Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 746
Chapter 746: Here we go again.
The entire nest trembled as Strax’s aura expanded.
It wasn’t an explosion—it was an affirmation.
The ice didn’t shatter; it yielded, as if recognizing something above it. The ancient runes etched into the walls lost their luster for an instant, unable to withstand the pressure of that hybrid presence: draconic, demonic, absolute.
The Empress felt it.
Not with ordinary fear—but with the kind of dread only ancient beings feel when they realize that the rules that have sustained them for ages… have ceased to be reliable.
“A Dragon… Demonic…?”
Her voice echoed lower now, less imperial, more cautious. “You dare tarnish the name of our lineage with that title?”
Strax tilted his head, as if considering the question seriously.
“I haven’t tarnished anything,” he replied. “I survived.”
The heat around him intensified, forming a faint distortion in the air—a fire that didn’t burn the body, but the essence. The perfect opposite of her eternal cold.
“The ice dragons died because they refused to change,” she continued. “They clung to purity, to traditions, to the laws you yourselves created… and when the world changed, you broke.”
Eyes on the walls narrowed.
“Careful,” she warned. “You speak to an Empress.”
Strax gave a short laugh.
“I spoke,” he corrected. “Now you speak to an echo.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Not hostile—charged.
“You felt it, didn’t you?” he continued, his voice lower, more direct. “Even as a remnant. Even fragmented. You felt it when the egg awoke. When she absorbed my mana. When something new was born.”
Her eyes trembled.
“…She shouldn’t exist like that,” murmured the Empress. “That child… is wrong.”
“She is free,” Strax retorted immediately. “Free from the chains that killed you.”
The cold intensified in response, instinctive, defensive.
“You want to use me,” she said bitterly. “You want my soul as a tool. As fuel for your profane experiments.”
Strax didn’t deny it.
“I want you alive,” he said simply. “And that comes at a price.”
He took another step forward. Now he was exactly under the highest point of the nest—where the egg had rested for centuries.
“If I don’t intervene,” he continued, “you will dissipate. Not today, perhaps. Not tomorrow. But soon. And your daughter will grow up without knowing who you were. Without answers. Without an inheritance.”
Her eyes gleamed with something new.
Pain.
“Don’t use her against me,” whispered the Empress, her voice finally cracking. “That’s low… even for a demonic dragon.”
Strax stared at her, serious for the first time since the conversation had begun.
“I’m not using her,” he said. “I’m being honest.”
He raised his hand again—and this time, the golden fire mingled with a deep blue, creating an impossible flame, hot and cold at the same time.
“I can give you back a body,” he said. “Not the old one. Not an icy prison. But something new. Adaptable. Capable of evolving with the world—just like your daughter.”
The flame pulsed.
“But that only works if you want to live.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if her entire presence was…thinking.
“What if I refuse?” she asked. “What if I prefer rest?”
Strax closed his hand, extinguishing the flame.
“Then I will respect that,” he said, without hesitation. “But know this: your lineage will continue without you.”
Silence.
A silence different from the previous ones.
Not angry.
Not hostile.
Undecided.
“…You don’t ask for loyalty,” the Empress said slowly. “You demand possession.”
Strax nodded.
“Because the ritual demands a bond,” she explained. “Without it, you would tear the new body apart from the inside. Dragons are not reborn without an anchor.”
“And you would be that anchor,” she concluded.
“Yes.”
Eyes fixed on him, one by one, like cold stars.
“And if I accept,” she asked, almost in a whisper, “what will I be to you?”
Strax answered without theatricality, without a smile, without an aura.
“A living Empress,” he said. “Who chose to survive.”
The cold ceased suddenly.
It didn’t disappear—it merely quieted down.
“…Give me time,” she said finally. “Don’t make this decision for me.”
Strax gave a half-smile—patient, confident.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied. “This tomb is yours… for now.”
He turned slightly, returning to the center of the nest, sitting as if keeping watch.
“Think,” he concluded. “Because when I begin the ritual… there will be no turning back.”
The wind began to blow gently again.
And, for the first time in centuries, the Ice Dragon Empress wasn’t thinking of rest.
She was thinking of life.
Strax crossed the tomb’s entrance slowly, the ancient cold receding as the outside light filtered through the cracks in the ice. The air outside was different—still icy, still cutting—but it no longer carried the oppressive weight of the Empress.
He took only two steps before seeing her.
Mercedes was a few meters ahead, wrapped in her cloak, the little dragon nestled against her chest. The hatchling slept soundly, curled up like a living fragment of winter, releasing small crystalline vapors with each breath.
Noticing Strax, Mercedes turned too quickly—as if she were in a hurry even to breathe.
“Strax—” she began, already extending her arms. “Hold her. Now.”
Before he could say anything, the little dragon was already being carefully placed in his arms.
The touch was immediate.
Different.
This time, there was no mana clash. There was no instability. Just a soft, controlled, almost respectful cold. The hatchling instinctively settled in, pressing her snout against his chest, as if recognizing something familiar—safe.
Strax frowned slightly.
“You said that—”
“I know, I know,” Mercedes interrupted, already taking a half step back. “But now it’s different. And I really need to go.”
He looked at her, confused.
“What happened?”
Mercedes took a deep breath, her face serious, professional—the posture of a ruler returning like a blade being sheathed.
“The winds have started to cool again. Not this cold here,” she pointed vaguely behind her, to the tomb. “It’s… wrong. The currents have shifted, people are feeling it. Crops, structures, air routes—everything starts to suffer when this happens.”
Strax looked at the sky. The clouds moved too slowly. The wind blew… but not naturally.
“So you’re going to—”
“Support the citizens,” she concluded quickly. “Organize shelters, redistribute thermal mana, calm the people before they panic.”
She was already turning away when she realized he was still staring at her.
Mercedes paused for a split second, hesitated… then spoke more softly:
“She’ll stay with you. I trust that.”
And then, before Strax could answer—before he could ask about the cold, about the Empress, about anything—Mercedes opened her mana wings, the wind answered the call, and she left.
Quickly.
Determinedly.
Without looking back.
Silence returned.
Strax remained there, standing before the tomb entrance, the little dragon now nestled in his arms. She stirred slightly, making a soft sound, almost a chilling murmur, and snuggled closer to him.
He looked at her.
“…so it stayed like this,” he murmured.
The hatchling didn’t answer, obviously. She just slept.
Strax sighed slowly.
“Scarlet will want to know about this,” he said to himself.
He adjusted the armrest, ensuring the little one was comfortable, and began to walk, turning away from the tomb for the last time in that direction.
As he advanced, the cold wind seemed to hesitate.
As if the world, for a brief instant, were observing that absolute dragon walking with a new weight—not of war, nor of power… but of the future.
And then Strax spread his wings.
“Come on,” he murmured to the sleeping hatchling. “Time to meet someone important.”
And he set off, determined to find Scarlet.
Strax walked through the familiar corridors of the castle, the heavy sound of his footsteps contrasting with the almost nonexistent weight in his arms. The little dragon slept soundly, curled against his chest, the gentle cold emanating from her now familiar—not threatening, just present. Each breath of the hatchling released a crystalline vapor that dissipated before touching his armor.
He stopped before a door.
Scarlet’s room.
Without knocking, he pushed the door open slowly. The room was warmed by constant, not aggressive, embers, just enough to maintain comfort. Books were scattered in small piles, too neatly arranged to be accidental. Scarlet sat in a wide armchair, one leg crossed over the other, engrossed in reading a thick, dark red-covered tome.
She looked up at the sound of the door.
First, she glanced at Strax.
Then, at what he was carrying.
Her gaze lingered on the small dragon for too long.
Scarlet slowly closed the book.
And she sighed.
A long sigh. Tired. Laden with something between resignation and restrained irritation.
“…Of course,” she murmured. “Why not.”
Strax raised an eyebrow slightly. “Good night to you too.”
Scarlet rested the book on the arm of the armchair and stood up, walking a few steps until she was facing him. Her golden eyes analyzed the little dragon with critical attention—from the tip of her snout to the tiny tail that moved almost imperceptibly as she slept.
“…So,” said Scarlet, crossing her arms. “Do you want to tell me why you came into my room carrying a dragon child?”
Strax replied with absolute naturalness: “She had nowhere to stay.”
Scarlet closed her eyes for a second.
She took a deep breath.
She opened them again.
“…I knew it.”
Strax tilted his head slightly. “Knew what?”
“That this was going to happen.” She pointed with her chin at the hatchling. “You. Dragons. Strange children appearing out of nowhere. It always ends like this.”
The little dragon stirred slightly, making a soft sound—something between a sigh and an icy chirp.
Scarlet narrowed her eyes.
“…She’s cute,” she admitted, reluctantly. “Which makes it all the worse.”
Strax chuckled softly. “Scarlet.”
She shot him a sharp look. “No.”
“She’s just a child.”
“For now,” Scarlet retorted immediately. “Dragons don’t stay small for long. This ‘child’ will grow fast, will become strong, beautiful—” she made air quotes “—’mysteriously linked to you’—and then will start following you everywhere.”
Strax let out a genuine laugh.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not,” she replied too quickly.
He smiled even wider. “Yes, she is.”
Scarlet turned her face away, annoyed. “I’m just being realistic. You have this incredible talent for attracting emotionally complex draconic beings.”
“She was literally born about thirty minutes ago.”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, here we go again.”