Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 743

Capítulo 743: Should I call her my daughter?

Strax walked to the exact center of the nest’s hollow—his firm steps resonating like the beats of a ritual that had existed long before any of them were born.

The bluish light rose from the runes like a living breath, responding to the simple fact that he was there.

With surprising care for someone so brutal in combat, he leaned forward and let the egg rest in the icy depression.

The nest reacted immediately.

A slight pulse.

Then another.

Circular waves of light rushed out, illuminating each blade of ice, each rune, each salamander sculpture.

It was as if the nest had awakened.

Mercedes, still trying to catch her breath from the monumental leap, took an unsteady step forward.

“Strax… what are you going to do now?”

He remained motionless for a moment, observing the egg as if analyzing its internal vibrations, the tiny, almost imperceptible tremors, the growing glow.

Then, he straightened up.

“I’ll use all my energy to nurture the egg,” he said, with unsettling simplicity. “Until it hatches.”

Mercedes’ eyes widened.

“W-WHAT? Now?! You wanted to wait—! You said you’d hatch it slowly, that you’d control it, that—”

“I did,” Strax confirmed, turning to her. His eyes, still gleaming with bluish veins, seemed older than the ice around them. “But this place… was made for her.”

He raised his arm, running his claw along the edge of the nest. The runes reacted instantly, igniting like small, cold embers.

“The nest is a forge,” he continued. “An entire room dedicated to providing resources, energy, and memory. Everything here exists because of her. For her.”

Mercedes felt her mouth go dry.

“So… why hatch slowly? Why wait if—” she hesitated nervously, “—if you might lose control again?”

Strax didn’t take his eyes off the egg.

There was a strange serenity about him—not calm, but certainty.

“If she awakens now, conscious, she can absorb all of this on her own.”

He touched his chest, where light still pulsed.

“Better than being trapped inside a shell. Better than depending on me.”

The nest glowed brighter, as if in agreement.

Mercedes felt the cold wind shift direction, as if something were breathing around her.

“Strax… are you sure? You’ve never spoken like this before. It’s like—”

“Like I knew,” he finished. “Because I know. The egg… showed me.”

She swallowed hard.

Strax lowered himself slowly, positioning his hands on the sides of the hollow, as if to begin some kind of ancient ritual.

“The next layers of energy in the tomb—the following chambers—are too strong for a sleeping egg. It would be a waste.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“She needs to hatch now.”

Mercedes hugged her own arms, watching the blue glow grow on the egg until it was almost white.

“Strax… this is dangerous. For you. And for her.”

Strax finally looked at her—and for the first time in a long time, there was… gentleness there.

“Just watch.”

He took a deep breath.

The air grew heavy.

The ground vibrated.

The nest responded with a growing light.

And Strax said, in a deep voice, “I will feed her until she wakes up.”

And the nest glowed as if the ice itself had burst into flames.

Strax positioned both hands on the sides of the nest—his claws touching the ancient ice—and, for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then he took a deep breath.

And the draconic mana began to flow.

First it was a trickle.

A simple breath of bluish light that trickled through the veins of his arm and entered the eggshell as if plunging into pure water. The egg reacted with a soft, timid glow, like someone awakening from sleep.

Mercedes watched without even blinking.

Strax maintained the steady, careful, measured flow.

It was like feeding a newly lit flame.

The shell absorbed every spark, every drop of power, rejecting nothing—as if it had been hungry for centuries.

Little by little, the trickle became a flow.

The flow became a river.

The glow in the egg increased, expanded. The runes of the nest pulsed in the same rhythm as Strax’s heart, as if everything were connected—the ice, the egg, the dragon itself.

And then Strax realized something.

He wasn’t at the limit.

Not even close.

“She accepts it…” he murmured, surprised by his own discovery. “She’s absorbing it all.”

He pushed a little further—a volume of mana that would have easily melted a rock, carbonized a living creature, or broken an arcane seal.

The egg simply… swallowed.

As if that were the bare minimum.

Mercedes took a step back, startled by the intensity that was beginning to take shape. The light was so strong that it cast trembling shadows across the room, as if the nest were a heart beating light instead of blood.

“Strax… this… this doesn’t seem like too much?”

He didn’t answer.

His concentration was absolute.

A deep, muffled roar began to vibrate in his chest—not a sound of anger, but of power being drawn from the very depths of his being.

The light coursed through his entire body: his scales, his back, his horns, all the way to the tip of his tail.

And he pushed further.

The draconic mana now gushed forth like a torrent.

Waves and waves of silvery-blue energy poured from his body into the egg, and the egg responded by consuming everything voraciously, without hesitation, without apparent limits.

The surrounding ice trembled, but did not melt—on the contrary, it seemed to become more crystalline, purer, as if the power were refining the entire room.

Mercedes covered her mouth with her hands, completely overwhelmed by the scale of that force.

“My God… Strax… how much are you putting in…?”

Strax clenched his teeth, maintaining the flow—now brutal, colossal, like something that should destroy, not nourish.

But the egg wanted it.

The egg needed it.

And the egg continued absorbing.

“All that she can take,” he growled, between effort and devotion. “And… she takes a lot.”

The light became so intense that Mercedes had to close one eye.

And the egg…

The egg pulsed like a second heart of the dragon itself.

Stronger.

Brighter.

Hungrier.

And Strax, seeing that he hadn’t yet reached the little creature’s limit, let the mana flow even more—until his whole body trembled under the strain, until the air vibrated with pure energy.

The eggshell vibrated.

It trembled.

Cracks of light began to appear.

And Strax continued feeding, without hesitation, without stopping.

Because now he was absolutely certain:

She was ready to be born.

The eggshell began to tremble.

Not like a slight vibration—but like something alive, pulsating, about to burst forth from a world that was no longer big enough.

Mercedes took a step back, her eyes enormous, her chest rising and falling as if afraid to breathe too loudly.

“Strax… it’s… it’s happening…”

He didn’t take his hands off the egg, but tilted his head slightly, observing with the ancestral precision of someone who had seen many lives emerge—but never one so important.

THE FIRST CRACK appeared like a blue flash.

Crack.

A soft, crystalline, almost beautiful sound.

The luminous line ran across the surface of the shell, dividing it into two irregular parts.

Mercedes swallowed hard.

The egg swayed.

Not violently.

Not in spasms.

But with small movements, as if the creature inside was trying to stretch for the first time.

Crack… crack… crack…

The first layer of shell—thick, cerulean, runically marked—began to fall apart, slipping between Strax’s fingers and disintegrating into light before touching the ground.

Underneath it…

Mercedes held her breath.

“W-was there… another shell…?”

Yes.

A second layer.

Thinner.

More translucent, like newly formed ice.

So delicate it seemed made of glass blown by a deity.

Strax narrowed his eyes.

“An inner barrier. A protection… and a test.”

The second shell began to crack as well.

This time, the sound was softer, more rhythmic, like the ticking of a clock marking the exact moment of birth.

The egg moved again—stronger.

Mercedes instinctively reached out, as if wanting to help, but withdrew it instantly, hesitant to interfere.

“She’s fighting to get out…” she whispered.

“She’s choosing to be born,” Strax corrected, his voice low and deep.

Crack.

A larger piece of the second shell fell off.

And then—the air filled with a milky blue glow.

Something stirred inside.

Something small. Something breathing.

The last layer of ice broke silently.

And, from inside the egg, nestled in the bluish glow that dissipated like mist, emerged a creature the size of Mercedes’ two hands together:

A small ice dragon.

Delicate body, translucent as crystal.

Short horns, slightly crooked from being so young.

Tiny wings clinging to its body.

A thin tail, curled like that of a hatchling that doesn’t yet understand its own size.

And the eyes…

Closed.

Sleeping soundly.

Breathing slowly, rhythmically, as if the whole world were a cradle made just for her.

Mercedes brought her hands to her mouth, tears welling up without warning.

“She is… so small… so… beautiful…”

Strax maintained his firm posture, but his voice—when it came—betrayed a rare detail:

Something almost soft.

“So cute,” he murmured, lowering his head over the nest. “Should I call her my daughter?”

The light from the egg faded.

But the little creature continued to shine on its own.