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Another battle concluded, and another challenger was defeated. The beloved, yet dreaded, milkmage stands over her defeated foe in the stone-tiled arena. The white-scaled lizard woman must pull her titanic tits aside just to see the defeated challenger before her. The defeated fighter is a female raccoon, laying there naked and beaten, magical energy poofing up her fur.

"Oooh, so sorry, honey," the milkmage Lactania coos, rubbing her hand under an enormous cupped breast. "You thought your spells were so powerful that you could take me on? I'm sorry, but that's just not possible. Now, you'll never have the right to say you've bested me."

The raccoon whimpers, wincing and preparing herself for the ultimate humiliation.

The milkmage points her black nipples to the defeated foe. She moans softly through her nostrils and squeezes her tits in both hands, letting the magically-sweetened milk gush out from her nipples in fountains of glorious white. They splash down onto the raccoon, sprinkling onto her face while she groans, her ears pinned back.

And so it continues as such. Lactania defeats opponent after opponent. Some of them try their best to beat her, bringing forth their most fantastic magic spells, but her own skills are far better than theirs. Others are no more than mere perverts who fall to the most direct attack, their tongues out and their voices begging to be fed by her breasts. Lactania sweetens her milk for both kinds of fighters, for to her, they are both means to achieve her victory.

Her lactomancy is unparalleled. Casters from all corners of the map seek to face her. Each and everyone is left defeated and humiliated before the council of magic.

A minute later, the milkmage has her dress pulled back up over her breasts. Those tits strain under the hold of such a tight top. She raises her arms and proclaims, scanning the room with her purple irises, "That's it, everyone. Another challenger thinks they are better than me, but I am the supreme sorceress here. Me, the milk mage!"

There's grumbling among the other spell-casters in the arena. Wizened wizards and dark warlocks alike scoff at the milkmage and the callous display of her jugs.

"This used to be a respectable institution," the eldest among them said, an old crone of a black cat. "Spell casters didn't have to show off to show their power. Bah... if only I was younger."

"I hear that the milk she produces makes her ritual magic far more powerful," says a warlock. "I wonder what dark power she signed a deal with to get tits like that." Despite his disapproval, there's a hint of pervertedness in his voice, suggesting at least a passing interest.

The milkmage swishes around, breasts sloshing, pointing her staff over at the quarreling elders. "Magic is ever-evolving, oh old ones," she says. "It is with the arrival of newer, better spell casters that we find improvements in our power. Sadly, you're just too blinded by nostalgia and tradition to see it."

Many wanted to speak up to her, but none will say a thing against her. After all, this lizard is the winner of the Wizard's Duel, and the champion has a full say on the court of magic.

Unless, of course, there is a challenger.

"How about you shut your trap."

The words echoed as if someone had cast a spell of silence upon the whole of the chamber. The people remained still as if that same someone also cast a spell of stillness upon the room. The milkmage turned, narrowing her eyes, but didn't utter a word at the new challenger.

The red-scaled reptile hops from the audience chamber, dressed in leggings and tattoos etched on his scales. Despite being smaller in stature, his muscles are toned, and his golden eyes flare with determination.

"Ah, a sorcerer dares to challenge me," she says, letting her tongue hiss out between her sharp teeth. "Tell you what," she continues, pressing fingers upon her breast. "How about I sweeten the deal? I'll make my milk extra sweet for you so that when you have the taste of defeat, it'll be less sour for you." She traces a finger around her clothed nipple, imbuing her magic into her milk.

The reptile sorcerer nods and raises his hands in a fighter's stance. "Sounds good to me. Though, it'll be you who tastes defeat, you cow."

She gasps. "Such rude words. Looks like I'll have to teach you a lesson myself." She raises her arms high, and with that, a magical barrier forms up around them, keeping others from interfering with their duel.

The sorcerer rushes in, throwing punches, augmented with flame spells, at the imposing milkmage.

The mage's eyes widen, but she backs off as a swiping claw catches onto her dress's cleavage, ripping through the fabric and letting her tits spring free.

She growls at him. "Oh, so you're a martial mage? The least you could do is be decent!" She stabs the ground with her staff, sending waves of white liquid through the tiles' cracks. They shoot up, making sharp darts up in the sorcerer's way.

He closes his eyes and dodges, weaving like a graceful dancer, from the tip of his frills to the end of his tail, he is like beauty in motion.

But Lactania is not just a boisterous powerhouse. Despite the sloshing size of her tits, she dodges his punches and kicks, a smirk upon her face. "Oh, please, do you really think you can hurt me?" she coos. "I'm the most powerful milkmage in all of the-"

She's stopped when a flaming punch hits her square in the tit. Lactania stumbles back, the remaining parts of her dress stained dark with the expressed milk leaking against the fabric. She weaves a powerful spell that bends the milk around her, forming a shield so that her opponent cannot connect with her.

His punch strikes the wall of milk, boiling the liquid with a burning sizzle. But the heated fluid splashes down onto him, hitting him in the eyes.