly from one of Minoros's breasts, sliding down the coarse hair around his pubic area and soaking into his worn belt. The sight was unnatural, completely foreign to any understanding of biology, theology, or even battle tactics. It felt almost blasphemous — a contradiction to everything Aerax had ever known.

He frowned, his brow tightening with confusion and disgust.

"Damn… what are you?"

He had seen cows and buffaloes before, simple beasts known to produce milk. But never — not even once — had he seen a bull milking itself. The idea was so strange it broke his rhythm. For a moment, he was lost in disbelief. And in combat, losing focus even for a single moment could mean the difference between life and death.

Minoros didn't allow Aerax any time to ponder. The massive axe rose once more, swinging with violent intent, as if trying to cut away Aerax's confusion along with his defense. But this time, Aerax didn't fully dodge. Instead, he took a cautious half step back, then suddenly dashed forward — not to avoid the attack, but to strike directly at the blind spot behind Minoros.

His arms wrapped around Minoros's enormous body, muscles straining under the divine beast's weight. Aerax had planned this move carefully. It wasn't a test of strength but a test of a theory that had just flashed through his mind.

And it was right.

Aerax didn't need to use much force. He only needed to touch.

One hand settled on Minoros's broad back. The other reached out and touched the left breast — the source of the white, flowing substance. It felt soft and full, like a living bag filled with power. He pressed lightly, and from his fingertips, the hot white liquid gushed out again, as if triggered by a deeper, almost magical reflex.

Aerax was stunned, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. A part of his mind refused to accept what was happening. He whispered to himself, not in mockery, but in an attempt to convince his own senses:

"You're a bull… and you have milk? That's… quite something."

Minoros roared — but it wasn't a roar of anger. There was a deeper, layered sound inside that roar, faint but undeniable. Aerax understood then that this was no longer just a battle of bodies. Something else, something darker and more complicated, was stirring deep within Minoros.

Aerax's hand moved with steady pressure. His fingers rubbed gently the two ends of Minoros's nipples. The reaction was immediate. The nipples hardened, and the white milk spurted out with increasing force and speed. Minoros gasped sharply, his eyes rolling back as though an electric current surged through his brain.

Aerax chuckled quietly — a bitter laugh, the laugh of a man who had just uncovered his enemy's most hidden secret. Without haste, he caressed the white chest, where the milk continued to leak silently, each drop like an invisible arrow piercing deeper and deeper into Minoros's mind.

The air between them was thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and something unplaceable — an odd mixture that filled Aerax's nostrils and sharpened his senses. He could feel every wild breath, every trembling muscle of the divine beast before him. Once a symbol of power and fear, Minoros now seemed fragile — like a delicate silk thread hanging on the edge of a waterfall, ready to snap at any moment.

He leaned closer and whispered into Minoros's ear, his voice low, deep, and teasing:

"Do you like it? Does it feel good to let me… touch your soft breasts?"

His words were like honey poured into a fresh wound, making Minoros shiver as if every layer of his skin and muscle was betraying his once iron will. His golden eyes flashed with a strange, indescribable emotion — a secret acceptance, silent but clear.

Aerax did not release his grip, but he did not rush. He savored this moment of control, knowing he was not just the physical victor, but also the master of Minoros's mind. The warm, pure white milk soaked into his palm, as if each drop carried the essence of the gods themselves.

The space around them seemed to shrink, leaving only their breaths and the scent of milk mixed with sweat. Aerax's senses became sharper than ever. He watched every flicker of movement, every subtle change in Minoros's expression. He saw muscles twitch — not from exhaustion, but from a chaotic storm of feelings inside the great beast.

Once again, Aerax whispered, his voice low and sharp as a blade:

"You think you're an invincible bull, but admit it — your body likes being milked by others."

His words needed no more proof. They pierced through Minoros's proud armor like precise arrows, digging deep into shame and embarrassment the great beast had never known.

Minoros's body convulsed violently, as if burned by an invisible, smoldering electric current from within. The drops of milk flowed uncontrollably, impossible to stop. This revealed the true defeat of the divine giant — not to another's strength, but to his own body, his own nature.