Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Artorias sliced the massive creature in half with a precise movement, his sword cutting through it like a sharp blade through butter. The creature fell, lifeless, its body crashing into the ground with a dull thud.

"How long are you going to keep staring at me, descendant?" Artorias suddenly said, not taking his eyes off the enemies around him, his voice carrying a serenity that was almost unsettling.

Strax, still processing what he had just witnessed, stared at him intently, his gaze sharp and calculating. "So, from the start, you knew I was here," he said, his voice calm and cold, as though nothing could truly shake his confidence.

Artorias, without changing his posture, quickly sheathed his sword as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He then turned to Strax, his golden eyes glowing with an intensity that seemed to pierce his very soul. "It would have been harder not to notice a man like you here. Or better yet… a Dragon."

Strax raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Then, Artorias fully revealed himself, taking a step forward. The man appeared to be just over 25 years old, not a single wrinkle on his face despite the indescribable aura of power that surrounded him. His presence was immense, almost palpable, much like Strax's own father. He stood about 1.90m tall, dressed in a white and blue combat suit that fit perfectly to his muscular frame. Behind his head, a snow-white hood seemed to float almost unnaturally, while his swords were carefully concealed in their sheaths, ready to be drawn at any moment.

Strax wasn't impressed, though he knew he was facing a man who seemed to embody the very essence of war. "So, what do you want?" Artorias asked, effortlessly jumping to sit on the head of the fallen creature. His penetrating gaze and strange smile showed that he knew exactly who he was dealing with.

"Simple," Strax replied with a calculated coldness. "Give me control of the souls of Ouroboros and Tiamat, and I'll leave. I couldn't care less about your legacy or anything related to those ancient familial bonds. I've had enough of these ghosts." Strax's indifference was palpable, and he didn't seem concerned with anything but his own ambitions. After all, he thought, why waste time with a man who's already dead? Your next chapter is on My Virtual Library Empire

Artorias seemed intrigued by Strax's brutal honesty. His golden eyes gleamed with a subtle spark of amusement, and he nodded as if accepting the young man's straightforwardness. "Very honest," he said, his words almost like a silent observation. Strax shrugged, as if not caring about the approval or disapproval of the man before him.

"Well then, do me a favor and kill these guys," Artorias said casually, pointing behind Strax.

Not understanding immediately, Strax turned, and his gaze fixed on what appeared to be an endless wave of creatures, emerging from the shadows. Thousands of beasts with glowing red eyes and grotesque bodies advanced toward him with an ear-splitting roar, their sharp claws shimmering with a supernatural touch.

"Seriously, dude?" Strax muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"These ghosts always love giving challenges to their descendants..." He exhaled heavily, his tone clearly frustrated. He was used to fights, but the sheer number of enemies before him couldn't be ignored.

Strax wasn't interested in playing the game of a vengeful spirit, but he knew he had no choice if he wanted to reach his goal.

Artorias watched the scene with an amused smile, his golden eyes gleaming with a mix of expectation and disdain. He didn't seem to care about the approaching creatures, as if he were more interested in seeing how Strax would react to the situation. His expression was almost bored, as though this were merely a test, a display of patience to see how far the descendant would go.

"Let's see what you can do, then," Artorias said, his voice carrying a challenging tone as the beasts approached, roaring and preparing for the attack.

Strax, with a slight sigh, turned to face the threat. He extended his hand, his fingers moving with a clear intent. "Freeze," he commanded, but to his surprise, nothing happened. The air around him didn't yield, and the magic didn't materialize. He tried again, more frustrated. "Burn!" The word came out with anger, but once again, nothing. His magic simply vanished, as if erased from the world.

Desperation began to rise, but Strax quickly composed himself, giving one last command, more defiant than before. "Blood." Another attempt, and once again, no response. No explosion of energy, no reaction. The silence of failure was deafening.

He took a deep breath, turning to Artorias, frustration evident in his gaze. "Ouroboros hates you, I think I'm starting to understand why."

Artorias didn't seem offended, merely maintaining his arrogant smile. He looked at Strax with disdain, as if already knowing what was coming. "You're standing in front of a Sword God, kid," he said in a tone that was almost playful, "Do you really think you could use magic here?"

He stepped forward, his presence even more imposing now, as if the atmosphere around Strax had grown heavier. "Deal with a sword, kid. Here, you're nothing without one." Artorias' voice was firm, without room for doubt, and his posture exuded the confidence of an absolute master.

"What an annoying guy..." Strax muttered, his patience running thin. With a fluid movement, he drew Ouroboros' sword, the blade reflecting light menacingly. "Infinity," he murmured, and as he swung the sword with deadly precision, a cutting wave of energy swept across the battlefield, obliterating everything in its path. The beasts, with no chance, were pulverized, their forms disintegrating before the immeasurable force of his blade.

Artorias watched the scene with an enigmatic smile, his golden eyes following every movement. "Hm, you can use the unique abilities of the sword..." he said, his voice carrying a calculating curiosity. "I wonder how long that will last."

Strax didn't respond, his sharp gaze fixed on his ancestor, now immersed in the heat of battle. He felt the energy vibrating through his sword, but he didn't let arrogance take over. "You talk too much," he said with disdain, quickly unsheathing Tiamat with a swift, precise gesture.

"Disappear." He ordered coldly, and Tiamat's golden blade shone brightly. An explosion of power consumed the field before him, the golden flame bursting forth like an unrelenting storm of fire. The beasts and creatures that approached were quickly engulfed by the wave of destruction, their forms burned to nothing but ashes and smoke.

Artorias' smile didn't falter, but his gaze deepened, observing the descendant with a new level of evaluation. He knew Strax was far from being just a simple challenger, but he couldn't help but wonder: how far could Strax go, and how long would his abilities and power remain effective?

Strax stood unwavering, his posture unchanged, not even a flicker of emotion on his face. His eyes, cold and unperturbed, were fixed on the battlefield, as if nothing around him was more than a simple obstacle to be eliminated. Every wound, every movement, generated no reaction—he was completely focused on the task at hand, on what he needed to do to fulfill his objective. The battlefield around him had become a scene of chaos and destruction, but to Strax, all of it was irrelevant.

The sound of the creatures roaring, the screams of pain echoing as they were devoured by Tiamat's flames, didn't affect his concentration in the least. He moved with precision, like a machine in a war zone, his focus not diverted for a single moment. Ouroboros' blade cut with supernatural speed, its blades moving as if they were an extension of his own will, destroying any being that dared cross his path.

Artorias, still watching, crossed his arms, his expression now a mix of fascination and curiosity. "You're more than just a swordsman," he commented, his voice reverberating through the storm of steel and flames. "But I wonder... how long will your concentration hold, descendant? How long will you remain so... neutral?"

Strax didn't answer. He didn't need to. His blades cut without hesitation, his body moving with lethal agility as he destroyed any being that was nothing but another distraction. Each strike was made with cold precision, without any sign of weariness or emotion. He wasn't here to fight for glory. He wasn't here to prove anything to anyone. He was here for one reason only.

To free the souls. And nothing more.

The beasts piled around him, but they couldn't do anything. With a movement of Tiamat, the golden flames spread like a wave of destruction, burning any trace of life. The tension on the battlefield grew denser, the fight becoming a deadly dance between control and chaos. But Strax remained unshaken, his mind sharp and his body moving with inhuman precision.

Artorias watched in silence, as if waiting for a mistake, a slip-up. But there was none. Strax didn't hesitate, didn't falter. He cut, attacked, and destroyed with the relentless determination of someone resolved to finish it in the most efficient way possible.

Finally, the battlefield was clear. No more beasts, no more enemies. Only silence. Strax, with his swords stained in ashes and blood, looked at Artorias without any emotion, as if nothing had happened.

Artorias stared at him for a long moment, a smile of approval slowly forming. "Interesting," he murmured, "You remind me much more of myself than I thought. But it's still not over. Don't think that simply killing these monsters is enough to end your journey."

Strax looked at him, his expression still neutral, his blades softly glowing under the light beginning to emerge. "I'm not interested in more words, Artorias. Just give me what I want and let me go."

"Fufufu, how amusing," Artorias said, looking directly at him.