Dragon King's Harem Chapter 577. The Fallen King

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 577. The Fallen King

Durharn tried to breathe.

It was that last attempt to breathe.

That rough, broken sound leaving his throat, like his body still hadn’t received the message that his heart had already been betrayed.

Then the roots inside him moved.

His armor bulged in several places as thin veins of wood spread beneath metal and flesh, twisting through him like the nymph magic had decided his body was soil. His hands clawed once at the stone floor. His crown tilted. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

And then…

The roots burst outward.

The hall screamed.

Dwarven nobles stumbled back. Servants dropped trays. One guard actually fell to his knees, not from poison this time, but horror. Durharn’s body jerked as the roots tore through armor seams and flesh, blooming out in thick, dark vines that absorbed everything they touched. Blood vanished into bark. Mana drained into root. The strength of a dwarven king was swallowed like water poured into hungry soil.

I had seen wood and earth mana work together before.

Usually, it was harmony.

Roots anchored in stone. Soil feeding life. Mountain and forest supporting each other like old companions.

But this?

This was the first time I saw wood consume earth.

Greedy. Violent. Merciless.

The roots drank Durharn until his shape collapsed under them, until king, groom, fool, and victim became a twisted mass of wood and blood-dark flowers at the base of his own throne.

For one sharp second, I felt nothing.

Then disgust hit.

Not for Durharn as a king.

He failed that title spectacularly.

But for Durharn as a man who had died realizing too late that the woman beside him never loved him.

That was ugly.

And immediately my mind clicked into place.

So that was why.

No body. No clear wound. No clean corpse.

If they consumed him completely, they could lie.

They could say the Dragon King’s curse devoured him. They could say Sela and Marissa poisoned him. They could say foreign magic corrupted the king. They could say anything.

As long as the witnesses were silenced.

Which meant the last step was obvious.

Kill us.

All of us.

Or at least enough of us that truth became negotiable.

Across the hall, Seraphel rose halfway from her chair, one hand gripping the table. She looked pale, weakened, furious, still pretending, but fury suited her too well to be fake.

“You monster,” she said, voice low and burning.

The Fairy Queen stood too, supported by her daughter. Her delicate face had gone sharp with rage, wings trembling behind her.

“This is treason,” she whispered.

Her daughter looked sick, but her eyes were clear enough to glare at Seranaya.

Queen Elowen didn’t even flinch. She simply lifted her chin, standing near the throne platform like all of this was already beneath her.

“Treason?” she repeated softly. “No. History only calls it treason if you fail.”

Straight villain line.

Honestly, if I weren’t currently pretending to be cursed, I might have given her a tiny clap. Not approval. Just acknowledgment.

Elowen spread her arms slightly.

“The poison in your bodies…” she said, her voice carrying through the hall, smooth as silk over a blade, “only I possess the antidote.”

Wrong.

But continue.

Please.

Keep confessing.

“So,” she continued, smiling faintly, “all of you are my prisoners now.”

The nymph soldiers tightened formation around the hall. Green armor, vine-wrapped spears, calm faces. They had clearly trained for this. Doors sealed. Balconies covered. Dwarven guards disarmed or pinned down. Guests forced back into chairs by roots crawling over the floor like obedient snakes.

Elowen’s gaze drifted toward me.

Then stayed.

“But you…”

Her smile thinned.

“You are too dangerous.”

I clutched my chest harder and let my knees bend slightly, as if Nightmare itself was the only reason I remained standing.

Elowen clapped twice.

Nymph soldiers moved.

Some rushed toward weakened dwarven guards and nobles, striking them down with the blunt ends of weapons. Others moved to restrain foreign delegations, roots snapping around wrists and ankles, binding them to chairs or pillars. Servants screamed as they were shoved aside.

But she didn’t order a full massacre.

She still needed people alive.

Revenue minister.

Prime minister.

Council scribes.

Military record keepers.

Anyone who could transfer documents, unlock treasury processes, validate decrees, announce succession, calm the city, pretend legality still existed after the groom became fertilizer.

You couldn’t take over a kingdom with only dead bodies.

You needed paperwork.

Even coups had administration.

Seranaya stepped over what remained of Durharn without looking down. She lifted her gown delicately, climbed the throne steps, and sat on Durharn’s throne.

The dwarven throne.

The authority bracelet on her wrist pulsed faintly.

[Authority Artifact: Active]

[Emergency Command Pathway: Attempting Stabilization]

[Throne Recognition: Incomplete]

[Warning: Dwarven Royal Blood Anchor Missing]

[Warning: Forced Regency Claim Requires Witness Submission]

Ah.

So that was why they needed prisoners.

Not just silence. Submission.

Witnesses forced to acknowledge Seranaya’s emergency control.

Elowen finally began walking toward me.Slowly.

No need to hurry now, right?

In her mind, I was weakened. Cursed. Poisoned. Surrounded.

She had won.

That was what she believed.

Her hand shifted as she walked.

Skin turned brown-green, smooth flesh becoming polished wood. Fingers lengthened into rootlike claws. Thin vines curled around her wrist, each one tipped with small dark thorns glistening with poison.

[Observation Activated]

[Target: Queen Elowen Vireth]

[Transformation Detected: Poison Root Armament]

[Poison Classification: Royal Nymphic Neurotoxin]

[Effect: Paralysis, Mana Suppression, Will Erosion]

[Threat Level: High for Standard Targets]

[Threat Level to Host: Negligible]

Elowen stopped several steps away from me. Close enough to gloat.

“Dragon King…” she purred.

I coughed once, leaning harder into Evelina. Evelina held me with one arm, face pale and frightened, but her fingers were already resting near the bracelet.

Sela stayed low beside me, eyes half-lidded, looking weakened. But under the table? One hand near the crystal.

Marissa looked down, shaking faintly.

Al was still on the floor behind us, face turned sideways against the stone.

His eye was open.

Monocle glittering.

Watching.

Elowen smiled wickedly. “I never thought I could take over your throne.”

Excuse me?

My throne?

Now she was ambitious ambitious.

“But I guess…” she continued, poison roots flexing around her arm, “I should have dreamed big from the start.”