Demonic Dragon: Harem System

The black sand remained over the snow for a few seconds.

No one moved.

Not even the beasts.

The entire field seemed to have been put on pause by an invisible hand. The guards on the walls still held bows, spears, and magical catalysts raised, but none fired. The guild members, scattered through the ravines and side corridors, also stood still, looking at the point where the shadow had spoken. Even the creatures that had run in panic from the southeast now seemed incapable of choosing between fleeing and bowing to fear.

Strax was the first to walk.

He approached the black sand without haste, with White Fire still burning in one hand and Black Ice covering the fingers of the other like dark claws. The snow around the stain did not melt, but it also did not freeze. It only slowly retreated, as if that dust refused to touch anything that belonged to the normal world.

Frieren appeared beside him a few seconds later, holding an isolating vial with both hands.

"Do not touch it directly."

Strax looked at her.

"I was going to touch it."

"I know."

"Are you calling me predictable?"

"I am calling you physically resistant and emotionally impulsive in moments of threat."

Daniela, farther back, murmured:

"That was a very elaborate yes."

Strax ignored her.

Frieren knelt before the stain and carefully brought the vial closer. Small green symbols lit up on the surface of the glass, then went dark, as if the light itself had been pulled inside. She used a silver rod to collect a minimal amount of sand, but the instant the grains touched the metal, the rod began to oxidize and darken.

Frieren smiled.

"Interesting."

"Frieren," Monica said from the wall, in a threatening tone.

"Dangerous," she corrected. "I meant dangerous."

Rogue approached from the flank, keeping her distance from the sand.

"My people are asking whether we should kill the rest of the beasts."

Strax looked at the creatures still alive. Many had collapsed, too exhausted to keep running. Others trembled inside the runic chains prepared by Frieren’s teams. Some had small golden eyes opening and closing in wrong places on their bodies, like failed attempts by something to cross through.

"Kill the contaminated ones," he said. "The ones that only fled, push them into the ravines and let them pass. I do not want the field full of corpses if the next wave comes larger."

Rogue nodded.

"And the eyes?"

"Any creature with a golden eye is killed immediately."

The order spread quickly.

There was no celebration. No bravado. The guild hunters did the work with the cold efficiency of those who understood that poorly applied mercy could open a door to something worse. Samira, Cassandra, and Daniela helped clear the line, cutting connected shadows, diverting uncontaminated creatures, and eliminating those that no longer seemed to belong completely to themselves.

Monica descended from the wall shortly after, surrounded by two assistants who tried to keep up while writing orders on clipboards.

"First conclusion," she said, approaching Strax. "The horde was not the main attack. It was forced displacement and, perhaps, a route test."

Strax nodded.

"He found direction."

"Yes."

"Then this was tracking."

"Probably."

Frieren placed the vial inside a containment box, then raised her face.

"The shadow that spoke did not seem like his."

Daniela cleaned her blade and looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"The presence was different. The eye in the desert was crushing, dominant, intrusive. The shadow here seemed deteriorated. Weak. Almost broken."

Cassandra grew serious.

"The warning voice."

Frieren nodded.

"Perhaps."

Strax looked at the stain shrinking over the snow.

"It told us to close the door."

"Yes," Ouroboros said, appearing silently beside them.

Strax turned to her.

"Did you feel it?"

Ouroboros was paler than before. Not physically ill, but like someone who had looked into an abyss long enough for the abyss to remember her name.

"I felt a thread unraveling."

"From the shadow?"

"Yes."

"And the other one?"

Ouroboros took a moment to answer.

"The other remained."

Monica narrowed her eyes.

"Between the King Beneath the Sand and Asgard?"

"Not exactly. Between him and the direction of Asgard. It is not yet a path. It is a memory of a path."

Daniela released a heavy sigh.

"Is that better or worse?"

"Better than him knowing precisely where we are. Worse than him knowing nothing."

"Wonderful. We are in the middle of the disaster scale."

Samira rested the greatsword on her shoulder.

"Then we close the door."

"Yes," Strax said.

Monica looked at him immediately.

"Do not say that as if it were simple."

"I did not."

"Your face did."

"My face lies."

"Rarely."

Strax almost smiled, but the expression died before it was born. He looked southeast, where the forest still trembled with the last beasts being diverted. The shadow had disappeared, but it had left something in the air. Not presence. Not exactly. It was more like a minimal pressure at the back of the neck, like someone watching from very far away without being able to see properly.

"Frieren," he said. "How long to know how to close it?"

"That depends on what the door is."

"Estimate."

"If it is only a cracked seal, hours to understand the basic structure, days to formulate a temporary repair, weeks for a decent solution."

"And if it is not only a seal?"

Frieren was silent for an instant.

"Then perhaps it is not a door that can be closed from the outside."

Silence returned.

Monica ran a hand over her face.

"I hate when you speak honestly."

"Would you prefer a lie?"

"In this case, almost."

Strax looked at Ouroboros.

"And the voice that warned us?"

Ouroboros stared at the black sand, now almost gone.

"Ancient. Bound to the mechanism. Perhaps a guardian, perhaps a prisoner, perhaps what remains of someone who tried to keep the door closed."

Cassandra folded her arms.

"The outline did not seem whole."

"It was not."

"Can it speak again?"

"Perhaps."

Strax looked at Frieren.

"Can we call it?"

Frieren smiled faintly.

"Can, perhaps. Should, I do not know."

Monica answered before anyone else:

"We are not calling an unknown shadow entity in the middle of the field without protocol."

Albedo, who was sitting on top of the first barrier as if it were any ordinary seat, tilted her head.

"Do you make protocols for everything?"

"Yes," Monica said.

"Even for talking to broken shadows?"

"Especially for talking to broken shadows."

Lithara smiled beside her.

"I like her."

"I did not ask for approval," Monica said.

"That is why it is fun."

Strax raised his hand, ending the distraction.

"We fall back to the war room. Rogue, finish clearing the field. Samira, Cassandra, and Daniela, stay until the last creature is diverted or dead. Tiamat and Beatrice remain on the wall for another hour. Albedo, Lithara, check that no shadow entered the city."

Albedo leapt from the barrier with grace.

"As you wish, master."

Lithara looked at the black sand, then southeast.

"If I find a hidden shadow, may I play a little?"

"No."

"You are becoming less and less fun."

"I am becoming increasingly busy preventing ancient entities from entering my territory."

"That is a valid excuse, I admit."

Monica was already walking back to the tower.

"Strax."

He looked at her.

"I am declaring internal alert level two. No public announcement about the entity, only a beast threat in the southeast. We need to keep trains running, but with military priority on external lines. The civilian population cannot realize we are near a larger crisis."

"Do it."

"I am also sending a message to Mercedes."

Strax went still for a second.

"Why?"

"Because if this spreads north, she needs to know. And because Vex is with her."

Strax’s hand slowly closed.

Monica held his gaze.

"She is safe now. But delayed information kills."

Strax took a deep breath.

"Send it."

"I will soften the text."

"Do not soften it too much."

"I am not going to write ’a possibly divine giant eye discovered Asgard’s direction.’"

"Good."

"But I will write enough for Mercedes to reinforce the borders."

He nodded.

"Do it."

Monica left with her assistants, already speaking about schedules, routes, shifts, and supplies. Strax remained in the field for a few more moments, watching the stain of black sand slowly disappear. When the last darkened grain sank into the snow without leaving a mark, he felt something lightly tug at his own shadow.

Very lightly.

Almost nothing.

But he felt it.

White Fire immediately appeared around his feet, burning the bond before it could form. No one noticed except Ouroboros.

She looked at him.

"Did he try?"

"Someone tried."

"It was not strong."

"No."

"But it was intelligent."

Strax looked at his own shadow, now normal over the snow.

"Then he learns quickly."

Ouroboros did not answer.

She did not need to.

Soon after, everyone gathered again in the war room. The difference was that now the threat was no longer abstract. The southeastern map was covered in red markings, containment lines, arrows of beast displacement, and small black stones indicating possible points of shadow influence. Frieren had placed the box with the black sand in the center of a temporary runic formation, and every time someone looked at the vial for too long, Monica told them to stop.

"Do not stare at potentially conscious samples," she said for the third time.

Daniela looked at Rogue.

"Did that make it into the protocol too?"

Rogue answered without emotion:

"I hope so."

Frieren adjusted a lens over the vial.

"The black sand from the field is different from the sand collected in the desert. The one from the desert was sediment contaminated by fossilized mana. This one is projection residue. Like shadow ash."

Cassandra leaned over the table.

"Can you trace it?"

"Perhaps, but tracing something that also traces back is a questionable idea."

Monica pointed the quill at her.

"Then do not do it yet."

Frieren sighed.

"You keep taking away my best options."

"Your best options usually involve risk of possession, explosion, or dimensional disaster."

"Not always."

"Frequently."

Strax stood before the map, looking at the point of the crater.

"King Beneath the Sand."

Rogue folded her arms.

"I have never heard that name."

Samira also shook her head.

"Neither have I."

Cassandra looked at the ancient records spread across the table.

"Perhaps it is not a title currently used. It may be a translation from the entity, or a way for the shadow to explain something that has no name in our language."

Frieren raised an old book an assistant had brought from the secondary archives.

"Or it may be recorded another way."

Everyone looked at her.

"Found something?"

"Perhaps."

Monica closed her eyes for an instant.

"I have started to hate that word."

Frieren opened the book on the table. The pages were dry, yellowed, and covered in ancient writing. It was not an official document from Asgard, but a record purchased months ago along with lots of books from conquered cities. Monica had probably acquired it in the same impulse with which she bought engineers, maps, and half the useful people on the continent.

"This is a fragmented account about the Desert of Khazur, to the southeast," Frieren said. "Written by a nameless priest before imperial unification. Many parts are damaged, but some phrases survived."

She moved her finger across a line.

"’Beneath the sand sleeps the one who drinks names.’"

Daniela grimaced.

"I did not like that."

Frieren continued.

"’Do not pronounce his title before the door, for ancient kings awaken when remembered.’"

The room went quiet.

Strax looked at her.

"Continue."

Frieren carefully turned the page.

"’Seven cities knelt, and seven were forgotten. Their peoples walked in circles until their feet bled, offering stone, glass, bone, and sand to the eye of the sky.’"

Monica lost a little color again.

"The sand being offered."

"Yes."

Frieren read farther down.

"’When the lock darkens and the shadow seeks a path, light the cold crowns and call the faceless guardian.’"

Cassandra raised her eyes.

"The faceless guardian."

"The shadow that warned us," Ouroboros said.

Frieren nodded slowly.

"Likely."

Strax stared at the book.

"And how do we call it?"

Frieren turned one more page.

It was torn precisely at the next section.

She stared at the blank gap left by the missing piece.

"It does not say."

Daniela let out a bitter laugh.

"Of course it does not."

Monica picked up the book, examined the torn edge, and looked at an assistant.

"Search for every record related to Khazur, seven forgotten cities, the one who drinks names, cold crowns, and faceless guardian. Now."

The assistant ran out.

Strax remained still.

"The one who drinks names."

Albedo tilted her head.

"That sounds bad."

"It is bad," Frieren said. "If it is literal, we are dealing with an entity that consumes identity, memory, or the bond of existence. Perhaps that is why some cities were forgotten."

Rogue became serious.

"Forgotten as in destroyed?"

Ouroboros answered:

"Forgotten as if they had never existed."

The sentence fell over the room like stone.

Strax slowly closed his hands.

"Then we do not let him pass."

Tiamat smiled, but this time there was real ferocity in her eyes.

"Finally, a simple order."

Monica pointed at her without looking.

"Do not turn a threat that drinks names into a reason for enthusiasm."

"You are terrible at fun."

"Good."

Strax looked at Frieren.

"Cold crowns."

"I do not know yet."

"Crowns of ice?" Cassandra asked.

"Perhaps. Or crown-shaped runic structures. Or mountains. Or cold mana focuses around the seal."

Monica became thoughtful.

"If the text mentions cold crowns, there may be a connection to the North."

Strax grew more serious.

"Mercedes."

"Or to ancient ice," Frieren said. "Desert and ice appear together in containment mechanisms because they are opposite extremes of conservation. Heat moves. Cold preserves. Sand buries. Ice seals."

Ouroboros touched the map.

"Vex was born from a lineage tied to the Blue Dragon and ancient ice."

The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Strax slowly looked at her.

"Explain."

Ouroboros did not avert her eyes.

"I am not saying she is involved. I am saying ancient threads rarely cross by chance. The North stopped freezing infinitely. The desert began to breathe. Two ancient prisons awakened within a short time."

Monica placed both hands on the table.

"Are you suggesting a connection?"

"I am suggesting caution."

Strax was silent.

His expression became impossible to read.

Then he spoke, low:

"Send the message to Mercedes now."

Monica was already writing.

"I am already sending it."

Frieren closed the old book carefully.

"We need to find the faceless guardian."

Daniela pointed to the box of black sand.

"You want to call the shadow back."

"Yes."

Monica looked at Strax.

"With protocol."

Strax stared at the southeastern map.

The image of the golden eye was still alive in his mind. The voice saying that now he knew. The broken shadow begging them to close the door before he remembered his own name.

He breathed slowly.

"Prepare the ritual."

Frieren smiled.

"Good."

Strax looked at her.

"Safe."

Her smile faded a little.

"Less good, but acceptable."

Monica pointed the quill at Frieren.

"Actually safe."

Frieren sighed.

"You two are very restrictive."

Strax did not answer.

He only looked toward the war room window, at the snow falling over Asgard.

Somewhere far away, the desert breathed.

In the North, Vex was with Mercedes.

And between ice, sand, shadow, and forgotten names, something ancient was beginning to stitch the entire continent into the same threat.

Strax looked back at the map.

"Before he remembers his own name, we are going to discover how to make him forget forever."