Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Danthelion was a continent that breathed danger around every corner, and its cities were no different. There were no walls to guarantee security, no benevolent kings to watch over the inhabitants. What kept a town standing was the strength of its local leaders and their ability to survive amidst chaos. And in the heart of one such city, known as Kaelthur, a merchant tried to keep his life in order.

His name was Hadrian Varrow, a middle-aged man with dark hair slightly graying at the temples and watchful eyes that seemed to weigh every detail of the world around him. He didn't have the bearing of a warrior, but there was something about him that betrayed experience: the way he moved without ever showing his back completely to a stranger, the way he scrutinized every face that passed his stall, like someone measuring the value of a coin.

Hadrian was no ordinary man. Decades ago, he had become a sort of "merchant of the forbidden routes," carrying rare goods from one region of Danthelion to another. Artifacts from slain monsters, enchanted fabrics, spices harvested from plains dominated by barbarian tribes—everything passed through his hands. And it was precisely this reputation that caused him trouble.

Kaelthur, the city where he now found himself, was a cluster of gray stone houses nestled among a range of hills covered in humid forests. The streets were narrow, made of packed earth, with small canals to divert the rain that never completely ceased. The smell was a mixture of smoke, wet leather, and exotic spices from the caravans. There was a vibrant central market, filled with colorful tents that flew like war flags, but also dark alleys where dishonorable mercenaries sold their services to the highest bidder.

Hadrian was standing in the market, adjusting some crates on his reinforced wooden cart, pulled by muscular beasts of burden, reminiscent of oxen with curved tusks. His heart, however, was racing. It wasn't just the weight of the merchandise that worried him.

"They're coming, Master Varrow," said one of his aides, a thin boy with frightened eyes, pointing discreetly down the street.

Hadrian followed the gesture and saw a group of men advancing through the crowd. They wore black armor, light and flexible, yet still conveying a sense of menace. Each carried curved blades at their waists, and their faces were partially covered by cloth masks that hid their expressions.

"Debt hunters..." Hadrian muttered, clenching his fists.

For months, he had been under pressure from a local guild, an organization calling itself the "Scarlet Hand." They were mercenaries and extortionists, who charged exorbitant fees to any merchant who dared enter Kaelthur without paying "protection." Hadrian, accustomed to dealing with tribal kings and barbarian chieftains, had not bowed easily. But this came at a price.

The leader of the group stepped forward, a tall man with yellow eyes that glowed beneath his mask, like those of a predator.

"Hadrian Varrow." His voice was deep, almost guttural. "I heard you left on your journey without paying the Crimson Hand's tribute."

Hadrian lifted his chin, trying to maintain his dignity.

"I told you I don't make deals with cowards."

The silence that followed was thick. The people in the market instinctively backed away, as if unwilling to be swallowed by the storm about to descend. The leader inclined his head slightly, and two of his men stepped forward, opening the crates in Hadrian's cart without permission. They removed fine, deep-blue fabrics, rare even in Danthelion, and samples of shimmering powder, mined from minerals in monster-infested caves.

"Valuable goods," the leader commented, running his fingers over the fabric. "A shame the owner doesn't know how to stay alive long enough to enjoy them."

Hadrian stepped forward, his voice firm.

"Touch my cargo and you'll be in more trouble than you can imagine."

The leader chuckled softly, a sound that made some passersby flinch.

"And who's going to stop me? You?"

Hadrian didn't answer. He knew he didn't have the strength for it. His life had been made of routes and bargains, not battles. But he also knew that if he gave in now, he would lose everything. Not just his goods, but his reputation. And in Danthelion, reputation was worth as much as a sword.

The leader of the Scarlet Hand made a simple gesture with his hand, and the men began to remove Hadrian's goods.

It was then that a scream echoed from across the market.

"Arsonists!" a woman yelled, pointing to the horizon.

Everyone turned their eyes, and high in the hills surrounding Kaelthur, columns of smoke began to rise. The smell of burning filled the air within seconds.

"It can't be..." Hadrian whispered, his heart freezing.

Kaelthur wasn't a fortified city. Its defenses were minimal, relying on the natural steepness of the hills and the trade that flowed through. But now, someone was setting fire to the slopes, and if the fire reached the city, there would be nothing left.

The leader of the Scarlet Hand narrowed his eyes in irritation, but then smiled.

"It seems luck isn't on your side, Hadrian." We'll take what's ours and leave you with the ashes.

Despair gripped the merchant. Not just for his goods, but because that fire wasn't a random occurrence. It was an attack. And if Kaelthur were destroyed, he would lose not only goods, but years of routes, contacts, and secrets built with hard work.

He needed to get out of there. He needed to save at least part of his cargo. But to do so, he needed something he didn't have: an escort strong enough to navigate the paths filled with fire and potential ambushes.

As chaos grew in the city, with residents running, merchants trying to save their tents, and local guards completely unprepared, Hadrian made a decision. He grabbed the boy's helper by the shoulder and pulled him close.

"Go to the forest to the west. Rumor has it a dragon descended there earlier today. If that's true... if it's not just a drunken tale..." His eyes narrowed, filled with determination. "Bring that dragon to me." Tell him I'll pay whatever he asks.

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief.

"A... dragon?"

Hadrian shook him impatiently.

"Go!" he growled. "It's our only chance!"

The boy ran, disappearing amid the smoke that was beginning to spread across the city. Hadrian turned back to the burning horizon, his heart pounding.

And in the heart of the forest, not far away, Strax raised his head, smelling the smoke and the distant echo of screams coming from the city.

"What the hell is that burning smell?" Samira asked nervously, standing up after resting.