Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 776: Exercising

The training hall was silent, broken only by the rhythmic sound of Strax's controlled breathing and the slight creaking of the stone under the weight he was defying.

He was upside down.

A single hand supported the floor, fingers firmly digging into the cold surface, his arm flexed with almost absurd precision. His entire body remained aligned, muscles tense and defined, each movement calculated. The push-ups came slow, deep, unhurried—not from difficulty, but from control.

Sweat dripped down his bare torso, tracing paths down his back and defined abdomen, dripping onto the floor in spaced drops. Yet, his breathing remained steady. No real sign of fatigue.

What made the scene even more unreal were the four restraint bracelets.

Two on his wrists. Two on his ankles.

Each carried sixty kilograms of compressed magical weight. They weren't simple weights—they were artifacts created to resist, pull, force the body beyond its natural limits. The kind of equipment that would crush ordinary bones.

Strax seemed to ignore them.

He completed another one-handed push-up, his body lowering to just inches from the ground before rising again, slow, precise. His gaze was fixed on the void ahead… until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Someone was approaching.

He noticed immediately—the step too light, too hesitant. But he didn't interrupt his workout. He continued.

Push-up.

Breathing.

Push-up.

Nhyara appeared at the entrance of the hall as if unsure if she should be there.

She held a folded towel between her hands, her fingers gripping the fabric with excessive force. Her steps were short, almost silent, but her presence was evident—not by sound, but by tension.

She stopped a few meters from him.

And froze.

Her eyes involuntarily lowered—and took too long to rise again. A blush came quickly, rising up her face, her ears, to her neck. She looked away immediately, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.

Strax, still upside down, noticed.

A smile formed at the corner of his mouth.

"You don't need to be so scared," he said, his voice firm despite the absurd position. "I don't bite."

He knew.

He knew it wasn't fear.

It was shame. Pure embarrassment.

Nhyara gave a small start at the sound of his voice.

"I-I…" she tried to speak, but the word died mid-way.

He did another push-up. Then another. Only then, with a fluid movement, did he push his body up, spinning in the air and landing on his feet as if the ground were there only for convenience.

The bracelets jingled softly with the impact.

"What was that?" he asked, now facing her.

Nhyara took a deep breath, still avoiding direct eye contact.

"I-I brought…" she lifted the towel slightly, as if that explained everything. "A towel."

There was a second of silence.

Then Strax laughed.

It wasn't mockery. It was light, relaxed.

"Thank you," he said, extending his hand.

She approached with short steps and handed him the towel, their fingers touching for a moment too quickly. Nhyara pulled her hand back as if she'd been electrocuted.

Strax didn't comment.

He ran the towel over his face, drying the sweat from his forehead, temples, then through his hair. The black strands, too long now, were carelessly tied up, and the red ends—almost like extinguished embers—stood out even more when wet.

"It's time for a haircut," he commented, wiping the towel over his shoulders.

Nhyara looked up almost unconsciously.

He observed her hair, the way it fell, how the red tips contrasted with the deep black.

"It's… beautiful," she said, before thinking.

Regret came instantly.

She brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening.

Strax looked at her.

Then he smiled.

"It is?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Nhyara nodded, still blushing.

"It's… different."

He laughed again, this time more quietly, wiping the back of his neck with the towel.

"It always gets like this when I get stronger," he explained. "My body changes. Sometimes more than I'd like."

She frowned slightly, curious despite her shyness.

"Changes… how?"

Strax threw the towel over his shoulder and walked to a stone bench, sitting down calmly. The heavy bracelets made the bench creak slightly.

"Weight," he said. — Density. Appearance. — She shrugged. — The more energy I accumulate, the more evident it becomes.

Nhyara observed the bracelets, finally realizing what they truly were.

"Sixty kilos each…" she murmured, recognizing the magical pattern.

Strax raised an eyebrow.

"You understand this stuff?"

"A little" she replied. "Not… at that level, but… you can feel the pressure in the air."

He smiled, satisfied.

"Good eye."

She hesitated for a moment before asking:

"Doesn't that… hurt?"

Strax tilted his head, thoughtful.

"Sometimes" he admitted. "But pain isn't the goal. Limits are."

Nhyara remained silent, absorbing it.

"You… always train like this?" she asked.

"When I need to think" he replied. "Or when I want to stop thinking."

She let out a low, nervous laugh.

"It seems… contradictory."

"It is" he agreed. "But it works."

There was a comfortable moment of silence.

Nhyara held her hands together in front of her body now, less tense.

"I…" she began, then stopped. "Sorry to interrupt."

Strax stood up.

"You didn't interrupt" he said. "On the contrary."

She looked up, surprised.

"I brought a towel," he added, with a half-smile. "That's already more consideration than most people have for me."

The blush returned, but now it was accompanied by something different.

A shy smile.

"If… if you want," she said, "I can bring water later."

"I'd like that," he replied.

She nodded quickly, almost as if fleeing from her own courage, and began to walk away.

Before leaving, she stopped.

"Strax?"

"Hm?"

"Your hair…" she took a deep breath. "Even if it changes… it's still beautiful."

He stood still for a second.

Then he smiled.

"Thank you, Nhyara."

She left the room with her heart racing.

Strax stood still for a moment after Nhyara left.

Then he laughed.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't exaggerated. It was that short laugh that escaped when something genuinely caught him by surprise—light, almost muffled in his chest.

"You don't need to hide," he said, still looking towards the exit of the hall.

The air behind him changed.

Not with sound.

With presence.

Strax didn't turn around immediately. He didn't need to.

He felt it.

"I wasn't hiding," came the calm, neutral, almost lazy voice. "I just thought I should give the little dark elf some space."

Strax let out a clearer laugh now and finally turned his body.

Frieren was there.

Leaning against one of the hall's columns, arms crossed, her expression serene as always. Her light hair fell loose, almost shining under the diffused light that entered through the tall windows. She didn't seem bothered, nor overly curious—just observant, like someone who had seen this scene unfold from the beginning.

"Space?" Strax repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Since when do you worry about that?"

"Since I realized she's two steps away from a breakdown every time you take your shirt off" Frieren replied, with the nonchalance of someone commenting on the weather.

Strax let out a sound between laughter and a sigh.

"Fair enough."

He draped the towel over his shoulders once more and tossed it onto the bench.

"Still" he continued "you don't need to distance yourself because of her. In fact…" he tilted his head slightly "you should talk to her."

Frieren blinked slowly.

"Talk?"

"Yes" Strax confirmed. "You're both elves."

"Technically" Frieren corrected. "I'm a high elf. The cultural differences are… considerable."

"Still, you share more than you realize" he said. "Longevity. Displacement. Gazes that belong nowhere.""

Frieren watched him silently for a few seconds.

"Are you suggesting this for her…" she finally said, "or for me?"

Strax didn't answer immediately.

He walked to one of the walls and leaned against it, crossing his arms.

"For both," he answered honestly. "Nhyara still walks as if she's apologizing for existing. You walk as if you've already accepted that the world won't keep up with her."

Frieren tilted her head, analyzing.

"Interesting," she murmured. "You're paying more attention than you let on."

"I always do," he replied. "I just don't speak up."

She let out a light sigh.

"I'll think about it," she said. "I'm not promising anything."

"I don't need promises," Strax replied. "Just intentions."

Frieren nodded once.

There was a brief silence.

"Still," she continued, "that's not why I stayed."

Strax uncrossed his arms.

"I figured."

Frieren stepped away from the column and took a few steps to the center of the room. Her eyes quickly scanned the room—the marks on the floor, the stone bench, the restraint bracelets still fastened to his ankles and wrists.

"You're pushing it too far," she said.

Strax laughed, almost automatically.

"That's literally the idea."

"No," Frieren replied dryly. "Not physically."

His laughter died halfway there.

She stopped a few feet from him.

"You're using your body to silence something," she continued. "And it works… until it stops working."

Strax stared at her, serious now.

"And you think I don't know that?"

"I think you do," she replied. "And you're ignoring it anyway."

He took a deep breath.

"I can't stop," he said. "Not now."

"I didn't ask you to stop," Frieren said. "I asked you to listen."

She lightly tapped his chest with her index finger, exactly where he had touched her earlier.

"That thing that's screaming inside," she added.

Strax closed his eyes for a brief second.

"It's getting louder," he admitted.

"I know," she replied. "You can feel it in the air."

He opened his eyes.

"Then speak," he said. "What did you come to tell me?"

Frieren held his gaze, serious, but not harsh. — Ah… that thing is pulsing like crazy — she said, finally completely shedding her worried expression, which turned to uncertainty. — Whatever it is awakening, that thing wants to see you.

What was Friren referring to? That demonic thing that was in the forest.

"Ah… right"