Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 769: Healing an Elf

Strax slowly moved away from the circle that was beginning to disperse, carrying the dark elf in his arms as if her weight were irrelevant—not only because of his strength, but also because of his determination. People silently made way for him. No one dared to speak. The sound of the city, once lively, now seemed restrained, respectful, as if all of Asgard were watching that specific moment to learn something.

He walked with firm but deliberately calm steps.

The elf stirred slightly in his arms.

An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her body, followed by a short, irregular sigh. Her eyes, previously closed, began to move beneath her swollen eyelids. Consciousness was slowly returning—and with it, fear.

Strax felt it.

He looked down.

She opened one eye first, then the other, blinking with difficulty. Her vision seemed blurry. The world was spinning. The blue sky of Asgard was not something she expected to see.

Her first impulse was to try to break free.

The second was panic.

The sound that came out of her throat was low, hoarse, almost a stifled whimper. Her body tried to recoil, but the chains still attached to her wrists clinked, bringing back a cruel memory of pain and punishment.

Strax stopped immediately.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, firm, but not harsh. "Calm down. You're safe."

She didn't answer.

Her eyes widened when they finally focused on his face. There was no recognition, just an instinctive reading of power. Power almost always meant danger.

She tried to struggle again.

Strax adjusted the arm that was supporting her, making sure she didn't fall, and then looked at the chains.

"This..." he muttered, annoyed with himself for not noticing it sooner.

With two fingers, he touched the metal.

The chain simply ceased to exist.

There was no explosion. No spark.

It dissolved into fine particles of residual mana, as if it had never been forged on that plane.

The metallic sound ceased abruptly.

Her reaction was immediate.

She shrank back violently, her entire body going on high alert. Fear took hold before reason could catch up. Her heart raced. Her breathing became short.

"No!" she whispered, almost voiceless, trying to cover her now-free wrists. "I... I'll obey... please..."

The phrase came out broken, automatic. Conditioned.

Strax felt something heavy settle in his chest.

He bent down slightly, enough so that her eyes were level with his, still holding her firmly.

"No one will punish you," he said clearly. "No one will hit you. No one will lock you up again."

She shook her head, dirty tears cutting clean paths through the grime on her face.

"Lies..." she murmured. "They always say that."

Strax didn't respond immediately.

He knew.

"My name is Strax," he said after a brief silence. "This is Asgard. And you are not property here."

She swallowed hard.

The name meant nothing to her. But the tone... the tone was different. There was no demand. No hidden threat.

She took a deep breath, her chest heaving.

"I-I..." she tried to speak, but her voice failed her.

Strax resumed walking, more slowly now, adjusting his route to a quieter street, away from the market. The environment gradually changed: fewer people, more trees, well-kept residential buildings. A place designed for rest.

"You don't have to talk now," he said. "Your body is still trying to understand that it's over."

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if those words were too big to process. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"It's over...?" she repeated, almost inaudibly.

"Yes."

The silence stretched on for a few steps.

She opened her eyes again and, with visible effort, looked at her free wrists. The marks were still there. Red. Inflamed. But there was no metal. There was no weight.

"I…" she hesitated. "I don't feel the bond."

Strax frowned slightly.

"What bond?"

She took a deep breath, gathering her strength.

"The mark," she explained, lightly touching her forearm. "The seal. It… it pulled. When I thought of running away. When I…" her voice broke. "When I thought of dying."

Strax stopped walking.

This was worse than he had imagined.

"There's no active seal on you," he said with conviction. "If there was one, it was poorly made. Or broken along with the chain."

She stared at him, frightened and confused.

"This… this isn't possible."

"It is," he replied simply. "You're alive. Free. And still here."

She began to tremble.

Not from cold.

From shock.

Then the tears came, silent, restrained, as if even tears had been forbidden for too long. She brought a hand to her face, trying to hide something that no longer needed hiding.

Strax continued walking, respecting the moment without interrupting.

Some guards watched from a distance, attentive but without approaching. He had given the order. And they understood.

After a while, the elf took a deep breath, trying to regain some control.

"I… I don't know where I am," she confessed. "Nor why."

"You are in Asgard," he repeated. "And because someone tried to do something that is not allowed here."

She nodded slowly.

"My name…" she hesitated, as if it were too dangerous to say. "My name is Nhyara."

Strax smiled slightly.

"Nhyara," he repeated. "It's a good name."

She looked away, surprised by the simplicity of the answer.

"You… won't sell me?" she asked, almost whispering.

The question held no accusation. Only learned fear. "—Never," he replied without hesitation.

"You're not going to trade me? Use me? Hand me over?"

"No."

She took another deep breath, her eyes fixed on him.

"Then… what's going to happen to me?"

Strax thought for a moment before answering.

"First, you'll receive care. A bath. Real food. Bandages. Then, rest."

"And then…?" she insisted.

"Then," he said, "you decide."

She blinked, confused.

"I… decide?"

"Yes."

The word sounded too strange coming from her.

They arrived at a discreet but elegant building. Guards stepped aside as he entered. The interior was quiet, welcoming. A place clearly prepared for recovery, not confinement.

Strax entered and walked to a large room, where a healer immediately stood up upon seeing them.

"Prepare everything," he said. "She needs thorough care. No unnecessary questions."

The healer nodded promptly.

Strax looked at Nhyara again.

"You are safe here" he said. "I promise."

She watched him for a long moment.

Then, for the first time, something other than fear appeared in her eyes.

Doubt.

But also… hope.

And that, Strax knew, was the hardest beginning of all.

The healer worked in silence for a few minutes that seemed far too long.

Nhyara was now lying on a low stretcher, wrapped in clean cloths, while threads of soft light drifted through the air around her body. Delicate runes flickered on and off as the magic examined every layer — flesh, bones, veins of mana.

Strax stood a few steps away, arms crossed, expression still. He didn't interfere. He only watched.

The dark elf kept her eyes open, fixed on the ceiling, her body tense despite the evident care. Each touch still seemed to carry the expectation of pain.

"Breathe slowly," said the healer, her voice calm. "Magic doesn't hurt."

Nhyara nodded, though her fingers still twitched involuntarily.

After a few more moments, the light dimmed. The runes faded completely.

The healer let out a low sigh.

"Externally, we can handle it," she said, wiping her hands with an enchanted cloth. "Cuts, bruises, minor fractures… all of that will heal."

Strax raised his chin slightly.

"And internally?"

She hesitated.

"That's where the problem lies, Lord Strax."

Nhyara turned her face slowly, fear creeping back into her eyes.

"Her body has been drained for a long time," explained the healer. "Not just physically. The lifeblood… was slowly drained away. Whether by seals, forced use, or simply continuous exhaustion."

Strax closed her eyes for a second.

"How long?" she asked.

"Hard to say," she replied. "Years, maybe more. Elves resist better, but that also means the suffering lasts longer."

Nhyara swallowed hard.

"I… I haven't felt hungry for a long time," she murmured. "Just… weakness."

The healer nodded.

"Her body has gone into survival mode. It's functioning at a minimum. If we only heal wounds, she could still collapse later."

Strax opened his eyes.

"What do you recommend?"

The healer took a deep breath.

"Food rich in mana. Meat from low-grade magical beasts, well-prepared. Broths, preferably. Nothing aggressive. She needs to rebuild her internal reserves before anything else."

"How long?" Strax asked.

"Days, if there's constant care," she replied. "Without it… weeks. Or worse."

Strax didn't hesitate.

"Provide what's necessary here," he said. "But she won't stay."

The healer blinked, surprised.

"Sir?"

"I'll take her home," he replied matter-of-factly. "There she'll have silence. Proper food. And no one will treat her like a clinical observation subject."

The healer observed Nhyara for a moment, assessing.

"If that's the case…" she said, "then that will help more than any spell."

Strax nodded.

He approached the stretcher.

"Nhyara," he called softly.

She turned her face to him.

"You heard," he said. "You need to eat properly. Recover your magic. Here they would take good care of you, but… I prefer to ensure it personally."

She blinked a few times, processing.

"Y-your home…?" she asked, confused. "I… I don't want to be a bother."

Strax inclined his head slightly.

"It's not a bother."

He extended his arms and, with absolute care, placed one arm under her back and the other under her legs.

The movement was slow, deliberate.

"I'm going to lift you now," he warned. "Is that alright?"

She stiffened for a second… and then nodded.

When Strax lifted her, her body reacted with a slight jolt, but there was no pain. Just the strange shock of being supported without brutality.

"I-I can walk…" she said quickly, her face beginning to darken under the dirt already partially cleaned. "You don't need to—"

"Yes, you do," he interrupted, without harshness. "Your body is still weak. I'm not going to risk it."

She pressed her lips together.

"This is… embarrassing."

Strax raised an eyebrow.

"You'll get used to small acts of kindness," he replied. "They're persistent."

Despite everything, a near-smile threatened to appear at the corner of her mouth… and disappeared, as if it hadn't yet been allowed to exist.

He left the room with her in his arms, ignoring the curious and respectful glances. The guards simply cleared a path.

The journey to the mansion was silent.

The streets of Asgard seemed different now—less grandiose, more human. Lined trees, tranquil fountains, small balconies. Nhyara observed everything in silence, absorbing images that came without orders.

"It's… beautiful," she murmured, almost without realizing she had spoken aloud.

"It's meant to be," Strax replied. "Cities shouldn't hurt."

She thought about this for a few seconds.

The mansion appeared before her, solid, ancient, imposing without being oppressive. Gates opened automatically, recognizing Strax.

Nhyara shrank slightly.

"I… have never been in a place like this."

"You don't need to impress anyone," he said. "Here you can simply exist."

He entered and went straight to one of the quieter rooms. A spacious room, large windows, light curtains, a bed too soft for someone who had slept on the floor for years.

Strax carefully placed her on the bed.

She sat up slowly, supporting herself with her hands on the mattress, still wary of not being reprimanded for something.

"Someone will bring food soon," he said. "Broth first. Then, if your body tolerates it, something stronger."

She nodded.

"Thank you…" she said after a moment. The word came out strangely, but sincerely.

Strax observed her for a moment.

"Nhyara," he said, "no one here will touch you without permission. No one will demand anything of you. If you want to remain silent, remain silent. If you want to leave when you feel better… you can."

She looked up at him, surprised again.

"Really?"

"Really."

She took a deep breath.

When Strax left the room, closing the door softly behind him, he paused in the hallway for a moment longer than usual.

"Why did you bring an elf?" Monica questioned him as soon as he turned his face. He looked at her and sighed.

"Slave trader." He commented, running a hand through his hair, "I gave the order to kill everyone and free the slaves. She's the one I saved." He concluded, and looked at her with a serious look, "Did you know that?"

Monica stared at him, "Of course not. If I had known, I would have killed her myself."

Strax relaxed, "Do we have low-quality magical meat?" Monica looked at him and shook her head, "That cat only brings high-quality game."

Strax nodded, "No problem, making soup should lessen the magical risk." He said and went towards the kitchen.

"Wait, you? You're going to cook?" Monica asked as if she were having a nightmare. This guy cooking?

"So what? I have many talents, you know? Cooking is one of them, you just never let me cook," he said, shrugging.

Monica was simply speechless.