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In the realm of magical studies, there are many devotions and subschools that one can pursue. Yet, the end goal for many magi is the same--to amass knowledge and power. To that purpose, plenty of up-and-coming casters seek out masters of various disciplines, seeking to learn the truths of the arcane through those who have reached said truths through their own paths. It is in this way, then, that these apprentices achieve their own enlightenment.

As generations pass and more wizards and sorceresses and the like find new avenues of magical study, much more specialized casters arise, each making their mark on history.

It is such a caster that Markus McCloud seeks, for the dragon, though not very well versed in the arts of magic, heard her name and knew that she would be one to learn from.

The place where she pursued her craft is beautiful, indeed. Her sanctum was carved out of the white mountain, formed into two large domes with pointed tips at the sky. When it rained, the streams of water run white down from the peaks, making the retreat glisten beautifully in the post-storm sun.

When the dragon arrives there, he finds her and stands mesmerized as the lizard, despite her lineage, holds her massive mounds, squeezing them out into a bowl that glows with ethereal might.

"I knew someone would be coming for me," coos Lactania, the milkmage. "Are you here to laugh at me like the others? To gawk at the defeated and humiliated combatant?"

"N... no, not at all!" the soft blue dragon says, holding his hands up in front of him. "I... I heard about your defeat, yes, but I heard about all of your victories in the magical arena before that. I'm a spellcaster myself, well, not a good one," he says this, dropping his explorer's pack, falling to his knees, and bending down in supplication. "But, I would be honored to have the honor of challenging you--to see your magic first-hand!"

The bow serves two purposes for the young dragon male. The first is to show his great respect for the older spell caster. The second is to help flush the sight of her enormous tits pouring delicious, delicious milk from her touch.

"I see," her voice becomes serious. "It's been a while since anyone wanted to seriously challenge me. I must warn you, though, defeating me will not grant you any clout in the battlemage community," she chuckles. "Defeating me will make you less than scum."

"I wish to face you to learn from you!" he says. "There's nothing else that matters, please."

She pauses for a moment before half-shrugging. "Very well... shall we begin?"

He looks up and sees that she holds her hand out to the milky pool. From it arises her staff, charged with her lactic magic.

Markus scrambles to his feet, gulping and holding up his own claws. "A-alright. Let's see... what can I learn from this..." He steels his nerves, readying himself and putting on a serious expression.

"Learn that you know nothing!" Lactania says, swirling her staff. The milk swarms up around her and launches in his direction.

"That's right... I don't know anything," Markus says to himself, his arms trembling. "All my life, I've never been able to learn any magic the traditional way. Study and practice... it never seemed to matter, not unless... not unless I was defending myself. I've always seen myself as nothing more than mediocre... an amateur at best."

As he speaks his truth, his eyes and his hands glow. The wall of milk crashes against an invisible barrier, a deluge hitting up against a forcefield that makes his arms bend. He falls upon his knee, gritting his teeth, feeling all of his mana fuel the defensive spell, but drains him of his vitality.

Such a simple attack she sent, but it has such power behind it. Is this the true power of her milk? It's so much better than any power he could generate, surely.

Lactania watches as her milk sloshes around the battlefield, huffing and shaking her head. "I warned you, young one," she sighs. "This defeat will condemn you to a life of ridicule in the magical arena. If only you..."

Her voice trails off, and she narrows her eyes, leaning into the roiling and bubbling kettle of milk forming in front of the mage's barrier. A moment later, she opens her mouth to scream, the bubbling brew erupts.

The blast is so powerful that it shoots out through the tips of the sanctum's domes, rolling down the mounds in twin milkfalls.

Inside, Lactania lays on her back, covered in the warmed dairy, blinking, staring, dumbstruck.

Markus coughs, wiping away the smoke of steamed and frothy milk away from him. He scrambles to his feet when he sees the woman sprawled out before him, and he scuttles over to her, falling down to his knees once more. "Agh, I'm so sorry, madam Lactania! Please, forgive me for this rudeness... If you wish, please, strike me with your finishing milk blow like you do all of your enemies. It is only fair that you give me your taste of defeat."

He takes a deep breath and lifts his head, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting to be splashed with the magical milk and marked as a failure. But, as he sits there, he hears something of a rumble, and then soft to hearty breaths, and then finally to a deep and happy guffaw.

"Ah...Ah hah... Ah ha ha ha ha ha hah!"

Opening one eye, he sees Lactania laying there, no longer splayed out in defeat but lounging on her back, sighing in delight.

"W... what?"

"Oh, that was simply marvelous! Tell me, dear; is it possible you've been underselling yourself all these years?" She coos, her eyes rolling down from the ceiling and to him, bright and sparkling. "You desire some of my milk, don't you, oh interesting and powerful mage? Well, how would you like to have as much as you want?"