God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

Kafka's gaze sharpened as he studied his mother. She was clearly lost in her own turmoil, her eyes flickering with fear and reluctance, but he refused to let her escape.

"I have plenty of questions." He said, every word careful, his tone carrying the kind of gravity that admitted no retreat. "There are countless things I want to ask you. But there's one question that has haunted me since childhood, one question that's never left my mind. Even now, standing here in front of you, it claws at me louder than anything else."

Vanitas felt her throat tighten, while Kafka drew in a slow breath, as though he were physically dragging the words from the core of himself.

"Why?" His gaze sharpened. "Why did you abandon me?"

Vanitas's eyes widened, the color draining from her face. She had expected many things, accusations, perhaps questions about power or heaven, but not this, not so soon.

"Seraphina paints it as regret. She says you despised that decision, that it ate you alive until it consumed you entirely...Fine." Kafka pressed, relentless. "But that isn't the answer I want. I don't want the aftermath. I want the beginning."

"Why? What made you do it? What reason could possibly justify abandoning me? That's what I want to know...Answer me honestly, before anything else."

Her throat tightened, her lips parting soundlessly. The question gripped her like a gag at her throat.

"K-Kafka...wait." Finally, she managed a broken whisper. "Do you truly want to start with this? Could you not ask me something else first? Something simpler?"

She forced a shaky laugh that sounded closer to pleading.

"You could ask what the heavens look like. Or the scope of my power. Or even the secrets of the universe. Anything, anything but this. Those I can answer with ease. I know everything in existence, and yet...this question—"

"No. I don't want any of that." Kafka cut her off, his head shaking with cold certainty. "I don't care what the heavens look like or what power you wield. This is the only question that matters to me. This is the question I've waited my entire life to ask."

His voice sharpened, his conviction unbreakable.

"And I won't move from this spot until you answer me honestly...Why did you abandon me?"

Vanitas's lips quivered. She wanted to turn away, to escape, but then she caught the unwavering fire in his eyes. It was a look that told her he would never let this go.

If she refused now, if she evaded him again, she would lose him forever and slowly, painfully, she realized she had no choice but to answer.

"Fine…" She whispered, taking a step back as though putting distance might make the confession easier.

Her hands trembled slightly as she drew in long, steadying breaths. She was Lady Vanitas, Sovereign of Life and Death, and yet in this moment, she looked like a woman cornered by her own past.

Finally, after gathering the nerve, she raised her gaze back to Kafka, her beautiful eyes heavy with resignation.

"The reason I abandoned you…" She began slowly, her voice thick. "It wasn't a vast conspiracy. No curse. No rival's interference. Nothing like that."

Her words fell like stones in silence.

"The truth is painfully simple." She admitted, her lips trembling. "It was my pride. I abandoned you because of my pride."

"...Because I am the incarnation of pride itself...and I could not accept you as my child."

Kafka's breath hitched. Of all the possibilities he had envisioned over the years, this was not among them. He had imagined coercion, danger, some cruel twist of fate.

He had prepared himself for curses, or ugliness, or weakness.

But this, this naked confession of vanity, felt unreal.

"What…?" His voice cracked, his confusion turning into disbelief. "What do you mean? How does pride make you abandon a newborn? I don't understand."

"...Explain it to me. How do you look at your child and walk away, just because of pride?"

Her face paled. His eyes were too sharp, too inquisitive, as if stripping away the masks she wore. She looked terrified, like prey cornered by a predator.

Kafka noticed it immediately. He softened just enough to steady her.

"Calm down." He said firmly, but not unkindly. "I'm not judging you, at least, not yet. The past is the past. Right now, I only want to know. Nothing else."

"...So speak. Speak truthfully. Don't fear what I'll think. Just tell me."

His words hit deeper than anger could have. Vanitas' lips quivered, and she realized that for him, this was not cruelty, it was necessity. He needed to know. He deserved to know. And there was no longer any escape.

Her voice lowered, almost trembling as she spoke

"The truth is..." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "...that in the beginning...I never even wanted a child."

"I always thought the act of producing a demi-god was utterly useless. In the process, a part of our own power would be given to the child, and we would lose our power a little bit. I couldn't understand why anyone would give away their power just to have another version of themselves."

She paused, as if thinking.

"At that time, I was still the epitome of pride. I only thought about myself, and I had no sense of family or love...No." She corrected herself. "I did have a sense of love, but it was only toward myself. I loved only myself, and nothing else."

"I always thought that whenever another true god gave birth, it was a fool's decision, and they would regret it in the end."

She then raised her gaze and looked at Kafka.

"...But that all changed after a certain occasion occured and realised that I did want a child after all all."

Kafka listened carefully, his eyes wide with intrigue as to where this was going. Seraphina also listened, even though she already knew most of the truth.

Vanitas drew in a long breath, her gaze flickering between Kafka and the floor as if she wished she could vanish into the ground. Still, she forced herself to continue.

"One day..." She began softly. "...the gods above decided to hold a small gathering. Normally, I never went to such things, I always thought them a waste of time, parades of self-congratulation."

"But that day...I was bored. And I thought, why not? Why not go and see what they were doing, if only to amuse myself at their expense?"

"And?" Kafka tilted his head, curiosity burning in his eyes.

"That...was the day everything changed." Her voice lowered, taking on an almost embarrassed edge. "Because that was where I saw something that unsettled me more than anything else. Something that made me...want to bear a child."

Kafka frowned, leaning closer. "What did you see? What could possibly make you, the same person who disdained having a child, want to have a baby?"

Vanitas shook her head, her lips tightening, as if ashamed to admit it.

"It wasn't anything magnificent. No revelation, no mind-bending truth. It was simply this: when I arrived, I saw the children of several True Gods. Daughters. And their parents…" Her eyes narrowed faintly. "They were showing them off. Boasting. Speaking so proudly of them. Not of themselves, but of their children."

"So?" Kafka raised an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. "What's so astonishing about that?"

Her voice grew sharper, tinged with irritation as though the memory still stung.

"You don't understand. They introduced their daughters as though they were priceless treasures. They spoke as though their entire existence revolved around them, as though their children were their true pride, not their own accomplishments. And I...I couldn't comprehend it."

"For someone like me, pride always began and ended with myself. Why would anyone exalt another when they could exalt themselves?"

Kafka chuckled under his breath. "So what, you got jealous? Jealous of some bragging mothers?"

"It wasn't jealousy...It was irritation." Her eyes flashed, embarrassed but defensive. "They spoke as though their little demi-gods were destined to surpass the heavens themselves."

"Yet when I looked at them, all I saw were half-bloods with scraps of power. Nothing worth such worship. Their pride in them felt...false. And worse, I had no way to counter it."

"I couldn't compare myself to their children, that would be beneath me. Childish. And yet, I couldn't silence them either. Their pride was untouchable and that false pride was something I couldn't accept, worse being I couldn't do anything to change it."

Her tone hardened as she looked straight into her son's eyes with conviction, the same look she has back then as she said,

"But that was when I thought...what if I had a child of my own? Not a weakling like theirs, but one born from me, the most powerful of true gods."

"My child would surpass them all. My child would demolish their illusions and expose their pride as empty...If I bore a child, I could silence them forever."

"So let me get this straight." Kafka's smirk widened. "You wanted a child not out of love, not out of some longing for family...but just so you could brag? So you could shove it in their faces that your child was better than theirs?"

Her cheeks flushed faintly, though her chin lifted in defiance.

"Yes. As shameful as it is to admit now, that was my reason. I wanted to show everyone that if any demi-god could be called perfect, it would be mine. I wanted to put them all beneath me."

Kafka let out a sharp laugh. "Unbelievable. You had me because of your vanity. Because you wanted to win some cosmic pissing contest."

Her lips tightened, but she didn't deny it.

He then sighed, rubbing his forehead, then looked back at her. "So what happened after that little epiphany?"

"After the gathering, I returned to my temple." Her eyes softened, her voice lowering. "I sat alone, in silence. And I let my consciousness sink into the fabric of the cosmos itself. I wove through fate-lines, scattered arrays across creation, and let my will imprint upon the universe."

"And the universe responded. It placed a child within me...That is you, Kafka. The world gave me you."

Kafka blinked, his mouth twitching at the absurd statement he just heard that made no sense at all.

"Wait. Wait, hold on. You're telling me you just...meditated? And the universe magically put a baby in you? What happened to the usual way children are made? You know, a man, a woman, some...cuddling involved?"

But hearing this, a look of utter disdain appeared on Vanitas's face as if she had heard of something despicable.

"Why would I do something like that? With another man?" She said, the words dripping with revulsion. "That's a revolting act. I would never do something like that with a mortal man, after all for a True God to reproduce, they can do it on their own. We don't need another man involved."

Kafka's eyes widened, his voice almost cracking.

"So...wait. That means I don't even have a father? You're telling me it's just you? You're both my mother and the reason I exist?"

"Yes." Vanitas met his eyes with calm certainty. "You have no father...Only me."

Kafka turned toward Seraphina, searching for confirmation and she inclined her head without hesitation.

"She speaks the truth. That is how True Gods reproduce. They need no partner."

"Damn...that completely caught me off guard." Kafka ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. "I never even thought about a father. Honestly, with the way my life's been—men were always the ones after me, while women were the ones who saved me, I never really thought of fatherhood as anything good."

"But to hear I never even had one...and that I was born from some weird cosmic meditation…" He shook his head with a crooked smile. "Still strange to think about."

He then glanced back at his mother, studying her.

"Well, never mind me...Go on, continue your story."

As he said that, a strange, fleeting thought crossed his mind as he looked at Vanitas.

His beautiful mother, the one who gave birth to him...was a virgin.

He didn't know why this thought came to his mind, but he didn't dwell on it and simply ignored it while listening closely to what Vanitas had to say next...