Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 555

Chapter 555: True Demonic Dragon Mother (Part.II)

The world shook.

Not like an earthquake. Not like an explosion.

But as if the very fabric of reality had been pressed by something greater than life, greater than death, greater than any concept that a mortal or immortal mind could conceive. It was a whisper. A single word whispered with such fury and authority that it crossed oceans, jungles, deserts, and floating kingdoms.

“Extermination.”

The word was heard not by the ears, but by the soul.

And the first to react was the Thousand Claws Mountain Range, where ancient dragons had been hibernating in deep sleep since the First Age. They stirred in their caves dug into the heart of the mountains, their ancient eyes opening at the same time. Their pupils contracted, their heartbeats slowed. A spark of fear—the purest and most archaic form of fear—ran down their scale-covered spines.

“What… was that…?” murmured Gahlthor, one of the last of the skyline.

But no one answered. Because they all felt the same thing: the return of something that should have remained buried. A presence that mastered not only magic, but the truth of destruction.

In the deep oceans, where sea dragons swam between abysses and legends, the muffled roar echoed like thunder underwater. The tides froze for a second. Bubbles of energy escaped from ancient crevices. Coral dragons, with scales sparkling like stars, looked up in horror.

“That aura… a dragon?” one of them whispered, its tail lashing the waters as if trying to scare away reality itself.

In realms hidden between layers of space and time—draconic cities invisible to the human eye, where great councils gathered to plan the fate of the world—the impact was more brutal. Meetings were interrupted. Orbs of vision exploded. Mages fell unconscious. The protective runes, which had always shone with stability, began to crack.

In one of these cities, a thirty-meter golden dragon, Lord Thalion, staggered as blood dripped from his eyes.

“She… she didn’t die… That’s not magic… It’s judgment.”

And then… it arrived in Vorah.

The city of gleaming domes, eternal green fields, and walls decorated with tapestries of a thousand battles. A place that, until then, seemed safe. Peaceful. Far from the echoes of war that ravaged the rest of the world.

Monica was the first to feel it.

She was sitting in the mansion’s garden, reading a grimoire on elemental alchemy. The wind blew against her skin as usual, but there was something about it… a hidden current. A heat that came from within, not from without. An ancestral heat. Familiar.

She dropped the book, her eyes widening, and her hands clutched her chest.

“What… is this feeling?” she whispered, gasping for breath. “This energy… this voice… I’ve felt it before… but… it’s not from my husband…”

Samira felt it right after.

On the training ground, where she sharpened her blades with precise movements, she stopped suddenly. The ground beneath her feet shook, and her wings began to rise on their own. As if something were pulling them toward the sky.

“This isn’t normal…” she said in a low voice, feeling the energy run through her bones like needles of light. “Is this… Strax?”

Beatrice, who was organizing some things in her room, fell to her knees. Her magic, normally serene and balanced, collapsed. The mirrors around her shattered at the same time, as if reality refused to reflect what was to come.

“This… blood cede…” She put her hand on the floor, which vibrated like a distant drum.

Daniela, in the stables, screamed when one of the horses reared up and fell dead. No injury. No reason. It just… died. Its soul was simply ripped from its body. Daniela fell backward, staring in horror at the sky.

“What the hell… is this?”

Cassandra, always unstable, always oscillating between madness and lucidity, was the only one who laughed. A dry, nervous laugh, with tears in her eyes. She couldn’t stop laughing, but it was out of fear.

“She’s back… she’s back… HAHAHAHA! The crimson goddess! You wretch!” She grabbed her own hair, trembling. “YOU WRETCH, YOU DARE COME BACK TO LIFE AWAY FROM ME? HAHAHAHA”

Bellatrix felt as if she had been stabbed from within. She fell to the floor of the library, coughing up blood, even though she had no wounds. Such raw, brutal power tore through her own magic like paper.

“That… that’s her…” she whispered. “My husband’s mother… she was really alive,” she smiled slightly…

And finally… The first sound Strax heard was not a voice.

It was the echo of a word deep in his soul.

“Extermination.”

His body reacted before his mind did. His eyes flew open. His heart beat once, twice, three times—and then raced like thunder. He sat up abruptly, panting, sweat evaporating before it could even drip. The heat of his own body was still immense, but the strangest thing was the pain that… wasn’t there. None. Zero.

He was… whole.

His chest, his limbs, his scales — all healed. As if nothing had happened. But he remembered. He remembered the bite. The blood. The collapse. The end.

Looking to the side, he saw that he was leaning… on someone’s lap.

Ouroboros.

She stared at him with a calm, even maternal smile, her eyes shining with gentle joy.

“You woke up quickly,” she said, playing with a strand of her own hair. “Good thing, I thought you were going to snooze for a few days.”

Strax blinked, confused. He tried to get up completely, but felt his energy core still unstable, as if it had been recently restarted.

“What happened…?” he muttered, looking around. “Where is…?”

Ouroboros raised her chin, indicating something ahead. “I think you’re looking for her.”

Following the gesture, Strax’s eyes found Scarlet and Tiamat a few meters ahead. Scarlet stood with her arms crossed, serious, her eyes fixed on something ahead. Tiamat, on the other hand, sat on a rock, her elbows resting on her knees and her face buried in her hands, her expression somewhere between fascination and concern.

Both were watching the same thing.

In the air, suspended by thousands of runic spears, was the body of Ignisar. Like a puppet hanging in an eternal massacre. The spears pierced flesh, bone, soul, and pride. But he did not die. His body regenerated… only to be pierced again.

And before him, dancing between blood, magic, and fury—there she was.

Scathach.

Not the ordinary warrior. Not the distant mother. But the entity. The primal force that had awakened.

Her silhouette was that of a woman, yes, but everything about her defied the senses. Her scarlet hair floated like flaming serpents. Her eyes were like dwarf suns spinning in orbit of pure fury. Her every movement left traces in the air — runes, echoes of lost words, memories torn from the fabric of time.

She attacked relentlessly. A continuous flow. Blades formed from pure judgment materialized, slashed, disappeared. Ancient magic enveloped her fists. Bolts of energy were fired with such speed that they seemed simultaneous. It was as if she were stuck in a loop — as if all the pain she had suppressed for ages was now being channeled into a single body.

Ignisar screamed. But he did not die.

Strax swallowed hard. His mind tried to assimilate the scene. His screams. Her roars. The power that made the air thick and heavy.

He leaned forward, his eyes wide.

“M-Mother…?” That’s when she stopped.

As if just that sound, that word, echoing from her son’s throat was enough to break the trance.

Scathach stood still for two seconds. The last runes that formed a spear shattered in silence. Ignisar continued to float there, his breath labored and his veins throbbing with pain.

Then, slowly… she turned her face over her shoulder.

And smiled.

A crooked smile, too wide to be healthy. Demonic. Savage. Glowing with the same unstable energy that dominated her body.

She raised one hand and waved as if she were at a casual family gathering. “Hello.”

Her voice was sweet, almost sung—the kind of voice that precedes a bloodbath.

“Mom is busy,” she continued, in the same calmly insane tone. “I still have a lot of frustration to vent on this insect, so…”

She twirled a dagger of energy between her fingers as if playing with a pen.

“How about you rest a little longer in the lap of that pretty lady over there?” she pointed to Ouroboros with her chin, mocking slightly. “Don’t worry, son… I’m not going anywhere until I turn this insect into a puppet and learn everything they did to my body,” she said with a tight smile and closed eyes. It sent a chill down Strax’s spine.

“My mother… she’s scary…”