Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 688

Chapter 688: Philosophy of the Strongest

The air vibrated.

Every particle, every atom, seemed to pulse with the power emanating from Strax.

The ground still trembled with the echo of the dragon’s presence.

And yet, the Beast Sovereign did not flinch.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, his muscles tensing to their limit.

A low roar escaped his throat—not of fear, but of pure rage.

His sharp fangs gleamed in the distorted red light emanating from Strax’s aura.

He took a step forward.

The weight of the demonic pressure caused the stones beneath his feet to sink and crack, but he did not bow.

“Bow?” the Sovereign repeated, his voice hoarse and slurred. “The only time I have knelt… was to tear off a god’s head and drink his blood.”

Strax stared at him silently.

His gaze was impassive. Almost… curious.

The dragon behind him tilted its head, and a crimson flame escaped from its ethereal nostrils, dissolving into the air with the sound of boiling metal.

That flame didn’t burn matter—it burned soul.

Kali, watching from a distance, narrowed her eyes.

She could feel it—the air vibrated between them like a taut rope about to snap.

Any wrong move, and the whole world would collapse with it.

“You truly haven’t learned anything,” Strax said finally, his voice low but charged with authority. “You think courage is the same as strength. You think shouting loudly will change what you are: flesh and fear.”

The Monarch roared, the sound reverberating through the city walls.

His veins glowed with golden mana. The tribal markings on his arms began to pulse, the ground around him melting.

“Shut up!” he bellowed. “Do you think you’re the first demon to threaten me?

Do you think I bow because the air is heavy? I am the roar that echoes between mountains! I am the hunter who kills the children of fire and moon! I am the Monarch of Beasts!”

The sound of the roar echoed like thunder.

The dragon behind Strax just watched him—giant eyes narrowing as if staring at an ant screaming at eternity.

Strax looked up slightly.

The wind blew, and shadows danced around his feet.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Then show me, ‘Monarch.’ Show me the strength that sustains such arrogance.”

The ground cracked beneath the Monarch of Beasts.

He roared, summoning all the energy he possessed.

His aura took shape—a gigantic, golden beast with four arms and flaming eyes.

The earth itself bowed before him, rocks floating, rubble rising.

Strax’s dragon reacted.

Its wings spread—and the world seemed to freeze.

A roar echoed.

But no ordinary roar.

It was a cosmic sound, a scream that pierced layers of reality, splitting air and space.

The clouds tore, and the light distorted like broken glass.

The Monarch was forced to cover his face. His body resisted, but the skin began to crack—not from physical damage, but from the difference in scale.

It was like trying to measure an ocean with one hand.

Still, he didn’t flinch.

Even with blood pouring from his eyes and ears, he stood firm.

“I…” he gasped through gritted teeth. “…bow to nothing! Not gods, not demons! Not monsters!”

Strax moved.

So fast, the air simply disappeared.

A dull thud echoed—and suddenly, the Monarch was meters away, his body pinned to the ground, a crater forming beneath him.

The impact caused the air to explode, sending shockwaves in all directions.

The windows of the houses shattered, and dust covered half the square.

Strax stood exactly where he had been.

He didn’t even seem to have moved.

The Monarch spat blood, his eyes wide.

He tried to get up, but the dragon’s shadow loomed over him, covering everything.

“You talk too much,” Strax said emotionlessly. “Maybe that’s why you don’t listen when death speaks to you.”

The Monarch roared again, and with a leap, lunged at Strax.

His claws extended, coated in mana thick enough to tear through iron.

The impact came.

A flash.

A deafening sound.

But Strax didn’t move.

The Monarch’s arm stopped in midair, inches from his face. His hand trembled—not from fear, but because he was being held.

Just two fingers. Strax held the beast’s wrist with two fingers.

Kali watched, the wind whipping her hair.

She sighed softly, “This is going to hurt.”

Strax glared at the Monarch—red eyes blazing.

The Monarch of Beasts spat blood, tried to pull his arm away, to shake the crushed arm, but Strax’s fingers held on like iron chains.

Behind Strax, the demonic dragon—that colossal aura—spread a dark wing, shadowing half the square. The wind kicked up dust, fragments of tar, sparks of red light fell like ash.

Kali, at the edge of the square, felt a physical pressure, as if the world were being pulled down by an invisible gravitational force. She clenched her fists, taking in every detail.

“No one has ever humiliated me like this,” the Monarch growled, his voice cracking. His eyes were ablaze with hatred and astonishment. “You defeated me in public, destroyed my pride, destroyed my son—and yet you stand there, laughing.”

Strax leaned forward slightly, remaining still. His face was a mask of ice and fire.

“I do not laugh,” he corrected, his voice seeming to come from beneath the heads of mountains. “I teach. Teaching requires pain. And you must learn that your royal blood, your title, your beast—all of it is useless before the absolute.”

The Monarch let out a shrill roar, twisting his body, trying to escape. Spears and daggers flew from the hands of the warriors at his sides trying to help, but were repelled by a wave of invisible power—a pulse from Strax’s free arm that ripped through the air like silent thunder, shattering weapons and stripping the aura from anyone who dared approach.

The impact caused the ground to crack, sparks of golden mana illuminating the fissures, revealing veins of energy that snaked like dark lightning.

The Monarch yawned in pain, blood trickling from the cleft between his lip and chin. His golden bone armor was cracked, his bones creaking with stress.

“I thought strength was your realm,” Strax said, looking up at the surrounding warriors. “But it’s fear. Fear of what you don’t understand. Fear of what you feel when you touch something beyond your reach.”

The Monarch raised his broken arm, mana blossoming around him, a sphere of furious light. He released it. A blast of bestial power tore through the plaza, columns toppled, the ground split open in fissures that spat out stone and earth.

Strax remained still. The explosion hit him like a shockwave—windows shattered, dust rose, the world shook. But Strax didn’t flinch. He rose slightly above the ground, supported by a gravity of his own. The dragon behind him reverberated, a sign that every space between worlds was being filled by his presence.

“You don’t get up,” Strax murmured. His voice was so deep it seemed to warp the air. “Because there’s no ground that can hold a heap of broken pride.”

With a sweeping gesture, he extended his arm. The dragon’s shadows projected, coiling around the Monarch. Each shadow pulled, squeezed, ripped the air from his lungs, drained his primal strength.

The Monarch roared, writhing like a trapped beast. He tried to counterattack: a claw, a scream, a blast of golden mana, but everything seemed slow, imprecise, useless.

Strax advanced. His stride firm, each step ricocheting off the cracked ground of Kaelthur. The Monarch’s ribs cracked as Strax struck with his elbow—not a brutal blow, but enough to knock him back a few feet.

Kali watched, breathless. She saw the warriors retreating, a wave of fear visible on their faces. Yet some stood their ground, spears raised, nervous roars, aggressive postures.

The Monarch fell to his knees. The ground fell away beneath him. The world spun for an instant. Blood ran from his eyes, nose, and mouth. The veins in his neck stood out like taut ropes. He stared at Strax, rage and disbelief evident.

“I am the fury that rules the jungle!” he shouted. “The beast every warrior fears!”

Strax leaned forward, lowering himself to Strax’s face. His red eyes glinted.

“The beast that fears the dragon,” he said, his voice so soft it vibrated with danger. “The beast that fears what it feels when someone shows it its own shadow.”

He raised his hand. The air around the Monarch of the Beast Plane trembled. His golden aura evaporated, drained by the demonic presence behind Strax.

With a crack that echoed like a hammer against stone, the Monarch’s intact arm trembled, his knees trembled, blood trickled, his face contorted.

The warriors screamed, tried to advance, but their own voices died in the air under the pressure of the aura.

Strax lowered his hand, releasing his previously raised fist. The Monarch fell to his side, his body tense, inert for a second—not dead, but broken in spirit, drained of power.

Kali, approaching silently, looked at Strax. Her face was marked by wonder and fear.

Strax turned, wiping the remaining blood from his chin with the back of his hand. The demonic dragon dissipated, its form shrinking, its distorted roar fading like a device switched off after an explosion.

The world seemed to heave a sigh, the clouds quieting, the wind blowing again through the rocks and rubble.

The fallen warriors, the wounded tigers, the destroyed plaza—all of it became a silent monument to Strax’s superiority.

The Sovereign of Beasts raised a trembling arm, looking around, noticing the void of respect around him.

“You… are you going to destroy everything I’ve built?” he asked weakly.

Strax tilted his head, golden eyes returning.

“Who cares what you’ve built?” he asked softly. “The stronger takes the weaker. Simple as that, don’t you agree? After all, that’s the philosophy you follow, right?”