Demonic Dragon: Harem System

"During the night, I felt a calling. Not a spell. Not a ritual. An instinct. A presence that touched my spirit like a finger touching the surface of a lake. I can't describe it any other way. But I know the name that came to me: Kal'theruun."

Strax kept watching everything...

Kalem continued: "The forbidden texts refer to it as 'The Awakening Without Eyes'. A fragment of the Void that, if disturbed, echoes through all layers of existence. Demons fear it. Arcanists ignore it. And now... I think it has awakened."

There was a brief tremor in the recording. The image flickered.

Kalem turned away from the camera, as if sensing something. "If anyone is watching this... the attack has already happened. The tower will be in ruins. But the truth... did not die with me."

He held out a hand, and the image changed to show a magical rift, floating above an altar. It spun slowly, like a whirlpool of runes and black light.

"This rift... appeared two days ago, in the center of the astral observation chamber. None of us could close it. It doesn't seem to be a portal. Nor a dimensional rift. It seems... like a window. And something on the other side is looking back at us."

The recording shook violently. A deep, inhuman sound echoed—not from the image, but from the crystal itself.

Yennifer took a step back. "This... this is no ordinary recording."

Strax just stared. His scales seemed slightly bristled.

Kalem, now paler, returned to the image. "If the demons came... it wasn't to conquer. It was to prevent what's on the other side from crossing over. They fear Kal'theruun more than they hate humans."

A scream in the background. Something breaking.

Kalem looked straight at the crystal, as if he could see Strax. "Find the source. Look for the names that the books hide. Kal'theruun... is not a being. It is a reaction. An ancient reflex. And someone or something is trying to wake it up completely."

The image faded. The crystal broke into two halves, as if it had fulfilled its purpose.

Cristine exhaled, tense. "So that's it... They attacked to protect us from something worse. Something even they can't face."

Yennifer stared at Strax for a moment longer, her eyes half-closed. "You've heard that name before, haven't you?"

But Strax shook his head firmly. "Even if I had... it wouldn't make any difference. You would know as much as I do." He crossed his arms, looking away. "Have you forgotten? I've been a cultivator for less than a year. Before that, I was just a prisoner pushing rocks in a cursed mine, thrown there by Beatrice's parents."

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Cristine let out an irritated sigh, throwing her hands up in the air. "Great. We came all this way, crossed ruins, faced ashes and echoes... and left with more questions than answers."

Yennifer approached and placed her hand on her sister's shoulder with a gentle gesture. "Enough for today. Let's go to Vorah."

Strax raised an eyebrow. "You want to ignore this?"

She shrugged, but there was a firm decision in her voice. "This business with the demons... is beyond us now. If there's something moving in the shadows, if the world is really being watched from outside... the Grand Duke needs to know. He's the one who holds the reins of these cities; we're just observers when it comes to politics."

Cristine grumbled, her arms still crossed. "I just hope he's willing to listen before this Kal'theruun guy decides to burn the map."

Strax began to walk, his eyes returning to the dark sky and the red star that still pulsed overhead. "He'll listen. Because if he doesn't..." He paused, staring at the horizon. "...no one else will be alive to tell what they saw."

[Elsewhere…]

Albert took a step forward. The air above the ice was heavy—not cold, but oppressive. Each breath seemed to come with memories that weren't his own. Fragments of forgotten wars, whispers of ancient promises, and a constant hum that made his bones vibrate.

"This is not a god," he murmured, though his voice sounded less like a certainty and more like an empty prayer. "This is... what comes before gods."

Thalyss nodded slightly, her eyes fixed on the crack. "Perhaps. But if he is not a god, then tell me, Albert... what can bend the laws of nature with a whisper? What can turn oceans to salt and time to dust, just by existing?"

The sound coming from the crack was worse now. More defined. There was a cadence to it, like music made to scratch at the edges of sanity. The words had no fixed form, but still insisted on being understood.

Albert felt a drop of cold sweat run down his temple, even with the frozen air around him. He closed his eyes for a moment and reached out, feeling the pulse of power beneath the crack—it was like touching the skin of a giant corpse that still twitched in involuntary spasms.

"This is alive. And it's... dreaming?" he asked, opening his eyes with a darker gleam. "Or is it pretending to be asleep?"

"That's what keeps me awake every night," Thalyss replied. "That doubt. That interval between dormancy and awakening. And the fear that it's just... watching. Learning."

Albert turned to her, his expression hardening. "How many know about this?"

"None." She crossed her arms. "Not the advisors, not the mirrors, not even my own children. If the Gods still watch us, then even they have turned their faces away. This is... pre-cosmic."

"And yet you called me," Albert said, his tone sharp. "The most paranoid and dangerous man in Vorah. The one most willing to burn everything before allowing something nameless to cross the veil."

"Because that's exactly what we need," Thalyss replied coldly. "Not priests. Not blind cultists. We need someone who understands what it is to see the end... and refuse to accept it."

They were silent for a moment. The tear in the ice pulsed like a wound in the world itself, exhaling black smoke that did not dissipate—it danced, hissed, and sometimes formed faces. No humans. No familiars.

Albert walked around the crack carefully, his eyes always on it. "It will open. The crack will grow."

"It is growing," Thalyss corrected. "Since I first felt it, it has extended six meters in a spiral. And yesterday... I heard a name."

Albert stopped immediately.

"A name?" he repeated.

Thalyss nodded sadly.

"Kal'theruun."

The name fell into the air like a blade dipped in ice water. Even the ambient sound seemed to recede, suffocated by that word.

Albert closed his eyes. "I thought it was a legend. One of the Lost Founders. A lie from ancient academies to justify the existence of chaos."

"Then it was a very well-told lie," whispered Thalyss. "Because he's here."

Albert stepped away from the crack. His heart was pounding, but his mind was already working like a sharp cog. Vorah would have to be prepared. Red codes activated. The ancient pacts revisited. There would be blood. And fire.

"How many days until he comes out?" he asked.

"I don't know," admitted Thalyss. "Maybe weeks. Maybe tomorrow. But when he comes out... he won't attack like an army. He won't declare war. He'll just... exist. And that will be enough to destroy everything we've built."

Albert nodded slowly. For the first time in a long time, he felt small. Not powerless, but infinitely... irrelevant.

"I'll prepare Vorah," he said. "But if that being crosses over completely, Thalyss... it won't be a matter of survival anymore."

She stared at him.

"Will it be a matter of faith?"

Albert shook his head with a cold smile.

"It will be a matter of extinction."

Thalyss lowered her eyes to the crack, which now pulsed more strongly. The name still echoed, in whispers of ink: Kal'theruun. Kal'theruun.