Demonic Dragon: Harem System

The morning light filtered through the soft curtains, gilding everything with a warm, silent glow—as if time had stopped to respect what had happened there.

Strax lay on his side, his fingers slowly running through Evelyn's silver hair, as if weaving memories between the strands. She slept — or pretended to sleep — her face hidden against his bare chest, her arms wrapped around his waist as if, by letting go, something precious might escape.

She was completely naked, wrapped only in the light linen sheets and the security of Strax's body. But there was no shame. No hurry. There was peace—that rare kind that can only be found after a long time of war.

The silence between them was comfortable, full of presence. He watched the ancient stone ceiling, the shadows dancing across its curves, and felt, there in his arms, the warmth of a mutual choice. Not something forced by fate, but decided at the right time.

Evelyn sighed, her warm breath against his skin.

"You're still here..." she murmured, without opening her eyes.

Strax smiled. "I still am."

She lifted her face slowly, her light blue eyes shining with that touch of vulnerability that few people had ever seen in her. There was a trace of fear there, mixed with tenderness.

"I thought it was a dream..."

"If it is, may it not end anytime soon."

She smiled, that lazy smile of someone who has just woken up in the arms of someone who matters. Her hand rose to his face, tracing the line of his jaw, then his lower lip, as if she wanted to memorize every feature.

"You're leaving today." She didn't ask. She knew.

"Yes." The answer was simple. Honest. And it hurt a little to say it.

Evelyn nodded, resting her chin on his chest, as if she wanted to engrave the sound of Strax's heart in her mind.

"Then stay a little longer," she whispered. "Stay here, in the now."

He didn't answer with words. He just pulled her a little closer to him, burying his face in her hair, breathing deeply — as if trying to capture the moment with all his senses. Evelyn's scent — wildflowers and ancient magic — was etched in his memory, like a seal that cannot be broken even with time.

They stayed like that for long seconds, listening only to the calm sound of each other's breathing.

Then, in a voice lower than a whisper, he asked:

"Do you want to be a dragon?"

The question seemed simple, but it wasn't. It was loaded with meaning. With bond. It was an offering of destiny — and eternity.

Evelyn moved slightly, her chin now resting on his chest. Their eyes met, and she smiled in a serene, almost mischievous way — but with a sweetness that only she knew how to measure.

"No," she replied, firm and soft. "I am a proud elf. I still have too many roots, too many obligations. I will only become a dragon on the day I decide to stay with you... permanently."

Strax looked at her silently. There was no sadness in his expression, only understanding. Admiration. Respect.

"Fair enough," he murmured. "It's a choice that must come from the heart. Not because of time. Not because of death."

"Not even for love," she added, with a steady gaze. "But out of choice. When I'm ready to leave everything... everything behind."

He nodded, slowly running his thumb across her cheekbone. There was pride in his eyes. She was strong. Honest. And that only made him want her more—not as a possession, but as an equal. Like the choice he would never ask for... but would always hope for.

"Then I'll wait," he said, with a half-smile. "Even if it takes a thousand years."

Evelyn moved closer, resting her forehead against his. "I hope it won't take that long. But... if it does, wait for me with the patience of a dragon, not a warrior."

Strax chuckled softly. "Patience of a dragon? Does that mean sleeping in caves for centuries dreaming of you?"

She closed her eyes, smiling. "Exactly."

Silence fell again, but this time it was light, like an autumn breeze.

[South of the Elven Kingdom]

The sky above the gray plains of Val'Therya was covered with thick clouds, as if the world were holding its breath for what was to come. The wind whistled among the ancient stones scattered across the field—silent witnesses to clashes of ages past. Now, they would witness another.

Two figures stared at each other from a distance.

On one side stood Scarlet, her scarlet hair tied back in a long braid, wearing light armor that did not restrict her movements, tailor-made for a swift and deadly warrior. Her aura blazed around her body, like embers on the verge of combustion. In her human form, she still exuded power—and the feeling that something fierce lurked beneath her skin.

On the other side, Frieren. Taller, ethereal, wrapped in a cloak of ancient fabric embroidered with silver thread. Her eyes—as old as the stars and as wise as time—now burned with the glow of determination. She was there for a clear purpose.

To test herself. And to do so, she chose to face the most powerful woman at Strax's side.

"Are you sure about this?" Scarlet asked, slowly rotating her fist, warming up her body as if the confrontation were just a dance. "Strax won't like it if I hurt you."

Frieren smiled, the kind of smile that said: I've seen centuries pass, dear. Don't underestimate me.

"He doesn't need to know." She let go of her cloak, revealing a tight battle tunic, forged with lunar enchantments. "Besides, you are the strongest woman beside him. I need to know what I still am... and how far I can go."

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "You want to know if you can still be a great warrior?"

"I want to know if I can still be me. Now that I'm free."

A moment of silence. An unspoken but very present mutual respect.

Scarlet took a deep breath and walked a few steps forward. "No magical weapons?"

"No draconic fire tricks."

"No elven illusion."

"No ancestral summoning."

The two stopped about ten meters apart. The entire field seemed to tremble slightly when they both released just a fraction of their auras. The air warmed with Scarlet. The ground was covered with subtle snow with Frieren. Fire and ice in delicate balance.

Scarlet assumed a fighting stance. Her body flowed like that of a fighter who knew how to end a war before it began.

"Ready?" she asked.

Frieren closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, there was something there that even time had not been able to erase: absolute focus.

"I am."

Scarlet moved first—a red line at high speed. Frieren moved only her fingers, and the air between them distorted, blocking the first impact with a wall of solid wind. The fight began without hesitation.

Fists against spells. Flames against icy lightning. Shredded screams from the sky accompanying each magical clash that shook the field.