Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 416: Strax meets the Queen.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the imposing corridors of the palace as Evelyn led them with determination. Each step took them closer to the Royal Chamber - the most sacred place in all of Sylvandor. There, Queen Frieren, Evelyn's mother, remained in a state between life and death, her essence sustaining what remained of the kingdom's spiritual balance.

But as soon as they approached the huge silver and white oak gates of the Chamber, a row of elves in ceremonial robes was already waiting for them. The elders of the Council, guardians of the traditions, all with stern faces and eyes full of suspicion, formed a silent wall in front of them.

"Evelyn," said the head elder, a silver-haired, sharp-eyed elf called Caerwyn, "you know that entry to this shrine is forbidden to anyone who is not of royal blood."

His eyes slid coldly over Strax and his wives, with a clear note of contempt. "And certainly not to armed foreigners and... creatures of an uncertain nature."

Strax felt the insult, but remained motionless, his golden eyes fixed on the elders. Evelyn stepped forward, the tone of her voice carrying an authority that seemed to defy centuries of tradition.

"This isn't a courtesy call," she said firmly. "It's a necessity. The fate of Sylvandor depends on it."

"Empty words from a queen without a crown," muttered another elder.

The insult cut through the air like a blade. The women behind Strax moved instinctively, like lionesses ready to pounce. Beatrice stepped forward, but Strax held up a hand, calling for calm.

He took a deep breath. It was time to end the games.

His eyes began to glow brightly, like live coals, as an aura of overwhelming power began to form around him. The ground beneath his feet shook slightly. With a simple gesture, he allowed his true nature to surface.

His clothes rippled with the rising energy. Black and red scales appeared on his skin, his arms widening, his nails turning into glistening claws and a pair of horns on his head appeared. Behind him, a short, heavy tail materialized, swinging slowly. His hair became wilder, fangs appeared in his mouth, and his pupils became draconic slits, glowing with an ancient light.

It was a hybrid form - half man, half dragon - and it exuded a primal majesty that made the very room before it smaller.

The elders stepped back, instinctively fearing the titanic presence that now faced them. Many of them felt the shock invade their bodies, like an overwhelming wave of memories of ancient stories - legends of dragons who shaped worlds, of beings who were above even the gods themselves.

Strax took a step forward, and the marble beneath his feet cracked slightly.

"Insult me all you want, but I'll erase you from the world if you treat my wives like this," he said, his voice echoing like thunder off the sacred walls. "I'm a fucking Dragon, I'm not afraid to condemn your entire species."

The silence that followed was absolute.

The elder Caerwyn finally bowed slightly, his voice hoarse with shock.

"Only you may enter, O Dragon," he said, almost whispering. "Traditions still bind us. None other may set foot on that sacred ground, except those of pure lineage... or those... beyond mortal laws."

Strax exhaled slowly, his hybrid form settling into a controlled, menacing presence. He turned to his companions, his golden eyes full of regret.

"Stay here," he said, his voice soft but non-negotiable. "Protect this place if necessary. Don't get involved unless I call."

Beatrice opened her mouth to protest, but Beatrix touched her arm, shaking her head. Monica crossed her arms in resignation and Scarlet just huffed in frustration.

Evelyn took a hesitant step forward, her eyes pleading. "I... I should go with you. She's my mother."

Strax hesitated only for a moment before nodding. "You're coming with me."

With that, he turned again to the elders, who slowly opened the great gates. The sound of metal echoed like an ancient lament through the corridors, and a cold, damp breeze blew out, laden with the scent of spirit flowers and dormant magic.

The interior of the Royal Chamber was vast and silent.

The golden-blue light from the stained glass windows created flowing patterns on the white marble floor. Silver trees grew straight out of the walls, their branches curving over the ceiling in a natural arch that seemed to embrace the entire space. In the center, raised on a crystal altar, rested Queen Frieren.

She looked like a statue of pure light.

Her body, although immobile, radiated an aura so powerful that Strax felt the sword at his waist vibrate slightly. Her hair was whitened by the energy that flowed ceaselessly from her to the earth, like invisible roots connecting her to everything that was alive in Sylvandor.

Evelyn rushed to the altar, falling to her knees beside her mother. She took the queen's hand between hers, feeling the cold weakness and yet the vibrant pulse of pure magic.

"It still has a pulse..." she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "He's not dead yet... good..."

Strax approached in silence, his presence as heavy and solemn as the room itself. His golden gaze, deep and mysterious, shone even brighter as he activated the hidden power within him - the Dragon Eyes, capable of seeing the essence of mana as few in the world could. freёnovelkiss.com

In an instant, everything changed before his eyes.

The physical world disappeared, replaced by a tangle of lights, colors and invisible currents that pulsed with life. Frieren herself, immobile on the living throne, became the epicenter of an astonishing spectacle: from her body, delicate threads of mana spread out like the roots of an immense tree, snaking through the air and merging with the veins of the ancestral throne.

The throne itself wasn't just a seat - it was a living tree, a magical relic from ancient times. Its deep roots pierced the marble floor and spread throughout the palace and beyond, feeding Sylvandor with the life magic that Frieren, with his own body, still sustained. Each strand of mana seemed to vibrate with a note of silent music, weaving an ancient song that kept the kingdom alive... but in precarious balance.

Strax narrowed his eyes.

He saw that many of the threads were fragile, as tenuous as silk about to break. Some had already broken, leaving empty, dead spaces between the roots. The queen's energy was slowly dissipating, sacrificed to keep what was left of the kingdom standing.

Frieren wasn't just asleep. She was being consumed.

Every weak beat of her heart was one more drop she offered to stop Sylvandor from collapsing.

Then he heard it.

A voice - soft, quiet as the rustling of leaves in the wind - echoed in his mind, coming from the tree itself.

"Young man... please... get her out of here... we need to talk..."

Strax closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing that serene presence. There was an ancient wisdom in those words, an urgency veiled in compassion.

"All right," he replied in thought, his voice firm.

He turned and walked over to Evelyn, still kneeling beside her mother. The princess raised her face to him, her eyes brimming with tears, full of fear and hope.

"Evelyn," she called softly. She tried to smile, but it died when she saw Strax's grave expression. "What is it...?"

Strax sighed, regretful. "I'm sorry."

Before she could react, he moved with the cold precision of a trained warrior. A quick, sharp blow to the base of the neck - controlled enough not to hurt her, just to make her black out.

"E-wait-" murmured Evelyn, before collapsing in his arms.

Strax held her carefully, preventing her body from falling to the ground. For a moment, he stayed there, holding her with a tenderness that few knew he possessed. Then he laid her gently on the marble, brushing a lock of golden hair away from her face.

"Was that really necessary...?" Came the soft voice of the tree, tinged with an ancient sadness.

Strax stood a few paces from the altar, staring at Evelyn's sleeping figure before answering, his voice low and firm:

"You know as well as I do... that she would never have left of her own free will." He paused briefly, his gaze serious. "You know your daughter's heart better than anyone, Queen of the Elves."

"..." She fell silent.

Strax closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The soft sound of the surrounding leaves seemed to accompany the beat of his heart. With the sword still at his waist, he concentrated, diving into himself - into the vast golden sea that was his mana.

Then he released it.

His energy, previously contained and discreet, expanded like an invisible tide, filling every corner of the sacred chamber.

The golden roots of the ancient tree, the magical veins of the living throne, the resonating walls of mana... everything was touched by that neutral, pure and immense force.

Unlike the mana of the elves - which was soft and attuned to the element of life - Strax's mana was like the primordial breath before creation: neutral, dense, absolute.

It didn't burn, it didn't freeze, it didn't cut - it just was, undeniable and infinite.

The ground beneath her feet reverberated like a beating heart.

The leaves of the great tree shook slightly.

The light from the stained glass windows seemed to be absorbed and returned in subtle waves.

Frieren - or rather, the living consciousness of the queen imprisoned within the tree - gasped silently.

She felt, for the first time in countless ages, the colossal burden of maintaining the continent being lifted.

She... was no longer alone.

"Impossible..." whispered the tree's voice, filled with a mixture of shock and hope. "You... took control of the land...? Alone...?"

Strax opened his eyes. They shone brightly - like twin suns - radiating not only power, but a deep calm, ancient as the roots of the world itself.

He stepped forward, his presence now as heavy as that of a deity, and spoke, his voice ringing throughout the chamber:

"You've carried this burden for too long. I'm just... lending my shoulders for a moment."

The tree shook gently.

Frieren's consciousness, free for the first time from the crushing weight of centuries, could expand. And with that, it manifested: an ethereal silhouette, made of silver light and golden leaves, appeared before him.

It was beautiful and tragic. Her eyes were like shooting stars - infinitely wise, infinitely tired.

She looked at Strax in amazement. "A dragon..." She murmured.

"I'm just a guy worried about an important friend." He spoke as his eyes took in the ethereal woman. "Let's talk about how to restructure this kingdom. Queen."