Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 738

Capítulo 738: The birth of the problem.

The cave’s breathing changed as they moved forward—yes, breathing.

That’s what it sounded like. A deep, cold inhalation that made the air recoil…

And a slow, grave exhalation that blew ancient snow through the suspended corridors.

Mercedes stayed close to Strax, each of her steps echoing fragilely on the frozen floor. Small spheres of fire floated around them like a swarm of flaming fireflies—always accompanying, always illuminating.

Strax moved forward with the confidence of someone walking in their own home.

Mercedes, on the other hand, seemed tiny, swallowed by the immensity of the place.

The cave was so large that sound didn’t return; it was absorbed by the distant walls.

It’s the kind of silence that would drive any ordinary human mad.

But not him. Never him.

Strax walked across an ice bridge that cracked beneath his feet—but only after he passed.

The egg vibrated, guiding him like a living compass.

Mercedes tried to keep up, occasionally stumbling over fragments of ice that seemed to move on their own.

“How do you know where to go…?” she murmured, her voice small.

Strax touched the egg with the palm of his hand.

“It knows.”

Mercedes swallowed hard.

“…But it hasn’t even hatched yet.”

Strax laughed. That deep laugh that always seemed to vibrate on the ground.

“Dragon hatchlings are born knowing things that humans spend their lives trying to understand.”

The egg pulsed again—as if in agreement.

The bridge narrowed as they advanced, until it became a suspended corridor.

Broken pillars rose and disappeared into the darkness.

Some had claws scratched deep into the stone.

Mercedes ran her hand over one of them, shuddering.

“These marks… are very old…”

Strax didn’t stop for a second.

“She lived here. She resided here. She trained here.”

“She who…?”

He looked over his shoulder, his incandescent red eyes reflecting the spheres of fire. “The Empress.”

They reached a more open area, a kind of circular platform surrounded by broken ice columns. In the center, there was an incomplete statue—only the base and part of a human body.

Mercedes frowned.

“Is this… someone? A mage, perhaps?”

Strax approached and ran his hand along the pedestal.

“No. A memento.”

The base contained ancient inscriptions, partially erased by time. Mercedes approached to read, but the language was unfamiliar, full of curves and symbols that resembled crystals.

Strax, however, murmured fluently:

“‘My name exists as long as she exists. As long as her blood breathes, I will remember her story.'”

Mercedes almost lost her breath. “You… read this…?”

Strax touched his horns lightly.

“Her tongue. Not yours.”

The egg trembled so violently that the spheres of fire around it vibrated along with it, as if the place responded to the hatchling.

Strax placed his other hand on it.

“Calm down.” And the trembling ceased.

Ahead, a tunnel opened up—enormous, natural, but clearly used.

The ground had long drag marks.

As if something enormous had been pulled through it countless times.

Mercedes took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that the air was getting colder and colder.

“Strax… what exactly are we looking for?”

“The final cradle.”

“Final…?” Mercedes repeated, swallowing hard.

Strax nodded.

“Every ancient dragon has its cradle. A place where its magic rests.”

He lifted the egg.

“Hers weakened. But this little one… will reignite.”

Mercedes stared at the hatchling through the shell. The pulsating blue glow. The life. The power.

“Strax… this egg… is her reincarnation?”

Strax laughed—this time, a low, almost gentle laugh, but still terrifying.

“No. She won’t return.”

He ran his thumb over the shell, strangely tenderly.

“But this one… is her spark. Her legacy. Her last echo.”

Mercedes felt breathless for a moment.

The hatchling reacted to its own story, vibrating so strongly that the air around it distorted slightly.

Strax gave the shell a light tap.

“Hey. Don’t do that now. Wait for the crib.”

The hatchling stopped immediately.

“…does he understand?” Mercedes whispered, perplexed.

Strax grinned with too many fangs to be reassuring. “Dragons always understand.”

The tunnel finally ended in a precipice.

A gigantic vertical abyss—so deep that light didn’t reach the bottom.

A cold, heavy wind blew down below. A cold, deep wind, like an ancient rumble that never ceased.

Mercedes fell to her knees.

“Estr— Strax… this is a bottomless pit!”

Strax approached the edge and looked down calmly.

“It’s not ‘bottomless’.”

He lifted the egg.

“It’s the end.”

The hatchling inside the shell pulsed like a heart beating for the first time.

And suddenly…

VUUUUUUUUUUM…

The abyss responded.

A blue light began to rise from the depths.

Slowly.

Majestic.

Powerful.

As if awakening after centuries.

Mercedes swallowed the scream she wanted to let out.

Strax merely smiled—a fierce, proud, ancient smile.

“She’s waking up.”

The wind grew icy.

The ground trembled.

And the blue light continued to rise.

Strax turned to Mercedes only to say:

“Stay close to me. The next part… is only for those with blood or strength.”

And then… He took the next step into the unknown.

The cavernous immensity ahead of them seemed to promise both wonders and inescapable abysses. Suspended platforms, peaks of black ice, and destroyed bridges composed an impossible labyrinth—but Strax stopped before the most dangerous of visions:

A bottomless void.

A vertical cut in the world.

An endless descent that swallowed light, sound, and perhaps even hope.

Mercedes shuddered at the mere sight.

Strax?

He simply let out a “tch,” as if he were facing an inconvenient puddle.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand.

The humidity in that place—dense, ancient, almost alive—reacted instantly. The air vibrated. Microscopic crystals began to condense around his fingers, forming lines, threads, seams of pure ice that intertwined like luminous webs.

Still without saying a word, Strax slowly closed his hand.

And the abyss responded.

The water in the atmosphere solidified into plates. Plates joined together into slabs. Slabs merged into a translucent, bluish surface.

In seconds, a bridge of ice as thick as a wall emerged from nowhere, advancing forward like a frozen tongue stretching towards the next platform lost in the darkness.

Mercedes could only breathe:

“But… this is… this is impossible…”

Strax looked at the expanse of the newly created bridge, gave it a slight push with his foot—as if testing if the wood was sturdy—and seemingly satisfied, declared:

“It does.”

Then he turned to Mercedes.

Or rather, he looked at her lying there on the ground, still shocked and trembling. “Get up.”

She blinked, surprised by the tone.

“I-I just… I’m still trying—”

“Get up.” He repeated, not impatiently, but with absolute certainty that she didn’t have time to recover from the shock.

“We have to go.”

And without waiting, Strax took the first step onto the bridge.

It didn’t creak. It didn’t crack. It didn’t waver.

It was like walking on cold steel.

Mercedes stumbled to her feet, gathering courage to place her foot on that bridge which, to her, seemed about to collapse at any second.

Strax was already in the middle of it when she finally managed to ask, almost breathless:

“Strax… how? How did you do that? How can you manipulate ice and fire… at the same time? No creature— No mage can do that…!”

She was genuinely desperate for answers.

Strax stopped.

He turned his face, just enough so that his eye—now with its narrow, slit-like pupil—stared at her over his shoulder.

The answer came simply.

Natural.

Like someone saying they’re breathing.

“I am a Dragon.”

Mercedes opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Strax resumed walking before she could even fully process it.

“I am blessed by mana.”

The statement echoed on the bridge, strong as the ice beneath their feet.

Simple.

Objective.

Irrefutable.

Mercedes felt a shiver run down her spine.

Because she knew what it meant.

— Dragons don’t manipulate a single element; they manipulate the world.

— Mana isn’t just energy; it’s the fabric of reality.

— And a demonic dragon, even more so, is a being that carries an excess of mana, not a lack.

Strax walked with the egg as if he were in an ordinary mansion hallway, and the bridge appeared solid and perfect beneath his feet—living proof that he was operating on a level no human even dreamed of touching.

Mercedes followed him, her hands trembling, struggling to find her balance as the bridge stretched across the dark vastness.

With each step, she looked down—immediately regretting it.

There was no bottom.

The darkness seemed to move.

He seemed to be observing.

“Strax… is this safe?”

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow his pace.

“For me, it is.”

The ice bridge stretched, intertwined, and molded itself according to his will, each block fitting together with almost organic precision. It was as if the ice recognized him—as if it were happy to be commanded.

When they reached the end of the bridge, the new platform was an immense circular slab, partially covered in bluish ice. There, ancient inscriptions were partially buried and almost erased by time.

Mercedes took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline return to its normal rhythm.

Strax, however, was busy with something else.

The egg vibrated again.

This time, strongly.

Strong enough that he stopped walking.

Mercedes approached cautiously.

“What happened…?”

Strax remained silent, his eyes half-closed, not in irritation—but in concentration.

The egg pulsed a second time.

And then a third.

Strax looked up at the center of the platform.

“He wants to go there.”

Mercedes arched her eyebrows.

“What?”

Strax was already walking again, following the silent call of the hatchling.

“There.” He repeated. “There’s something.”

As they walked, small, glistening cracks began to form in the ground, following Strax’s footsteps. The ice reacted to the egg—not to him—as if recognizing the presence of the heir who should never have existed.

Mercedes swallowed hard.

Each step brought them closer to something.

Something important.

Something alive.

And the egg… was getting warm.

Very warm.

As if something inside it was responding to the call of that place.

Strax sighed, a predatory smile slowly spreading across his face.

“So this is where it begins.”

Mercedes instinctively touched the handle of her weapon.

“What begins…?”

Strax looked toward the center of the platform—where a column of black ice rose, covered in runes that were beginning to awaken.

He lifted the egg.

And the column responded with a deep, icy, majestic glow.

Strax smiled more broadly.

“The birth of the problem.”