Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 559

Chapter 559: Die alone, Your Majesty.

Ares strode through the great hall like a storm about to break—his eyes burning like embers, his fists clenched, and each step echoing like muffled thunder on the sacred marble. The aura surrounding him was heavy, wild, like the restrained roar of a war about to explode.

High on his throne, Zeus remained impassive. Majestic, cold, almost ethereal. His gray gaze, like storm clouds, showed no surprise—only the silent contempt of one who believes himself above the chaos he provokes.

“What exactly went through that rotten head of yours,” growled Ares, his voice firm as steel about to be driven home, “to think that playing with the body of a Demonic Dragon was a… strategic decision?”

Zeus raised an eyebrow, vaguely bored, as if listening to the bark of a dog too tired to bite.

“I didn’t play with anything,” he replied at last, his voice like thunder and decree. “I merely claimed what was already lost. A useless corpse. Dead earth.”

The words echoed like poison in the ears of the God of War.

Ares stopped in the middle of the hall, his eyes flashing with pure disbelief. “Useless?” He almost laughed, but the anger was too deep for sarcasm. “So it was a brilliant idea to use Hermes as a pawn to manipulate an ancient, cursed being with enough power to tear the soul of Olympus in two. What a brilliant idea, Your Majesty.”

Zeus leaned forward slightly in his throne, and the gesture made the air vibrate as if time itself hesitated. Even in his inertia, his presence weighed like a mountain.

“The world is dying, Ares. The core of this planet is slowly shattering, like glass under pressure. Chaos is growing. The laws we know are crumbling. I have taken the necessary action, while others… just watch and complain.”

Ares took a step forward. His breathing was heavy, his shoulders tense like an animal facing its alpha in rebellion. War pulsed in every vein of his being.

“‘Necessary’?” he repeated, with a hoarse laugh, laden with scorn. “You threw us all into the mouth of the abyss on a blind gamble. You messed with something you don’t understand. You revived a nightmare. And now… now you want to justify it with diplomacy and fear?”

Zeus stared at him in silence, but the air between them trembled.

“You talk about survival, but you act like a coward trying to control fire with gasoline.”

Ares moved even closer to the throne, until his presence filled the entire space between the two gods.

“Then if you’re so sure, Zeus… die with your decision. Die with your greed. Burn with it. I will not fight for a worm disguised as a king.”

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Even the titanic pillars, which had seen eras rise and fall, seemed to shrink before the intensity of the confrontation.

Zeus remained motionless for a long moment, his eyes now fixed on Ares with something that was not surprise—but perhaps, for the first time, it was respect… or fear.

Behind one of the hall’s colossal pilasters, hidden by the shadows of the statues of the ancient Titans, Athena remained in absolute silence. Not out of fear. Not out of cowardice. But out of caution. Out of wisdom.

Her breathing was slow, controlled. Her gray eyes watched Ares’ every move closely—the weight of his fury, the way his aura seemed ready to set the heavens ablaze and tear down Olympus itself with his fists. She knew her half-brother well. She knew the fire that drove him, the insanity masked as bravery. But this… this was different.

When Ares spoke with that dry, contemptuous anger, something in his voice didn’t just sound angry—it sounded alarmed.

Athena frowned and pressed herself a little closer against the cold stone of the pillar, absorbing every word of the argument. Ares’ accusation against Zeus cut through the hall like lightning. And Zeus… Zeus, as always, played it cool, distant, as if his will were dogma and his arrogance an eternal wall.

But it was Ares’ last sentence, before leaving the hall, that made Athena’s blood run cold:

“Has she grown stronger?”

Athena’s eyes widened, and a whisper escaped her parted lips. “Is he… afraid?”

She looked down at the floor, at the dried fragments of power that still danced in the air, left behind by the words and presences that had crossed paths there. Never, in ages and wars, had she seen Ares hesitate before a name, a figure, a memory. And now… he walked with anger, yes, but also with haste. With concern.

Scathach.

That name echoed in the silence of her mind like muffled thunder.

Athena rested one hand on the stone and sighed deeply. She did not know that woman. She had not seen her in the library of the gods, nor among the records of ancient kings, nor in the memories engraved on the walls of time.

And yet she existed. And her existence was enough to make Ares—Ares, the God of War—face Zeus with the fury of a betrayed man, and then abandon the golden throne as if it were worthless.

Athena looked up at the dome of the hall, where paintings of the gods at their peak dominated the starry vault. There were depicted the times when the gods ruled absolute, unchallenged, unthreatened. The gods painted there smiled. Sovereign. Eternal.

But now… something had changed.

She touched the breastplate of her armor, where the symbol of the owl was engraved. It was her insignia, her focus, her reason: wisdom, strategy, reason in the face of the madness of men and gods.

And yet… no matter how much she thought about it, no matter how many possibilities she ran through her immortal mind… there was no logic in what Ares had let slip.

Had she become stronger?

Stronger than when?

Stronger than Ares had ever seen before?

Athena felt her heart race, a rare occurrence among immortals. There was a subtle fear growing in her chest—not the fear of death, not the fear of battle, but the fear of ignorance.

“Who are you?” she whispered, expecting no answer.

Slowly, she stepped out from behind the pillar, her elegant, steady footsteps echoing in the now silent hall. Zeus’ throne remained ahead, illuminated by beams of golden light, but the air was colder. As if Ares’ presence had taken with it all the heat of war and left only doubt.

She stopped where Ares had been moments before and looked directly at Zeus. He now had his eyes closed, in deep silence, as if meditating or ignoring everything around him.

“You provoked him… without knowing what you were dealing with,” Athena said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

Zeus did not respond.

She did not insist.

Instead, she turned and walked out of the hall. Each step was accompanied by thoughts as sharp as blades. A war was coming. But not a war between nations or pantheons. This one would be different. This one would be between forces that had slept for ages… and now awoke hungry.

“A being that attacked Hermes and outpaced him so easily… I think there is still salvation for this world…” Athena thought.