Demonic Dragon: Harem System

The smell of smoke still permeated the air, even there, within the reinforced walls of the central mansion. The light coming through the tall windows was gray, filtered by clouds of ash hovering over the city. The tapestries hung motionless, as if time itself were holding its breath.

Strax sat in the Grand Duke's armchair.

It was not a throne. It was just a reinforced chair, made of dark wood and purple velvet, but at that moment, it seemed to weigh tons. His presence filled the room like a storm about to break. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, his fingers intertwined in front of his mouth. His eyes were half-closed, golden, fixed on the man in front of him.

The soldier was motionless, pale as wax. His armor, dented and stained with soot, clinked with the tremors he was trying to control. Even so, he spoke.

"The official count is still being made, sir..." his voice was tense, breaking in places, "but we estimate... at least five thousand dead. Thousands more missing. Some districts have been completely wiped off the official map."

Strax did not react. He did not interrupt. He just listened.

The soldier swallowed hard and continued:

"The east and south gates have been destroyed. The watchtowers are in ruins. We have not been able to contact Ryn's Fortress so far. The Mages' Guild... has been partially obliterated. Most of the arcanists died in the first impact." He hesitated, as if the next point hurt more. "The dragons... were not wild, sir. They were trained. Coordinated. They waited for magical defenses. They attacked the most sensitive points with surgical precision."

There was a heavy silence. The kind that makes sweat run down your back even in the cold of the morning.

"Witnesses say they saw... one of them, bigger than all the others. Black as coal. With red eyes and three pairs of wings. It seemed to be giving orders."

Strax finally moved.

He leaned back slowly in his chair, his eyes still fixed on the void. His aura, contained until that moment, seemed to pulsate with a slight tremor. Like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

"This... was not an attack," he said, his voice low, deep as muffled thunder. "It was an execution."

The soldier opened his mouth to respond, but closed it before any sound escaped.

Strax stood up.

The room seemed to shrink around him. Even the fire in the torches flickered, as if recognizing something ancient and lethal in the presence of Vorah's new lord.

"Send urgent summons to the remnants who can aid in the search. Request reinforcements from Selyan Tower. And send hunters to every village around Vorah. If there is a single dragon left flying over our territory... I want to know."

The soldier nodded, stammering a 'Yes, sir,' before hurrying off down the hallways.

Strax was alone for a moment. The echoes of receding footsteps were swallowed by the stillness of the room.

He walked to the nearest window and looked out at the city.

Vorah burned in silence. Mourning had not yet set in—people were too busy surviving. But he knew it would come.

Strax clenched his fists.

Strax stared at the city for long seconds, his golden eyes impassive, even in the face of the columns of smoke still rising from the distant districts. The silence of the palace contrasted brutally with the chaos outside. Each breath was heavy, laden with a weight he could not yet name.

"What the fuck..." he muttered as he walked away from the window, his footsteps reverberating across the cold marble of the hall. He ran his hand through his short hair, his jaw tense. Then he turned, without raising his voice, but with enough firmness to cut the air like a sheathed blade. "What do you think of that?"

A shadow slid silently from behind one of the ornate columns.

Frieren appeared, as if she had always been there—invisible until needed.

Her dark cloak trailed lightly on the floor, and her silver eyes had an ancient, distant glow, like stars watching the world from above. She stopped a few steps away from him, her arms crossed over her chest. There was something majestic and wild about her posture, like a beast crowned with millennia of history.

"When I was Queen," she said, her voice calm but laden with something... dense, "things like this happened. None of this is new, Strax. The wars, the veiled plots, the alliances broken in exchange for blood. Governing a kingdom is like trying to hold back a river with your hands."

She took a short walk around the room, her fingers sliding over the torn tapestries.

"The other regents... don't know when to stop. They're like children playing with magical weapons they barely understand. Like Lilith..." She paused. One corner of her lip curled in contempt. "...that one is a lost cause. Always has been. Petty. Impulsive. Attention-seeking, whatever."

Strax watched Frieren closely. He didn't speak, but she knew that every word she said was measured, weighed, evaluated.

"But," she continued, turning her gaze back to him, 'I don't think Lilith was responsible for this. She's chaotic, yes, but she's not a strategist. And this attack... it was too meticulous. It has a signature. A pattern. A purpose.'

She moved closer, now standing right in front of him.

"I believe Ignisar ordered all of this."

Strax frowned. That name carried memories.

"Ignisar... the ruler of Caelum?"

Frieren nodded slowly.

"An Elder Dragon. Ancient, even among our kind. He has lived in isolation in Caelum for centuries, surrounded by mountains of magma. He rules in silence, but he watches everything. He always has."

"Why now?" Strax asked, his voice tense. 'Why attack Vorah?'

She shrugged ambiguously.

"I don't know. But he is the only known being with access to the Dragons, they obey him, not out of domination, but out of respect. And those who attacked Vorah... they weren't being controlled. They were following orders."

Silence settled between them, heavy with meaning.

"Do you think he wants war?" Strax asked.

"If he wanted war, Vorah would no longer exist." The answer came quickly, coldly. "No, Strax. This was a message. We just don't know who it's for yet. Or why."

She took a step back, her eyes still fixed on his.

"But Caelum doesn't send Dragons on a whim. And if Ignisar has awakened from his silent exile... something much bigger is about to happen."

Strax turned to the window. The columns of smoke had diminished, but now there was another problem burning inside him—a premonition, as old as the stones beneath his feet.

"Then let's go to him," he muttered. 'Caelum.'

Frieren smiled. It was an ancient, enigmatic smile. Almost... nostalgic.

"You don't go to Caelum. You survive the journey, if you're lucky. But yes... perhaps it's time for someone to knock on the Elder's door."