Dragon King's Harem Chapter 483. A King of Fire
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 483. A King of Fire
Above the city, I hovered.
Wings open wide. Scales kissed by sunlight. Power held back with deliberate control.
I stayed mid-air, my breath slow, my gaze steady. My wings beat steadily—not too fast, not too aggressive. I wasn’t trying to make a scene. Just stabilize my position while I reached out with Telekinesis again.
Chunks of broken wall. Splintered beams. Rubble from collapsed towers and shattered homes. I didn’t lift them all—just enough to give the soldiers and builders some breathing room. Enough to clear pathways. To restore some structure. Enough that if monsters came again tonight, they wouldn’t be walking straight through the damn gate like uninvited dinner guests.
I narrowed my eyes toward the city’s edge. I could spot the stored building materials—logs, stone blocks, foundation anchors—left untouched. No one dared use them yet. Too chaotic. Too dangerous. Too many priorities.
But I could.
I reached out.
A deep breath. Magic laced my bloodstream, sharp and cold. Telekinesis again, stronger now. Sweat beaded under my collar as I moved the logs, stacked them with measured force, shaping temporary gates from raw material. Not perfect. Not ornate. But it would close. That was what mattered.
Even a shitty door was better than an open wound.
Because the city was still bleeding.
And it wasn’t just the threat of rebellion or poison in the food. No. There was something else lurking on the edge of that snowline.
Monsters.
I’d seen this before.
When internal power collapsed, the beasts outside always smelled it first. It wasn’t magic. It was instinct. They could smell fear. Chaos. Opportunity.
And Cedric’s loyalists? If they had half a brain left in their heads, they’d lure a pack in tonight just to distract the guards. Slip in through the back while everyone was busy fighting off something with claws.
So no. I wasn’t going to leave the gate wide open.
I could feel the eyes now.
Not openly watching. Not applause. Not cheering.
But… watching. Hiding behind broken walls. Cracked shutters. Upturned furniture.
People. Civilians.
Afraid.
They didn’t come out. They didn’t wave. But I could feel them. Their gazes pressed against me like frost on my neck.
What is he doing?
Why is the dragon still here?
And maybe even—
Is he going to burn us down next?
I didn’t blame them.
I was an outsider. A destroyer by nature. A king of fire, hovering over their ice-blessed home like a storm they couldn’t control.
But I wasn’t here to conquer.
I just wanted to help.
I looked down again.
The gate was holding. Crude. Temporary. But it would stop a charging troll or a pair of frostfangs for at least a few minutes. That was enough time to scream, raise the alarm, fight back.
Still… it wasn’t enough.
I scanned the skyline. My eyes narrowed at the distant ruins. Then I noticed the eastern district—one of the poorer parts of the city—had smoke rising from chimneys, but none from cookfires. That meant…
No food.
Right.
And the healers—they were still active. I could feel the mana pulses across the city. Weak, but steady. They were working overtime to patch up the wounded. Good. They could last another day.
But mana potions would run dry soon. And food—real, hot food—was already out of reach for half the survivors.
“…Food,” I murmured aloud.
Could I grow vegetables?
No.
Fruits?
Not unless I wanted to conjure apples made of guilt and trauma.
But meat?
Oh yeah.
Meat, I could handle.
All I needed was a pack of monsters.
Big. Fast. Full of protein and bad decisions.
Kill them. Butcher them. Drop the meat back here. Get the snow elf soldiers to carry it into the kitchens. Set up a big open cookfire with enough herbs and salt to make it smell like survival.
Give the people something warm. Something real.
I whispered to myself, “That might actually be a good idea.”
Set up the kitchens near the inner garden. Close to the palace. Close to the guards. Where it’s safe. Make it an event. Not a banquet. Just food. Soup. Roasted meat. Something with flavor. Something that says you lived.
But first…
I needed prey.
I turned mid-air, flaring my wings just enough to catch the wind.
That’s when I saw them.
Maria. And Kaelen.
Standing on a growing spire of sculpted ice, her staff still glowing faintly. They rose like monarchs on a frozen altar, but there was no arrogance in it. Just… concern. Kaelen was clutching her leg, looking up at me like I’d become something out of a storybook.
Maria’s eyes locked with mine.
And I saw it.
Not fear.
Not command.
But a question.
“What now?”
I tilted my head slightly, smirked, and mouthed one word toward her before turning back toward the wilderness outside the gate.
Meat.
She blinked.
Then her lips parted just slightly—half a laugh, half disbelief.
Kaelen yelled, “He’s going hunting!”
I grinned.
My body pulsed with mana. My vision sharpened.
[Dragon’s Vision]
[Target: High-mass magical beasts]
[Region: Snowline Ridge — 2.3km northeast]
Perfect.
I turned once mid-air, dipped low over the city wall, then shot east.
Wind howled past my ears. My wings beat hard. Fast. I skimmed low enough that the trees bowed under the pressure of my passage. Cold slapped my face.
I felt alive again.
Not as a king.
Not as a soldier.
Not even as a dragon.
But as a man doing the one thing that made sense in a world full of posturing and politics.
Hunting to feed his people.
Yeah.
I was going to beat the crap out of some oversized meat monsters.
Then bring dinner home.
Like a responsible future stepdad with anger issues and a very sharp sword.
I flew low over the frostline ridge, scanning the snowfields beneath me. Wind tore past my face, but I didn’t flinch. I was moving fast—sharp dips through gusts, weaving between trees where the woods began to thicken with silence and cold. My wings beat once, then folded close. I dropped like a stone—then snapped open again right before hitting the trees, gliding just above the snowbanks.