Infinite Harem System: I Grow Stronger From Every Female Lead

In a battlefield at the very end of the universe.

The stench of blood hung heavy in the air, thick enough to suffocate the heavens themselves.

Broken banners fluttered in the faint breeze, carrying no pride, only the stink of death.

The soil had long since disappeared beneath a mountain of corpses—gods, beasts, and mortals alike, reduced to nothing but pale reminders of a war too long endured.

At the summit of that carnage, a lone figure sat.

His snow-white lashes hid half-lidded crimson eyes, and his long white hair clung damply to his bare shoulders.

With a sword in one hand, he seemed less a warrior than a reaper who had simply grown tired of his work.

Below him, crawling from the blood and entrails, was the last god of this world.

The so-called Evil God of World 7777777.

His once-radiant form had withered into something desperate, pale hands clutching at the filth as he dragged himself forward.

His voice cracked as he raised it toward the figure above him.

"Spare me," he croaked, bowing his head in abject submission. "Please… I will serve. I will repent. I—"

The figure did not answer.

The god raised his head, eyes trembling, his body shaking as though the silence itself pressed against his throat.

"What… what the hell even are you?" he whispered, half in awe, half in horror.

The man stood slowly.

Sword fragments slipped from his hand, dissolving into motes of light that scattered on the wind.

With a single leap he landed in front of the groveling god.

His feet didn't even make a sound as he crouched low.

A pale finger touched the god's lips.

"Shh…"

It wasn't a threat. And the god knew that.

And as if listening to his command, the world grew still, not even a wind made a noise.

The god froze.

He did not even notice the way his mouth sealed itself shut as though commanded by some primordial law.

He did not notice the faint tremor in Arthur's crimson eyes.

And he did not notice when his head fell from his shoulders.

Arthur had not moved.

The body crumpled, faceless in death, while the head rolled across broken stone, eyes still wide with disbelief.

Arthur rose, stretching his arms as though waking from a long nap.

His gaze swept across the field of ruin—the endless mountain of corpses, the fading light of broken heavens.

"That's the last of them, right?" he murmured.

The silence offered no answer.

Only the wind began moving again, carrying the stench of burnt divinity into the night.

Two hundred years.

That was how long it had been since Arthur began killing the gods.

Before he began he went to find the traces of the old God.

With his powers it didn't take that long to find.

The old God was long dead. However he still left for Arthur a message.

In it, Arthur learned how the world truly functioned.

How the "System" had been built—not as a gift, but as chains, forcing him into the role of caretaker.

It was infuriating.

Like inheriting a company you never applied for.

Forced to work. Forced to maintain order, balance, time, and causality itself.

But it wasn't a position that forced him to be a slave.

No. His predecessor had given the helm.

He was God now.

Though throughout the war, he had been far too inadequate to be a leader.

That was why he had to give a special thanks to his friends and all those who chose to become gods too.

Some, like Eric, had been lazy beyond belief.

But after a century under Nathira's command, even he had changed.

His mother, Alicia, and his sisters had taken roles across the galaxy.

His wives had by far the most important roles as the seven pillars and one star of the world.

His concubines on the other hand served as the main gods of different universes governing under smaller gods.

Without them he couldn't have completed any of this.

Now, the last god was gone.

The long war was over.

It was time to go home.

Arthur glanced down at himself—bare chest streaked with golden blood.

Even after the war he hadn't gotten even one battle scar.

He sighed.

"I need some clothes."

Before he could say another word, his crimson eyes darted upward when the sky darkened.

The shadow of vast wings blotted out the sun as a dragon descended, scales glistening in the dying light.

She landed with a thundering quake, the battlefield trembling under her massive form.

Arthur smirked. "Echidna. You're late."

The dragon exhaled smoke, her great head lowering as she narrowed her icy blue eyes.

"I know you're my master," she rumbled, "but making me fight in this mess is madness. Even for you."

Arthur chuckled and leapt lightly from the corpses, landing on her scaled white back with effortless grace.

"You're a peak Supreme now. This much should be easy for you."

Her tail lashed. "You're Void Rank. Don't compare your strength to mine."

Arthur leaned back against one of her horns, stretching lazily. "Fair enough."

"Where to, then?" she asked, wings already beating as they lifted into the air.

Arthur's eyes softened, the battlefield shrinking beneath them.

"Take me to Earth," he said quietly. "I want to visit Mi-kyong's grave."

The moment the great dragon took off the sky split and her form flew through the galaxy in an instant.

In less than a secon a blue orb with green streaks came into few.

Earth.

So small. So fragile.

It had been his home once, but now it felt so little looking at it.

As soon as they entered, Arthur was greeted with the familiar scent of his home planet.

Below, a child playing in the streets froze, his ball rolling from his hands as a shadow passed over him.

He looked up—jaw slack—as a dragon vast as a building glided across the sky, blotting out the sun.

He would tell the story for years, but none would believe him.

Arthur paid it no mind.

Echidna descended, her form shrinking as she landed near the rooftop of an old building.

Mi-kyong's family home.

Or rather, what was left of it.

Time had turned it into a cemetery, the rooftop now filled with gravestones, humble and unadorned, yet tended with care.

Arthur walked slowly, his bare feet silent on the stone.

In his hand, he carried offerings—a bowl of rice, alcohol, and incense sticks.

The traditional Korean way.

The way Mi-kyong would have laughed at him for fumbling through.

He set them gently at her grave, fingers lingering on the stone.

Her name was etched deep, but it felt shallow compared to the weight she had left on him.

Arthur sat cross-legged.

"Mi-kyong," he whispered. His voice trembled. "It's been… more than two hundred years now."

The incense smoke curled in the air, carrying his words upward.

"You know, your bullshit… my youth, right? I had to fight gods for two hundred long years."

He smiled faintly, shaking his head. "But your bullshit gave me this too."

He touched the grave, fingers trembling.

"I guess I can forgive you for it..." Hie voice trailed off.

"Even though you're a lunatic I still miss you."

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he laughed softly. "But hey… if you want to come back, my doors are always open."

The wind stirred, carrying the faintest sound of laughter—or perhaps just memory.

"So..."

His words trailed off yet again.

It seemed not having a conversation for so long was taking its toll on him.

Arthur stood slowly, dusting his hands.

His gaze lingered one last time on her name.

Then he turned.

Echidna stood some meters away, no longer a dragon but a woman. Her long white hair shimmered in the wind, eyes full of quiet respect as she waited.

"You done?" she asked softly.

Arthur nodded.

She stepped closer. "Where to now?"

Arthur glanced at the sky.

His crimson eyes burned with weariness, but also with something deeper.

"Home," he said. "Let's go back home."

The word carried across the wind, heavy with two centuries of burden, two centuries of loss, two centuries of war.

Home.

Finally.

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Author's Note:

First of all, thank you all for following this story all the way to the very end.

Writing it has been a long journey filled with battles, laughter, grief, and burnouts.

None of it would have been possible without you, the readers, who stuck with the story through every chapter, every twist, and every silence between updates.

This is where the journey officially ends.

The war has closed, the characters have found their peace, and I hope you felt that same sense of closure turning these last pages.

Endings are never easy, not for the writer and not for the reader—but endings are also new beginnings.

Which is why I'd like to invite you to join me on my next adventure in the upcoming WPC.

My new novel: The Legendary Programming Mage.

This story follows Allen Park, the world's greatest programmer and most notorious hacker.

After betrayal destroys his crew and the government hunts them down,

Allen takes one final act of revenge—plunging the world into chaos before his death.

But that isn't where his story ends.

He wakes up in the body of Allen Vanderbilt, a useless side character from a novel his boss once gave him.

In this strange world, technology doesn't exist. Instead, everything runs on a magical equivalent—from phones to cars.

But Allen quickly discovers that magic is nothing more than code, and if there's code, he can hack it. Debug it. Encrypt it. Break it.

And with that realization, he knows: his second life has only just begun.

If you enjoyed this story, I promise you'll find something to love in this new one too. Let's take another journey together.

– Water7

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─── ✦ The End ✦ ───