The clone had chosen his ground wisely: the vast central plaza of Aeloria, City of Eternal Bloom, at dawn.
Word had spread like wildfire—two Breeders were coming. One had been blessing villages with pregnancies and kindness. The other had been spreading sickness, cruelty, and barren anal violations.
Now both stood in the plaza, identical down to the last detail: same height, same muscular build, same thick cock hanging heavy between their legs. The only difference was in the eyes—one pair warm and determined, the other cold black voids.
Hundreds of women filled the plaza and surrounding balconies—warriors, villagers, travelers, pregnant and hopeful alike. Many clutched weapons; all were naked or near-naked in the warm morning air, bodies of every size, shape, and color on full display. Tits of all proportions—small pert ones, heavy swinging ones, massive overflowing ones—rose and fell with anxious breaths.
The real Ethan stepped forward first, flanked by his allies: redeemed Vaeloria towering at seven feet, silver hair flowing, enormous tits proudly bare and bouncing with each step; the other six transformed goddesses at his sides; Thora and Brynja, bellies rounded with his children, greatswords drawn; Rowan, Talia, Lysa, and dozens more loyal warriors.
The clone stood opposite, surrounded by women he had manipulated—some still sick from his tainted cum, others swayed by fear and confusion, their bodies marked with bruises from rough anal use.
The clone spoke first, voice an exact echo of Ethan's. "Sisters of Elysara! This man is the fake—the shadow impostor! I am the true Breeder who has blessed you with fifty daughters. He is the one who has been fucking your asses and making you ill!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Women looked from one to the other, uncertainty spreading.
Ethan countered immediately. "He's the clone—created by shadow magic to destroy us! I am the real Breeder. Look to those who stand with me: Vaeloria, once leader of the Shadows, redeemed by my seed. The pregnancies—the real ones—are mine!"
Confusion deepened. Whispers turned to shouts. Some women stepped toward the clone, drawn by lingering fear or sickness-fueled resentment. Others rallied to Ethan, trusting the transformed goddesses at his side.
Then the fighting began.
No one waited for a signal. Warriors charged from both sides—naked bodies colliding in a chaotic, erotic melee.
Tits bounced wildly as women grappled, rolled, and struck. Vaeloria waded into the fray like a colossus—her massive breasts swinging like pendulums as she swung a captured greatsword, scattering clone-loyalists without killing. Her silver hair whipped as she grabbed two attackers by the waist, lifting them effortlessly and tossing them aside.
Thora and Brynja fought back-to-back, pregnant bellies proud, swords flashing. Their heavy tits jiggled with each powerful swing, sweat gleaming on bronzed skin.
Rowan darted through the chaos, red hair flying, using speed and daggers to disarm rather than kill. Talia's arrows—blunted for capture—whistled overhead.
The clone's side fought desperately—sick women throwing weak punches, others trying to drag loyalists down with sheer numbers. Bodies pressed together in the crush: tits squishing against tits, asses grinding unintentionally as women wrestled for dominance.
The clone himself charged Ethan directly, tackling him to the marble ground. They rolled naked, cocks flopping, fists flying—identical bodies locked in mirror combat.
"You're the fake!" the clone snarled, landing a punch to Ethan's jaw.
Ethan countered with a knee to the gut. "You're shadow filth!"
Around them, the battle raged—bouncing breasts, flying hair, grunts and cries filling the air. Vaeloria roared, barreling toward them, but clone-loyalists swarmed her, trying to drag the giantess down by sheer weight.
Ethan gained the upper hand, pinning the clone. "Vaeloria!" he shouted. "Your powers may be gone, but you're still the strongest here!"
Vaeloria broke free with a mighty shrug—bodies flying—and charged over. She grabbed the clone by the throat with one huge hand, lifting him clean off the ground. His black eyes widened in panic.
"Dismiss him," Ethan commanded. "You were shadow once—you know how."
Vaeloria's sapphire eyes blazed. Though her dark powers were purged, residual knowledge remained. She pressed her free hand to the clone's chest, palm glowing with borrowed Lyris light from Ethan's earlier seed.
"By the light that redeemed me," she intoned, voice booming across the plaza, "I unmake this false shadow!"
Silver fire erupted from her palm, pouring into the clone. He screamed—a sound like tearing metal—as his body dissolved into writhing black smoke. The smoke coalesced, fought, then shattered into nothingness with a final thunderclap.
Silence fell.
The clone's followers dropped their weapons, faces clearing as the lingering shadow influence broke. Many collapsed in tears, realizing the deception.
The plaza erupted in cheers—hundreds of naked women rushing to Ethan, lifting him onto their shoulders, tits pressing against him from every side in joyous celebration.
Vaeloria stood tallest among them, silver hair catching the sunrise, enormous breasts heaving with pride as she pulled Ethan into a crushing embrace.
The last shadow was gone.
Elysara was safe.
And the road to a thousand daughters—and beyond—lay open.