Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Diana was visibly tense, her eyes fixed on Strax as he observed her, silent, his posture still and impassive. She took a deep breath before she began to explain, knowing he wouldn't have the patience for any small talk.

"A convoy is approaching," she said, her voice deep. "About ninety people, all Rank King, with a Rank Emperor general. They're coming our way."

Strax didn't move, but his gaze narrowed, the muscles in his body tensing, ready to react. He didn't say anything, but the silence that followed carried a heavy expectation. Diana continued, her eyes now searching for something on his face, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

"The general's name is Barak," she explained quickly. "He's an unbeatable strategist, and his army... is not something we can take lightly. They're known for their cruelty in battle, and Barak has the reputation of being relentless."

Strax tilted his head slightly, as if processing the information, but not letting it affect him. He had faced worse things. Diana continued, her voice now softer.

"And... it seems Kryssia has been stripped of her position," she said, a noticeable weight in her words. "No one knows what happened to her, but now we're vulnerable. Barak's army should be less than a day away. And the only thing we know is that he's advancing without resistance."

Strax felt the tension in the air growing. Kryssia was a respected commander. Her fall couldn't be a good sign.

"That's why... I need you," Diana said, finally stepping closer to him, as if weighing each word. "You can fly. You can reach the convoy before they get here, observe them without being detected."

He looked at her for a moment, his expression impassive, as if considering her words. "So you want me to go there and find out what Barak is planning. And if I find Kryssia, what do I do?"

Diana sighed, a slight shadow of frustration crossing her face. "If you find Kryssia, bring back information. But the priority is knowing what Barak is doing. We can't afford to be caught off guard."

Strax gave a small smile, but without humor. "So it's simple. I'll go, figure out what Barak's up to, and come back. And if I find Kryssia, I can bring her back."

Diana stared at him, still looking unsure, but there was something in his eyes, a confidence that couldn't be ignored. "Yes. But be quick. We don't have much time."

Strax nodded, his body already beginning to move toward the exit, as if the mere act of speaking about the mission had activated his strategic mind. "I'll go. Don't worry."

Kryssia was in an exposed cage, the midday sun beating against the iron bars surrounding her. Her body showed signs of a brutal fight—scars that traced across her skin in ways that spoke more than any words could. She could barely keep her eyes open due to the deep exhaustion, but what truly dominated her mind wasn't the physical pain. It was the humiliation. She felt the weight of her defeat in every breath, every beat of her heart still insisting on beating, as if her body itself were rebelling against what her mind desired.

The convoy continued to march, relentless, across the desert, dust rising with every step of the beasts and carriages. The hot breeze offered no comfort, and the shadow of the cage didn't reach her in a way that would ease her pain. Kryssia was trapped there, her arms and legs bound, her dignity shattered, in a state she never imagined living.

Her only arm was bandaged, the rest of her flesh visibly damaged, and her face... her face was a reflection of something long out of reach. Her left eye had been torn out, the area around the hole swollen, marked by the agony she couldn't remember in detail, only the echo of the pain still reverberating in her mind. It was a deep scar, one that would never fade. But what hurt more wasn't the physical loss—it was the psychological weight, the weight of losing herself, of being reduced to a mere trophy for those monsters.

She was covered in rags, her dress torn, pieces of fabric barely covering what was necessary. Her posture was hunched, as if the pain itself crushed her, forcing her to curl inward. The weight of the collar around her neck, an evil seal pulsing with dark energy, was the only thing keeping her alert. Any thought of escape, any desire to rebel, was instantly suppressed with a wave of unbearable pain. The shock that ran through her body made her shudder, becoming increasingly unbearable, and the memory of the pain from each shock made her body tremble involuntarily.

But she did not give in. Not completely. Her will to live was still there, weakened, but unbreakable. Kryssia felt the ropes of hope tighten around her chest, what little resistance remained conditioned to that tiny, fragile flame, but still alive. She thought about how it would be if she could just use her magic, if she had the means to escape. But she couldn't. There was no strength in her bones. And that seal around her throat... it was an invisible chain, a prison that kept her hostage, not only to her captors but also to her own body. Every time she tried to rise, the shock would bring her down. It was a constant torture, as if her body were a battlefield, and her mind, the only territory she could still conquer.

No matter how much she wanted to fight, there was not enough strength left. Not anymore. She tried to look around, but the sight of the convoy was desolate, and the soldiers of General Barak looked at her with contempt, not a trace of compassion. They saw her as a prisoner of war, as an animal caught. And to them, that was all she was. What was left of her? A broken warrior. A defeated woman.

The convoy moved on, but time seemed to stretch. The physical pain, the scorching heat, the sensation of being watched... all of it created a suffocating atmosphere. Every movement, every breath, was a reminder of how far she was from what she had once been. Kryssia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember something that would make her feel human again, something that would anchor her to her former life. Maybe the sound of battle, the sound of her sword cutting through the air, or maybe the smile of her allies before all of this happened. But there was nothing left of that. All that remained was the pain and the loneliness.

The hands that once held swords were now bound, bloodied, and useless. Her chest tightened with a sense of helplessness. The screams of the other prisoners in the convoy, the murmurs of the soldiers, all of it blended into a symphony of suffering. But Kryssia, she was quieter. She didn't want to make noise, didn't want to give the satisfaction of showing weakness. Even now, in this deplorable state, she preferred to maintain her dignity in silence.

But the pain... the pain was unbearable. The shock that coursed through her body when she rebelled against the seal was worse than any torture. She had tried. Tried to resist. Tried to break free. But what remained in her soul was a sense of emptiness. The resistance she had, the hope that still clung to her, was dying slowly. Not because she wanted to give up. But because her body was growing too weak. Her spirit, too worn out.

Kryssia was in a state of deep melancholy, a reflection of what was happening to her, of the loss of everything she had once been. Pride, power, freedom... all of that was now a distant dream. She closed her eyes, a solitary tear slipping down her cheek, mixing with the sweat and dust that covered her. The last thing left was her will to live. But how much longer could she endure the pain? How much longer could she resist the weight of her defeat?

"The traitor is crying?" Barak's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. Kryssia, who had closed her eyes to try to distance herself from reality, immediately opened them upon hearing the sound of that voice. Disgust and anger flooded her, but the pain in her body kept her from reacting as she wished. She forced herself to look at him, but the vision was blurred, the fatigue and tears mixing with the dust on her face.

Barak was standing in front of her cage, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he watched her, relishing her weakness. His soldiers around him chuckled quietly, the scene being more of a diversion for them. The cage was open, but the chains and the seal on her neck were more than enough to keep her captive. Barak didn't care about that—he saw Kryssia as nothing more than a chess piece, and he was determined to use her however he saw fit.

"You're going to make a good blackmail piece," he taunted again, a mocking smile plastered on his face.

Kryssia tried to compose herself, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to support herself on the bars of the cage. But all she felt was humiliation and pain. The weight of the seal on her neck pulsed, as if it were an extension of her own defeat, always reminding her that she was completely powerless. Every attempt to fight back, to shout, to simply stand up, was crushed by the electricity that coursed through her body when she rebelled against the restraints.

She tried to raise her gaze, maintaining as much dignity as she still had left, even knowing that he was there to break her completely. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing her suffering.

"Don't underestimate me," she murmured, her voice rough and tired, but carrying a trace of anger. "You think you'll break me so easily?"

Barak smiled, as if he enjoyed her resistance, even though it was weak. He took a step forward, stopping right in front of the cage, and his hand rose, going toward the collar around her neck. Kryssia felt the cold metal against her skin and instinctively recoiled, feeling the oppression of that cursed object. The pain was a constant ghost in her mind, a reminder of her powerlessness.

"You're just a prisoner now, Kryssia," he said, his voice smooth and threatening. "And all your bravery will disappear, just like who you were. Soon, you'll be a tool, a puppet for our plans." He leaned in closer, his face just inches from hers. "And nothing more than that."

Kryssia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to avoid the proximity of his presence. Feeling the dense air of his arrogance nearly suffocated her. "What a joke." Barak said before walking away...

"I hope you're sure you want to do this, Barak," she murmured, her voice cold. "You've made your choice." She finished and fell silent...