Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 749
Chapter 749: Time to go
Strax was walking down the palace’s inner corridor when he spotted Scarlet leaning against a carved ice column, her arms crossed and the expression of someone who already knew something was about to happen—and didn’t like it.
Before he could say anything, she narrowed her eyes.
“You’re going to disappear again, aren’t you?”
Strax didn’t answer immediately. He simply approached and, with almost solemn care, leaned forward, pulling Vex away from his chest.
The little dragon let out a displeased sound the instant she noticed the movement.
“Hey—” Scarlet began, but stopped when Strax placed Vex in her arms.
The hatchling hesitated for a second.
Then settled in.
She lay against Scarlet’s chest as if it were… acceptable. Not preferable. But acceptable.
Scarlet blinked, surprised.
“…look at that,” she murmured. “You’re really going to use me as a babysitter.”
“Just a moment,” Strax replied calmly. “I need to take care of something. Alone.”
She stared at him, serious now.
“It has to do with the tomb.”
It wasn’t a question.
Strax nodded.
“It does.”
Scarlet looked at Vex, who was now observing everything with attentive eyes, and then looked back at him.
“You always say these things as if you were going to buy bread,” she said. “‘I have to take care of something.'” Her voice lowered slightly. “That ‘something’ usually involves things that shouldn’t be touched.”
“Some things can’t be left as they are,” Strax replied. “Especially when they can still choose.”
Scarlet was silent for a moment.
Then she sighed.
“Come back whole.”
“I always do,” he said, with a half-smile.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Strax didn’t answer. He took only two steps back, spread his wings… and took off.
The icy wind from outside the palace enveloped him immediately. The cold currents acknowledged his presence, but did not attempt to stop him. He crossed the skies with controlled speed, Vex now distant, but still present in his perception as a small point of stable mana—safe.
The landscape gradually changed.
The elegant structures of the ice kingdom gave way to older, less shaped, wilder natural formations. Jagged mountains, deep crevasses, thick ice accumulated over eons. The cold here was not comfortable. It was primal.
And, at the center of it all, the tomb.
Strax landed before the ancient entrance, his feet touching the frozen ground firmly. The air around him seemed to hold its breath.
He walked.
Each step echoed differently now, as if the space itself were attentive to his presence. The runes on the walls began to react, not with hostility, but with recognition. Soft blue lights appeared as he advanced. “—I’m back,” he said, without raising his voice.
The cold answered.
Not like wind.
Like attention.
The presence of the Ice Dragon Empress manifested slowly, as before. There was no explosion of power. There was no threat. Only… awareness.
Eyes appeared on the walls, fewer this time, more focused. Observing.
“—You’re back early,” said her voice, echoing with less rigidity than before.
“—I didn’t want to leave this open,” Strax replied, stopping in the center of the empty nest. “This place doesn’t like indecision. Neither do I.”
There was a pause.
“—Did you bring the child?” she asked, after a few seconds.
“—No,” he said. “She’s safe.”
The cold seemed… to relax.
“—Good,” murmured the Empress. “This place is no longer for her.”
Strax nodded slowly.
“—And now it’s not just about her anymore.”
The silence deepened.
“You gave me time,” said the Empress. “And you kept your word.”
“I always keep my word,” replied Strax.
Her eyes moved, as if she were observing not only him, but something beyond—the future, perhaps.
“If I accept,” she said finally, “I will not return as I was.”
“No,” agreed Strax. “No one returns the same.”
“My old body is lost. My form… my authority…” His voice wavered, almost imperceptibly. “My death cannot be undone.”
“No,” he repeated. “But your existence can continue.”
The cold thickened around him, forming crystals suspended in the air, swirling slowly.
“You don’t want an ice empress,” she said. “You want something new. Something molded to your will.”
Strax raised his gaze.
“I want someone who chooses to live,” he replied. “Not someone trapped by what they have lost.”
There was a long silence.
Longer than any other before.
“And if I live…” she began, “…I will live bound to you.”
“Yes.”
“My soul anchored in yours,” she continued. “My return will depend on your power, on your existence.”
“Yes.”
“And if you fall?”
Strax smiled slightly.
“Then we will fall together.”
The answer was neither arrogant nor romantic.
It was factual.
The cold ceased abruptly.
It didn’t disappear—but it stabilized.
“You are dangerous,” said the Empress, almost with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Not because of your strength. But because you make choices inevitable.”
“I don’t force anyone,” Strax replied. “I only offer real possibilities.”
Her eyes closed for a moment.
When they opened again, there was something different about them.
Determination.
“If I refuse,” she said, “you will move on.”
“Yes.”
“My daughter will grow up without me.”
“Yes.”
“And this place will disappear.”
“Eventually.”
She absorbed every word.
“If I accept…” Her voice grew firmer. “I will not be your servant.”
“I never asked for that.”
“I will not be your weapon.”
“I already have too many weapons.”
“I will not be an echo of the past.” “—Then we will be two new beings,” he replied.
The cold began to stir again, but this time not as a threat. As preparation.
“—When will you perform the ritual?” she asked.
“—Not now,” Strax replied. “Now it’s just a choice.”
Her eyes stared at him intensely.
“—Aren’t you afraid I’ll become something you can’t control?”
Strax smiled slowly.
“—I hope so.”
There was a moment of absolute silence.
Then the Empress spoke, and her voice echoed not as a command… but as a decision.
“—I choose to live.”
The air vibrated.
The runes on the walls lit up at once, not in warning, but in recognition. The ice beneath Strax’s feet crackled, not breaking, but rearranging itself.
“—Not now,” she finished. “Not yet. I want to see the world that arose after me. I want to feel… without a body. Without haste.” Strax nodded.
“The future won’t run away,” he said. “When I’m ready, I’ll come back.”
“I know,” she replied. “You always come back.”
The cold began to dissipate slowly, her presence retreating not into death… but into conscious rest.
Before disappearing completely, the voice echoed one last time:
“Take care of her.”
Strax closed his eyes for a second.
“Always.”
When he opened his eyes again, the tomb was silent.
Not empty.
Silent.
Strax turned and walked towards the exit.
Strax left the palace without fanfare.
There were no long farewells, no speeches. He simply passed Scarlet, carefully placed Vex in his arms—the little dragon settled immediately, casting one last possessive glance in his direction—and murmured:
“Take care of her for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes, suspicious.
“You always say that when you’re about to do something stupid.”
Strax smirked.
“This time it’ll be… productive.”
Before she could retort, he was already gone. The ice doors swung open before him as if acknowledging an authority greater than that of the Monarch herself, and Strax stepped outside the palace.
The wind hit him hard.
Cold.
Wrong.
The air currents weren’t natural—they were overloaded with unstable mana, swirling in aggressive patterns, cutting through the sky like invisible blades. This was what was sickening the kingdom, killing crops, freezing roads, driving creatures sensitive to the energy mad.
Strax looked up.
“…typical.”
He flexed his wings.
And then he flew.
The initial impact shattered the air. A dry rumble echoed as his body cut through the layers of wind as if they were merely symbolic resistance. Strax rose swiftly, high, until the palace became a block of crystal beneath him and the entire kingdom opened up like a frozen map.
Currents spiraled around the mountains.
They breathed cold.
Strax extended his hands.
The mana responded immediately.
Not ordinary fire—this was a concept. A primordial heat shaped by absolute will. The flames were not born; they were declared.
In the space between his hands, a sphere began to form.
Golden.
White at the center.
Violent.
The surrounding air compressed, distorted, screamed. The clouds began to evaporate before even touching it, opening a clean circle in the sky.
A sun.
Artificial.
Perfect.
“Since you want to play at eternal winter…” Strax laughed, the sound carrying through the sky like a warm thunderclap. “Let’s do it right.”
He pushed the sphere upwards.
The “sun” rose a few meters… and then stopped, as if it had found the exact point where it should exist. Light exploded in all directions, bathing the kingdom in intense heat.
The ice began to react immediately.
Icy air currents screamed—literally. Cold mana collapsed as the absolute heat collided with it. Spirals unraveled, winds shattered, magical patterns were torn like fragile webs.
Entire mountains began to drip.
Frozen rivers cracked and flowed again.
Snow evaporated into thick vapor, forming clouds that rose too fast to rain.
Strax watched it all with open arms, wings spread, as if he were at the center of a destructive work of art.
“It’ll be better to melt it all at once…” he said, satisfied. “Then we’ll go back to normal.”
The heat wasn’t chaotic. It was necessary. Where there was life, the fire receded. Where there was excess ice, it persisted. The cities didn’t burn; they merely breathed a sigh of relief. The frozen plants didn’t die; they thawed slowly, surviving.
The kingdom groaned.
And then it began to heal.
Strax closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the flow of mana reorganize itself. The artificial sun began to slowly diminish, its intensity reduced in layers, until it became only a temporary source of thermal stability, anchored in the sky.
He opened his eyes again.
“Good. This buys time.”
Then he shouted.
Not with his throat.
With his soul.
“SHURA!” the voice echoed like an absolute command. “It’s time to go!”
The sound traveled through mountains, caves, frozen forests, and hidden valleys. Creatures sensitive to mana trembled. Ancient pacts vibrated. Dormant runes awakened only to listen… and fall silent.
The echo returned to him seconds later.
And with it…
Presence.
Strax turned his face slightly.
He felt it first on the ground.
Then in the air.
Then in his own blood.
Something large was moving.
Not one.
Many.
A distant roar spread through the kingdom—deep, vibrant, wild. The ice beneath the paws of dozens, hundreds of creatures began to crack as striped shadows emerged between hills and forests.
Tigers.
Giants.
Made of muscle, mana, and instinct.
Some had snow-white fur. Others, bluish, almost translucent. There were ancient markings on their bodies—tribal symbols, scars from battles that did not belong to this era.
They came in a group.
In a pack.
In a clan.
Strax observed, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“Ah…” he murmured. “Looks like the tigress has found her mates.”