Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Strax remained silent for a few seconds. His gaze, previously curious and playful, became more attentive... not serious, but present. He wasn't the type to be easily shaken, but he recognized when a sentence was too heavy to be ignored.

"Give up?" he repeated slowly, testing the word with the bitter taste it might carry. "You don't seem like someone who gives up on things, Frieren. At least, you don't seem like it."

She smiled slightly, but it was a sad smile. One that seemed to exist only to soften the weight of everything she couldn't say.

"Precisely because of that. I'm tired of fighting, I spent years and years sitting on that throne holding a kingdom on my back," she brought the cup to her lips, but did not drink. "You took me out of that, and you even revived me."

Strax leaned back, crossing his arms. He analyzed each word as if they were ancient runes written in living magic.

"And now? Are you going to throw it all away and enjoy your freedom?"

"No." The answer came firmly. She stared at him. "I want to choose. For the first time, I want something that isn't for the people, for the kingdom, for the elven lineage. I want something for myself. Even if it's wrong. Even if it ends up destroying me."

He took a deep breath. The moment was intimate. Brutally honest.

"Do you know what you're saying?" His voice was lower now. Almost gentle. "If you come with me, Frieren, there will be no turning back except that... I usually get myself into a lot of trouble... It's not an adventure. It's not a temporary alliance. It's accepting everything: war, rupture, blood... if it comes."

She slowly rose from her chair. The breeze made her long silver hair dance as she approached the edge of the sanctuary, looking out at the magical forest beyond.

"I have been a queen for centuries. An empress of time. But in the end, I was just a witness to everything—and part of nothing. Maybe it's time to stop being eternal... and start being real."

Strax stood up and walked over to her. He stopped beside the elf, his eyes also turned toward the horizon. For a moment, he said nothing. He just shared the silence with her—and the weight of the choice.

"Does Evelyn know?" He said, simply, directly.

"She said I need to live a little." Frieren laughed, remembering her daughter's nervous expression.

Strax smiled, the kind of smile that came slowly but carried something deep — almost relief.

"She's wiser than she thinks," he said, looking down at the treetops glowing with ancient magic. "Even though she's a little desperate and likes to ignore her own feelings."

Frieren turned slightly, observing his profile with silent curiosity. For the first time in centuries, she felt... light. As if she were living not as a symbol, but as someone who could make mistakes and laugh about them afterwards.

"And you?" she asked. "What are you going to do now?"

Strax shrugged, still staring at the horizon.

"Who knows? I guess I'll get even stronger, until I'm able to kill all the gods and save this world. It looks like it's going to be necessary."

Frieren lowered her gaze. "Well, I've lost a little strength, but I'm still strong," she said with a smile.

"I'll pack my things," she said at last.

"You don't need any of that," Strax replied with a slight nod. "Now you're one of us. Luggage is optional. But chaos... is guaranteed."

She laughed softly, a sound so rare that even the magical leaves of the sanctuary seemed to dance with more joy. Silently, she passed him, letting the wind carry part of her floral scent into the air. He turned to watch her walk into the sanctuary, her feet almost floating above the living floor.

In the center of the table, the two cups remained side by side, now forgotten.

Strax lingered there for another moment, watching the golden leaves fall gently from the sky. There was something powerful about that moment—not because of what had been achieved, but because of what had been allowed to be abandoned.

For the first time, Frieren had chosen.

...

[Caelum]

A name that echoed like thunder in the mouths of the ancients...

This was no place for the weak. It was a continent shaped by primordial chaos, where the earth never rested. Mountains cut through the sky like black spears, and the ground seethed with veins of incandescent lava. The clouds, always laden with red lightning, gathered around the peaks like living crowns. A world of fury and fire. Of wildlife dancing between ashes and catastrophe.

They called it the Back of the World—for there, creation seemed to have paused to contemplate its own brutality.

The Mountains of Fire reigned over Caelum. A belt of sleeping titans and eternally awake volcanoes, spewing columns of black smoke and rivers of magma that traced living paths through the crimson forests. Everything in Caelum pulsed with primitive energy. It was there that heaven touched hell... and both bowed to the Dragons.

And they were everywhere.

Some slept curled up in incandescent craters, others flew over the gorges with wings as wide as storms. The winds carried their ancestral cries — echoes of a race that existed long before the first man laid stone upon stone.

But among them all, one name was whispered even by the winds of ash.

Ignisar.

The First. The Greatest. The most feared.

His dwelling was the Heart of the Absolute Volcano, a colossal crater lost in the interior of the Mountains of Fire. No one—not even other dragons—dared to approach that place. They said that the magma boiled in respect for his presence. That earthquakes only came when he dreamed.

There, between the darkness and the heat that could melt gods, he slept.

For ages.

Until now.

A subtle tremor ran through the base of the mountain, but it was not natural. It was not physical. It was felt. An invisible pulse, like a whisper coming from the very bowels of the world.

And then... he opened his eyes.

Two golden slits lit up in the darkness like twin suns at the bottom of a volcanic pit. The surrounding temperature rose instantly. The magma bubbled. The rocks around his ancient body began to crack just as he lifted his eyelids.

For a long moment, he remained motionless. Feeling.

His eyes did not see the ordinary world. They saw the flows of essence. The primordial lines of magic. The breaths of the world. And what he felt now...

It was impossible.

One heartbeat. Another. Then dozens. Then hundreds.

Like hearts beating inside cosmic eggs... Dragons. True Dragons.

Not descendants. Not winged beasts with the usurped name.

True. Like him. Like the Ancients.

Ignisar slowly raised his head. Each movement seemed to make the world hold its breath. His scales were black with veins of red light running through them, like rivers of living lava. His body seemed carved from the mountain itself, and his horns spiraled like ancient obsidian spears.

He took a deep breath. The air trembled.

"Dragons?" his voice reverberated inside the crater like muffled thunder, a language made of heat and time. "Dragons... real ones?"

He rose to his full height, and when he did, the crater itself seemed to expand to accommodate him. A sea of flames rose into the sky in a gush. The clouds parted, fleeing the heat.

"Why?" he growled, the deep sound causing ash to fall in distant places. "Has a Progenitor been born?" He felt an energy coming from a single direction...

When he realized... the Aura... the signature...

"SCAAATHAAAACH!!!!!!!!!!" He screamed loudly.