Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 398

Chapter 398: [Demonic General – Kryssia]
Hades had spoken, while Strax kept his eyes locked on Kryssia…

Inside, he wondered if this truly was the only solution — to sell himself in order to save her.

It was the first time his pride had ever faced something like this. In some twisted, inexplicable way… for the first time, he felt like a dragon. Finally part of this reality.

Saving Kryssia wasn’t just an act of protection.

It was self-preservation of the soul. A war waged within his heart.

Strax remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floating system window in front of him. Hades’ words still hung in the air like a sentence — a dark promise wrapped in absolute certainty.

[Do you wish to become the Vessel of the Underworld God ‘Hades’?][Yes] / [No]

His breath was heavy. The air around him trembled, filled with something ancient — something greater than himself. It whispered through the cracks between worlds, cold and absolute.

He looked down at Kryssia once more.

She was on the edge — her body hanging by a thread between life and death. Her fingers were cold. Too cold. And somewhere deep in his draconic instincts, he knew: she was out of time.

Strax closed his eyes.

For a heartbeat, everything vanished. The world. The mansion. The system. Time itself.

Only a memory remained.Her laughter during that insane fight… even though he was weakened, it had felt real.And when she let Xenovia leave with him — defying the Empire itself — that meant something.

His finger moved.

[YES]

The window flared bright, as if the very universe was acknowledging the moment a soul bent itself to save another.

[You have chosen to become the Vessel of Hades.][Connecting to the Realm of the Dead…][WARNING: This process is irreversible. You will lose part of your original essence. Connection to Hades will affect your soul, your emotions, and your fate.]

Strax dropped to his knees, eyes wide, arms outstretched as if trying to grab something unseen.

A cold, primal energy surged around him — the very shadows of the Underworld being injected into his flesh. His veins lit up with deep violet light, as if obsidian ink had replaced his blood. His eyes changed — the red fury of a dragon swallowed by a starless void, speckled with gold sparks like constellations in endless night.

Black runes etched themselves into his skin, burning like reversed embers. Ancient, forbidden symbols — the language of death, the language of pacts.

The room’s temperature plummeted. Kryssia’s feverish heat met the dead chill of Hades’ presence, and a spectral mist flooded the space.

[You have been accepted as the Vessel of Hades.]

New skills and abilities began to manifest in the system interface — dozens, perhaps hundreds. But none of it mattered.

Not now.Only Kryssia mattered.

Strax was no longer just any dragon.He was a Dragon with dominion over death itself. A vessel of the Underworld. Not demonic… but close enough to make gods flinch.

He was the bridge between worlds.The living gate between life and oblivion.

With eyes now tainted by the god’s power — black as the abyss, glowing with violet embers — Strax gently placed his hand on Kryssia’s chest. The gesture was tender, almost reverent… but it was enough to awaken the world itself.

Black magic circles bloomed beneath her, etched into the floor like ancient scars. Arcane symbols and celestial constellations rotated like infernal gears, driven by long-forgotten laws and buried covenants.

Kryssia’s body convulsed.

And for a moment… she stopped breathing.

Outside the door, Monica felt it.

A crushing pressure in the air. A biting cold crawling up her spine.Something ancient… something that didn’t belong in this world… had awakened.

Strax didn’t flinch. Not now.

With his hand still pressed to her heart, he murmured in a voice that didn’t sound like his own — a whisper that echoed through the fabric of reality.

A prayer.Or maybe…A curse.

“I’m sorry for pulling you from the world of the living… But I will reenact you among the dead. Let the light bow to shadow… let the end become the seed of a new beginning. I’m taking you back, Kryssia… Come back.”

The circle flared. Brightly. A surge of energy burst out like a silent explosion, sweeping through the room. The walls shook. The bed groaned as if in agony. The air grew thick — almost solid.

And then…

Kryssia gasped.

A faint sound, like the whisper of a soul lost and returning — but undeniable.

Strax felt it. Felt the bond take root.

Something inside him was pulled… a part of his essence, his light, his soul… stitched into her with an invisible thread, stretched taut over the very line between life and death. It wasn’t just magic. It was connection.

Her chest rose again.

Another breath. Stronger.

And then, slowly, Kryssia’s eyes opened. There was a dim glow in them… but there was life. She was there. Present. Fighting.

And in Strax’s eyes, the impossible continued.

Her body began to regenerate — not through simple healing, but transformation. The necrotic stains faded from her flesh. Vital energy flooded her veins. And then… like some brutal coronation… two sharp horns burst from her skull, blue-tinted like the strands of her hair, which began to shimmer again with every beat of her restored heart.

Strax stood still. Stunned. Fascinated. Devastated.

“I see…” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “I… I didn’t bring her back to life.”

A system window appeared before him, translucent and resolute.

[Life is sacred. Death is eternal. She now lives… among the dead.]

The signature was unmistakable.Hades.

Strax slowly turned toward Kryssia, who was now breathing steadily, her eyes still foggy. Above her head, a new designation pulsed in pale light.

[Demonic General – Kryssia]

“I turned her into… a servant?” Strax asked, his voice riddled with doubt… and something deeper. Fear? Regret?

Hades’ response came not with thunder — but with cold omnipresence.As if the god’s voice echoed from within Strax’s own mind.

[No.][She is not bound to you. You may release her at any time. That is… if she wants to be.]

That final sentence lingered with weight. It wasn’t casual. Hades knew.

Strax lowered his eyes to Kryssia.

She was there. Calmer. The blue horns framing her face like a hellish crown. Despite the change, something about her was still unmistakably… Kryssia.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, as if his voice might shatter her.

Her eyes snapped open suddenly, sharp and alive… but there was something misaligned in them. Like she was stuck between two worlds.

She sat up abruptly and stared at him, eyes wide and disoriented.

“How did I get here?” she asked — and before he could respond, she kept going, her voice speeding up, like she was spilling fragments of a nightmare.

“I remember… I was in a carriage, locked in a damn iron cage. Then — BOOM! Something exploded. Ash everywhere. Screams. Everyone died. And then…” she looked around, her eyes going glassy for a moment, “Then I was here. What the fuck happened?”

Strax hesitated. Kryssia teetered between lucidity and delirium. But before he could say a word, she furrowed her brow and muttered to herself in a darker tone:

“Oh… I remember now. They tried to kill me. No — they tried to use me. Parade me around like a trophy, a symbol of strength. Because I was known. Feared. And they thought it would be fun…”

Her voice rose with every word, with fury. The air thickened. Grew colder.

“It was Grunnar…” she snarled, clenching her fists as the floor groaned beneath her feet. “That bastard beat me. I’ll rip his heart out with my bare hands. I will—”

“Uh…” Strax raised a hand, awkwardly, looking away like someone about to toss meat into shark-infested waters. “About that…”

“What?” she turned to him, eyes narrowing.

Strax let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I kind of… already killed him,” he said in almost a whisper, as if speaking softer would lessen the impact.

Silence.

For a moment, only the sound of the wind outside… until Kryssia looked at him. Her blue eyes began to glow with an unnatural light. The air around her dropped in temperature, like winter itself had held its breath.

“Excuse me?” Her voice came out low, but laced with threat.

Strax took a half-step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

“Look, a lot happened, okay? You were dying, I killed him, the Emperor turned out to be a vessel for some damned god, Grunnar was standing out front with some possessed bitch… So yeah. I killed him. Had to. I even turned you into a demon to keep you alive. I deserve a break, alright?”

“…What?…” Kryssia asked, her voice slow, as if she was digesting every word like poison.

“A lot happened and I—” Strax began, but she cut him off.

“I became a demon?” Kryssia’s eyes widened, locking onto him.

Strax casually pointed at her forehead.

“Go ahead. Feel right there.”

She slowly lifted her hands to the top of her head… and touched it. Something hard. Curved. Her fingers traced the firm structures protruding from her skull.

“What is this?” she said, in shock.

“Your horns,” Strax replied nonchalantly, shrugging. “Better than being dead, right? And to be honest… you look kinda hot like that.”

Kryssia stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes flickered between restrained fury and pure confusion.

“Hot?” she repeated, like she was testing the word on her lips.

Strax raised an eyebrow, half-provocative, half-exhausted.

“Yeah. I could’ve let you die. But I didn’t. Now you’re powerful, almost immortal… and sexy. Stop complaining — you’re winning.”

She scoffed. But there was a faint smile hiding there, behind the chaos in her eyes. A flicker of something even she couldn’t explain.

“You’re an asshole,” Kryssia muttered.

“Yep. But I’m your favorite asshole.”