Demonic Dragon: Harem System

The silence after the miracle seemed dense, reverent—as if even time respected what had just happened.

But inside Strax... something was wrong.

Very wrong.

His heartbeat was slow, heavy, like muffled hammer blows in a deep cave. His veins burned with the echo of draconic energy, as if embers were running through every inch of his body. His muscles throbbed, and inside, he felt the magical fabric of his soul... stretching.

Tearing.

He gritted his teeth discreetly. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his mouth, but he wiped it away with the back of his hand, as if it were sweat. No one needed to see that. No one needed to worry.

Cristine was still kneeling beside him, examining him with wide eyes. But he wouldn't let her see. Nor Yennifer. And certainly not those people—those who had suffered, who had been saved.

They need hope. Not a broken savior, he thought.

So he forced himself to stand.

Every fiber of his body protested. His joints cracked like dry twigs. A dull sound ran down his back, and he knew—a ligament had snapped. Draconic regeneration would take care of that soon... maybe. But even so, he remained standing.

Imposing.

Steadfast.

Cristine tried to hold him. "You don't have to pretend, Strax, you're—"

"I'm fine," he said. Too quick. Too cold. It was almost a whisper, but sharp as a naked blade.

Yennifer looked at him with a gaze that said: Don't lie to me.

But she said nothing.

Strax took a deep breath. The air burned in his lungs, but he held his posture. The scales on his arms began to slowly dissolve, returning to skin, but unevenly. The balance between human and dragon was unstable now—more than ever.

The runes of the Dragon's Word still glowed in his eyes, even though he had already returned to human form. A subtle glow... but an alarming one.

I'm using too much. Too fast, he thought. But I can't stop now.

He took a step—and the world spun for an instant. The edges of his vision darkened. His head throbbed fiercely. A sharp pain shot through his spine.

Cristine saw it.

"You're not okay. You're going to fall," she said, trying to hold him again.

Strax gently pushed her hand away. But there was firmness there. Determination.

"I won't fall," he murmured. "I have things to do."

"Strax—"

"They need to believe it's over. That it's safe. That someone is in control." His eyes met hers, and even though he was grimacing in pain, there was a brutal clarity in that expression. "Let the pain come later. Right now, the world is still watching."

In the distance, people were beginning to gather in groups. They looked at him with reverence, with doubt, with hope. Some cried. Others smiled. A small group of mages, probably from the city guard, approached slowly.

Yennifer stood beside him.

"You know you're tearing the seams of your soul, don't you?" she said, with a forced half-smile.

"Better mine than theirs," he replied.

And then, as if fate were testing his stubbornness, a sharp pain shot through his right leg, causing it to give way for a moment.

But only for a moment.

He planted his foot on the ground like a pillar and forced himself back into balance. The ground cracked beneath him, but no one else noticed except Cristine and Yennifer.

"Stubborn idiot," Cristine muttered with a sigh. "You'll break in half, and still refuse to lie down."

Strax looked at the now restored city. The sunset bathed Eldoria in gold and red, but now... it was a warm red, the color of life. No more blood. No more fire.

He took a deep breath, and despite everything—despite the pain that grew like a blade stuck under his skin—he smiled.

Small. Rare. But real.

"I can't fall now," he repeated to himself, almost like a vow. "There's still something here. Something that led this attack... something that tried to sabotage the city from within."

And when he said that, his eyes glowed slightly, and he felt a vibration—weak, distant, but real—echoing from the depths of the earth, as if an ancient whisper responded to the call of the Word he had uttered.

Something... was not finished.

And he knew it.

"This was only the first act," he murmured.

Cristine and Yennifer looked at each other. The city had been restored. The people were alive. But the weight of it was not a happy ending—it was the beginning of something much bigger.

And Strax, even limping, even burning inside, even with blood dripping between his fingers, turned to them with that look that was no longer just that of a warrior.

It was the look of someone who carries the whole world on their shoulders.

"Let's go," he said. "The city is alive. But the serpent still hides among the rocks."

And then he walked.

Eldoria followed behind him.

But the war, they all knew...

was just beginning.

Strax had walked only a few meters when his leg finally gave way again—a discreet but painful crack reverberated throughout his spine. He stopped, exhaling slowly, letting his breath carry the pain out of his body... at least for a few seconds.

His body was finally beginning to regenerate.

Soft golden flames, almost imperceptible, danced beneath his skin. The cracks in his aura began to close slowly, like wounds stitched together by light. His muscles, tense as strings about to snap, began to relax. The residual scales that still clung to his arms evaporated with small pops of magical energy.

He concentrated.

One step at a time. One fragment at a time. Natural regeneration still works... it's slow, but it's coming.

The pain hadn't disappeared. But it had transformed. Into heat. Into presence.

Cristine and Yennifer watched in silence, respecting that sacred moment. They knew that for a dragon—especially one of Strax's lineage—the act of regeneration was not just physical. It was a brief rebirth. A reconstruction of the soul.

Then hurried footsteps echoed through the silent street.

A man in silver-blue armor, with golden insignia on his shoulders and a long cape marked with the symbol of the sun of Eldoria, approached with a steady march. He stopped a few feet from Strax, removed his helmet, and bowed until one knee touched the ground.

"Lord Strax Vorah..." His voice was grave but respectful. "I am Captain Helgron of the Eldorian Guard."

Strax stared at him silently for a moment. The name was unfamiliar, but the formality was clear. The man seemed to represent something more than just a messenger.

Helgron looked up and continued:

"The Regent of Eldoria... wishes to speak with you. Immediately. He... witnessed everything. And he says an audience is urgent. And personal."

Cristine crossed her arms suspiciously. "The Regent? Now? After hiding while the city was destroyed?"

Helgron did not answer immediately. He just bowed his head once more, as if acknowledging the truth but not having the right to confirm it.

Strax took a deep breath, his body still adjusting to the chaos he had caused internally. He could feel his meridians still pulsing like raging rivers, but the flow was calming down.

"And where is he?" he asked at last.

"The Solar Hall, sir. It's on the north hill of the city."

Strax looked up at the golden sky, now calm. Then at the faces of the people, who were beginning to walk carefully along the restored streets, as if they feared it was just a fragile illusion.

He knew he couldn't refuse.

The Regent's presence might be political, but the timing... was suspicious. And perhaps necessary.

'If anyone in power saw all that... then they will try to understand it. Or use it. Or eliminate it.'

Strax nodded once. "Take me to him."