Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 681

Chapter 681: Change of Plans

The air seemed to harden.

The woman’s remaining shadow, still shimmering like dark smoke on the roof, began to stir violently—as if reacting to the insult.

She hadn’t completely disappeared.

Her body slowly reassembled itself from the darkness, like a silhouette made of living smoke.

Her laughter echoed faintly at first… then louder, hoarser.

“Heh… hehehe…” The sound reverberated in all directions, full of spite.

Samira and Strax looked up at the same time—unsurprised, but with clear impatience.

The woman lifted her face, and the pale skin began to regenerate beneath the smoke. Her eyes, once merely cold, now burned a feverish violet, the pupils contracted into demonic slits.

“A useless distraction?” she repeated, her voice trembling with anger. “Toying with prey?”

The ground around her began to shatter as the miasma spread. “You… think I’m what? An insect?”

Strax—still, serene—just glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

His tone was almost bored when he replied,

“Yes.”

The woman’s laughter ceased.

For a moment, only the sound of the wind blew through the ruins.

Then came the scream.

“YOU DESPISE!”

Negative energy exploded in all directions. Red and black runes erupted from the ground, spreading like living cracks. The air distorted, and the miasma rose into the sky in twisted columns.

Samira raised an eyebrow, sighing.

“Great. Here comes drama.”

The woman now hovered in the air, her body almost intangible. The demonic energy emanating from her condensed into black wings—each feather made of pure corruption, pulsing like living flesh.

“YOU DARE… treat me like I’m nothing?” she roared. “You have no idea what I am. What I serve.”

Strax tilted his head to the side, curious.

“And what exactly are you?”

She responded with a crazed look, her violet eyes blazing.

“I’m an elder of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult!”

Samira lazily waved her sword, her tone calm.

“So… basically, you’re someone’s lackey.”

The woman’s eyes widened, her face contorted in pure fury.

“YOU—!”

But before she could finish, Strax raised his hand.

Golden and black energy gathered around his fingers like chains.

The air grew heavy, and the woman’s miasma began to retract against its will, being pulled into the center of his palm.

She struggled, screaming, trying to expand her energy—but it was useless.

His power was overwhelming, ancient, the raw force of something beyond human comprehension.

Samira watched the scene with the same gaze as someone watching a show who already knows the ending.

She twirled the sword between her fingers, the golden glow reflecting in her eyes.

“Are you going to enjoy this too?” she asked lightly.

“No,” he replied, without taking his eyes off the woman. “This is just cleaning.”

The woman tried to free herself, her voice hoarse and distorted by the energy.

“You… damn… you… won’t—”

He interrupted her.

“Shut up.”

The sound came dry.

The chain of golden mana contracted all at once, and her body was trapped in particles of black light. She’d be gagged like a BDSM slave.

Silence returned.

Samira blew a strand of white hair from her face, still smiling.

“She looked like she was going to keep talking for an hour.”

“She was going to.” He lowered his hand, his energy slowly contracting to keep her from letting go. “These things never know when to accept their loss.”

She took a step forward, her eyes still sparkling.

“And to think you made me waste my time with her.”

Strax looked at her, the smile returning.

“I told you I was letting you have your fun, remember?”

Samira snorted, but there was something in her gaze—a glint somewhere between complicity and challenge.

“Next time, warn me before you show up. I like to finish my hunts alone.”

The air between them seemed to pulse.

The dust, the heat, the smell of burnt mana—everything around them became opaque in the presence of those two.

Samira and Strax turned their gaze to the woman suspended in midair, gagged by the gold and black chains that intertwined like living snakes.

She struggled, making muffled, guttural sounds, her eyes burning with pure hatred.

Samira tilted her head slightly, a slow, malicious smile forming on her lips.

Strax returned her gaze, the corner of his mouth curling in an amused twitch.

For a moment, the two of them were silent—only the sound of the chains contracting, and the air crackling with the tension of trapped energy.

“So…” Samira said, her tone lazily cruel. “What do we do with her?”

Strax ran his hand across his chin, examining the woman as if assessing a flawed object.

“Hmm… leaving her alive would be an insult to the very energy she breathes.” His golden gaze sparkled, reflecting the glow of the runes on the floor. “But…” he raised an eyebrow in amusement, “perhaps she still has some use.”

Samira arched her neck, her gaze roaming the prisoner’s contorted form.

“Use?” she asked, her tone somewhere between curiosity and irony. “You mean… interrogation?”

Strax gave a soft laugh.

“Interrogation, torture, offering…” He gestured lightly with his free hand. “Call it what you will.”

Samira laughed. The sound was soft, almost melodic, but there was something dangerous about it—something reminiscent of the crackle of flames before they consume everything.

She twirled the sword in her hand, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp sound.

“I like the way you think.” She stepped forward, her golden eyes shining. “But…” She leaned in slightly, her smile widening. “I don’t think she understands the kind of trouble she’s in yet.”

The woman writhed in her chains, trying to speak, but the energy seal around her mouth only vibrated, blocking any sound.

Strax moved a little closer.

His aura intensified, dense, suffocating. The shadows on the walls seemed to bend, drawn toward him, as if acknowledging his authority.

“Would you like me to loosen the gag a bit?” he asked Samira, his tone almost playful. “So you can hear what she has to say.”

Samira crossed her arms, pretending to think.

“Hmm…” She looked at the woman, feigning regret. “I don’t know… sometimes listening is more of a waste of time than silence.”

“True.” Strax smiled. “But despair has a beautiful sound.”

Samira’s eyes gleamed.

“Heh… you really are no good.”

“Me?” He laughed, showing his sharp fangs as the smile widened. “I’m the less cruel of our pair.”

She arched an eyebrow teasingly.

“That’s a lie, Strax, and we both know it.”

The woman between them began to tremble—not just with anger, but with fear.

Even bound, even with her body coated in demonic energy, she could sense what they were.

Predators.

Not just warriors—creatures who carried the weight of eons, the natural instinct to destroy and dominate.

Strax snapped his fingers, and the chains tightened.

A muffled groan echoed, her spiritual flesh tightening.

“I think she understands enough,” he said, without taking his gaze from her. “But let’s see if she survives one more test.”

Samira leaned forward slightly, watching the woman’s face contorted in pain.

“If she doesn’t survive, at least we’ll have a body to track.” She looked at Strax. “We should be able to track by energy like Frieren taught us, right?”

He smiled, pleased that she remembered.

“I can.” His voice was a deep murmur, almost a feral purr. “But you know it hurts… much more than it looks.”

Samira shrugged.

“She deserves it.”

Strax nodded slightly, and his hand glowed gold. The chains reacted instantly, changing color—the gold blending with the black, forming a hue that seemed alive, vibrant.

The woman let out a muffled scream, even without a voice.

Samira watched, her eyes fixed, her smile never fading.

For her, this wasn’t just revenge. It was justice. It was the price for defying those who shouldn’t be defied.

Strax’s aura grew, and the air began to crackle.

He looked at Samira, his golden gaze glowing with a dark spark.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Strax said, releasing the chains… “She’ll be useful. Let’s subdue this demonic cult.”

Samira arched an eyebrow slowly, her expression oscillating between irony and disdain.

The scarlet glow around her body wavered as she turned her face toward Strax, her white hair rippling in the hot wind rising from the ruins.

“Subdue the demonic cult?” she repeated, with an incredulous chuckle. “Is that worth anything, Strax?”

He gave a half-smile, twisting his wrist until the chains dissipated completely. The woman fell to her knees on the ground, coughing and gasping, her body still enveloped in fragments of dark energy. But Strax didn’t even look at her—his golden gaze remained fixed on Samira.

“Maybe it’s not worth much to you, Phoenix.” He took a step forward, his tone laced with mild sarcasm. “But think about it… if they worship demons, or whatever they think is divine…” His smile widened, his teeth glinting in the golden light. “…I think we, as Demon Dragons, have a certain… popularity, don’t you think?”

Samira narrowed her eyes, watching his smile widen into pure mockery.

“Popularity, huh?” she replied, crossing her arms. “So now you want a fan club, is that it?”

Strax let out a deep laugh, the sound reverberating through the space like suppressed thunder.

“I’d say… disciples.” He gestured dramatically. “An army of lunatics who already believe in absolute power. We just need a little push to show their loyalty to the one who truly rules.”

Samira rolled her eyes.

“A little push? You mean selective massacre.”

He feigned offense, his hand on his chest.

“What an ugly word. I prefer ‘practical persuasion.'”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head as her eyes gleamed as she stared at the frightened woman who heard they were Demonic Dragons.

“W-what have I gotten myself into!?”