Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 399

Chapter 399: I have nowhere to go.
Kryssia remained silent for a few seconds, as if trying to process everything at once — the pain, the death, the rebirth… and the horns.

With a slight motion, she stood up. Still unsteady, but determined. Her bare feet touched the cold floor with a soft click, as if even the ground itself recognized that something new had awakened there. Something… ancient.

She walked toward the old mirror leaning against the wall, its dusty, cracked glass reflecting only distorted fragments of her.

She wiped the surface with her palm. The dust scattered — and then she saw.

Her eyes widened.

The once-pale skin now looked firmer, as if reforged. The blue strands of hair that once hung in disarray now shimmered with dark, ethereal tones. And the horns… they curved elegantly back, sharp like a crown carved from living sapphire.

She touched her own face carefully, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“I… look like a nightmare dreamt up by an artist obsessed with dangerous women,” she murmured, examining every detail. “And the worst part is… it’s not bad.”

Strax, still sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall, let out a snort of laughter.

“‘Charming’ is what I said.”

Kryssia turned toward him, glancing over her shoulder. Her blue eyes — now tinged with a faint infernal glow — were sharp.

“Charming, my ass. I have horns, Strax. I look like the rebellious daughter of a dragon and some hellish entity.”

“Maybe because you kinda are now,” he replied with a shrug. “I mean… I’m not great with labels, but ‘Demonic General’ has a nice ring to it.”

“Demonic General…” she repeated, like testing the title on her tongue. “At least it’s better than ‘cage experiment.'”

She walked toward him slowly, still studying her body, as if feeling each muscle reawaken, every drop of power adjusting to its new flow. Her eyes locked on his again, now clearer — more focused. She was coming back. The old Kryssia… just with sharper teeth and less patience.

“So then, Strax…” Kryssia said, crossing her arms with the hint of a smirk. Her tone carried a layer of irony, but underneath it was a real question, quiet but pressing. “What else have you been doing… while I was dead?”

Strax let out a long sigh, tension finally starting to ease from his shoulders. That familiar crooked smile crept back onto his face, softer now, almost nostalgic after the chaos they’d survived.

“You really wanna know?” he teased, though his eyes said something else. He was still grappling with the weight of what he’d done.

But Kryssia didn’t take the bait. Her eyes narrowed, and the smile faded from her lips. There was something deeper behind her gaze.

“No… I want to know what you want from me.”

The question came sharp. Raw. Honest.

She stared directly into his eyes, and for a moment, Strax felt as if she could pierce through him with that gaze. “I can feel a bond between us. Something strong. And I’m sure… it’s not natural.”

Strax looked away briefly, as if weighing how much truth he could afford to speak. Then he shrugged, that same rough-edged, brutally honest tone returning.

“Well… bringing you back wasn’t a normal resurrection. It was more like… rebirthing you. As a demon.” He spoke slowly, like he was still wrapping his mind around it himself. “And demons… have a link to their progenitor. In this case… me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to line up his thoughts. “From what I understand, this kind of power comes with an instinctual loyalty. So… yeah. You’re bound to me.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Like steel.

“A small price for your life, all things considered,” he added, practical. Almost cold.

Kryssia stared at him, her eyes now burning with a mix of rage — and confusion. Maybe fear. A faint blue shimmer danced across her horns, and her voice came out laced with disbelief:

“You turned me into a subordinate?”

Strax raised an eyebrow, as if the question were foolish.

“Am I going to have to obey your orders now?” she continued, her voice flickering between indignation and desperation.

But Strax didn’t flinch. His gaze locked on hers — steady, not aggressive. Just… truthful.

“Since when have I ever needed that?”

The answer caught Kryssia off guard. It was the opposite of what she expected — or perhaps feared.

“As long as you don’t turn against me… don’t see me as the enemy… you’re free.”

He stood up slowly, letting the words echo with the weight of a choice. “If you want to leave, just go. I’m not keeping you here.”

The smile he gave then was gentle. But behind it… there was something else. A shadow of pain. Of exhaustion. Of longing for something he never had.

But Kryssia didn’t move.

She stood there, silent… until her gaze darkened. Then she lowered her eyes to the floor, as if trying to stay standing in the middle of her own collapse.

“…I can’t.”

The words came almost as a whisper. A wounded whisper.

Strax furrowed his brow but said nothing.

“Where would I go?” Her voice trembled, but it wasn’t weak. It was rage trying to smother despair. “The kingdom I served betrayed me. They abandoned me. Sold me off like a damn war prize.”

She brought her hand to her face, and for a moment it seemed like she was going to tear the horns from her own head. But she didn’t have the strength.

“And now I have… this.” She looked at her reflection again, her eyes tracing the demonic markings, the horns, the unnatural glow in her eyes. “This appearance. This… body.”

She paused, fighting to keep her composure.

“I could go to the Demon Realm… but I know how it works there. It’s filthy. It’s cruel. It’s a pit where even honor rots.”

She looked back at Strax, her eyes burning with something he couldn’t quite identify — maybe vulnerability. Maybe rage too long buried.

“I have nowhere to go.”

The silence that followed was heavy. As if the world itself was holding its breath in the face of that confession.

Strax finally took a step forward. His voice was quiet but firm.

“Then stay.”

Kryssia looked at him.

“Not as a servant. Not as a prisoner. As… an ally. As whoever you choose to be.”

She didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, staring at him, as if searching for a lie hidden beneath the sincerity.

But there was none.

She took a deep breath, feeling the new air in her lungs. The scent of death still lingered… but something else was there too. Something alive. Something… free.

“This is still shit…” she muttered.

Strax gave a half-smile, that tired but relieved kind of smirk.

“Come on. There’s someone downstairs who’s really worried about you.”

Kryssia raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment… and then the memory hit her like a spark.

“Oh…” she whispered, her eyes widening slightly. “Xenovia.”

Strax nodded, and the two of them began descending the old tower stairs, the sound of their steps echoing off the stone walls. The silence between them now felt different — comfortable, as if that short exchange had put everything into perspective.

As they walked, Kryssia still felt strange inside her own body. The strength, the demonic aura, the new current of power — it all pulsed beneath her skin like something new, still not fully understood. But on the outside, she stood tall, proud… and imposing. The reborn warrior. With sharp eyes and steady posture, even if chaos still stirred within her.

The door to the grand hall creaked as Strax pushed it open with his shoulder, and at the first sound of wood moving, Xenovia — who had been sitting restlessly, hands clenched and eyes locked on the door — shot to her feet.

“K-Kryssia…?” Her voice trembled.

Kryssia barely had time to react.

In a heartbeat, Xenovia crossed the hall like an arrow, running with tears already streaking down her face. No thinking. No hesitation. No restraint.

Kryssia opened her arms on instinct, and the force of the hug knocked her slightly off balance.

“You’re… you’re alive! Alive!” Xenovia sobbed loudly, clinging to Kryssia as if afraid she might disappear again.

Kryssia blinked, surprised… but her arms slowly wrapped around Xenovia in return, as if remembering the meaning of that gesture. There was something warm — almost forgotten — in that touch. Something she hadn’t felt since before the war.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice low and rough. “I’m here.”

Xenovia was shaking. Her hands clutched Kryssia’s clothes so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She cried openly, without shame, without trying to hold back — like a sister who had finally found the half of herself she thought was lost forever.

“I thought… I thought I’d lost you. For good… my only friend…” she whispered, her face buried in Kryssia’s shoulder.

“You almost did…” Kryssia replied with a faint smile, running her hand gently through Xenovia’s hair. “But your brother really is someone who does whatever he wants. Even defies death itself.” She smiled without looking at Strax.

Meanwhile… Scarlet appeared beside him. “Your power increased again. What happened?” she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion and curiosity.

“We need to talk… but let’s wait for those two first,” he murmured.