Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 826: System and Sector

Voralith looked at her, Scathach... "Ah... seriously, nobody ever comes to get me in this mess."

Then, like a roar, she screamed to the heavens of the spirit world.

"KAZESS, YOU SHITTY KING, COME HERE. YOUR PRISON ISN’T A PRISON IF SOMEONE CAN FIND YOU!"

Less than three seconds passed... The tear expanded into a perfect circle, a portal whose edge seemed made of impossible symbols that constantly rewrote themselves. The absolute light of that place wavered for a second as if something external had imposed authority.

And then he appeared.

Kazess crossed the portal as if entering an ordinary room, slightly adjusting the dark cloak that fell over his shoulders. He didn’t have Voralith’s overwhelming presence... but there was something ancient about him, something firm, something that couldn’t be ignored.

He looked around... Then sighed... Long... Tired. "You need to stop acting like a queen." Her voice was deep, controlled, carrying an almost rehearsed boredom. "You’re clearly a prisoner."

The air grew heavy... Voralith’s golden eyes narrowed dangerously... The throne behind her cracked.

She stepped forward. "I remain an Empress."

Kazess stared at her for a moment... Then looked away... As if she had decided not to engage in that battle.

His eyes then landed on Scáthach... He analyzed her from head to toe. There was no invasion here like Voralith’s, but there was recognition.

"Ah." He said simply. "You’re the other dragon who had the audacity to become a spirit."

Scáthach felt her body tense... Another one?...

Kazess tilted her head slightly.

"Well..." he shrugged, almost casually. "You can stay close to this thing."

He made a vague gesture toward Voralith. "She needs someone to talk to."

The silence that followed was almost deadly. Voralith slowly turned her face toward him. "That thing?"

The gold in her eyes intensified.

The portal behind Kazess began to vibrate erratically.

He sighed again.

"You know exactly what I meant."

She crossed her arms.

The entire space seemed undecided between exploding or kneeling.

Scáthach, still trying to regain her own stability in that imposed humanoid body, felt something strange.

It wasn’t fear.

It was... context.

She wasn’t facing a free goddess.

She was facing something contained.

Something powerful enough to crush worlds—yet still contained.

Imprisoned.

Kazess looked back at her.

"Just keep this ill-mannered child company until I find a vessel for her," he explained bluntly. "She’s troublesome."

Kazess didn’t respond to the sharp look Voralith gave him. He simply maintained a weary expression, like someone who had had this discussion too many times to bother repeating it. The portal behind him continued to vibrate, its edges made of impossible symbols spinning and rearranging like conceptual gears, awaiting his decision to leave.

"Just keep this ill-mannered child company until I find a vessel for her," he said bluntly, almost bureaucratically. "She’s troublesome."

Voralith arched an eyebrow, the gold of her eyes glistening with something dangerously close to offense.

"Troublesome?" she repeated, with cutting softness.

Kazess didn’t bother to elaborate. He simply turned his body toward the portal, the dark cloak following the movement with a heavy fluidity, as if it carried more than just fabric. He paused for a second, as if to add something, but decided against it. There was no farewell, no warning.

He simply passed through.

The portal closed behind him with a sound that wasn’t sound, but an abrupt reorganization of reality. The absolute light of that space returned to its stable state, although something had changed. The masculine presence, firm and ancient, had disappeared, leaving only the denser and vaster weight of Voralith.

The silence that remained was different from before.

Now it was intimate.

Voralith slowly uncrossed her arms and turned her full attention to Scáthach. Without Kazess there to share the space, her presence seemed to expand again, filling every inch of that luminous prison.

"So..." she began, walking a few steps ahead. Her feet didn’t quite touch the ground, but the concept of ground seemed to accept her nonetheless. "Which sector do you come from?"

Scáthach blinked.

Sector?

The word sounded strange, out of place.

She frowned slightly, her long red hair sliding over her shoulders as she tried to understand what it meant.

"Sector?" she repeated, confused. "What is a sector?"

For a moment, Voralith stood absolutely still.

There was no immediate change in her expression, but the golden glint in her eyes intensified almost imperceptibly. She tilted her head slightly, observing Scáthach as if analyzing something that had just shattered her expectations.

"You..." her voice came out slower now. "Became a spirit... without knowing about the sectors?"

Scáthach kept her gaze steady, though internally she felt the discomfort growing. It wasn’t weakness, it was the unsettling feeling of realizing there was much more to that plane than she had imagined.

"I died." She answered simply. "I woke up here."

Voralith remained silent for a few seconds.

Then, suddenly, something appeared beside her.

It wasn’t conjured with words.

There was no elaborate gesture.

It simply appeared.

An interface.

Translucent.

Geometric.

Made of thin lines of golden light that arranged themselves into squares, symbols, and texts that rewrote themselves. It didn’t seem like magic in the traditional sense, but it wasn’t ordinary technology either. It was a hybrid structure, something that mixed concept and mechanism.

Scáthach felt the air around her become denser.

Voralith raised her hand and slid her fingers into the void.

The interface reacted instantly.

A tab expanded before her.

At the top, a word stood out in clear, stable characters:

"Let’s search." Scáthach’s heart tightened. Voralith glanced at her briefly, almost amused. "Let’s confirm."

She pointed.

There was no spell.

There was no visible energy.

But the interface responded to the gesture as if recognizing the target.

A subtle beam of light traveled the short distance between Voralith and Scáthach, touching her without actually touching her.

And then, a new tab opened.

Information began to appear.

[Name: Scathach.]

[Species: Demon Dragon]

[Current State: Spirit]

[Origin: Sector 0988139]

[Cause of Death: Progressive organic collapse – rare pathology aggravated by childbirth]

[Registered Anomalies: Rare disease not registered by the System.]

Voralith read the information with absolute tranquility, her golden eyes scanning each line like someone reviewing a trivial report.

"Interesting..." she murmured. "You’re from a very distant sector, how funny."

The panel continued to expand data, showing fragments of past battles, power levels prior to death, aura variations, probabilities of spiritual evolution.

Scáthach took an involuntary step back.

"This..." Scáthach’s voice came out lower than she intended, not out of weakness, but because something within her recognized that she was facing a mechanism that shouldn’t exist there. Her green eyes remained fixed on the suspended interface, on the golden lines that still pulsed with data about its own essence. "What is this?" 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Voralith smiled.

It wasn’t a broad, ostentatious smile. It was small, almost intimate, as if sharing a secret too ancient to be called a discovery.

"Well, I just call it the System." She replied softly, her fingers gliding through the air like someone touching the surface of an invisible lake. "But what you’re seeing is only the base."

With a slight movement of her hand, the partially expanded tab began to retract. The lines obediently rearranged themselves, columns merged, categories disappeared, and the entire structure assumed a simpler, cleaner form, as if it had been compressed to fit within smaller limits.

The interface did not hesitate.

She recognized authority.

"I created this version using what little authority I still have left." Voralith continued, resting her chin on her hand as she observed Scáthach’s reaction. "A reduced replica. Limited. An echo of the real system."

Her golden eyes gleamed slightly.

"Very few have access to the true structure."

Scáthach swallowed hard.

"The real system..." she repeated, almost to herself.

Voralith nodded.

"I used my master’s authority to structure this interface." She explained naturally, as if speaking of something trivial, not of a power that seemed to transcend universes.

Scáthach immediately looked up.

"Master?" The word sounded incredulous. "Someone like you... has a master?"

The question wasn’t challenging.

It was genuinely confused.

Voralith showed no offense. On the contrary, her smile widened slightly, as if she found the reaction predictable.

"Yes." She replied without hesitation. "My master."

The gold in her eyes deepened, not in submission, but in remembrance.

"The Progenitor of the Demon Dragons."

There was a brief pause before the name was pronounced.

"Azi Dahaka."

The sound of that name did not echo in the space, but the interface itself trembled slightly, as if recognizing the reference. Symbols on the edges of the screen flickered for an instant before stabilizing again.

Scáthach repeated the name in a low voice.

"Azi Dahaka..."

There was no recognition.

No ancestral memory stirred.

No ancient history surfaced.

She had never heard that name.

And she never would have, if she weren’t there.

Voralith realized this immediately.

"Ah." She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Don’t worry. He doesn’t belong to your universe."

She leaned back on the throne, crossing her legs with relaxed elegance.

"He existed in another world. Another stream. Another sector."

Scáthach frowned again.

"Sector Prime..." she murmured, remembering the previous mention.

Voralith tilted her head.

"Yes."

Her fingers touched the interface once more, and a new line appeared briefly before disappearing, as if it had been displayed only on a whim.

Prime Sector — Status: Destroyed.

"He’s dead." Voralith said with almost disconcerting calmness. "Well... I think so."

The corner of her lips curved into something that wasn’t exactly humor.

"When the Prime Sector was destroyed, most of the core entities were erased. Or fragmented. Or dispersed."

She shrugged elegantly.

"It’s hard to say."

Scáthach felt her head grow heavy.

Destroyed.

Sector.

Progenitor.

Authority.

Royal System.

Each term was a piece of a puzzle too large for her mind to fit together all at once.

She had died.

Awakened.

Flowed by the River of Souls.

Heard a roar.

And now she was learning that there were structural divisions in the spirit world, hierarchical authorities, extraplanar systems, and destroyed sectors.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment.

Where.

When.

Who.

What.

The questions piled up in her mind like a contained storm.

When she opened her eyes again, Voralith was still watching her.

But there was something different there.

It wasn’t just curiosity.

It was assessment.

"You’re trying to organize the information," Voralith commented softly. "I can see that."