Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 566

Chapter 566: Just a mother. Or a Demon

The late afternoon painted the room in golden and reddish tones, the light passing through the stained glass windows and spreading soft patterns across the floor. The air was still, as if the world had decided to pause just for that moment.

Strax was lying on the long sofa, his head resting on Scathach’s lap.

She ran her fingers slowly through his hair, in a rhythmic caress, as if she wanted to memorize every strand.

Her eyes—so ancient and so intense—seemed softened, focused only on him.

“Hmm…” she murmured, leaning in a little closer to observe. “Your hair… it’s starting to turn reddish at the ends.”

Her fingers slid deeper, separating strands, as if to confirm.

“It’s probably the effect of demonic energy. It’s blending more and more into your natural flow.”

Strax kept his eyes closed, his voice calm: “I never cared about appearance.”

Scathach let out a slight laugh through her nose, almost a breath of pride. “Of course not… you got that from me. It’s hard to care about something that was born perfect.”

He opened one eye, arching his eyebrow. “You have enormous self-esteem.”

“Am I wrong?” Her tone was genuine, as if she weren’t bragging, just stating an objective fact.

Strax was silent for a moment. Then, without moving his head, he opened both eyes and stared at her. “No. You’re beautiful.”

For an instant, the centuries melted away in her eyes. There was no warrior, no goddess, no queen of the underworld.

Just a mother listening to her son say something that, to her, was worth more than any title.

Her hands stroked his hair again, but now with a softer touch, almost trembling.

—

At the other end of the room, the scene was watched with looks that ranged from pure discomfort to outright jealousy.

Daniela was the first to speak, crossing her arms and stamping her foot on the floor. “This is unfair. He never lay on my lap like that.”

Scarlet, leaning back in an armchair with a glass of wine in her hand, let out a short laugh. “Honey… he’ll never lie on your lap like that. That’s the ultimate level of intimacy.”

“It’s not intimacy, it’s provocation,” Monica muttered, clutching a pillow to her chest. “The way she runs her fingers through his hair… argh! I want to strangle her.”

Bellatrix, her chin resting on her hand, seemed more analytical, but still with a dangerous look. “Did you notice that he smiled? He doesn’t smile like that at any of us. Not even when we win a fight. Not even when we… well, you know.”

Cassandra snorted. “I don’t know if I want to kill her more or learn how to do the same.”

Frieren, arms crossed, seemed to be trying to maintain her composure. “Do you realize that this is… natural? She’s his mother. She lost him when he was still a child. To her… he’s still that little boy.”

“Natural, natural…” Xenovia muttered, fidgeting with her fingers. “The problem is that she doesn’t look at him the way a normal mother does.”

Kryssia tilted her head. “Yeah. The way she leans in… and the smile… that’s not just maternal affection. That bitch has already started seducing him.”

Samira let out a long, dramatic sigh. “All I know is that if he put his head on my lap and looked at me like that, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.”

“I already can’t control myself just from looking,” murmured Yennifer, and Monica gave her a light slap.

Beatrice, who had been quiet until then, hugged her knees. “It’s unfair. We kill ourselves for a little of his attention, and she… she just exists, and she already has everything.”

Ouroboros, leaning against the doorframe, watched the scene with a half-smile. “You talk as if it were simple. That woman held on to centuries of love and longing… and now she has her life back, her son back, grown up, strong, alive. Of course she’s not going to let go anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t help my jealousy,” Monica grumbled.

“Well, get stronger to challenge her. I’m not getting involved in this anytime soon.” Tiamat said as she turned away, “I’m going to train.”

Ouroboros looked startled and turned to Tiamat, “You? Train?”

Tiamat shrugged, “Do you think I’m going to let that… thing take my place? I don’t have the title of Dragon Queen for nothing,” Tiamat said and left the room, heading for the training area…

On the sofa, Scathach seemed to completely ignore the growing tension in the room.

She continued running her fingers through Strax’s hair, occasionally adjusting his bangs as if he were a boy about to go to school.

“Do you want to tell me what happened in the last few years?” Scathach asked. After all, she wanted to know what Strax’s life had been like…

Something that… in a few hours she would completely regret having heard.

[Albert Vorah’s office]

The sound of a record being closed echoed through the large room, lined with shelves crammed with books and maps. The air smelled of old parchment, leather, and freshly brewed coffee.

Albert leaned back in his high-backed chair, his fingers intertwined over his stomach, as he watched the woman before him.

Diana maintained her impeccable posture, her expression sober. On the table, a set of papers and scrolls were arranged in surgical order.

“So…” he began, his voice deep and measured. “Dragons of Vorah and demons of Eldoria. Any connection?”

Diana shook her head once. “None. I analyzed all the attack patterns, energy signatures, and routes. The siege on Vorah by the dragons was stupid, without any motivation or target. The attack on Eldoria, on the other hand… was different. Chaotic, with no purpose other than to destroy the magic tower. There seems to be some purpose.”

Albert narrowed his eyes. “And what purpose?”

“We don’t know.” She quickly leafed through one of the reports, pulling out a map with red ink markings. “The destruction was selective. Structures of strategic importance were attacked, while ancient temples and spiritual flow zones were completely ignored. It’s as if they were looking for… something. Something they don’t want anyone else to have.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds, broken only by the distant sound of the wind beating against the office windows.

Albert twirled a pen between his fingers. “What about the demons? Identifications?”

“Negative.” Diana closed the report, looking up to stare directly at him. “No previous records. No known pattern. Armor, weapons, and runes… all unique. Either they are from a lost lineage… or they are at the top of the demonic class, probably Servants of Lilith.”

He took a deep breath, resting his elbows on the table. “So we have two separate problems… and an even bigger unknown.”

Diana nodded, her tone almost dry. “And neither of them is solved.”

Albert leaned back in his chair again, his eyes half-closed. “Keep monitoring. I want every demon found to be tracked, every movement cross-checked with the Guilds’ information networks, anything involving demons, find everything.”

She gathered the papers with military precision. “Understood.”

As Diana left, Albert stared into space for a moment, the pen still spinning slowly between his fingers.

Until… The air in Albert’s office suddenly changed. It wasn’t just a change in temperature—it was as if reality itself had contracted and breathed with him.

The pen he used as a bookmark fell from his hand. The pen stopped spinning.

An overwhelming pressure took over the room, dense and alive, as if an entire ocean had decided to rest on his shoulders.

Instinct spoke before reason. Albert rose in a single movement, his hand already closing around the hilt of the sword that rested against the table.

That aura…

“…Demonic… but not just any demon…” he muttered, his eyes narrowing.

His heart, which hadn’t raced with fear or surprise in decades, was beating faster.

It was vast, ancient… and burned with an intensity that made the air vibrate. A presence he had never felt before, not even on the darkest battlefields.

His eyes were drawn to the window as if pulled by invisible strings. Outside, on the urban horizon, he saw the source.

The direction was unmistakable: Strax’s mansion.

But before he could process it, another layer overlapped that infernal aura.

Something he knew. Something that was engraved in his soul and his memories.

Something he never thought he would feel again.

The shock made him hesitate for half a second. “…No… impossible…” the whisper barely left his lips.

But the truth was relentless:

He felt… the aura of his late wife.

And she was coming.

Fast.

Very fast.

He only had time to shift his weight, raising his sword with full force at the exact moment when an almost invisible spear, made of pure condensed demonic energy, exploded against his guard.

The impact shook the entire office, scattering scrolls and breaking the window glass.

The clash of forces echoed like thunder.

The floor creaked.

Albert’s blade flashed, repelling the attack with a spark of pure mana.

And then… he saw her.

Floating before him, with the same imposing posture as centuries ago, her gaze as sharp as the blade she had just thrown. Her hair rippled with the energy around her, and her face… her face was exactly as he remembered it—alive, furious… and more threatening than any nightmare.

“You fucking old man!” her voice cut through the air like a blade. “You let them send my son to a fucking mine?!”