Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 736
Capítulo 736: Me. Dragon
Strax took the first step inside—and the tomb groaned like an ancient animal awakening.
The doors behind him began to close slowly, not out of threat… but as a reflex, an instinct of the ancient structure itself responding to the power of the egg he carried.
Crossing the threshold, Strax began to descend a long spiral staircase, made of ice so ancient it seemed to vibrate with its own memory. The air was too cold for any human to bear, but around him the gentle warmth of the egg kept everything warm, comfortable. Each step echoed deeply, resonating like the beats of a colossal heart buried beneath the world.
And then… the tomb began to change.
First, a crack.
Then another.
Then a sequence of cracks spreading across the walls like frozen lightning.
The entire structure began to SHAKE violently.
Mercedes, still in the garden behind, could hear it—and instinctively recoiled, shocked.
Inside the tomb, chunks of ancient ice began to fall from the ceilings, columns crumbled into cold dust, and crystal staircases shattered as Strax left them behind. It was as if the tomb were collapsing from the outside in, unable to withstand the egg’s return… or its presence.
But Strax?
He simply descended.
Calmly.
Step by step.
The ground crumbled behind him, but never beneath his feet.
The walls crumbled, but always a second too late.
It was as if the world were disintegrating around him—and yet, nothing touched him.
The egg shone brighter, now pulsing in a rhythm reminiscent of a deep breath.
Strax smiled slightly to himself.
“Heh… in a hurry, huh, little one?”
Another violent tremor. The staircase behind him imploded into fragments, falling into an abyss of darkness. It was impossible to turn back—the tomb allowed no return.
But Strax didn’t look back even once.
He continued descending until the staircase ended abruptly in a circular platform, illuminated only by the glow of the egg. Ahead, a second door—much larger, much older—awaited.
Unlike the first, this one had no gleaming runes.
It was sealed.
Closed by layers of black ice, with symbols worn by time.
No light escaped.
No presence seemed to come from within.
Strax stopped before it.
The silence was so profound that even the distant tremor of the ruined tomb seemed muffled.
He took a deep breath.
The egg pulsed.
The air grew heavy, expectant.
Strax carefully rested the egg against his shoulder, snapped his fingers—the sound echoed like thunder in the stillness—and said with a confident, almost playful smile:
“We’ve reached the last door, little one. Let’s see how we open you.”
The egg trembled.
Not a tremble of fear—but of intention.
A firm pulse ran through the shell, as if a small creature inside had banged its head, or punched, or simply impatiently pleaded:
“There. Put me there.”
Strax arched an eyebrow, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“Ah… so that’s where you want to stay?”
The egg trembled again. This time harder. Almost indignant.
Strax gave a short, muffled laugh—the laugh of someone who already knew they were receiving instructions from a hatchling that had barely been born, but which, apparently, was already bossy.
“Right, right.
I understand.”
He lowered the egg with all the care a man of his absurd strength could muster. He placed it right in front of the sealed door, aligned with the exact center of the circle carved into the black ice.
The egg pulsed.
The tomb trembled.
…and then…
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The door remained closed, silent, indifferent.
No rune lit up. No mechanism reacted.
The ancient ice didn’t even vibrate.
The hatchling inside emitted another tremor—this time furious.
Strax tilted his head, gave the shell a friendly tap as if consoling someone who had just failed to knock on a door.
“Hey, calm down. You asked me to put you here.”
If it didn’t work, it’s not my fault.
The egg trembled again, this time as if it were puffing.
Strax laughed even louder, amused.
“Okay then.”
If you’re not going to open it willingly…
He turned toward the door.
He twisted his neck, cracking it.
He flexed his shoulders.
And raised his fist.
For a brief instant, the air stood completely still—as if even time itself were holding its breath to see what would happen.
Strax pulled his arm back, all his primal strength concentrated in a single point.
“…let’s deal with it forcefully.”
BOOOOOM!
The punch struck the door with an impact that made the entire tomb shake violently.
The black ice cracked in all directions, forming a web of incandescent blue light.
And then—as if struck by a meteor—the door simply EXPLODED, shattering into thousands of fragments that dissolved into thin air before even touching the ground.
Strax let his arm fall to his side, completely calm.
He looked at the colossal hole he had opened, gave a satisfied smile, and commented:
“There. Problem solved. Let’s go, little one.”
And he picked up the egg with the same ease as someone picks up a pillow.
Strax crossed the gap of the destroyed door with the egg against his shoulder, and the sensation changed immediately.
Inside, the air was too silent—without the living cold of magic, without the mineral smell of ancient ice. Just… silence. Dry. Ancient. Human.
The hall that opened before him was vast, illuminated by crystals suspended from the ceiling that still pulsed a faint, dying light. The walls were of polished stone, not ice, and were covered by colossal shelves that rose as far as the eye could see. Books. Scrolls of parchment. Maps. Research objects. Instruments.
Nothing there resembled a dragon’s nest.
Strax walked slowly, his footsteps echoing among the tall shelves. He looked around, raised an eyebrow.
“Hmph… this isn’t the work of a dragon.”
But then he mentally completed, with absolute naturalness:
Dragons polymorph. Humans build this way.
Therefore… it could also be the work of a dragon.
He himself wasn’t human—not even close.
His body only looked human because it was convenient.
Strax passed a shelf of books so old they creaked at the mere touch of the warm air coming from the egg. He slightly inclined his face towards the hatchling inside the shell.
“This all belongs to one of your kind, huh?” he murmured, without waiting for an answer.
The egg trembled slightly, as if recognizing something… distant.
Strax continued walking.
At the back of the hall, between dark columns and crumbling arches, there was another “door.” Except… it wasn’t a door.
It was a wall—perfectly sculpted, without cracks, without mechanisms.
An entire wall was carved with the image of a colossal dragon, its outstretched wings covering the entire expanse of stone. The carved eyes seemed to follow anyone who approached.
Strax stopped a few steps away.
“…Hm.”
The egg vibrated in his hands.
Strux.
Much stronger than before. It almost jumped from his arms, as if trying to tear itself away and run towards that carved wall.
Strax held it firmly, laughing at its unexpected strength.
“Hey, calm down, calm down. Looks like I found you the right cradle, huh?”
The egg trembled again, this time with so much energy that the light inside the shell pierced the surface, illuminating the dragon carved into the wall as if it were being “awakened.”
Strax took another step forward, his eyes narrowing.
“So… this is it, right?”
And in that instant, the wall—or what he thought was a wall—began to respond. The outline of the carved dragon pulsed with a deep blue light, like a giant heart beating from behind the stone… and the egg in his arms responded with another pulse, even stronger.
The pulse of blue light pierced the entire wall—and then, for the first time since he had entered the tomb, a voice spoke.
“Who… dares to touch the threshold of my memory?”
The voice was feminine.
Soft as freshly fallen snow.
Fierce as an ancient storm.
It didn’t reverberate in the air.
It came from the stone.
From the very dragon carved into the wall.
Strax raised an eyebrow, holding the egg firmly as it vibrated with excitement.
“Who am I?” he chuckled softly, as if he found the question amusing. “A tired demonic dragon, to be quite honest.”
The light on the wall flickered, almost like a suspicious blink.
“And… what are you carrying?”
The voice seemed to sharpen. An icy blade about to cut.
Strax lifted the egg slightly, almost displaying it.
“This little egg I found in your nest.”
He gave a carefree laugh.
A heavy silence filled the hall.
The light dimmed.
The dragon statue remained motionless… but the feeling was clear:
She was watching him.
Assessing every detail.
Waiting…
For a truth that had not yet been spoken.
“Hm.” Strax tilted his head, noticing the judgment. “You want confirmation, don’t you?”
The egg pulsed again, intensely, as if saying yes, show it to her.
Strax smiled, a wide, toothy smile—the kind of smile no human could give.
“Alright.”
The air around him distorted for a moment as his skin began to change.
First, small dark lines appeared on his arms.
Then, thick, dark scales erupted like living metal. His shoulders cracked.
The veins gleamed deep red.
From the top of his head, two curved horns grew, pushing the air with authority.
He pounded his chest with a clenched fist, making a heavy sound echo—CLANG.
“Dragon.”
He pointed to the scales. Then to the horns.
“Me. Dragon.”he repeated with wild simplicity.