Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

Below, Pyris moved with Elsa and Alera. No crown. No title. No divine sigil aglow on his brow. And yet the world curved around him like gravity itself had grown envious. Nobles drifted out of his way unconsciously. Some stared and forgot why. Others whispered his name with the reverence of prayer or the tremble of fear. And most—poor fools—didn't even realize why their knees felt weak.

But Zalaria knew why. Always did, now more saw after what she'd witnessed tonight and the visions she just had when Song had stopped that attack.

"He's not a mortal," she said, voice dropping.

Selene didn't flinch. "No one important and significant is."

Now Zalaria turned—slowly, like a storm changing direction.

"You want the truth, don't you?" Selene said nothing. But silence, for her, was an answer more loaded than any confession.

So Zalaria inhaled—once. And began.

"I Saw him again. Not the vision told you where you die screaming beneath a sky on fire." A pause, brittle and cold. "That's still coming."

Selene didn't react. Not even a blink.

"I Saw him… surrounded by women."

Selene's eyebrow almost twitched.

"Not lovers. Not concubines. No—forces. Powers. Concepts made flesh. Realms that walk. And they all orbit him like moons to a black star. One burns for him. Another fears him. And one…"

Zalaria's breath caught. "One almost tried kill him… while he was saving."

Selene's gaze sharpened. "The Child of the Moon?"

Zalaria's voice thinned. "Selera Moonveil. Still dormant. But now that the moon fractured, she'll awaken. And when she does… reality cracks."

"And Pyris?"

"He saved her," Zalaria said. Then, bitterly, "And in doing so—nearly destroyed us all but he saved us too it's just that... he unleahsed the wrath of Fate onto the mortal realm for disrupting the strings of fate."

Selene tilted her head, voice flat. "Then maybe we deserve it."

Zalaria spun. "Don't you dare play cold with me. I've Seen how you look at him." Selene didn't deny it. She never did. But Zalaria was already moving, already falling deeper into the echo of what she'd Seen. "He's just the Champion of Lilith," she whispered. "That path closed when the moon wept at him after saving it's child. No… he walks a different current now."

Her voice dropped lower.

"Darker. Deeper."

She leaned closer. "He is the Champion of Lust. Touched by Lilith. Chosen by the Endlesses."

Selene blinked. Just once.

Zalaria's voice trembled—not in fear. In awe.

"He was chosen by the one who eats restraint and breathes out divinity. And what's worse—what even he doesn't know—is that he's not becoming it."

Her lips curled.

"He was always it."

"You're sure."

Zalaria's breath ghosted over the air. "I Saw it the moment the ichor kissed his soul. The pink ichor. Lust's essence. It melted into him like… like it was coming home."

Selene's jaw clenched. "Then what are we?"

Zalaria's eyes burned.

"The audience. The worshippers. The contenders."

She stepped forward.

"And in some cases… the sacrifices. Depends on which meaning we are to him."

Selene turned back toward the balcony rail, her gaze falling once more to Pyris. But this time—there was hesitation. Uncertainty.

"I heard Aurelia broke the barriers of incest for him."

Zalaria laughed, dry and sharp.

"She didn't break them. She burned them. That dragon doesn't serve Pyris. She belongs to him. Their bond predates oaths. It predates history. She would incinerate this realm and beg him for a second one to finish the job."

"And Alexa?" Selene asked, quieter now.

"The Child of the Godly Realm," Zalaria murmured. "The one who whispers to cosmic laws. She doesn't walk—she threads. She doesn't speak—she bends and goes against fates. And she's obsessed."

Selene's mouth tightened. "That makes her dangerous."

"Oh, they all are." Zalaria's laugh was a knife. "Alera—the necromancer who outlived her deity. One time in future she commands not just corpses, but memory. She can erase your name from time."

"Zara—the witch whose blood sings forbidden spells. Even magic will flinch before her."

"Nysa. That white-haired curse given form. She doesn't follow prophecy—she hunts it. She looked into my vision. She Saw me watching. And she smiled."

"Madeline. So ordinary, so invisible. But coiled in her is a legacy I don't dare name."

Zalaria's voice fell into frost.

"And still, at the center… Pyris. The eye of the coming storm. Every god, every girl, every grave—they orbit him. And none of them can leave."

She stepped forward—her eyes burning like twin moons eclipsing.

"I Saw you, Selene. Wings broken. Blood dripping. Hands outstretched. And Pyris…"

Selene didn't move.

"Didn't notice," she said, softly.

Zalaria nodded.

A silence stretched between them like a drawn bowstring.

"Maybe that's the future I deserve."

"No," Zalaria said, stepping closer. "That's the future you choose… if you do nothing."

Another beat passed.

Then Zalaria smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

"Besides… if you keep hesitating, I'll take him myself."

Selene turned sharply. "You're insufferable."

"Oh please. He's clearly got a thing for older women. Did you see how he looked at my cleavage? He was practically blushing."

"I'll throw you off this balcony."

"You say that every solstice."

They stood side by side again, the storm beneath them still swirling—unaware.

"I hate that you're always right," Selene muttered.

"I'm a Seer," Zalaria said. "It's literally the job."

Selene looked one last time at the man below—the boy, the god, the fire no one could extinguish. She inhaled. Exhaled. Then stepped back.

Like a sword returning to its sheath.

"I'll go."

Zalaria arched a brow. "Oh?"

"I'll remind him," Selene said, her voice a blade of its own, "what he should fear losing."

Zalaria's grin turned feral. "That's my girl."

Selene turned for the stairs. Her aura shifted—just slightly. And the divine echo of her wings shimmered, phantom-like, trailing behind her.

She didn't walk like someone in love.

She walked like someone preparing for war.

__

Emilia exhaled through her nose—a long, frustrated sigh that barely rustled the air. She stared down at her phone, its soft light illuminating the mild irritation carved into her flawless features.

She wasn't angry. Not truly. Just tired in that very specific, woman-of-power way that came from trying to manage the unmanageable.

Madeline turned to her gently, setting down her drink with the same controlled grace that made nobles nervous.

"What is it?" she asked.

Emilia didn't lift her eyes. Her fingers hovered above her screen like they were waiting for permission to speak.

"For months now," she murmured, "there's been this woman."

Madeline arched a brow.

"She's… strange," Emilia went on, voice low. "Mysterious. Said she wanted to meet Pyris. I told him about her back when he first took over Obsidian Tech, but—he's been too busy."

"And now?"

Emilia sighed again. "This morning, I promised her. I told her I'd make it happen today."

Madeline leaned in slightly. "And?"

Emilia's jaw tightened. "Lizzie just texted. The meeting with the Human Emperor's done—but now he's off seeing Esmeralda. Again. There's no free time left."

Madeline gave a slow nod. She understood all too well. She hadn't seen Pyris for more than three minutes all night, either.

Emilia typed quickly—then glanced up.

"Can you come with me, I feel like this woman is quite unusual?"

Madeline blinked. "You're going to see her now?"

Emilia nodded, eyes unreadable. "I don't know why. But I feel like… I have to make this meeting happen. Like something is riding on it. Something real."

Madeline didn't ask what. Succubi didn't get gut feelings. They got divine warnings wrapped in desire. She nodded once.

"Let's go."