The dragon's harem

That was the worst thing Cerilla had ever eaten in her whole life. It tasted sour, rancid, and utterly appalling to the point she felt her teeth cracking and skull almost imploding.

After swallowing the whole lemon, she fell to her knees and started shaking, feeling a painful surge of heat overwhelm her chest. The heat quickly turned into a burning sensation, then shifted into an itch that engulfed her body for a second.

Before she could even take a single breath, the sour taste returned, this time boiling behind her eyes, nose, and deep within her stomach.

“This…” But the moment she spoke, all of that weird sensation faded away and calmed down. She could feel it, but it was so faint that she could forget about it existing at any second.

Sylph smiled, “It took root, now, the process will be slow. It won’t bother you anymore, just get a few people to start worshipping you as a goddess.” Sylph looked around. “You’ve got Dalla, and I bet you’ve also got a squad of personal servants, get those on board as well.” She walked around, looking at the angels around and smiled, “You, you, you…” She picked fifty women and pointed at Cerilla, “You’re transferred to her.”

“What?” Cerilla gasped, and Sylph shrugged.

“Those angels are supposed to be the personal servants of the elvish goddess. There are a thousand of them, but I’m only giving you fifty now. Once you grow stronger, I’ll slowly give you more until you are given to you once you take my place.”

Cerilla looked around for a second, seeing all of the angels kneeling. Those were nowhere near Mathilde, but each one of them was a monster that could level kingdoms in seconds, divine beings able to brawl with lesser gods and kill powerful abominations with ease.

Cerilla could remember reading stories about one celestial angel being sent down from the heavens to assist the elves in a war. That one angel was the weakest one in heaven, but she still wiped the floor with a whole army without breaking a sweat. Now, fifty of the much stronger angels were serving her.

“Feel free to use them as you wish. They can cook, clean, fight, build, sing, dance, do math, cast spells, keep Arad busy in bed, or even play a board game against you.” Sylph approached one of the angels, patted her on the back, and smiled.

“I’m good at tending to plants.” The angel said with a passive, emotionless face.

Cerilla rubbed her temples, “Those are angels, it’ll be a waste to have them cook. Wait, what do you need to cook here? Those trees bear cooked food.” She reached up, and one of the trees out the window shifted, its branch turning into a roasted chicken on a silver plate.

“It’s not a waste. Those are the personal servants. The trees here make everything, but sometimes I’m on the frontlines, and I need to eat. Besides, the fighting angels are a different kind of angels.”

The door behind them opened, and Sylph smiled, “Speaking of the different breed.”

Mathilde walked inside, stared at Sylph and then at Cerila for a second, and sighed.

“Little Mathilde, guess what!” Sylph said with a smile, and Mathilde glared at her. “You want me to serve her from now on. I can already guess.”

Sylph blinked, “You don’t look that happy. I thought you’d be thrilled about it. With Arad and all.”

“Wait, what!” Cerilla stared between them, and they ignored her for the time being.

“I’m not complaining about serving Arad…I mean, Cerilla. What I’m mad at is that you’re sending me now, of all times, you know how it ended last time.” Hearing Mathilde growl, Sylph’s face brightened as she figured out why her angel was angry.

“Yeah, you lost our fight last time, so you want to leave while I’m ahead.” She jumped aside and pointed at a chair, “Go ahead, take a seat. It is my loss, I’ll kiss your feet once, and you can leave with her.”

Mathilde grabbed Sylph by the hair. “I don’t care, we’ll fight.” She looked at Cerilla, “Sorry, but I’ll take her to the inner arena. You can come and watch the fight with everyone else.”

****

Cerilla looked at the arena from her seat beside Arad, “Who do you think will win?” She asked and looked at him, “I know that Sylph is a goddess, but Mathilde is strong as well.”

Arad leaned back, “Depends, if they are to fight going all out, then Sylph can just take all of her power back from Mathilde and win by default. But, if she doesn’t do that, the fight can happen.”

He then looked at the two, “If we assume Sylph doesn’t just shut the fight down, then I’d say Mathilde has an advantage. Because she is an angel made to fight, and Sylph is a goddess who watches over the elves.”

Cerilla stared at him for a long moment. “What do you know about Sylph?”

“She is the elvish goddess, controls plants, gets her power from Yggdrasil, and is powerful.”

Cerilla looked at the fight, “Then you don’t know much about her.” She remained silent for a few seconds. “She is a torturer, a slaver, a violent murderer, and a draconian dictator from the dark age of the elves before the current overgod took the throne.”

Arad’s eyes opened wide as Cerilla leaned back, “I’d say the current overgod is the only thing keeping her from going berserk again.” She smiled, “The dark age of the elves, for several hundred years, they were hunted and enslaved like animals. It was a fate worse than death for an elf to find himself outside the elvish land. It was in those dark times that Sylph killed her father, stole the throne, and flipped the table on everyone else. She turned the elves from slaves to slavers to spite everyone else.”

Arad frowned, “So what? Mathilde had fought her before and won.”

“Do you really think Sylph would let herself loose on her angel? I bet she never even tried in those fights.” Cerilla stared at the two women in the arena, a goddess and her archon.

“But today, Mathilde isn’t Sylph’s angel anymore.”

****

Mathilde lifted her right foot up, her whole body burning with divine magic. The moment she stomped down, a shockwave washed over the whole arena, shaking the seats and almost blowing everyone watching away if Arad didn’t protect them with a barrier.

“The ground survived that?!” Merida gasped as she looked at the arena. This was the place where Sylph fought and trained, so it made sense that the arena was highly durable.

“Wait, that was just a stomp, a physical one with no magic?” Dalla mumbled, looking at Merida’s frowning face.

CLANG! Sylph took a single step forward, her heels leaving a dent in the solid floor as her whole body flashed with divine light, as several halos and sparks of pure radiance burned around her. She moved her hand, and a long vine whip emerged in her palm.

Dalla blinked from Sylph’s intense light, and the next thing she saw made her freeze in place. Mathilde was smashed into the wall of the arena with her whole body riddled with whip marks and gaping wounds. Sylph, on the other hand, stood alone in the middle of a crater, her body bruised and dented, her lower jaw nowhere to be seen.

“What…” Dalla gasped and quickly noticed that there wasn’t a single crater in the arena now, but there were hundreds of them.

“The fight is over.” Arad said, and everyone else looked at the arena, baffled.

“I only saw a blur.” Merida growled, and Arad shrugged, “I saw the fight whole. I’d say it’s a draw, neither of them can keep fighting.”