Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Barak advanced, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground, his axe still emitting violet flames. With each step, the earth trembled as if an earthquake was about to swallow everything around them. Strax, kneeling on the battlefield, looked out at the devastation. His body was in pieces, his energy nearly spent. But in his chest, a flame still burned brightly—the flame of rage, the desperate need to save Kryssia.

Strax's eyes, still consumed by the blue flames of his power, blazed even more intensely. He couldn't fall now. Not now. Not while Kryssia was in danger, while his body was broken and weak in the enemy's grasp. She needed him.

"No... not now...!" Strax muttered to himself, the words coming out with difficulty. His lungs burned, and blood still flowed from his body, but there was something inside him that refused to be extinguished. His rage... his will... it was stronger than the pain. Much stronger.

Barak was now right in front of him, a wild grin on his face. He raised his axe, ready to crush Strax once and for all. "You won't stop me, kid. I'm going to destroy you completely!" he yelled, the axe descending with deadly speed.

But before the impact could come, Strax screamed, a primal, guttural scream from deep within his soul. His hands rose, almost as if grasping the air, and energy began to concentrate around him.

Then something began to happen within his body.

Mana. Energy. It started to accumulate inside him like a furious whirlwind. He could feel his own blood pulsing in his veins, vibrating with a power he had never experienced before. His body began to glow with an increasing intensity. It wasn't just the destructive energy he usually wielded, but something more. Something far more powerful. He was beginning to transcend his own pain, his own exhaustion. Something inside him was responding to the urgent need to save Kryssia.

"No... not now!" Barak growled, feeling the pressure Strax was releasing. He raised the axe with both hands, trying to prevent the blow from being deflected. But it was too late. Strax was already moving.

In a brutal movement, Strax spun his body, now surrounded by a growing aura of energy that mixed blue flames and electric bolts. His fist slammed into Barak's chest. The impact was so strong that the ground beneath them cracked with indescribable violence. The general was thrown back, but Strax didn't give him any space to recover.

With a fierce roar, Strax surged forward, faster, stronger, and with an unbreakable will. His fists were engulfed in pure energy, explosions of lightning and fire erupting with every strike. Each punch he threw seemed to carry the force of a thunderstorm. The ground trembled beneath his feet, as if the very planet itself was shaking from the fury he was unleashing.

Barak tried to defend himself, attempting to block the attacks with his axe, but Strax was no longer playing around. He was in a state of pure desperation and strength. His punches weren't just meant to destroy. They were meant to kill.

And the strangest part was the transformation he was undergoing. His body was beginning to regenerate, not just from the injuries, but from the energy he was accumulating. His mana was flowing with an intensity he had never felt before. The strength he felt was multiplying. Every blow from his hands seemed to bring more and more power.

Barak was thrown back again, his feet leaving deep marks in the ground as he tried to recover. He was panting, but the grin never left his face. "Now this... Now you're starting to give me some fun, kid."

But Strax wasn't listening. The thought of Kryssia, of seeing her in that state, in that place, suffocated his mind. He couldn't lose. Not now. He couldn't fail.

His eyes glowed more intensely as he finally channeled all the energy he had accumulated into a single point. The air around him became dense, electricity crackling through the invisible currents he created. Barak still tried to move to attack, but Strax was faster. He appeared in front of the general with an explosion of energy, landing a blow of pure destruction directly to Barak's stomach.

The burst of power was overwhelming. The impact was like thunder striking straight from the sky, tearing the battlefield apart and creating a crater so deep it seemed to swallow everything around it. The pressure released made the very sky seem to darken for a moment.

Barak was thrown back, crashing into the rocks. The general was furious now, his eyes burning with renewed hatred. But Strax didn't give him a chance to breathe. He charged once again, and that was the difference. Now, with the determination to save the life he loved, Strax was unbeatable.

The battlefield had become a storm. And Strax, immersed in his fury and power, was determined not to let anyone, not even Barak, stand in the way of his mission. He was stronger than ever.

And Barak? Barak had no idea that the worst was still to come.

Barak, lying among the rocks and breathing heavily, felt something inside him shattering. He was bleeding, his body weakened by Strax's relentless strikes. But what hurt him more than the physical wounds was his pride. He, an Emperor, being defeated by someone who hadn't even reached the King Cultivation stage? This was unacceptable. He couldn't allow this to happen. What was he, if not the strongest? What did he represent, if not an Emperor of absolute power?

Rage overtook Barak like a furious wave. His gaze, already twisted by anger, burned even brighter. The feeling of helplessness was unbearable. He was the leader of an empire, someone who had risen to the top through massacres, bloodshed, and unmatched conquests. No one had ever challenged him and come out victorious. And Strax, this mere King Cultivator, was about to end his glory.

No. He would not accept this.

With a scream that seemed to come from the depths of hell, Barak rose with supernatural strength. His body trembled, and a grotesque, malicious aura began to form around him—a black aura of pure hatred. His muscles swelled as if they were about to tear through his flesh. His skin turned darker and scaly, as if the very energy of despair was transforming him. He was no longer in control.

He was becoming something far more horrible.

"I... will not... fall... to a worthless being like you!" Barak snarled, his voice distorted by hatred and transformation. His eyes turned completely black, without irises, as if the void of the abyss was reflected in them. His flesh expanded grotesquely, as though he were a beast about to be unleashed in a frenzy.

Barak's power was now completely out of control. He was fully surrendering to the transformation process, the limits of his body being shattered as he assumed a new form. He was no longer human. He was no longer an Emperor. He had become a Berserker, a monster driven insane by pain and rage, with no reason or strategy left—only the desire to destroy. To kill.

The earth trembled beneath his feet as his energy, his fury, grew exponentially. He was fully consumed by anger and the thirst for vengeance. The air around Barak became unstable, the immense pressure making the environment around him tremble.

"You don't understand, do you? I am an Emperor!" Barak roared, his voice now guttural, filled with a threatening echo. "I am the force that rules everything around me! No one... no one can challenge me and live! No one!"

He charged, the transformation completing as he became an incomprehensible beast. His claws grew, his fangs elongated, and his body now seemed to radiate immense destructive energy. The Berserker Barak had become had nothing human left. Only the insatiable need to kill. And his prey was Strax.

Strax, recovering from the devastating blow, looked at Barak with a grim expression. The aura of the transformed Emperor was unbearable. It felt as if the very nature of existence was bowing to the destruction Barak represented. But Strax didn't hesitate. He couldn't hesitate. Kryssia, his beloved, was in danger. He wouldn't let this monstrosity stop him.

The Berserker charged with incredible speed, his claws cutting through the air like sharp blades. The earth shattered beneath his feet, and the sound of destruction filled the battlefield. He lunged at Strax, who braced himself for impact, knowing the only way to survive was to use all his strength, all the energy he had accumulated.

But Barak wasn't interested in an equal battle anymore. He wanted total destruction. He wanted to pulverize Strax.

"You're going to die, wretch!" Barak roared, his voice transformed into something monstrous, with no trace of humanity left. He swung his claws brutally, aiming at Strax with a single purpose: to kill him, crush him, destroy him completely.

Strax, feeling the overwhelming pressure of Barak's strength, took a defensive stance. But at the same time, a growing flame ignited inside him. He couldn't let this destructive monster kill anyone else. He couldn't allow Barak's fury to consume the battlefield.

"No... you won't stop me," Strax murmured to himself, his aura glowing with an immeasurable force. He charged with the same intensity, his fists now radiating pure destruction. Every punch he threw seemed to cut through reality itself, the energy around him warping.

The clash between the two forces was colossal. The shockwaves of their collisions reverberated like thunder, tearing through the battlefield and creating deep fissures in the ground. Strax and Barak were like titans, their energies colliding in an unparalleled fight.

But Barak had no limits anymore. He was completely out of control. His attacks were now imbued with such pure rage that the space around him bent under the pressure. Strax, as strong as he was, felt the immense weight of this energy.

"You will succumb! You don't stand a chance!" Barak screamed, and with a brutal move, he landed a blow aimed directly at Strax's chest.

The pressure of the attack was so intense that Strax had to use all his strength to block it. He used his left arm to protect his vitals, but the pain was excruciating, as if his bones were about to snap. Still, he didn't retreat. He couldn't retreat.

The battle had now become a matter of survival. Both, in their most primal and destructive states, were fighting for their lives. But Strax wouldn't let Barak be the victor. He couldn't let that happen. He could feel the energy inside him expanding, growing stronger with every strike, with every breath.

With a primal roar, Strax unleashed all of his power, delivering a final blow, an explosion of pure energy that cut through Barak's fury like a blade of fire.

The impact was deafening. And for a moment, all that could be heard was silence.