Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Chapter 406: Dragons doing their work

Icy winds cut through the skies above the Glayrom Mountain Range, an isolated place where time seemed frozen in both climate and history. Snow-capped peaks stood like ancient spears against the sky, and among them, a mountain hid a secret that only the oldest knew: the Refuge of Baskev, a Dwarven Blacksmith.

Baskev had lived there in solitude for decades, ever since he decided to abandon dwarven politics and devote his life to his own way of life. And well... he had been hired by Scarlet to make homunculus bodies. - three of them, in fact, who were now in the sights of two titanic entities that flew with majesty and chaos through the northern skies.

The roar split the skies like a crack. Flaming thunder and a freezing scream intertwined, preceding the devastating descent of two colossal figures.

Ouroboros, swirling in the air like a tornado with black scales and flaming eyes. His laughter echoed with an insanity that could break the minds of weak men.

Tiamat was as majestic as the firmament itself, her form covered in golden scales that reflected the stars. Her presence commanded respect even from the mountains.

The two landed violently on the central peak, exploding the snow around them. The protective runes around the refuge lit up for a brief moment... and then disintegrated with a single glance from Tiamat.

"Did you see that?" laughed Ouroboros, spinning his body in the air and landing in a sprawling manner "The runes were so frightened that they imploded before I touched down!"

"Focus, bitch," said Tiamat, her voice deep and resonant like a heavenly chant. "We're here at her husband's behest. Don't destroy everything before we hear what that dwarf has to say."

"Pff, always so rigid," replied Ouroboros, already inspecting a stone as if it were an enchanted artifact and then biting into it. "Hmm... I like old rock. It tastes like secrets."

Inside, Baskev, the old dwarf with the forked beard and calloused hands, froze. Literally. Temperatures dropped twenty degrees when the two dragons landed, and the ancient magic that kept the place hidden simply... gave up.

The trembling dwarf ran to the entrance of his ritual chamber and held up the sacred hammer of the Master Blacksmiths - a relic more than three hundred years old, which had never been used in combat. He stood in silence, sweating coldly despite the ice that was now forming crystals in his beard.

The door to the chamber was kicked in violently by a draconic leg that was already transforming. In a matter of seconds, where there had once been two titanic creatures, there were now two women of beauty as absurd as it was overwhelming. Tiamat's hair fell like a cloak of bluish silver, her posture was erect, regal, regal. Ouroboros... was completely naked, her hair tousled as if she'd just stepped out of a gale and a smile like someone who would cause an apocalypse just for fun.

Baskev opened his mouth.

He didn't say a word.

He just fell to his knees.

Tiamat sighed and looked at her sister. "Could you at least put something on?"

"Why?" replied Ouroboros, raising his hands. "Perfection doesn't hide. If this little guy explodes with emotion, it's because I'm too much for this plane of existence."

"Are you going to let a man other than our husband see you like that?" muttered Tiamat, then looked directly at the dwarf. "Dwarf, close your eyes..."

Ouroboros quickly summoned black energy and covered himself with a dress, "You're right."

"You're Baskev, right? You can open your eyes now." He just nodded, sweating so much that the ice on his skin melted before it even formed drops

"Well, Scarlet sent us here to collect the homunculi that were traded," Tiamat's voice echoed like a war trumpet. "The three bodies should be ready by now, correct?"

The dwarf opened his mouth, as if to protest, but only a muffled grunt came out.

"No drama, shorty," said Ouroboros, who was now sitting on the ritual altar, nibbling at a bone with culinary interest. "We're not going to eat you. Our taste buds are much more refined, and you're not our husband, so sit tight before I toast you."

"Stop it." Tiamat walked over to him, each step making the floor vibrate slightly. "You have two seconds to pull yourself together, get up and take us to the bodies."

The dwarf, panicked, tried to speak. "C-right"

'That crazy woman!!! She sent Real Dragons here?! What was she thinking!"

"This way..." he said, muttering an opening spell. The stone door behind the altar moved, revealing an ancient hand-carved corridor, illuminated by ethereal crystals.

As they walked behind it, Tiamat kept her eyes fixed, analyzing the place coldly. "This refuge is poorly protected. You should worry more about the runes and the equipment, they're very weak."

"You're dragons. Anything you do destroys the strongest things in this world," retorted Baskev, a little annoyed, but steadily recovering from his deepest fears.

"It's your fault for being weak," Ouroboros smiled.

Tiamat let out a patient sigh. "Why did I agree to come with you anyway?"

"Because no one understands you like I do, duh."

The room of bodies was vast, circular, with three stone pillars supporting enchanted sarcophagi.

Tiamat approached. "Those are them."

"Great!" exclaimed Ouroboros, snapping his fingers enthusiastically. "Let's carry these beautiful corpses back to our house! We need to finish this soon... I want my reward from hubby!"

She laughed with a mischievous glint in her eyes, as she stretched like a satisfied cat about to devour a canary.

Tiamat, on the other hand, just let out a long sigh of patience and knelt down in front of the sarcophagi. He held out his hand gracefully, and the black ring with a fiery blue core on his middle finger glowed brightly - a dimensional ring that had originally belonged to Strax, until he found it unnecessary after discovering the [Inventory] system.

A sudden pull of energy made the surrounding air vibrate, and then, in a single silent vortex, the three sarcophagi were swallowed up by the space inside the ring. Not even dust remained in their place.

Tiamat stood up slowly, popping her shoulders in slight discomfort.

"Ah... tiring. I want to go home soon," she muttered, running her fingers through her hair before turning her gaze back to the dwarf. There was something gentle - and slightly sadistic - in his smile. "But first... I'm going to fix your runes."

Baskev blinked, confused.

"Fix... my runes?"

"Not just fix them. I'm going to enhance them," Tiamat explained, raising her hand and tracing symbols in the air with pure draconic essence. "Consider this your reward for having fulfilled your part of the contract. Far more valuable than gold... or any rare material you could wish for."

Ethereal runes appeared on the ceiling and began to spread down the walls, permeating the very structure of the mountain. Arcane lines pulsed with a bluish glow and ancient Draconic symbols formed with divine precision.

The dwarf's eyes widened, his jaw hanging open.

"Dragon runes...? The kind... of ancient draconic speech...?" He took a step forward, almost tripping over himself. "I-I... is that... is that real?"

"Absolutely," replied Tiamat with a wry smile. "It's not every day that a mortal has the honor of hosting our treasures. Consider yourself blessed."

"Yes! Absolutely!" Baskev shouted, almost in despair "This is... more than I could have dreamed of!"

"Then enjoy it before you change your mind," muttered Ouroboros, spinning in the air like a hyperactive child. "Time to go, old lady! If I stay here another minute, I'll turn this place into a magma theme park."

Tiamat rolled her eyes playfully. "Coming." Following the woman outside.

With one last look of approval at the work just done, she and Ouroboros transformed once again into their titanic draconic forms, and, with a roar that shook the heavens, took off towards the icy horizon - leaving behind a mountain now protected by millennia-old runes... and a dwarf on his knees, laughing and crying at the same time, completely ecstatic.

...[Spirit World inside Strax]

The vastness of the Spirit World inside Strax was a sea of shadows, stars and ancient echoes. A void that pulsed subtly with the energy of his soul - alive, chaotic, indomitable.

There, floating in ethereal space, were Kallamus and Lithara. Two fragments of power, two ancestral consciousnesses patiently awaiting their return to the physical world.

Kallamus was sitting on a fragment of crystalline memory that floated like a loose island in a vacuum. Her eyes were downcast, her hands intertwined on her knees, her body covered in translucent robes made of stellar smoke. An aura of silent sadness surrounded her.

"He... doesn't remember me," she murmured, her voice breaking the silence with the delicacy of a lament. "He didn't even hesitate to never come here again..."

There was a long silence before Lithara spoke, emerging from behind a slit of purple light in the void. Her body seemed made of fragmented mirrors and liquid shadows, her eyes like golden slits that shone with ancient wisdom.

"Stop the drama," he said calmly. "Just wait a minute, he asked Ouroboros and Tiamat to retrieve our bodies, stop being depressed."

Kallamus looked up, his eyes shining with restrained pain.

"Then why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel like... like a forgotten piece of a game that's already over?"

Lithara approached and sat down next to her, her legs crossed, her gaze focused on the starry void ahead.

"But he'll know soon enough. We'll soon have bodies, don't worry."

Kallamus bit his lower lip, trying to contain his emotions.

"Oh, all this drama, are you sure it's a dragon? Where's your pride?" Lithara said, patting him on the back...