Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 391: Invading the Palace.

"Move." His voice was low, yet it carried an undeniable authority.

The commander hesitated. He knew who stood before him. Strax, the Storm Dragon. The one who had massacred entire armies alone. The one who had destroyed Barak as if it were nothing.

But duty came before reason. He took a deep breath, preparing for battle.

"Block formation! We can't let him through!" Spears were raised. Mages began chanting spells. Archers on the towers had already nocked flaming arrows, aiming at him.

Strax sighed. "I warned you."

And then… he vanished.

In the next instant, hell began.

A blinding blue flash tore through the guards' field of vision, followed by a crushing pressure. Thunder roared alongside the sound of bones snapping, armor crumpling into scrap, and bodies being tossed like ragdolls.

Strax did not attack. He simply moved, and the sheer force of his speed alone was enough to leave them unconscious—or dead.

The commander, still conscious by some miracle, looked around, seeing his fallen soldiers. He tried to stand, but his legs refused to obey. The sheer impact of Strax's destructive pressure had left him paralyzed.

The monster had already advanced.

Strax now stood before the titanic gates of the Imperial Palace. Each was made of enchanted steel, reinforced by ancient sorcery meant to be impenetrable.

He raised his hand.

Electricity condensed in his palm, humming as if alive. The clouds above glowed, reflecting the energy that gathered. The air grew thick, as if reality itself was on the verge of shattering.

Then, with a single punch, he struck the gates.

BOOOOOM!!!

Thunder roared across the sky as if the storm itself welcomed his arrival.

Strax stepped forward. Slow, methodical, heavy. Each step echoed like the harbinger of impending disaster. His body crackled with raw electricity, bolts slithering across his skin like hungry serpents. The dust and debris from his destruction still lingered in the air, obscuring the vision of any who dared to stand against him.

And then he saw them.

An entire army awaited him inside the grand hall of the Imperial Palace. Black-armored knights, endless rows of warriors ready to lay down their lives in the name of the Empire. The gleam of their swords and spears reflected the blue light of Strax's lightning.

There were dozens. No—hundreds.

A deadly silence hung in the air for a brief moment. Then, the front-line commander raised his sword and roared, "KILL HIM!"

The ground trembled with the charge. The clash of armor moving in unison echoed like a war drum. The knights surged forward like a tide of steel, each wielding their weapons with lethal precision.

Strax remained still. He did not draw a blade. He wouldn't need to.

His eyes glowed. Scarlet.

A chill ran down the spines of the warriors as they felt something… wrong in their bodies. Something they were not supposed to feel.

The first to notice it stopped abruptly, their bodies trembling. One of them dropped to his knees, clutching his chest as if he were suffocating. Another let out a strangled gasp, his blade slipping from his fingers. A third staggered back, his black armor shaking, as a crimson liquid seeped through the cracks in the metal.

Blood.

Strax slowly opened his palm… and then clenched it into a fist.

Horror unfolded.

The knights' bodies ruptured from within.

The very blood flowing through their veins turned against them. It tore through their muscles, shredded their organs, and gushed from every gap in their armor like a crimson river.

One knight screamed, desperately clawing at his helmet, but blood was already pouring from his nostrils, eyes, and mouth. His breath hitched—then stopped—as he collapsed, nothing more than an empty husk drained to the last drop.

The armor that once protected them became coffins of flesh and bone, where their own bodies were devoured from the inside out. One by one, they fell.

The thunder of swords dropping echoed across the hall. And then… silence.

Strax took another step. The bodies crumpled around him like dead leaves.

Only empty husks of metal remained, blood seeping through the cracks.

The stench of iron and death saturated the air. The once pristine palace floor was now a crimson lake.

Strax didn't even blink. He simply walked forward in silence, climbing the palace stairs.

The heavy silence of carnage was interrupted by an irritated voice.

"What the hell is all this noise?!!"

Strax turned his head, his scarlet eyes burning like embers in the dim hall.

The arrogant voice belonged to a young man who emerged from a side entrance, striding in with his chest puffed out and a sneer of disdain on his face. Golden hair, piercing blue eyes, and robes embroidered with gold and rubies. He did not look like a warrior. He did not look like someone who dirtied his hands. He looked like a noble—someone who gave orders and was never challenged.

Beside him stood a different kind of soldier. Taller, broader. His black helmet bore curved horns like a demon's, and his armor was adorned with runes glowing in a deep crimson hue. A warrior of elite rank.

Strax stared at the young noble for a moment, then resumed walking—ignoring him completely.

That irritated the man.

"I'M TALKING TO YOU, VERMIN!" he took a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!"

Strax stopped. Turned slightly, staring at him. "You're the prince?"

The blonde raised his chin, wearing a smug grin. "Yes, I am First Prince Edward von Luxem! Heir to the throne!"

Strax simply absorbed the information. "Heir to the throne"...

He said nothing. He merely looked at the man—like an insignificant insect.

"And you, filthy savage?! Who dares invade my palace and spill all this blood?!" Edward pointed at the fallen knights, their blood leaking from the hollow armors.

Strax tilted his head slightly, a cruel glint flickering in his red eyes. "You're already dead, and you don't even realize it. But I have a question..." Strax said, his aura expanding in all directions.

The prince scoffed, letting out a forced, arrogant laugh. "Oh? You think you can demand something from me?"

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Beside him, the elite soldier unsheathed his massive serrated blade, shifting into a battle stance. The runes on his armor flared to life. He was no ordinary soldier.

He was someone trained to fight monsters.

Someone dangerous.

But Strax saw no danger there. Only two more walking corpses.

When the soldier lunged toward Strax, time seemed to freeze for an instant.

He moved fast—too fast for anyone to follow.

In a single second, blood filled the air.

The elite warrior's body was torn into countless pieces, as if an invisible blade had shredded him from the inside out. His eyes still glowed with the will to fight even as his head rolled across the floor.

The prince didn't understand what had happened at first. He blinked.

Then, he saw the fragments of black armor falling—one by one—blood spraying like a crimson rain. The exposed organs, the bones sliced so cleanly they looked sculpted.

Only when the entrails hit the floor with a wet, sticky sound did he finally comprehend.

"Ah…?" The prince's voice faltered. He stumbled backward, eyes wide in horror.

Strax was still standing in the same place. He hadn't even moved.

Only a faint trail of blood lingering in the air hinted that he had done anything at all.

He lifted his scarlet gaze and locked eyes with the prince, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Was it you… who wanted to marry Xenovia?"