Supreme Bloodline Evolution System

Chapter 199: The Seven Elven Beauties

The day slowly stretched into the night, and the night stretched into the pale glow of sunrise, yet the king and his beloved had still not stepped outside. Nobody dared to disturb Max. Not after he had worked without rest, shaping stone, raising homes, carving roads, and pouring his magic into the very bones of the new capital so that his people could finally have something that resembled a future.

Most of the dragons were still trying to understand how the strange systems inside their houses worked. Some were confused by the pipes hidden behind the walls, others by the strange bathrooms, showers, cooking stations, and magic-powered devices that Max had created as if they were the most normal things in the world.

Many nearly racked their brains trying to make sense of it all, while the quicker adapters moved from house to house, proudly explaining how everything worked as though they had always known it.

The leaders of the four family houses did not remain idle either. Each of them moved out with several thousand clansmen, choosing different directions around the capital where they would begin building cities of their own.

They did not want to drag Max out for every problem, every road, every wall, and every roof.

Their king had already done more than enough. If he continued to do everything alone, the people would only grow lazy and soft, and every hardworking person understood that a kingdom raised without effort from its people would never stand for long.

Those who stayed behind in the capital began working the land around the city. Fields had to be prepared, soil had to be cleared, and irrigation had to be figured out before hunger became a problem that no amount of magic could easily solve.

There were simply too many people for all of them to remain in one city forever. Max had given them shelter, safety, and a beginning, but there was still no official currency, no complete administration, and no perfect answer for how such a massive population would sustain itself.

Because of that, many commoners began moving out of the capital and building their own simple houses near the fields.

They wanted to stay close to the work, to the soil, and to the food that would keep the kingdom alive, instead of growing too comfortable inside the city Max had created for them.

People were not built for endless relaxation in lands as chaotic as these, especially not when the shadow of war always seemed to hang somewhere beyond the horizon.

For now, those who traded for food and goods continued using the old currencies of their fallen empires. Merchants had already begun moving beyond the borders, seeking better relationships with human kingdoms and dwarven lands, where grain, metal, tools, and craftsmen could still be found.

Others, especially the more opportunistic ones, had set their sights on the elven lands, where a new government was taking over and where every shift in power opened doors for those bold enough to walk through them first.

With Max still secluded with his beloved and absent from the burdens of rule, the four family heads had sent their own representatives to the elven capital to set the first new rules.

They were not meant to destroy what remained of elven society, nor were they foolish enough to let the conquered people govern themselves without supervision. For now, the dragons watched, judged, and waited.

It had not been long since the elves had called themselves free. Now, they were treated with enough fairness that no open rebellion could easily be justified, but they all knew the truth beneath that fragile peace. Their freedom had been taken from them, their emperor was gone, and everything they had left survived only because King Maximus allowed it to survive.

Nobody dared to sit on the throne in the elven capital. The great seat remained empty, untouched by dragon or elf alike, and somehow that made it feel heavier than if a conqueror had claimed it.

Restlessness was rising through the city. Most of the men were dead, leaving behind only those who were sick, old, wounded, or too young to carry the burden of restoring what the war had taken from them, and because of that, most of the surviving women had been forced to step forward.

In one of the palace gardens, seven elven beauties sat beneath a roof of twisting vines and perfect green leaves, with white marble paths winding around them and a fountain spilling crystal-clear water into a shallow pool. The place looked almost heavenly, but the mood among them was anything but peaceful.

"Sisters, this is our only chance to take back our own rule. We cannot let our emperor’s name be tarnished. All he built... this—" The young elven woman stopped herself the moment she saw a dragon soldier passing by, his eyes shifting toward them with quiet suspicion as he walked along the edge of the garden.

She looked no older than twenty, though her real age was far above that. Her silky golden-pink hair fell below her shoulders and continued all the way to the marble bench she sat upon, soft and bright enough to make her look delicate at first glance, though the anger in her eyes ruined that illusion completely.

"Keep it down, Ilyndessa," a young elven woman with short golden hair whispered sharply. She wore thin, large, round glasses, the black frame making her pale face look even sharper and more composed than the others.

The seven women all glared at the dragon soldier, making their hatred clear enough that even silence could not hide it. The man only snorted, unimpressed, then turned away and continued his patrol as though they were nothing more than angry birds trapped inside a beautiful cage.

"Do not be angry at her, Aeravelle," another woman said, her voice calm but low. "We are all thinking about how to get rid of this Maximus and his tyrannical rule..."

This time, the speaker was a woman with bright crimson hair, the color almost violent against her pale white skin. It gave her a sickly elegance, as though illness and beauty had somehow mixed together to create something fragile, dangerous, and unforgettable.

"Thank you, Rosethae." Ilyndessa smiled softly at the crimson-haired beauty.

But the most dangerous of them was the elven woman with curly green hair. She wore a silky cream-colored dress that barely covered her large chest and wide hips, the fabric flowing around her body with a softness that made the dagger in her hand look even more out of place.

She toyed with the weapon as though it were nothing more than a pretty ornament, letting it spin between her fingers while the crimson gem embedded at the bottom of the handle flashed beneath the sunlight. The blade itself was strange, curved like a snake and shaped for movements too cruel and precise to belong on a battlefield.

Nobody had managed to take it from her. Not the dragon soldiers, not the representatives who had come to set the new order, and not even those who wanted every surviving elf disarmed before they could become a threat.

She was simply too powerful to be treated like the others, and that strength was the only reason all seven of them had been left alive inside the citadel instead of being dragged away or separated. She was the wife of the past emperor, a widow now, and there was nothing more dangerous than a woman who had lost her crown, her husband, and everything she was supposed to fear losing.

Her gaze swept over all of them. "I’ll go meet him," she said confidently.

The dagger spun once more, cutting the air with a sharp whisper before landing back in her hand, and somehow that tiny sound made the silence after it feel much louder.

"Shaelvyn, are you out of your mind?" another one snapped. She had black hair tied in a messy bun, and her furious eyes looked Shaelvyn up and down as if she could not believe such stupidity had just come from her mouth.

"Calm down, sister Arissavel. She definitely has a plan, right?" a barely audible voice asked softly. She looked younger than the others, almost timid, with silver hair tied into two pigtails that fell down over her enormous breasts.

"She is an assassin after all, Xyranthia," the seventh woman added with an amused smile. She sat with a smug expression, her long nails resting against her cheek while her pink hair fell in a single tail over one shoulder.

"Thank you for your interference, Myrathien, but I do not need your snake-like tongue meddling in my affairs," Shaelvyn replied, her voice cold enough to make the words feel like blades.

It was obvious from one glance that the two of them despised each other. Their eyes locked for a moment, and the air between them sharpened so quickly that the others seemed almost used to it.

Myrathien only smiled gently, though there was nothing gentle about it. The smile was fake, polished, and poisonous enough that almost every woman present could see through it.

"We do not have time for another duel," Ilyndessa said, rolling her eyes as she stood. "Save that until after we take back control of our empire."

The moment she rose, even Shaelvyn’s gaze lowered slightly.

"Tell us your detailed plan," Ilyndessa ordered.

Shaelvyn nodded and glanced around the garden, making sure no dragon soldier was close enough to hear them. Then she smirked, the dagger rising once more between her fingers.

"I have heard that this so-called King Maximus is a womanizer," she said, letting the blade fall through the air before catching it perfectly by the handle. "I will use that to kill him."