Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 689
Chapter 689: Tamed beast.
The Beast Monarch gasped, his broken ribs moving unevenly with each breath.
Blood dripped from his lips, staining the cracked gold of his armor red.
His eyes—once fierce, arrogant—were now filled with a mixture of pain, rage, and a silent, ancient fear.
Strax’s voice echoed across the field of ruins, steady and icy as a blade.
“The stronger takes the weaker.” He repeated the Monarch’s own words, but with contempt. “And now that you’re on the wrong side of that sentence… do you realize how hollow it sounds?”
The wind blew, carrying with it the smell of blood and smoke.
Shadows still danced around Strax, the distant echo of the demonic dragon reverberating like muffled thunder.
Kali remained silent, watching—her eyes intent, assessing her husband with a mixture of pride and fearful fascination.
The Monarch, even fallen, still tried to lift his head.
His fangs were broken, part of his jaw dislocated, but he forced a beastly smile.
“You… speak like a god… but you still bleed like a man.”
Strax took a step closer.
The pressure of his aura increased—the air became so thick that the nearby feral warriors fell to their knees, unable to breathe.
“Want to test this?” he asked, his tone so calm it sounded even more menacing.
The Monarch staggered to his feet, his hands digging into the cracked ground.
“I still… can fight.”
Strax watched him for a moment.
Then, in an imperceptible movement, he struck out with his foot—not with full force, just enough to crush the ground beneath the Monarch and send him flying backward like a doll, crashing through a stone column and falling into the rubble.
The impact echoed like thunder.
“You could fight,” Strax said. “Now, you just breathe.”
The Monarch spat blood, laughing hoarsely, each laugh pierced with pain.
“If… if I fall… there will be others… other beasts… other kings…”
Strax slowly turned his head, his golden gaze sweeping the battlefield.
“Let them come,” he murmured. “They will all meet the same end.”
Kali crossed her arms, smirking. “Are you really going to kill him here?”
Strax was silent for a moment.
The dragon behind him disappeared into red and black fragments, the power retreating back into the demon’s body.
He took another step toward the Monarch, who was now barely able to stay on his knees.
“No,” Strax said, his voice low. “Death is a relief. And I want him to live… remembering that he knelt.”
The Monarch’s gaze lifted—a gleam of savage dignity still burned in his eyes.
“You… think you’ve humiliated me? I… am still king… I am still—”
CRACK!
Strax grabbed the Monarch’s golden horn and broke it off with a sharp movement, tossing the piece to the ground like trash.
“Now you’re just a wounded beast.”
The Monarch roared in agony, a sound that wasn’t of hatred—it was of despair.
He staggered, but Strax grabbed him by the neck and forced him to look him in the eye.
“Look closely, ‘king.’ Remember this moment. Remember the taste of the ground, the sound of your pride shattering.”
Strax’s power surged once more—a demonic pulse that reverberated throughout Kaelthur.
Windows shattered, rocks flew, and even the air seemed to scream.
The beast warriors retreated, bellowing in panic, their tigers growling low—instinctively recognizing the apex predator.
Kali stepped forward, her hair flying with chaotic energy.
She leaned forward slightly, watching the Monarch.
“Lucky for you he’s in a good mood,” she said wryly. “Because if he weren’t… you wouldn’t even have a body to bury.”
Strax released the Monarch, who fell facedown, gasping for breath.
The ground around him was cracked, his golden aura now weak, almost nonexistent.
He trembled, his claws trying to dig into the earth, but without strength.
Strax turned his back, his eyes still burning.
“Kaelthur no longer belongs to you,” he said. “Neither this territory nor this continent. All of this is mine now.”
The feral warriors began to roar in despair, but Kali raised a hand—a curtain of darkness rose around them, muffling their sounds.
“Obey,” she said, smiling. “Or he will teach you again.”
The silence returned, heavy.
Only the distant sound of the wind and the crack of broken stones remained.
Strax looked to the horizon. The reddish sky reflected the energy that still enveloped him, and the city seemed to breathe with him—alive, fearful, submissive.
“Kali.”
“Hm?”
“Take what’s left of these warriors. Teach them what it means to serve.”
She smiled, her predatory gaze gleaming. “With pleasure.”
As she walked toward the defeated warriors, Strax’s figure turned back to the Monarch.
The Sovereign Beast struggled to rise, his eyes ablaze with hatred and humiliation.
“Hey…” he growled. “This… isn’t over.”
Strax merely glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Not at all. There are still many of you to tame.”
The silence that filled the square felt like the echo of a nightmare.
Dust still fell, slowly, covering the rubble and bodies like a veil of ash.
The air, saturated with demonic energy, hummed. Each breath felt too heavy, as if the entire world hesitated to move until Strax allowed it.
He turned his back.
No sound—neither of bravado nor of courage—dared accompany him.
The feral warriors, once proud, with raised spears and feral eyes, now knelt or collapsed on the ground.
Some trembled, unable to look at him. Others simply watched, uncomprehending—what they had just witnessed wasn’t a fight. It was a revelation.
Strax walked in silence, his footsteps echoing on the cracked ground.
Each footprint left behind a trace of his presence: thin fissures, trails of red energy that dissipated like smoke.
Kali watched her husband walk away, and for a moment… she smiled.
Not that ordinary, provocative smile—but one of pure admiration.
She knew his power, but seeing him like this, raw, boundless, was like watching an eclipse swallow the sky.
Behind her, the Beast Monarch struggled to move.
His hands trembled, claws clawing at the ground, but his body wouldn’t obey.
He groaned softly, the sound muffled by the dust.
Kali turned slowly.
Her amber eyes glinted in the dim light. A small sigh escaped her lips—more boredom than pity.
“Still trying to get up?” she asked, tilting her head. “You’re persistent. I like that.”
She walked toward him, her heels softly tapping the cracked ground, the sound echoing among the rubble.
The Monarch’s warriors watched her silently—no one dared interfere.
Kali crouched before him, holding the fallen monster’s chin.
Golden blood dripped from a deep cut, staining the ground.
“You should be thankful,” she murmured. “He kept you alive. If it were me, you’d still be screaming.”
The Monarch looked up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. There was anger in them, but also something else—a flicker of fear he would never admit.
Kali smiled, satisfied.
She released him, then, with a light movement, grabbed the Monarch by his hair—or what remained of his wild mane—and lifted him easily.
The beast’s colossal body was dragged along like a broken toy. Its claws scratched the ground, leaving deep marks in the stone.
The warriors stared in horror, but she simply walked silently, her gaze fixed straight ahead, the trail of blood stretching behind her.
With each step Strax took toward the mansion, the air seemed to part, respectful.
The people on the streets—workers, mages, builders—froze in their tracks.
No one dared speak.
They simply moved away, leaving the path clear, like subjects before an emperor.
Some whispered to each other in disbelief.
“That… was the Monarch of the Beasts…”
“He… lost?”
“No… he was destroyed.”
“And that man… who is he…?”
The answers came in murmurs, in frightened looks.
No one knew for sure—but everyone felt it.
Strax was not a man.
He was a force.
A cataclysm dressed in flesh.
He crossed Kaelthur’s main street, and the flags—those that had been raised by the workers over the past few weeks—swayed, as if bowing to his passing.
In the distance, the guild mages, the builders sent by Rogue and Yennifer, all stopped their work.
Some dropped their tools. Others fell to their knees, unsure why—only because their bodies responded to the world’s oldest instinct: submission to the supreme predator.
Kali was close behind, dragging the Monarch like a trophy.
The sound of his body being pulled across the stones echoed like the dragging of chains in hell.
The eyes of many widened at the sight—the beast that had once threatened entire cities was now but a wounded shadow, being carried away like trash.
She pulled him along with disdain, the toes of her boots marking the ground.
The Monarch, conscious, groaned in pain, but dared not speak. And the worst part was that, deep down, he knew: Strax had left him alive on purpose.
Not out of mercy.
But as a reminder.
When Strax reached the mansion’s marble staircase, he paused for a moment.
The setting sun cast a reddish light over Kaelthur, reflecting off the ruins and broken stone.
The air still seemed shimmering with the remnants of demonic power.
He looked to the horizon—where the battlefield still smoldered.
“Rebuild what you will,” he murmured. “But remember who brought order to this chaos.”
His voice was low, but it carried like thunder.
The few nearby felt their skin crawl, as if an invisible presence had carved those words into the city walls.
Strax calmly climbed the steps and entered the mansion.
Silence fell once more.
Behind him, Kali stood in the middle of the destroyed square. She released the Monarch, his body falling with a dull thud, and turned to the remaining warriors.
Her eyes gleamed with cold pleasure.
“Listen well,” she said, her voice sweet but deadly. “You belong to Strax now. All of you. And if any of you even think of resisting…”
She snapped her fingers.
One of the shadows around her took form—a serpent of black energy that streaked through the air and cut one of the nearby spears in two.
The sharp sound of impact made everyone take a step back.
“…I will teach you the difference between pain and regret.”
The warriors retreated, their heads bowed, their tigers’ tails lowered in submission.
They knew—fighting was futile.
The Monarch, still prone, opened one eye.
He saw Strax disappearing into the distance, entering his mansion—serene, unwavering, absolute.
And in that instant, for the first time in centuries, the King of Beasts felt the true meaning of the word “tamed.”
Kali looked at him one last time.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. Now you serve a true king.”