Chapter 607: Just meat, with autonomy.
Strax stood still, his eyes fixed on the scarred sky. The colossal rune continued to pulse like an evil heart, spreading its influence across every corner of that archipelago. The wind stirred his black wings, and the sword in his hand trembled, not from fear, but from the rage he no longer bothered to hide.
It was then that something sparked in his memory.
That shape… those intertwined lines expanding in impossible patterns… He had seen it before.
Strax narrowed his eyes, remembering the day Scarlet, with that irritated look, thrust a book into his hands. “Scathach told you to read this, idiot. Said it would be important someday.”
At the time, he had simply skimmed through it, thinking it was another one of those ancient texts full of arcane symbols and theories that didn’t interest him. But now… now the memory was clear.
“That damned symbol…” he growled, his voice reverberating in a low, menacing tone. “I’ve seen it before.”
The women behind him glanced at each other. Yennifer stepped forward, curious.
“See… where?”
He didn’t answer. The hatred in his eyes was answer enough.
Strax lifted Zani, the blade pulsing with dark energy. His entire body tensed, muscles ready for an attack that would be not just physical, but emotional. He would unleash all his rage against that mark.
“If it was really her…” he growled. “…then I will crush this woman until not even ashes remain.”
And then he struck.
This time, it wasn’t just a cut. It was a brutal discharge of power, ten times more intense than the last. Demonic and draconic energy fused, the air shattered into invisible shards, and the sword unleashed an arc of pure destruction that streaked across the sky.
The clouds shattered, the sea below parted in chaotic lines, and the thunder of the attack echoed like a thousand thunderclaps.
But when the invisible blade struck the colossal rune… nothing happened.
Nothing.
The rune glowed brighter for an instant, absorbing the energy as if it were nourishment. And then it returned to its same pulsing state, as if mocking him.
The silence after the impact was deafening.
Strax lowered his sword, panting. His heavy breaths came out like dark smoke from his nostrils. He closed his eyes, trying not to explode in frustration.
“…damn it,” he muttered, spitting the word like venom.
Beatrice approached slowly. “Strax…” she began, but stopped when she saw his eyes blazing with pure hatred.
He sighed, finally putting Zani away for a moment. The sword still vibrated, as if it were as enraged as he was.
He turned his back, facing the four women.
“Stay here,” he said, his voice deep and without room for argument. “You’re not getting involved in this.”
Cristine frowned. “What are you going to do?”
Strax looked up at the sky once more, the rune etched on it a cruel reminder of his imprisonment.
“I’m going after the bastard who did this,” he replied. “You’re so fucking overprotective, you fucking mother.”
Silence fell heavily. Bellatrix widened her eyes, understanding who he was talking about.
“Scathach…”
Strax only nodded with a low roar.
Before anyone could react, he bent his knees and leaped. The ground exploded beneath his feet, sending sand and rocks flying in all directions.
And in the air, the transformation took place.
The black scales expanded, covering every inch of his skin. His muscles swelled to monstrous proportions, his bones cracking and shifting shape. His wings, once enormous, spread like cloaks of pure darkness, blocking out the sun for an instant.
His eyes, red as embers, burned with fury.
The roar that escaped his throat wasn’t just sound—it was pure power, a wave of pressure that made the island’s trees bend and the sea waters recede for meters.
Strax was now a colossal dragon, a black titan whose presence bore the weight of uncontained rage.
He didn’t just fly—he slashed through the sky with brutal speed, like a living arrow of hatred and destruction.
Beatrice, Bellatrix, Cristine, and Yennifer watched below, stunned.
Cristine sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He’s completely out of his mind…”
Yennifer crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. “Out of his mind or not… I wouldn’t want to be in Scathach’s shoes when he gets close to her.”
Beatrice, more serious than the others, seemed to carry a weight in her gaze. “It’s not just his anger,” she said quietly, as if afraid even the wind would hear. “If his mother really is behind this… then I think she greatly underestimated her own son’s capabilities.”
Bellatrix clenched her fists, her jaw clenched in tension. “Why did she have to involve us all in this?” Her voice held more pain than anger. “She doesn’t even really know us, and yet she made prejudgments… This isn’t training. This is manipulation. This… will completely destroy the relationship she herself claimed to want to preserve.”
Cristine stared at the three of them, a cold glint in her eyes. She nodded slowly. “She did the worst… if all this were just training, however cruel, maybe I could even swallow it. But… involving us? Messing with the bond we’re building with him? That was a fatal mistake.”
Yennifer took a deep breath, as if choosing each word carefully. “Even though I only started my relationship with him recently… I already understand how Strax works. He’s not perfect, he’s full of rage and pride, but… when it comes to loyalty, to trust… he doesn’t forgive betrayal.”
Beatrice looked away, sighing heavily. “Exactly. She doesn’t know her own son. And yet she decided to poke at his wounds, toy with the lives of those beside him, as if it were a game. But Strax… he’s not a piece on any board.” Her eyes shone with sadness. “And now… I don’t even know if he’s capable of seeing her as a mother anymore.”
Bellatrix shook her head slowly, and a cold, almost cruel smile touched her lips. “Mother? No. Believe it or not… but I think that, in his current state, Strax probably doesn’t even consider Scathach a woman. To him, right now… she’s nothing more than a breathing, talking piece of flesh, a body with autonomy. Nothing more.”
The three of them stared at her, and in unison, they answered:
“Yes.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. None of them dared say anything else, as if the weight of reality itself was already too much.
High above, Strax continued to advance. With each beat of his wings, the air shattered like glass, the pressure around him becoming unbearable even for birds fleeing him in panic. His mind was a storm. Memories came and went like blades: the insane training sessions, the cruel challenges, the traps Scathach always said were “to strengthen his mind and body.” The wicked games, her cold gaze, the manipulation disguised as care.
But this time, it wasn’t training.
It wasn’t a test.
It wasn’t even about learning.
This time, it was personal.
And in every fiber of his body, in every deafening beat of his draconic heart, in every breath that spewed black smoke… there was only one certainty:
He was furious.
Truly, deeply furious.
A roar rose in his throat, still restrained, but vibrating through the sky like distant thunder. There was no poetry in that sound, no glory, no majesty. Just anger. Raw, primal, uncontrollable anger.