Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 390: The Emperor did this.

The silence lasted only a second before a colossal shockwave erupted across the battlefield. The final impact between Strax and Barak was so intense that the ground cracked in hundreds of directions, sending debris flying into the sky like fragments of a doomed world. The air vibrated with an overwhelming pressure, and even the distant warriors felt the destructive force of the collision.

Barak, now completely consumed by his Berserker state, roared like a primal beast. His body regenerated at an insane speed, his wounds healing as fast as they were made. His monstrous form seemed to grow even larger, his muscles pulsing as if they were made of pure destructive power.

"YOU... CANNOT... DEFEAT ME!" Barak bellowed, his voice echoing like thunder in a raging storm. His black eyes gleamed with a sinister glow of hatred and pure insanity.

Strax, on the other hand, did not back down. His body was wounded, yes, but his strength was growing in response to the desperation. He felt his energy overflowing, his soul burning with a single purpose: to save Kryssia, to end this fight, to crush Barak completely.

"I don't need to defeat you," Strax said, his voice firm but filled with sheer determination. "I just need to end this once and for all!"

And then... something changed.

The air around Strax began to swirl violently. His energy, once an intense flame, now became something else. Something absolute. His skin began to emit a bluish glow, his eyes turning into slits of pure light. His body, once on the verge of collapse, was now reinforcing itself with a new power—a power that felt limitless.

He was changing. Evolving.

Barak felt it immediately and hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. But his rage quickly took over again. "NO MATTER HOW STRONG YOU GET, I'LL TEAR YOU APART!" he roared, charging forward with destructive speed.

Strax didn't move—not immediately. He simply raised one hand.

And when Barak came crashing down upon him, carrying the weight of his overwhelming fury... Strax intercepted him with a single strike.

The impact was devastating.

Barak was sent flying backward as if he had been struck by a meteor, his grotesque form twisting through the air before colliding with a distant mountain. The explosion that followed was so massive that half of the mountain simply vanished in a wave of destruction.

The battlefield fell into silence.

The distant warriors who had witnessed everything could only stare—shocked, incredulous.

Strax slowly lowered his fist. His body was still glowing, his power still rising. But now he knew.

This fight was nearing its end.

But Barak... Barak wasn't going to give up. Not yet.

And Strax was ready to finish this. Once and for all.

From within the wreckage of the destroyed mountain, a crimson glow began to pulse. At first, it was weak, but it quickly grew into an explosion of pure, murderous energy.

Barak emerged from the dust, his body even larger, more grotesque—his muscles contorting as if they were about to burst. Black veins glowed in demonic patterns across his skin, and his eyes, once merely filled with rage, were now pure hatred and desperation.

"STRAX!!!" he roared, spitting blood and bile, his own body unable to handle the insane power he was forcing out. "I... CAN'T... LOSE!!!"

With a deafening roar, he charged, his claws extended, his fists wrapped in black flames. The ground melted beneath his feet as he shot forward like a cannonball toward Strax.

But this time... Strax didn't retreat.

He simply raised his hand.

And then...

BOOOOOOOM!!!

A wave of energy exploded from Strax's body, distorting reality around him. It was as if the world itself had frozen for an instant, unable to comprehend the power being unleashed.

Time slowed down.

Barak's eyes widened as he realized—he was no longer in control of the fight.

Strax vanished from in front of him.

CRACK!

The next thing Barak felt was an insane pain ripping through his chest.

Strax had appeared behind him.

And his fist was impaled through the Berserker's torso.

Silence engulfed the battlefield.

Barak coughed up blood, his legs trembling. He tried to move, but Strax twisted his fist inside his body, shattering regenerated bones and destroying vital organs.

"You've already lost," Strax said, his voice calm but merciless.

Barak tried to speak. He tried to move.

But then…

KRRRSSHHH!!!

"Your defense and mana have dropped significantly... which means I can now use my blood manipulation on you."

Strax's voice reverberated across the battlefield, filled with absolute domination. His eyes gleamed with a deep crimson light, a cruel reflection of Barak's inevitable fate.

The Berserker's eyes widened, sensing something was wrong—something inside him being taken over. But before he could react…

SHLURK!

His body began to swell violently, his veins pulsing as if about to tear through his own skin.

"What...?"

And then—

BOOOOOM!!!

Barak exploded from the inside out.

His blood rained down in a crimson storm. His flesh, once hardened by battle, was torn apart into billions of light particles. His existence was erased without a trace.

The earth trembled, as if the very world recognized the fall of the monster.

Silence reigned over the battlefield.

The surviving warriors stood frozen, petrified, staring at the empty space where their commander had once stood. Fear. Absolute terror. Too late, they realized they were standing before a true calamity.

Strax slowly raised his hand, expanding his mana control field until it engulfed the entire enemy army—living or dead, it didn't matter. Every corpse, every mutilated body on the ground, every warrior still standing, breathless and stunned... All were ensnared by his will.

He closed his eyes, absorbing the final, silent screams of the horde before him.

Then, he murmured one final sentence:

"Corpse Explosion."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then...

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOOOM!!!

Chaos consumed the battlefield.

Bodies began to detonate in succession, like grotesque fireworks. Warriors tried to flee, but their fallen comrades became their doom. Limbs were sent flying, boiling blood painted the sky, and the screams became part of a symphony of absolute destruction.

Nothing remained but ashes and silence.

Strax stood motionless, watching the utter annihilation he had left behind. There was no remorse. No satisfaction. Only cold, relentless finality.

The war was not over.

But this battle… this massacre… it didn't matter.

If you are willing to strike, you must be willing to die.

His gaze, once filled with rage, now turned to the only thing that truly mattered on that cursed battlefield.

Kryssia.

The fury faded, replaced by something deeper, something sharper.

He began to walk. There was no rush. The fight was already over.

But the war…

The war was just beginning.

Each step brought him closer to her. Each inch revealed more of the brutality inflicted upon the woman who had once helped him.

And then, without saying a single word, he took her into his arms, holding her with a gentleness that starkly contrasted the carnage around them.

Kryssia could barely keep her eyes open, but when she did, she saw that smile. A small smile, yet filled with something no one else would ever understand.

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Strax's voice was low, almost gentle, yet laced with a promise of absolute destruction.

"Who did this to you?"

His gaze fell upon the bloodied bandage over her eye, the missing arm and leg—a grotesque reminder of what had been done to break her. They had left Kryssia at death's doorstep, reduced to something that should never fight again.

But Kryssia… Kryssia was never the kind of person who accepted being reduced to nothing.

She took a deep breath, her voice weak but carrying something that even mutilation couldn't strip from her.

"The Emperor himself…"

The silence that followed was deafening.

The earth trembled.

Strax closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing those words. Then, he opened them again.

And the world would never be the same.

"I see."

His voice was cold, controlled—but Kryssia noticed something strange.

Rage.

She didn't understand why he seemed so furious. They weren't friends. In fact, they could barely call themselves acquaintances. Not long ago, they had stood on opposite sides, ready to kill each other.

The only thing they had in common was Xenovia.

To Kryssia, Xenovia was a friend.

To Strax… Xenovia was his sister.

He didn't roar in fury. He didn't transform into his draconic form to lay waste to everything around him.

Instead, the world lit up.

Lightning danced around him, slithering through his muscles as if they were mere extensions of his will. Electricity wrapped around Kryssia, infusing her broken body with mana. And then—

He became light.

His Lightning Manipulation turned him into a living bolt, and in the blink of an eye, Strax cut through space, taking Kryssia with him.

The world around them became a blur of pure energy.

And then, he was back at his mansion.

The scent of damp earth filled the air. The well-maintained grass of the garden was an absurd contrast to Kryssia's devastated state.

And that's when he saw her.

Xenovia.

She stood frozen, her eyes wide, her body trembling. For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"K-Kryssia?!"

Her voice cracked.

Xenovia ran without hesitation, while Strax, with an unusual delicacy, laid Kryssia down on the soft grass.

Strax's gaze was as cold as steel when he turned.

"Nyx, heal her."

His voice was an absolute command, carrying an undeniable weight.

The wind around them shifted. The sky darkened. A small storm began to form, thunder rumbling in the distance.

And then—

He vanished.

The electricity that formed him dispersed into the air, leaving only a vortex of crackling lightning in his wake.