Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 824: Who sent the system?

1,203 years ago... The Spirit World.

The spirit world possessed neither sky nor earth as mortals understood it, and yet there was depth, there was a horizon, there was a vastness that seemed to extend infinitely in all directions, like an ocean of pure existence where concepts such as gravity and time became mere suggestions. Ethereal lights floated in gentle currents, small, shimmering particles carrying fragments of consciousness, scattered memories, echoes of lives that had once been complete. It was a place where death was not an end, but a transition, and every spark present there was proof of this.

Scathach flew.

Its draconic form cut through that space like a living flame, its scales reflecting the translucent tones of that plane, assuming nuances that varied between deep crimson and pale gold as it traversed different regions of that domain. Its wings moved with elegant slowness, not out of necessity, but out of habit, because in that place there was no air to sustain flight, nor resistance to overcome it. Still, she flew.

Below her, the River of Souls snaked like a luminous current traversing existence, flowing without visible beginning or end. It wasn’t water, but it looked like water; it wasn’t energy, but it pulsed like something alive. Small glimmers ascended from its surface, rising slowly, as if they were breaths of the spiritual world itself, each carrying stories, feelings, fragments of who they once were.

It was... beautiful.

In a silent and overwhelming way.

A beauty that didn’t ask for admiration, it simply existed.

And yet, something was wrong.

Scathach felt it.

From the moment her consciousness awakened on that plane, something within her remained restless, a constant feeling that this place, despite its serenity, hid deeper layers, regions not meant for ordinary eyes, not even those of an ancient dragon.

Her draconic eyes narrowed slightly as she continued to fly over the river, observing the lights below with a distant, almost contemplative attention, as if trying to find among them something that would explain that persistent unease.

But then...

The world changed.

The sound came without warning.

A roar.

It wasn’t just loud.

It wasn’t just powerful.

It was... wrong.

Too deep.

Too ancient.

The kind of sound that shouldn’t echo in that place.

The kind of sound that didn’t belong to the tranquil flow of souls.

The roar reverberated throughout the plane, slightly distorting the currents of light, causing some of the particles to stir, as if reacting to the presence of something... intrusive.

Scathach stopped.

In the middle of the void.

Her wings ceased movement.

Her entire body became still.

But her eyes...

Slowly turned downwards. Beyond the river.

Beyond the visible layers of that world.

Because the sound...

Didn’t come from the surface.

It came from below.

From the depths.

A second roar echoed.

Louder.

Closer.

And this time there was no doubt.

That was a dragon.

But not like any other.

There was something in that sound that carried not only power or territoriality, but something deeper, something that made even an entity like Scathach feel a slight weight pressing upon its existence.

Curiosity.

That was what came first.

But it wasn’t a light curiosity.

It was the kind of curiosity that arises in the face of the dangerous unknown.

The kind that instigates... even when instinct suggests caution.

Scathach tilted its head slightly, its eyes narrowing as it assessed the exact direction from which the sound came, its pupils adjusting, trying to pierce the translucent layers of that world. And then, without further hesitation...

She plunged.

Her draconic body tilted downwards, her wings gently folding as she descended, traversing the streams of light that composed the upper flow of the spiritual world. The particles around her dispersed softly as she passed, as if recognizing her presence, as if making way.

But the further she descended...

The more the environment changed.

The light began to diminish.

It didn’t disappear completely, but it became scarcer, more distant, as if those regions were not nourished by the same energy that sustained the river above.

The colors also changed.

The soft, bright tones gave way to deeper, denser hues, as if reality itself there were heavier.

And then...

She felt it.

Pressure.

Not physical.

But existential.

As if the space itself there had more... weight. More reality.

More presence.

Her body slowed down.

Not because she was being prevented.

But because, instinctively, she began to be more cautious.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she continued to descend, now with more control, more attention to every detail, every change, every subtle distortion that emerged as she progressed.

The roar didn’t come again.

But that wasn’t a relief.

It was worse.

Because it meant that it... was aware.

Or perhaps...

It always had been.

Scathach finally stopped.

Suspended in the void.

And then...

She saw.

Far below.

A rift.

Not an ordinary opening.

It was like a scar in the very structure of the spirit world, a rupture where light didn’t penetrate, where energy currents didn’t flow, as if that region were... separated from the rest.

Isolated.

The void there was different.

It wasn’t an absence of light.

It was... rejection.

As if the plane itself didn’t accept it.

A third roar echoed.

This time, coming directly from that rift.

And the sound was enough to make Scathach’s scales vibrate slightly.

Not from fear.

But from recognition.

That wasn’t just power.

It was authority.

Ancient.

Fundamental.

Her eyes narrowed even further.

And then, for the first time since arriving in that world...

She hesitated.

Not out of weakness.

But because this...

Wasn’t natural.

And yet...

She advanced.

Slowly.

Her body descended toward the crevice, each movement calculated, each wingbeat controlled, like a predator approaching something it didn’t yet fully understand.

The darkness grew as she approached.

The pressure increased.

And the silence...

Was absolute.

Until...

She crossed the boundary.

And the world changed again.

The sensation was immediate.

Like crossing an invisible membrane.

One instant there was the spiritual world.

The next... This.

The space there had no defined form, yet it was... structured, as if it were a parallel reality, a hidden layer beneath the spiritual plane. The light came from nowhere, and yet there was visibility, a dim glow that revealed distant silhouettes, undefined shapes that seemed to move slowly, like shadows that belonged to nothing concrete.

And then... She saw the eyes. Gigantic.

Much larger than any dragon she had ever encountered.

Two gleaming spheres in the middle of the darkness, slowly opening, fixing themselves directly on her.

The air... no, the entire space seemed to stop.

Scathach did not move.

Did not attack.

Did not retreat.

Only... observed.

And then...

Something emerged.

Slow.

Massive.

The outline of a body began to form in the darkness, revealing scales that reflected light, as if made of something beyond matter, beyond energy, something that shouldn’t exist on that plane.

The creature’s dimensions were... absurd... It didn’t just occupy space... It defined space... And when it finally opened its eyes completely... The world around it seemed to shrink... Scathach felt... It wasn’t fear.

But it was the closest thing to it that a dragon like her could experience. Because that... It wasn’t just a dragon.

"A tiny one invaded my prison?" The voice didn’t echo.

It simply... existed.

It didn’t come from a specific point, it didn’t traverse space, it didn’t vibrate in the environment. It emerged directly within Scathach’s consciousness, as if it had always been there, just waiting for the moment to manifest. It was an overwhelming presence, not because of its volume, but because of its density, the way each syllable carried a weight impossible to ignore, as if each word were a law being written into reality itself.

And then...

The darkness disappeared.

Not gradually.

Not like a light turning on.

But like something that was... denied.

One instant there was emptiness.

The next...

Light.

A white explosion engulfed everything around, brutal, absolute, consuming every inch of that hidden space beneath the spiritual world. It wasn’t just brightness, it wasn’t just intensity. It was purity elevated to such an extreme level that it became violent, a luminosity that not only illuminated but dominated, crushed, imposed its existence on everything that dared to remain.

Even Scathach...

Blinked.

His draconic eyes instinctively contracted, his pupils narrowing until they almost disappeared as they tried to adjust to that excess of light. Its scales reflected the brilliance, sending fragments of that pale gold back into the environment, but it was still... too much.

That was no ordinary light.

It was... authority.

It was as if that brightness wasn’t merely present, but demanded to be recognized, demanded to be seen, demanded submission.

And then...

She saw.

First, the outline.

A colossal silhouette began to form within that ocean of light, not emerging, but revealing itself, as if it had always been there, hidden only by the absence of perception. The lines of its body were too perfect, too defined, each curve, each extension, each detail possessing a symmetry bordering on the impossible.

And when the brightness finally stabilized enough for her eyes to focus...

The dragon revealed itself.

White.

But not a simple white.

It wasn’t the absence of color.

It was... condensed purity.

Its scales were an immaculate white, without flaws, without variations, as if they had been sculpted from the very idea of ​​perfection. There were no imperfections, no wear, no battle scars, no visible history. Each scale was smooth, uniform, reflecting the light around it in an almost... sacred way.

And then...

The gold.

Fine lines ran along its body, following the natural flow of its scales, drawing patterns that were not merely decorative, but structural, as if those golden veins were responsible for maintaining its form, for sustaining its very existence. The gold was not opaque, nor metallic like that of mortal worlds. It shone.

It burned.

Not like fire.

But like something... superior.

Each golden detail emitted its own glow, not reflected, but generated, as if it carried within itself an infinite source of energy, a light that needed no origin, because it was the origin itself.

The eyes.

Scathach’s gaze fixed on them.

And in that instant...

Everything around lost importance.

They were golden.

But, again, it wasn’t an ordinary color.

It was a deep, vibrant gold that seemed to move within itself, like a contained sun, as if entire galaxies slowly swirled within that infinite iris. There was no defined pupil, no clear division between center and periphery.

Those eyes...

Were observing.

Not just her body.

But everything.

Her existence.

Her essence.

Her past.

Her potential.

It was as if she were being read.

Not analyzed.

But understood.

Completely.

Scathach didn’t look away.

Even feeling.

The pressure.

It was overwhelming.

Not physical.

But absolute.

As if the presence of that entity rewrote the rules around her, as if her mere existence were enough to bend concepts, alter laws, redefine limits.

The space there...

Belonged to him. Not because he dominated her.

But because he... was that.

"Little one." The voice came again. Clearer. Closer. But still soundless. "You have traversed layers that shouldn’t even exist for your perception," the dragon said and looked into Scathach’s eyes, "You are a Demonic Dragon... how rare in other universes," the Dragon commented.

Scathach stared at her, not knowing what to say. "I—"

"A child so small dares to speak?" The voice echoed, laughing. "How interesting... a Dragon Reincarnated in the Spirit World, it seems I’m not the only one."

The dragon’s body began to shrink as she became small, very small until she became a woman, in humanoid form...

"My name is Voralith Antherio, I am the Demonic Dragon Empress of Ten Celestial Wings." She spoke, molding her body and her dazzling expressions, "Who are you, little one?"