Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 767: Expansion Plan

They entered the mansion side by side, and their presence seemed to alter the very air of the place. The doors closed behind them with a soft echo, and for a moment the room seemed too small to contain three beings of such weight.

Ouroboros was the first to throw herself into one of the armchairs in the main hall, stretching her legs exaggeratedly, as if she were finally remembering what it was like to be in a space that did not require constant flight.

"I missed this floor," she commented, relaxed. "Flying for days on end tires even those who were born for it."

Tiamat, on the other hand, remained standing, walking slowly through the hall while observing details she hadn't seen in a while: the ancient stone columns, the discreet symbols carved into the wood, the almost invisible but absurdly refined magical protections.

"The mansion remains... solid," she said. "It grew with you."

Strax smiled slightly, walking over to a low table and pouring himself some water, pushing a glass toward them as well.

"Or I grew with it. Hard to say."

Tiamat finally sat down, crossing her legs elegantly, and then got straight to the point.

"The continent is much larger than we imagined," she began. "Not just in territorial extension, but in energy density."

Strax looked up immediately.

"Energy like what?"

"Concentrated mana," she replied. "Ancient lines, natural convergences, zones where the world itself seems... thicker."

Ouroboros leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Places where you feel that if someone sneezes wrong, a legend is born," she added with a sharp smile.

Strax let out a brief laugh, but his eyes were alert.

"So we're not just talking about empty magical lands."

"No," said Tiamat. "Many of these places are inhabited. Cities, fortresses, academies, entire kingdoms built around these concentrations."

"Powerful people," concluded Strax.

"Very," she confirmed. "Some ancient. Others... dangerously young."

Ouroboros snapped her fingers.

"We've seen things that haven't moved in centuries. And others that are growing too fast."

Strax walked to the window, watching the garden outside as if he could see beyond the trees, beyond the mountains, beyond the horizon itself.

"That changes a lot," he murmured.

"It does," agreed Tiamat. "This continent is not empty. It is... contested. Even if not openly yet."

Strax turned to them, his gaze now filled with genuine interest.

"Asgard's expansion will not stop," he said without hesitation. "It has passed the point where retreat is an option. But that means we need to think differently."

"Expanding here isn't like other territories," Tiamat warned. "This isn't virgin land. It's a board full of pieces that are already in play."

"Even better," Strax replied, a dangerous smile appearing. "It means we're not alone in dictating the pace of history."

Ouroboros tilted her head, curious.

"You're thinking of the capital."

"I am," he confirmed. "If this continent is as vast and as charged as you say, then the center of power cannot be something ordinary."

Tiamat took a deep breath before answering.

"It isn't."

Strax waited.

"The capital..." she chose her words carefully, "is not on the ground."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Explain."

"It's in the skies," Tiamat said simply.

Silence fell over the hall.

Ouroboros smiled first.

"I loved it when we found that out."

Strax let out a short laugh, more surprise than disbelief.

"Literally in the skies?"

"Literally," confirmed Tiamat. "A colossal suspended structure. It's not a simple floating island. It's... a system."

"Multiple layers," added Ouroboros. "Platforms, smaller cities orbiting, permanent air routes. All sustained by ancient magic and engineering we've seen nowhere else."

Strax rubbed his chin.

"That explains a lot."

"Explains what?" asked Ouroboros.

"Why this continent didn't organize itself like the others," he replied. "If the center of power doesn't have its feet on the ground, the rest of the world grows... crooked. Fragmented."

Tiamat nodded.

"The capital doesn't rule directly. It observes. It regulates. It intervenes only when something threatens the overall balance."

"Or when something threatens it," added Ouroboros.

Strax laughed.

"Natural."

He walked slowly across the hall, clearly reorganizing his thoughts.

"Getting there won't be easy," said Tiamat. "It's not just a matter of flying up. There are defenses. Exclusion zones. Ancient protocols."

"And observers," added Ouroboros. "Many of them."

Strax stopped.

"Then we won't arrive announcing anything."

"No," agreed Tiamat. "And even if we did arrive... we would not be welcomed as conquerors."

"Not yet," he corrected.

Ouroboros smiled broadly.

"There he is."

Strax turned to the two women.

"If there are so many points of power scattered across the continent, then expansion must be... organic. Alliances. Influence. Constant presence.

"Not direct domination," said Tiamat.

"Not at first," he agreed. "First, we walk toward the capital. Not to take it. To understand it."

"That will take time," she warned.

"I know," replied Strax. "But time is something we have. And patience... we have learned to use."

Ouroboros rose from her chair and approached him.

"So we're talking about a slow march," she said. "Reconnaissance. Contact. Testing."

"Exactly," Strax confirmed. "And we'll need you two more than ever."

Tiamat held his gaze, serious.

"If we cross certain lines, there will be no turning back."

Strax smiled calmly.

"There never has been."

The wind outside blew harder, causing the windows to rattle slightly. The mansion seemed to listen to their conversation, as if it understood that decisions were being made that would go beyond its walls.

"The continent is huge," Tiamat repeated. "And now we know it's awake."

Strax raised his glass in a kind of silent toast.

"Then we'd better introduce Asgard properly."

Ouroboros laughed.

"The heavens had better prepare themselves."

Ouroboros' laughter still echoed as Strax lowered his glass and turned back to the center of the hall. The lightness of that moment did not erase the weight of the information. On the contrary—it gave it form, direction.

"If the heavens are the political heart," he said thoughtfully, "then the ground is where the blood circulates."

Tiamat tilted her head slightly, acknowledging the metaphor.

"Exactly. The earthly cities sustain the capital, even without touching it. Resources, knowledge, people. Everything flows upward... and decisions descend in the form of rare but definitive decrees."

Ouroboros clicked his tongue.

"And when they come down, no one argues. Not because they agree. But because they can't reach."

Strax walked over to one of the large tapestries in the hall and pulled it aside partially, revealing an old, incomplete map with frayed edges. He ran his fingers over the surface, as if feeling something beyond the ink.

"Asgard has always grown from the bottom up," he said. "First presence. Then influence. Finally, structure. Here... we will have to do this looking up at the sky from the beginning."

"Which changes everything," said Tiamat. "Because the sky watches."

"It always watches," added Ouroboros. "We feel it." Not hostility, but attention. Like ancient predators that don't attack... yet.

Strax smiled slightly.

"Attention is better than indifference."

He turned to them. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"Tell me more about these points of power."

Tiamat closed her eyes for a moment, organizing memories too vast to be linear.

"There are regions where mana not only accumulates, but renews itself. As if the world itself had decided to keep those areas... prepared."

"Prepared for what?" asked Strax.

"For champions," she replied. "For guardians. For catastrophes."

Ouroboros laughed, without humor.

"Or for historical mistakes."

She stood up and began pacing the room, gesturing energetically.

"We saw an entire mountain range where each peak had someone too powerful to be called just a 'mage.' A desert where cities are mobile because the ground decides to move. An archipelago where children are born already altering the surrounding climate.

Strax let out a low whistle.

"And they all coexist under a capital in the skies."

"Coexist," Tiamat corrected. "Not necessarily in peace. But contained."

"By the implicit threat," Ouroboros added. "If someone breaks the balance, something from above moves."

Strax was silent for a few seconds, absorbing that.

"Then we cannot be seen as disruption," he said finally. "At least not now."

"No," agreed Tiamat. "We need to be seen as... continuity."

He smiled.

"Or solution."

Ouroboros stopped in front of him.

"You've already decided, haven't you?"

"I've decided on the path, not the pace," Strax replied. "Asgard's expansion will continue, but here... we will plant roots before raising flags."

"Where?" Tiamat asked.

Strax touched the map again.

"In places where power already exists, but organization fails. Where strong people live under weak structures. Where the heavens watch, but do not care."

"Like the city of the White Flame Monarch," said Ouroboros immediately.

Strax's eyes lit up.

"Exactly."

Tiamat crossed her arms.

"That will attract attention."

"Everything does," he replied. "The difference is the type."

He walked to a tall window, looking at the clear blue sky above the mansion.

"If the capital is in the heavens, then sooner or later we will have to ascend."

"And when we ascend," said Tiamat, "it will not be as conquerors... nor as subjects."

"No," confirmed Strax. "It will be as equals."

Ouroboros smiled slowly.

"That will be fun."

"It will be dangerous," corrected Tiamat.

"The two are not mutually exclusive," replied Strax.

The wind blew again, stronger, as if the air itself reacted to that unspoken but already concrete decision.

"The continent is awake," repeated Tiamat. "And now it knows it is not alone."

Strax turned to them one last time, his expression serene but laden with intention.

"Then let's walk," he said. "Step by step. City by city. Until the sky is no longer just something above... but something within our reach."

Ouroboros stretched out her arms, as if embracing an invisible future.

"Let the heavens prepare themselves."

And high above, beyond the clouds and wind currents, something ancient seemed to adjust its gaze—not in alarm, but in recognition.

The game had begun.