Birthing Legends: My Womb Creates SSS Monsters-Chapter 127: The White Blooded Massacre… Continues.

A boy shoved another child to the ground. His face slammed hard against the freezing floor, the skin already beginning to frost over with icebite.

"MOVE! I WILL BE THE ONE! I’M NOT DYING LIKE THE OTHERS!"

A girl elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"OUT OF MY WAY! I’M THE ONE WHO WILL SURVIVE! I AM THE DRAGONBORN OF THE THOUSAND!"

Another child scrambled on his knees, his hands shaking as he grabbed the girl’s hair and pulled with all his strength, making her scream as blood seeped from her scalp.

"YOU B*TCH! YOU WON’T TAKE A SINGLE SIP! THAT BLOOD IS MINE!"

They rolled across the stone, clawing at each other like animals—punching, biting, even killing one another just to claim the first sip. Another child stretched both hands upward, tears streaming down his broken nose and shattered teeth.

"I CAN DO IT! I WON’T BURN! I WON’T! PLEASE... LET ME DRINK—"

Behind him, someone laughed wildly as he slammed a rock on his head and ran.

"Yes! YES! THIS TIME IT’S ME! I DON’T CARE WHO DIES!" 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

He bared his teeth.

"I’M NOT GOING BACK AS ASH!"

The children were utterly desperate, yet their father simply watched them...He watched his own children murder one another for the chance to touch the blood that would, in turn, murder them.

"LET ME LIVE!"

"I DON’T WANT TO DIE!"

"THIS IS MY TURN!"

"I’LL BE THE ONE!"

Above the chaos, Spike... did not move. Not even a single muscle. He watched them with a broken, pitying gaze.

"I just want to die. Just let the fire take me. I don’t want to fight for it."

Drakovitch’s silver slit eyes shifted, settling on the one boy who remained still amidst the madness. The King stepped through the splashing blood, his heel clicking on the stone until he stood directly before Spike.

"You do not drink? Do you defy the gift of your blood?"

Spike didn’t look up. He didn’t dare meet the King’s silver eyes. He just watched the blood of a god pool around his feet.

"What’s the point of competing with them, Father? There is only one result to all this madness. Whether I drink first or last, we all just end up the same. We get burned... and we get forgotten."

He looked toward the mountain of ash being blown off the cliffside by the wind.

"I’m already dead, aren’t I? You killed us the day you sowed us."

His fingers twitched slightly at his side.

"You didn’t even give us names... But now I understand why."

His voice was soft, almost lost beneath the screaming wind.

"Because names are for people who are meant to live and we were never meant to live, were we? We were just... numbers."

With his first steps toward Tiamat’s blood, he accepted that it would be his end. The screams began.

The first child to drink—the boy who had cracked a skull with a rock just to get there—didn’t even have time to swallow. As the glowing blood touched his tongue, his eyes turned into white hot coals. Did not have time to scream as his lungs turned to cinder before he could draw a breath. He simply stood there, a statue of white flame, before crumbling into a pile of soot that was immediately trampled by the next desperate soul.

"IT BURNS! OH GOD, IT BURNS!"

A girl who had managed to cup a handful of the blood was now watching her own fingers melt into liquid bone. She tried to wipe the blood off on her silks, but the fabric ignited instantly. She rolled on the ground, shrieking, her body becoming a bonfire that lit the cold plateau.

Spike walked slowly. The frostbite covering his thin body began to melt from the heat of his siblings, who were igniting after drinking Tiamat’s blood. He did not need to run, nor to shove. The path toward his death opened before him as everything in front of him turned to ashes.

He stepped over the mangled remains of a sibling whose chest had been crushed in the stampede—a boy still trying to lick the blood from the floor with a broken jaw, only to burst into violet flames mid-lick. Spike’s feet crunched on charred ribs and slid through hot, viscous gore.

It did not even make him flinch, nor cry.

He could even taste the burning flesh of his siblings as his nose filled with their ashes. His face was turning black from the soot. Even the smell, the screaming—none of it made him feel anything. His heart was a cold stone in his chest...

"Our life is short... but burning to death is too long..."

A boy was slithering toward the waterfall, his legs already half consumed by fire, his fingernails clawing grooves into the stone. Spike stepped over his head without looking down. He walked past a girl who was staring at her own burning reflection in a pool of blood, laughing hysterically as her face began to crack like parched earth.

Step by step, Spike approached the source.

The waterfall of Tiamat’s blood was a roar in his ears now—a violent, thrumming pulse of pure primordial power. The heat was enough to blister his skin, but he didn’t flinch. To him, the glowing red curtain wasn’t a doorway to godhood. It was the mouth of a grave.

"Brother Knots... Big Arms. I’m coming. I hope you waited for me in the afterlife..."

He reached the very edge of the torrent. The blood splashed against his white silks, soaking them through. He looked up and, for a brief second, saw the central head of Tiamat staring down at him. The dragon’s eye was a universe of power. Looking into it, he felt truly small.

"I have nothing to ask of you... But please... whoever my mother was... let her live happily."

Tiamat’s eye did not blink as it stared into Spike’s soul. Spike simply leaned forward, opening his mouth to the waterfall as if he were catching raindrops in a summer storm.

"End it."