Dragon King's Harem Chapter 279. Burz's Anger (Patreon)

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 279. Burz's Anger

In front of the grand throne hall, Evelina and the rest found themselves in a state of anticipation. The atmosphere was tense, and anxiety lingered in the air like a thick fog. With them was Burz along with several other orc leaders. The orcs couldn't help but worry about what transpired within those hallowed walls. Their greatest fear was that the dragon king, in a fit of rage, might have unleashed his fury upon Glasha, potentially leading to her untimely demise. Such a tragic outcome would undoubtedly jeopardize the negotiations.

But deep down, buried beneath the cloak of worry, resentment brewed within their hearts. After all, they had sacrificed and endured, it seemed inconceivable that they would have to yield to the dragon king in such a demeaning manner. Yet, for the sake of peace, they found themselves reluctantly reliant on this unsettling situation. The orc tribe had been ravaged by countless conflicts, and now they stood on the precipice of desperation, with little else to cling to.

The imposing dragon soldiers stood firm, stationed diligently at the entrance of the throne hall. Their vigilant gaze was fixed upon the wounded orcs, ensuring that they posed no threat of retaliation. These soldiers, clad in armor adorned with intricate dragon motifs, exuded an air of authority that made it clear they meant business.

Within the confines of the hall, the plaintive cries of the princess echoed, intertwining with the thunderous roar of the dragon king. It was a cacophony of sound, a dissonance that reverberated through the stone walls. The roar itself signaled that the dragon king had assumed his formidable half-dragon form, a transformation infamous for claiming the life of one of his previous consorts. The question that lingered in the minds of those present was whether he had reverted his manhood to its original size or retained the overwhelming proportions of his draconic self.

Though the sounds emanating from the hall were deeply unsettling, the dragons outside remained unperturbed. To them, it was not as bad as the last full moon consummate. After all, as dragons, their minds were not susceptible to the base desires that plagued other creatures. They were not driven by perversion or an insatiable appetite for sex. For them, the act served only to perpetuate their lineage, a necessary duty to ensure the survival of their kind.

Burz's heart sank, and a heavy silence settled upon him. He found himself unable to meet the gaze of his comrades, his head bowed in defeat. His eyes wandered to the Magic Bracelet adorning his wrist, a constant reminder of the burdens he carried. At that moment, he wished he could sever his arm, and rid himself of the accursed artifact that bound him. But deep down, he knew that such an act would be futile. If it were that easy, Glasha would have done it already.

His frustration grew, gnawing at him from within. The resounding moans echoed once more from the depths of the hall, causing Burz to clench his fists, his knuckles turning white. A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside him, a maelstrom of anger, resentment, and helplessness. It was as if his heart bore the weight of his twin's pain, amplifying his own feelings of inadequacy. He felt impotent, a failure in the face of the challenges they now confronted.

The sound of Glasha's moans, both pained and desperate, pierced Burz's soul like a dagger. It tore at him, fueling his frustration with each passing moment. He was torn between his desire to rush in and save her, to put an end to the torment she endured, and the harsh reality that he could do nothing but wait. The helplessness gnawed at his core, a bitter taste that lingered in his mouth.

Images of Glasha, strong and vibrant, flashed before Burz's mind. The memory of their childhood adventures, their shared laughter, and their unbreakable bond added salt to his wounds.

Burz's frustration reached its boiling point, a tempest of emotions that consumed him from within. Unable to bear the torment any longer, he exploded with an impulsive surge of energy. With a sudden burst of determination, he stormed toward the entrance of the grand hall, his impatience propelling him forward. His heart raced, and his mind swirled with a desperate need to know the fate of his beloved sister. He lunged forward, intent on barging through the doors, but his path was abruptly blocked by the dragon soldiers.

"Stand back, Your Highness!" the soldiers commanded, their voices firm and unwavering.

Burz, however, was undeterred. His body, exhausted from the previous battles, trembled with a mixture of fatigue and desperation. With every ounce of strength, he could muster, he made one final attempt to break through their defense. "Move!" he pleaded, his voice filled with raw desperation that pierced the air.

But alas, his efforts were in vain. The dragon soldiers remained steadfast, immovable in their duty to protect the sanctity of the hall. Burz's heart sank as he realized the futility of his endeavor.

General Guillotine, his face twisted in anger, seized Burz by the shoulders, yanking him back with a force that sent the prince sprawling to the ground. The impact reverberated through Burz's body, leaving him momentarily disoriented. He found himself staring up at the fearsome figure before him, General Guillotine’s dragon-like claws engulfed in raging flames.

"Are you deaf?" the general snapped, his displeasure palpable in his voice. His eyes bore into Burz with a mix of disdain and frustration. "Do you have a death wish or something?" The flames on Guillotine's claw danced menacingly, a grim reminder of the imminent danger that loomed over the prince's neck.

"Let me go, you lowly peasant!" Burz's enraged voice reverberated through the hall, filled with a raw mixture of anger and frustration. His massive frame strained against General Guillotine’s iron grip. It seemed as if the tension in the room had reached its breaking point, ready to explode into a full-blown confrontation.

“You!” General Guillotine, his fiery claw glinting in the dim light, raised his arm in a threatening gesture. The air crackled with an electric intensity, the anticipation of violence hanging heavy in the atmosphere. It appeared as though a fiery clash between the orc prince and the dragon general was imminent, destined to unleash chaos upon the already volatile situation.

But just as the tension seemed unbearable, the colossal doors of the throne hall creaked open.