Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 759: Forestry Problem

Chapter 759: Forestry Problem

The forest seemed… normal again.

Strax walked ahead with the same steady pace as before, pushing aside branches with minimal movements, as if his body already knew exactly where to go. The light filtered through the tall treetops drew soft patterns on the ground, and for a few moments it was easy to believe that nothing was wrong there—only ancient trees, deep roots, and the damp smell of living earth.

Behind him, Xenovia and Kryssia followed in silence.

It wasn’t a tense silence. It was the kind of stillness that only arises when experienced warriors trust their own senses and each other. Neither of them spoke, but their eyes never stopped moving, following shadows, trunks, small changes in the terrain.

Strax slowed his pace slightly.

He closed his eyes again.

This time, the mana sweep was short. Controlled. Precise.

Nothing leaped at him.

No hostile wave. No aggressive reaction from the forest. The energy there flowed in ancient, stable, almost… well-maintained channels. Lesser spirits respectfully withdrew, animals stayed out of the way, and even the wind seemed to obey a natural rhythm.

He opened his eyes and let out a discreet sigh.

“There’s nothing wrong on the surface,” he said, almost more to himself than to the two behind him.

Xenovia raised an eyebrow. “You say that as if you’re disappointed.”

“No,” Strax replied, resuming his pace. “I say that as someone who’s seen this sort of thing before.”

Kryssia tilted her head. “When everything seems too normal…”

“…it usually means the problem is buried,” Strax finished.

They continued walking.

The forest seemed to accept their presence. Branches didn’t break underfoot, roots didn’t move treacherously, insects continued their silent work. It was almost too peaceful for a place that had provoked reports of distortions.

Xenovia ran her hand along the trunk of a particularly old tree, feeling the rough texture of the bark.

“These trees,” she commented. “They’re not sick. Nor scared.”

“No,” confirmed Kryssia. “They’re… ignoring it.”

Strax nodded slowly.

“Something here doesn’t want to attract attention. At least, not yet.”

The terrain began to slope gently, leading them along a natural path between thick roots and moss-covered stones. It wasn’t a trail made by people, but clearly a route used over time—perhaps by large animals, perhaps by something older.

Strax stopped for a moment and looked around.

“Let’s go deeper,” he said with a resigned sigh. “The further we are from the edge, the harder it will be to pretend this is just a pretty forest.”

Xenovia smiled slightly. “Finally.”

They moved forward.

As they moved away from the road and the wider light, the air changed almost imperceptibly. It didn’t become heavy or threatening—just colder. Denser. As if the forest were becoming… alert.

Strax sensed this, but didn’t react immediately.

He walked like someone who knows exactly where he’s stepping, even without seeing everything. His instinct told him that any exaggerated reaction now would be a mistake. If something was down there, watching or sleeping, it wasn’t worth poking it before understanding.

Xenovia and Kryssia noticed the change almost simultaneously.

They didn’t exchange words.

They simply adjusted their pace, slightly decreasing the distance between themselves and Strax.

“Funny,” Xenovia murmured after a few minutes. “I don’t sense hostility.”

“Neither do I,” Kryssia replied. “But I don’t feel welcome either.”

Strax took a deep breath.

“Because this isn’t living territory,” he said. “It’s… sustained territory.”

They crossed a stretch where the trees grew in irregular circles, trunks slightly inclined inward, as if something had shaped the soil beneath them over centuries. In the center, nothing immediately caught the eye—only leaves, roots, and stone.

Strax stopped again.

He closed his eyes.

This time, he didn’t expand his mana.

He simply listened.

To his heart.

Not his own.

Something very distant, very deep, marking a rhythm too slow to be natural.

He opened his eyes and let out another sigh, longer.

“It is…” he said calmly. “I was right.”

Xenovia tightened her grip on her sword hilt. “So there really is something here.”

“There is,” he confirmed. “And it hasn’t yet decided if we’re relevant.”

Kryssia frowned. “That’s worse than being attacked.”

Strax gave a tired half-smile. “It almost always is.”

He looked ahead at the forest that continued to stretch out, seemingly tranquil, beautiful, untouched.

“Stay alert,” he said. “But don’t provoke anything.”

Xenovia tilted her head. “And when that ceases to be an option?”

Strax started walking again.

“Then,” he replied firmly, “the forest will remember why it should have remained quiet.”

The forest closed in around them again as they advanced, but now there was an invisible thread guiding each step.

Strax walked ahead with the same tranquility as before, as if strolling through a familiar garden. His eyes, however, no longer scanned the trees—they were turned downwards, following the pulse that only he seemed to perceive clearly. With each distant beat of that “heart,” the ground seemed to respond with a minimal, almost respectful vibration.

Xenovia felt first when the air changed completely.

She frowned and inhaled slowly. “The smell of old blood… and new fear.”

Kryssia nodded, adjusting her pace to avoid stepping on dry branches. “And poorly done magic. Too much emotional noise.”

Strax let out a short laugh, too low to echo. “Noise is a good word.”

They stopped before the clearing—the same one that had previously seemed like just an abandoned nest. Now, with their altered perception, the fissure beneath the ancient tree was impossible to ignore. The mana there was behaving erratically, seeping into the earth like water down a drain.

Strax approached the opening and looked down.

The torchlight danced on the walls of the subterranean cave, casting long, distorted shadows that moved like living creatures. The muffled sound of murmurs, footsteps, and something… organic… rose in slow waves.

He watched for a few seconds.

Then he laughed.

Not loudly.

Not mockingly.

It was a genuinely amused laugh, almost incredulous.

“Look at this…” he said, resting a hand on his knee as he leaned forward a little more. “So many people… so much effort… feeding something they have no idea what it is.”

Xenovia crossed her arms, looking down with open disdain.

“Cultists?”

“Worse,” Strax replied. “Conceited.”

Kryssia kept her gaze fixed on the center of the ritual, where the pulsating mass reacted slowly to the offerings.

“And what are we going to do?” she asked, without looking away. “Go in smashing everything? Close the circle? Kill the heart?”

Strax straightened up and shook his head.

“No.”

He took a step back, leaning against the colossal tree trunk. “We’re going to observe.”

Xenovia turned to him, surprised. “That’s all?”

“For now.” His smile widened slightly. “I want to see how far ignorance goes when it receives applause.”

As if the world wanted to confirm his words, movement arose on the opposite path of the forest.

Hurried footsteps.

Heavy breathing. Chains.

A small group emerged from among the trees, led by hooded figures. Two carried torches. Others pulled something tied with thick ropes.

More sacrifices.

First, animals—still alive. A boar that struggled weakly, its eyes wide. Then, something worse: two human figures, gagged, pushed forcefully, stumbling in their own terror.

Kryssia felt her stomach churn.

“They’re bringing live people…”

“Of course they are,” Strax replied calmly. “The ‘heart’ has tasted enough blood to want variety.”

Down below, the ritual was interrupted only by the sound of the newcomers being thrown to the ground. The cult leader approached, clearly pleased, and raised his hands in a solemn gesture.

The anomaly reacted even before any blade was raised.

The pulse quickened.

The shadowy mass expanded slightly, as if anticipating the feast. Xenovia clenched her fist.

“They think they’re in control…”

Strax watched with attentive, almost academic eyes.

“Everyone thinks so, when something ancient is still hungry.”

The hooded figures began their chants again, more confident now. The circle shone more intensely, and the air inside the cave became heavy, dense, almost suffocating.

Strax tilted his head, interested.

“Look… He’s already learning to ask.”

Kryssia took a deep breath.

“So when do you intend to intervene?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

He only watched as the blade was raised, as his heart pounded with anticipation, as the human error repeated itself with absolute devotion.

Then he spoke, “We’ll kill everyone soon, as soon as the Boar is dead we’ll save the two humans who are imprisoned, and kill everyone else.”

Strax finished the sentence with the same tranquility with which he would comment on the weather. No heightened emotion.

No hurry. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Below them, the ritual continued.

The boar was pushed into the center of the circle. It grunted, its hooves slipping on the damp ground as it tried, in vain, to get away from the hooded figures. The cult leader raised the blade, murmuring words that sounded too ancient to belong to any living language.

Xenovia looked away for a moment, breathing deeply through her nose. Kryssia remained motionless, her eyes cold, assessing positions, numbers, entry and exit routes.

Strax observed everything like a scholar before a predictable experiment.

The blade descended.

The anomaly reacted immediately—the pulse quickened, stronger, more confident. The air in the cave vibrated, and some of the cultists shuddered, not from fear, but from ecstasy. They believed they were being chosen.

Strax tilted his head slightly, as if confirming a suspicion.

“See?” he murmured. “He responds better to simple pain. He hasn’t yet learned subtlety.”

Kryssia spoke without taking her eyes off the ritual:

“And the humans?”

“In seconds,” Strax replied. “As soon as the pulse stabilizes.”

As if obeying the prediction, the dark mass slowed its pace after absorbing the energy of the sacrifice. The glow of the circle became more uniform, less chaotic. The cult leader turned to the two human prisoners and gestured for them to be pulled forward.

It was at that moment that Strax stepped away from the tree trunk.

Not dramatically.

Just one step forward.

The forest responded. Not with violence, but with absolute silence.

The birds ceased. The wind died. Even the rustling of leaves seemed to freeze in the air.

Xenovia felt it first. Her shoulders straightened, and her hand automatically went to the hilt of her sword. Kryssia took a deep breath, feeling the pressure shift, as if the world had just held its breath.

Strax raised two fingers.

A simple gesture.

His mana didn’t explode.

It descended.

Like a colossal weight being placed upon the clearing.

Down below, one of the cultists staggered, clutching his chest. Another fell to his knees, confused, as if something had stolen the ground from beneath his feet. The leader frowned, sensing the change but not understanding its origin.

“What—” he began.

Strax spoke.

He didn’t shout.

He didn’t need to.

“Now.”

Xenovia and Kryssia moved simultaneously.

Xenovia leaped first, descending through the opening with a heavy but controlled impact, her body absorbing the fall as if it were part of the movement. Kryssia followed closely behind, touching the ground almost silently, already in motion.

Chaos ensued instantly.

The cultists had no time to react in an organized manner. Some tried to run. Others raised improvised weapons. None of them were prepared to truly fight.

Xenovia advanced like a living wall, swift, precise blows, felling bodies and breaking formations before they even existed. Kryssia moved through the shadows, neutralizing threats with cold efficiency, always keeping her distance from the two prisoners.

Strax remained on the edge for half a second longer.

Observing.

The anomaly reacted to the violence with a confused, irregular pulse. For the first time, it seemed… uncertain. The food source had changed abruptly, and that disoriented it.

“Calm down,” Strax murmured, more to the thing than to anyone else. “You’re not the center of the story.”

Then he descended.

Not jumping.

The ground simply accepted him.

When Strax touched the cave floor, the ritual circle partially faded, as if deprived of something essential. The pulsating mass recoiled slightly, the shadows trembling erratically.

The two bound humans were alive—frightened, wounded, but alive.

Kryssia cut the ropes with a swift movement.

“Run when I tell you to,” she said firmly. “And don’t look back.”

One of the prisoners tried to speak, but Xenovia was already there, placing herself between them and the rest of the cave like a shield.

“Later,” she said. “Now, survive.”

In a few moments, the ritual had been completely interrupted. The chants ceased. The torches fell to the ground. The cult leader recoiled, looking in panic at the anomaly that no longer responded as before.

Strax walked to the center of the extinguished circle, gazing at the pulsating mass with genuine curiosity.

“You’ve grown a little,” he commented. “But you’re still just a disembodied organ.”

The thing responded with a weak, almost irritated pulse.

Strax smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “We’ll talk to you… after we clean up the mess.”