Demonic Dragon: Harem System

The morning sun rose slowly over the fields of Val'Therya, tinging the sky with a soft gold that made the celestial dragons look like living sculptures in the distance. The air was crisp, with the scent of freshly damp grass and ancient magic still pulsing in the ground. It was a new day—and a time to depart.

In front of the clearing where the battles had taken place, a group now gathered that, to any mortal, would seem like a living myth.

Evelyn stood beside Lyana, both dressed in simple but beautiful elven robes woven from living silver and enchanted leaves. Their light silver hair danced in the wind, and their eyes held a steady gleam, clouded only by emotion.

Strax approached first. He was silent, without his armor, wearing only a black shirt and pants, as if he wanted this moment to be more human than divine. He stopped in front of Evelyn. The two stared at each other for a moment that seemed to last for ages.

"Are you really going?" Evelyn asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Strax just nodded. He looked at her with a mixture of longing, pride, and resigned calm—as if he accepted the pain of distance because it was necessary.

"There are still wars to come," he said. "But this one... this one was the hardest of all."

Evelyn smiled slightly, even with tears in her eyes.

"You have a gift for surviving them."

He reached out and gently touched her face. An intimate, silent, almost reverent gesture. Then he brought his forehead close to hers.

"When it's time to fly together... you'll know."

She didn't answer. She just closed her eyes and felt his warmth one last time. Then she took a step back.

Beatrice was next. Elegant, mysterious, but clearly moved, she held a necklace in her hands—made of small golden scales and a single drop of blue crystal.

"To protect your mind... and remember who you are." She placed the necklace around Lyana's neck, who looked at her with reverence.

Monica, always practical, approached and squeezed Evelyn's shoulders tightly. Her eyes were red.

"When this mess is over, we'll want wine and stories. Lots of them."

"There will be a place for you in the forest," Evelyn replied, smiling. "Always."

Samira, with her almost spiritual serenity, handed Lyana a small crystal flower. "So that the peace within you will never be broken. Not even in times of pain."

Cristine, with her steadfast cheerfulness, hugged Evelyn unexpectedly. A real, tight hug. "You taught me so much. About strength... and choice."

Rogue, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, just nodded to Evelyn. But his gaze said more than words: respect. Gratitude.

Scarlet arrived silently. She watched Evelyn for a moment, then held out her hand. "We are not the same. But if one day you want to fight... side by side, not against... come find me."

Evelyn shook her hand. A firm handshake. A silent pact.

Cassandra, with the calmness that only she knew how to carry, kissed Lyana on the top of her head. "Take care of your Queen. She carries more weight than she appears to."

Daniela handed Evelyn an old grimoire. "I found this in that ruin, you might want to read it later."

Bellatrix just smiled. A crooked smile, almost mocking, but full of affection.

"We will return."

Tiamat and Ouroboros, the draconic entities, said nothing. But they smiled at Evelyn and Lyana. It was a gesture of honor.

Lithara, well... "Don't go giving that pussy to another man, or I'll kill you." The succubus was still young...

Finally, Frieren approached, quieter than usual. She looked at Evelyn with restrained tenderness, like someone who understands the burden of living centuries with too many memories.

"You are still young... for an elf. You will have many centuries to reflect on this moment. May it strengthen you. Don't let it harden you."

Evelyn took a deep breath, holding Frieren's hands with both of hers. "Thank you, Mother... For everything."

Strax stepped forward, now facing the entire group. "We're leaving. Vorah awaits us. Xenovia, Kryssia... and the Empire."

The group nodded. Each felt the call. The war was not yet over.

Evelyn ran and hugged Strax tightly. He lifted her up and smiled. "Will you wait for me?"

"Always."

[In Vorah…]

Vorah was burning. But not from the inside—from the outside. The sky above the capital was filled with winged shadows. The city alarm had sounded just over an hour ago, but it was already too late to prepare. They had arrived. Dragons. Many of them. Winged beasts of all colors and sizes, spewing fire, ice, poison, and electricity as they dove over the golden roofs and marble towers of the ancient citadel.

At the gates of the imperial citadel, Xenovia swung her black halberd with divine fury. Each blow reaped a dragon as if they were common birds. She was covered in blood—hers and the monsters'—and her expression was pure concentration.

Beside her, Kryssia, the incarnate storm, summoned lightning spears with a simple snap of her fingers. Her laughter cut through the air, charged with adrenaline and pure pleasure for combat.

"They're too weak!" Kryssia shouted, driving a spear into the forehead of a cobalt-blue dragon diving toward the wall. The creature shuddered and fell like a dead comet, opening a crater in the inner courtyard.

"Or we're getting too strong," replied Xenovia, spinning her weapon in a clean motion, decapitating two smaller dragons at the same time.

Around them, the knights of Vorah, mounted on magical beasts or running on foot, fought like living legends. Each combatant seemed to have been born for this. It wasn't a battle—it was an execution.

Dragon bodies fell in succession, blackening the royal gardens and shattering crystal bridges. Mages cast aerial nullification spells, archers fired enchanted arrows that sought the hearts of the beasts.

Kryssia, now floating above the rubble of a fallen tower, looked at the horizon with her hands on her hips, panting but smiling.

"How many do you think we've killed?"

"Sixty-three," Xenovia replied automatically, wiping the blood from her weapon.

They looked at each other. "Pff. This is too easy."

But then... everything stopped.

The sky darkened unnaturally. It wasn't a cloud. It was... a shadow. A presence. The ground shook, and a roar echoed, unlike any other before — deep, almost primal, as if it were the bellow of something that should have been dead for millennia.

And then, it appeared.

From the southern horizon, a winged colossus tore through the clouds. A dragon with scales as black as the abyss, six times the size of the others, with eyes that glowed a poisonous green and a series of twisted bone horns that spread out like a crown of darkness. Its wings were wide enough to cover an entire neighborhood, and its breath came with a gray smoke that corroded the air around it.

It landed on the distant hillside with an impact that shook the entire city. A wave of force made towers tremble, windows explode, and even the smaller dragons retreat... as if they felt fear.

"Holy shit," Kryssia muttered, the first time in years her voice had lost its playful tone.

Xenovia gripped the handle of her halberd tighter.

"This is no ordinary dragon."

"No... this one is too big..."

The colossus took flight again. Each beat of its wings was like a hurricane, knocking down entire towers with just the wind. It opened its mouth and spat out a burst of green flames, so hot that the air itself seemed to split. The outer wall was vaporized. The knights there did not scream. They did not have time.

"We need to stop him from reaching the palace," Xenovia said coldly. "Now."

Kryssia was already floating, her arms glowing with pure icy energy, her hair floating like living snakes.

"No holding back this time?"

"Nothing."

The two shot toward the beast.

The combat was instantaneous. Kryssia summoned a vertical storm upon it—spears of ice fell like rain. Xenovia spun in the air, striking the creature's wings and flanks with enchanted blows.

But it did not fall. It did not even falter.

With a flick of its tail, it swept away three towers and hurled Xenovia like a leaf in the wind. Kryssia tried to block one of its bites with a force field, but the creature's jaw crushed the magical barrier like glass.

She fell, spinning, until she hit the ground, leaving a deep gash in the central square.

"That son of a bitch is strong..." she muttered, spitting blood.