Extra's Harem: Invincibility Starts with Marriage and lots of Children

Along the cobblestone pathway of the capital city, leading toward the central palace, a carriage bearing the insignia of Princess Aleriana made its way forward. Within it sat three distinct individuals—including a cat and a fairy.

Among them, one wore a particularly gloomy expression. A woman sat with her face buried in her hands, eyes blinking as she cast cold, angered glances at the only man in the carriage.

And then, she spoke again—repeating the same words.

"...Y-you kissed me..." Her voice was barely a whisper, yet the frustration in her tone was unmistakable. She glared at the man who had done something so unexpected, so outrageous, it was worthy of instant execution.

Yet she couldn't retaliate. She was still trying to wrap her mind around one question: how could someone so shameless even exist?

"Yeah, I'm sorry, darling. I was forced to marry that devilish princess who said she'd kill our unborn child," Kyle said, clenching his fist as he wailed in grief, his voice soaked in sorrow. He delivered his lines like the lead in a tragedy, proclaiming himself the broken man who had sacrificed everything for his family.

Then, in one smooth motion, he grabbed Maithili's hands from her cheeks and placed them on his chest.

"I... don't believe you—" Maithili's mouth twitched as she tried to pull her hands away, but Kyle was far stronger—and even more shameless—than she was.

'!'

'What? The princess said that?' Olea, meanwhile, narrowed her gaze, clearly shocked by Kyle's revelation. Until now, she'd doubted whether Maithili was telling the truth, but after the kiss—and now this confident declaration—she began to suspect there might be more to the story than she'd thought.

She knew Princess Ellariana to be manipulative. It wasn't beyond possibility that she had indeed coerced Kyle into marriage.

// Don't be fooled, Olea. That woman is acting—and so am I. //

As if reading her expression, Kyle spoke inwardly, knowing full well that the only person in the carriage who might believe such nonsense was Olea. For all her cluelessness about romance, she had probably already begun to doubt Ellariana.

'...Oh, I see.' Olea nodded slowly, meeting Maithili's gaze before folding her arms and closing her eyes.

If this truly was a battle of acting, then Olea believed no woman could match Kyle in either theatrics or shamelessness.

She already knew who the victor of this performance would be—and turned her focus inward, lost in thought.

Zwooooshhh

A sudden blast tore through the calm.

It wasn't sound; it was the surge pressure of internal energy.

A ripple of raw force rolled across the sky like thunder without noise. The carriage shuddered. Birds scattered. A faint golden shimmer cracked the horizon open like a rising storm.

'!'

Olea's head jerked up.

Eyes wide, breath caught—her instincts screamed louder than any words could.

"Stop the carriage!" Responding to sudden feelings and sensing a large amount of energy leakage, she called out.

The driver yanked the reins. Hooves skidded. The vehicle rocked as Olea threw the door open and leapt out, landing hard and sprinting a few steps before halting in the middle of the road.

"Olea...?" Kyle, observing the sudden panic on her face, instantly tried to feel any kind of intrusion within his domain but didn't feel anything, causing him to slowly move outside the carriage as he also leaped out.

Following his action, Maithili too moved out, coming out of the carriage.

Both of them were confused until they saw what she saw.

Above the distant treeline, an enormous ring of glowing script had ignited in the sky.

Symbols twisted and rotated, pulsing with blue and gold light, rising slowly like a crown into the clouds.

The air itself quivered.

Then came the movement.

Swish.

Figures shot into the air from rooftops and open fields, swords leaving trails of fire, wind, and lightning.

Ships surged through clouds, banners unfurling in gusts of Qi.

Others ran, boots slamming against stone, their robes snapping like flags behind them.

Kyle's eyes narrowed as he felt sudden movement within his domain, only to find a group of cultivators rushing past him on foot.

"Go, go, call the others—get Master Jhin now!"

"Form a strike party! Third wave to the western flank—move faster, damn it!"

"Set the beacon—we're not losing this to those sky rats!"

Another group, airborne, soared overhead as they barked commands mid-flight.

"If the Thousand Hands Sect gets there first, we're done. Cut west—avoid open skies!"

"Fools'll clash without formation! Secure a foothold before the vault opens!"

More cultivators swarmed by, some on foot, others riding beasts, shouting into sound talismans or waving signal flares.

"Mobilize the inner circle! Tell Lord Khai the Puppet Master's seal has triggered—NOW!"

Kyle just stood there, watching them pass.

Until now they were centered within the palace, having very minimal connection with the capital city. For the first time, he was seeing the number of cultivators, which was like the scenes from the movies or the stories he had read about; but to explain it, it was as if rain had poured.

It was as if a whole army was marching in a direction of more than a thousand people.

And all of them moving at an enormous inhuman pace as the nearby mortals were clearly shocked, some hugging their children, some grabbing wood, looking bewildered, with hands clasped from their sides, as this was the terror that soared from what the web of cultivators could do in this world.

And Kyle saw all this firsthand.

The horror on their faces, even though they were simply running toward the direction, made it more than enough for him to realize how puny mortals were.

His gaze slowly lifted to the swirling sigil in the sky, glowing like an eye of judgment.

He exhaled, barely a whisper.

"…Puppet Master's legacy."

The words lingered, pulled from the mouths of every cultivator rushing by.

But when Kyle spoke them, it felt like something heavier.

Anyhow, the plot had accelerated, and the day had come much sooner than he anticipated, due to yet another butterfly effect.

Olea didn't look away from the sky. "It's a legacy..." she murmured.

And above, the storm of factions surged—toward the sky, toward the legacy, toward war.

A war was inevitable as a legacy had appeared, something far more valuable for the cultivators to go for—the fruit to claim it.

"Olea."

A voice pulled her toward its direction. Turning and looking towards Kyle, her hair stood fluttering due to the gust produced by the surge of cultivators. His eyes black yet holding crimson and golden streaks looked toward the sky where the golden shimmer was enhancing his eyes.

"Prepare the Ghost Sect; I will claim the legacy for myself...."