Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 772: The next step. End the sale of slaves.

The mansion seemed restless.

Strax walked through the wide corridors with faster-than-usual steps, the dry sound of his boots echoing against the polished marble. Antique tapestries swayed slightly as he passed, and the servants, seeing him, instinctively lowered their heads and moved out of the way.

He was nervous.

Not furious—yet.

But that silent tension that precedes decisions that change destinies.

Upon reaching the office door, he didn't knock.

He pushed it open.

The atmosphere was exactly as always… and completely different at the same time.

Cristine sat on the desk, one leg crossed over the other, twirling a dagger between her fingers with almost hypnotic precision. The blade reflected the twilight light streaming through the window, casting silvery sparks in the air. Her gray hair fell loose over her shoulders, and her gaze—attentive, sharp—had been fixed on him from the moment the door opened.

Yennefer, her twin sister, leaned against the window, arms crossed, observing the mansion's gardens as if the world outside were more interesting than the storm clearly brewing inside. Her eyes, however, moved discreetly toward Strax, registering every micro-expression.

Samira occupied the space closest to the fireplace.

Literally lying on the rug, as if the weight of her own body were irrelevant. Her enormous sword lay on the floor beside her, the dark metal still stained with marks from recent training. She stared at the ceiling, one leg bent, the other stretched out, seeming too relaxed for someone who knew very well why he was coming.

Strax paused for a moment.

He looked at the three of them.

He let out a long sigh… and smiled.

His smile was easy, almost carefree. The same one he used when he wanted to convince the world—and himself—that everything was under control.

"You all seem comfortable," he commented, closing the door behind him. "Should I be worried?"

Cristine stopped twirling the dagger.

The blade lay motionless between her fingers.

"Stop pretending, Strax," she said, her voice too calm to be innocent. "We're not in the mood for that today."

His smile widened for a second.

"It's going to be difficult," he replied with a low laugh. "It's practically a natural talent."

He walked to the central desk in the office and sat down, resting his elbows on the dark wood. Then he closed his eyes and let his head fall back, his gaze lost on the ornate ceiling.

For a few seconds, no one spoke.

The silence was heavy.

"Cristine," he said finally, without shifting his position. "In Filgram."

She tilted her head slightly. "Yes?" "Where does your intelligence guild operate…" He opened his eyes and looked directly at her. "Are there still slave sales?"

The dagger spun one last time before stopping completely.

Cristine descended from the table with a fluid movement, landing on the floor without making a sound.

"There are," she replied bluntly. "But they've decreased drastically since we took control of the Black Market."

Yennefer turned from the window.

"The public auctions are over," she finished. "The big buyers have retreated. Now it happens more… secretly."

"Smaller routes," Cristine continued. "Isolated cells. They try to operate away from the eyes of the larger guilds."

Strax took a deep breath. "But it's not over."

"No," Cristine confirmed. "It never really ends. It just changes form."

He closed his eyes again for a moment, absorbing the answer.

"And Athenion?" "Where does the mercenary guild that Rogue created operate?" she asked, turning her head toward Samira.

Samira let out a low sound, something between a sigh and a short laugh, without getting up.

"It did," she replied, her deep voice echoing through the hall. "Some merchants tried to infiltrate it at first. They used fake contracts, 'debt work,' that kind of crap."

She turned to face him. "Rogue doesn't tolerate that."

Strax opened one eye. "I imagine."

"He broke one of their legs personally," Samira continued, now with a dangerous half-smile. "Then hung the body at the entrance to the mercenary district with a sign."

Cristine raised an eyebrow. "Dramatic."

"And efficient," Samira retorted. "After that, no one else tried."

Yennefer crossed her arms.

"That doesn't mean it doesn't exist anymore," she said. "It just means they don't dare operate there."

Strax straightened up in his chair.

His smile had completely vanished now.

"So we have this," he murmured. "Filgram still has active cells. Athenion is clean… for now."

"You didn't ask that out of curiosity," Cristine observed.

"No," he agreed. "I asked because something has resurfaced."

Samira sat up, resting her arms on her knees. "What?"

Strax was silent for a few seconds before answering.

"Problems have recently arisen," he said.

The atmosphere in the office shifted almost palpably.

"Does this have anything to do with that elf you're taking care of?" she asked, her voice low but full of attention. "When Monica mentioned it, I even thought you were planning on adding another girl to the family… but you're not so perverted as to take advantage of someone traumatized."

Strax didn't react with irritation.

Nor with humor.

He simply ran a hand slowly over his face, as if trying to organize thoughts that refuse to settle.

"No," he finally answered. "That's not it."

He stood up from his chair and began to walk around the office, his steps now slow and heavy. It wasn't pure nervousness anymore. It was something deeper. Something gnawing at him.

"But she's part of the reason," he admitted. "Or rather… she was the trigger."

Yennefer tilted her head slightly. "Trigger for what?"

Strax stopped in front of the window, observing the distorted reflection of his own face in the glass. "I'm thinking of starting an extermination campaign against slave owners."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Even Samira, who was rarely surprised by anything, stood motionless for a second longer than usual.

Cristine was the first to react.

She let out a slow sigh, passing the dagger from one hand to the other, no longer as a nervous tic, but as someone calculating consequences.

"This is… problematic," she said, choosing her word carefully. "Much more than you seem willing to admit."

Strax didn't turn around. "I know."

"No, Strax," she insisted, taking a few steps toward him. "You know the general idea. But you don't know the true extent of it."

She pointed the dagger at the ground, as if tracing an invisible map.

"We're in the north. Here, the power is disproportionate to the capital and the central cities. The black market isn't a hidden appendage—it's part of the structure. Taking down slave traders isn't cleaning up dirt."

Yennefer finished coldly: "It's declaring war on the entire underworld."

Samira stood fully up now, resting her sword on the ground with a dull thud.

"Smuggling guilds, illegal merchants, financiers, masked nobles…" she enumerated. "You pull that thread, half the continent feels it."

Cristine nodded.

"They won't react like cornered bandits," she said. "They'll react like a threatened market. With money. Influence. Discreet assassinations. Internal betrayals."

She looked directly at him. "They'll target you. Us. The city." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Strax closed his eyes.

For a moment, he seemed more tired than ever.

"I know," he repeated, now in a lower voice.

He turned to face them.

"I know all of this. I know the cost. I know the risk. I know the chaos this can cause."

Samira frowned.

"Then why?"

The question didn't come as a challenge.

It came as genuine curiosity.

"You've done cruel things out of necessity," she continued. "You've ignored greater injustices when balance demanded it. What has changed now?"

Strax opened his mouth to answer.

He closed it.

He ran his hand over his chest, as if he felt something inside that he couldn't tear out.

"I don't know," he finally said.

The answer was simple.

Too honest.

"I only know that…" he took a deep breath, "my chest is screaming at me to stop this shit."

Cristine watched him with renewed attention. "Screaming how?"

"As if something's been wrong for a long time," he replied. "As if I've been through this before… it's strange." He said, placing his hand on his chest. "It's fucking bothering me."

Cristine narrowed her gaze even more.

There was no mockery there. No calculated coldness. Just absolute attention—the kind she reserved for dangerous information or truths she didn't want to say aloud.

"'Been through this before'…" she repeated slowly. "Are you talking about memory or sensation?"

Strax let out a short, humorless laugh.

"That's what irritates me," he replied. "It doesn't come as a memory. It doesn't come as an image. It's just…" he pressed his fist against his chest, "a tightness. An urgency. As if I've seen this go wrong before. As if I know the ending."

Yennifer stepped away from the window and finally entered the center of the room.

"You always trusted your instincts," she said. "Even when they went against logic, alliances, or numbers."

"And it almost always cost you dearly," Strax retorted.

"But it also saved many people," Samira added, her voice deep and firm. "Including us."

She took a few steps closer to him, her sword still resting on the floor.

"This feeling…" Samira continued. "It doesn't feel like fear."

Strax looked up at her.

"It isn't."

"Nor guilt," Yennifer added.

"Not that either."

Cristine crossed her arms.

"Then it's a warning."

The word hung in the air.

Strax nodded slowly.

"It's as if some part of me is saying: if you don't do anything now, it will be worse later. I don't know when. I don't know how. But it will." He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

"And that's pissing me off."

Samira gave a crooked half-smile.

"Welcome to the club of those who can't ignore their own stomachs."

Cristine, however, didn't smile.

"If this goes ahead," she said, "it can't start as open war. Not now. Not here."

"I know," Strax replied promptly. "I don't want burning flags or heroic proclamations. That would only make them unite."

Yennefer tilted her head slightly.

"So you want to bleed the structure dry. Not confront it."

"Exactly."

Cristine began pacing the office, thoughtful.

"Information first," she said. "Routes, names, intermediaries. Who finances. Who buys. Who pretends not to see."

"Nobles," Samira murmured.

"Always," Yennifer replied. Strax closed his eyes for a moment.

"I don't want this to become a blind crusade," he said. "I don't want to kill anyone who's gotten their hands dirty once. I want to take down those who keep this alive. Those who profit. Those who create demand."

Cristine stopped walking and stared at him.

"This will still cost blood."

"I know."

"It will cost alliances."

"I know."

"And maybe it will cost something in you that won't come back."

Strax held her gaze without hesitation.

"If that's the price for this shit to end…" he took a deep breath, "maybe I've already paid it."

Silence returned to the room, dense, heavy.

Yennefer was the first to break it.

"Then we start small," she said. "Filgram. The remaining cells. We observe who moves when one disappears."

Cristine nodded.

"My people can make this look like internal disputes. Cargo theft. Breach of trust."

Samira rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"And when someone decides to react forcefully…"

She didn't finish the sentence.

She didn't need to.

Strax looked at the three women in front of him.

Not as wives.

But as pillars.

"I didn't ask this of you," he said honestly. "And I won't demand it."

Cristine smiled slightly. A dangerous smile.

"You never needed to ask."

Yennefer nodded. "Just don't lie to us halfway through."

Samira stepped forward and lightly tapped her closed fist against his chest, in an almost ritualistic gesture.

"If your chest is screaming," she said, "then it's because something needs to die. And it's not us."

Strax let out a low, tired laugh.

"Great," he murmured. "Then let's do this right."

He turned to the table, resting his hands on the wood. "We begin in silence."