Demonic Dragon: Harem System

The light of the new day came through the heavy curtains of the room, tinging everything with a soft amber hue. Strax woke up slowly, more from the restlessness of his mind than from any external sound or stimulus. The warmth and weight on his chest reminded him of the night before - or rather, the nights before that.

Kryssia and Xenovia were sound asleep, one on each side, their bodies still wrapped around him, as if sleep didn't want to let them go. For a moment, he stood there, just watching them. Both had traces of strength and fragility mixed so intensely that it made him think more than he would have liked.

Carefully, he slid his arms underneath them, separating them slowly so as not to wake them. They mumbled something incomprehensible in their sleep, but soon settled back into the sheets, plunging back into silence.

Strax made his way to the bathroom, already familiar with the cold feel of the floor under his feet. He sat on the stool in the traditional Japanese bath style, letting the hot water run over his shoulders as he immersed himself in thought.

"Emperor..."

The word echoed in his mind like an unfulfilled promise. From the stage of Grand Master to King, the transition had been intense, but relatively quick. Natural, even. As if he was just following the inevitable flow of his ascent.

But now?

There was something stuck. As if he were running into an invisible wall. He felt the power stirring inside him - not stagnant, but... contained. Like boiling lava under the crust of a volcano.

"I've fought, I've trained, I've pushed myself beyond my limits..." he thought, clenching his fists under the water. "So why haven't I reached that stage yet?"

Perhaps Scarlet was right. Maybe it was less about brute strength and more about... understanding. Control. Patience. But it frustrated him. He was action, he was impulse - not inertia.

The water ran down his hair as he lifted his face, feeling the steam envelop his body. The power was there. He knew it. But something was stopping him from reaching that last jump. Something he still didn't understand.

With his mind still immersed in thoughts of his progress and the weight of what was to follow, Strax turned off the water and stood up from the stool. He grabbed a terry towel and began to dry himself with firm, but unhurried movements - as if each gesture would help reorganize not only his body, but also his mind.

She dressed in simple but well-fitting clothes - dark pants made of light fabric, a sleeveless shirt that showed part of her marked chest and arms covered in discreet scars and erased runes. He hung up the pendant he always carried with him - a symbol he had gotten from Scarlet a long time ago - and finally ran his hand through his still damp hair, pushing it back.

When he returned to the bedroom, the sight he found made his thoughts stop for a brief moment.

The two of them were still sound asleep, curled up in the messy sheets. The golden morning light softly illuminated their bodies - Kryssia still wrapped in an almost-hug, her face resting where his chest had been a moment ago; Xenovia slightly turned on her side, with one of her arms stretched out towards where he used to be.

Both had soft smiles on their faces. Not forced or provocative. They were sincere, fragile smiles - the kind of expression you only see when someone is truly at peace.

Strax approached with silent steps and pulled out a thick, soft blanket, carefully spreading it over their entwined bodies. He adjusted the edges patiently, making sure they were well covered and warm, as if that simple act was his silent way of saying thank you for that moment.

For a moment, he just watched them. Not as warriors, not as allies, not even as lovers... but as people. Souls who had somehow found a resting place in him.

He smiled back, even though they couldn't see it.

"Rest well..." he murmured quietly, almost like a promise.

Then...

Strax descended the stairs with firm steps, the wood creaking softly under his feet as the sunlight streamed through the house's wide windows. The delicious smell of fresh food hit him like a wave - freshly baked bread, cut fruit, seasoned eggs, smoked meat, honey, butter... a real morning celebration.

The long oak table in the center of the room was impeccably set, as if some kind of domestic magic had passed through. And, in a way, it had - although it wasn't literal sorcery.

At the end of the table, sitting with a tranquil expression, was Monica. Her long golden hair was tied up in a makeshift bun on top of her head, a few loose strands falling lazily around her face. She was wearing a shirt that was too light for the morning chill, but which showed the sweat on her shoulders and neck - clearly, she had done more than prepare the coffee.

She was eating toast with honey with disconcerting calm, licking her fingers between bites, while distractedly leafing through a notebook next to her plate.

Strax approached and pulled out the chair next to her. Before he even sat down, he gently ran his fingers through her hair, stroking her scalp with a silent caress.

"Sorry to make you clean all that up..." he murmured, his raspy morning voice carrying a genuine touch of guilt and gratitude.

Monica raised an eyebrow, turning her face slightly to look at him, a strand of honey still glistening at the corner of her lips. Her gaze was direct... but not angry.

"You'll have to repay me handsomely with something else," she said, a mischievous half-smile forming on her lips, her voice velvety and teasing.

She turned fully towards him now, deliberately crossing her legs and staring at him over the cup of tea she brought to her lips. Tension played in the air, but it was light, intimate, complicit. The kind of thing that is only born between people who have been through a lot - and yet are still there, side by side.

Strax laughed quietly, shaking his head, and picked up an apple from the table, taking a lazy bite.

"I was wondering when you were going to charge."

She arched her eyebrows.

"I always charge. I just choose my moment wisely."

Outside, the sounds of magic and steel still rumbled like distant thunder, but inside the house, there was a golden stillness, like the last instant before a new storm.

Suddenly, a slight tremor ran through the floor, making the cutlery on the table vibrate gently. Strax looked up instinctively, and just then the front door opened with a slight creak. Beatrice appeared in the doorway, her hair fluttering in the morning breeze and an expression of surprise and delight on her face.

"They're back," she said simply.

Strax smiled, his eyes taking on an almost childlike gleam, as if he were meeting old friends from an ancient world.

Standing up calmly, he crossed the interior of the house to the back garden. As soon as he opened the glazed wooden doors, he was greeted by an imposing and magnificent sight: two giant dragons hovered in the sky for just a moment, before touching the ground in perfect synchrony. Their colossal forms writhed gently, like heavenly serpents molding themselves to flesh - and then the transformation took place.

Where there had once been scales and wings, there were now two women.

Ouroboros was the first to rise. Her black hair fell in heavy, wild waves down her back, and her eyes carried that characteristic chaotic gleam - a spark of madness and freedom that is hard to describe. Her body exuded pure energy, and the mischievous smile she flashed said everything about the kind of creature she was: unpredictable, intense and dangerously loyal.

Next to her, Tiamat appeared like a goddess in full form. Her blonde hair shone like strands of gold in the morning sun, and her eyes carried a powerful calm - justice incarnate. Her body, luxurious and firm, moved with an almost divine grace, each step echoing a restrained, controlled force, but always on the verge of breaking free.

Strax crossed his arms, still smiling.

"Everything all right?"

Tiamat answered without a word at first. He just raised his hand, and the ring on his finger glowed with intense energy. Three beams of light descended to the ground, slowly forming the bodies of the homunculi.

There, lying on the grass, the inert bodies of Nyx, Lithara and Kallamos lay, perfect and ready - their future homes finally built. Still soulless, but beautifully preserved, like statues awaiting the final touch of a divine artist.

"They're ready," said Tiamat, her voice low and powerful. "The physical form has been redone to perfection. Now... all that's missing is the elf."

"You have no idea how important this is," replied Strax, looking at the bodies with a reverent expression. "You two have outdone yourselves."

Ouroboros snorted, with an impatient glint in his eyes.

"Of course we did. We didn't cross a cursed mountain range just to play graveyard, did we?" She then snapped her fingers, causing a small glow to appear around the bodies. "Let's bring these legends back soon. I want to see if this Nyx is as intimidating as they say."

Tiamat only glanced sideways at her draconic sister, but a small smile appeared on her lips too.

Strax approached the bodies once more, kneeling before them with a solemn calm. This was more than just power - it was the return of his allies, his family. And, perhaps, the next step towards finally reaching the throne of Emperor.

He let out a low sigh.

"Time to wake you up."