Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

Before he could even gather his thoughts, he realized he was standing on solid ground, but on water. If one looked carefully, they would notice it was fully black and impossibly cold, not to mention the complete silence and the stillness of the water, rippling only beneath his feet.

But then, suddenly, a ripple appeared in the water, and something in the shadows moved quickly, like a figure birthed from the depths of hell.

Whatever it is... it looks familiar... wait... is that Aureve? But... she looks much younger, at least twenty years younger or so... Sylvaris could see the familiar curves, though not as developed, she was far more petite and youthful.

She appeared from the mist without a word, her blue eyes empty of life or emotion, face twisted by rage and sorrow. She was definitely not the woman who had clung to him in bed just moments ago, but a phantom of her grief, of the past that had scarred her beyond healing. And in her hand was a blade forged entirely from flame, flickering like the fury in her heart.

She lunged at him without warning.

Too fast! Sylvaris's instincts screamed.

He barely had time to draw. His sword left its sheath in a blur of instinct, steel meeting flame with a burst of heat and sound, but he was a step too slow. The water beneath him gave way, as if rejecting his stance, and the impact of the collision sent him flying into the distance. He tried to twist his body midair to stabilize himself, but it was useless.

His body hit the surface like he was hitting solid rock, back-first, the cold cutting through him like a thousand needles.

And then the back of his head struck the cold surface of the water. It happened so instantly — the water swallowed him whole, until his body was slowly drifting far into the cold embrace of death.

Everything turned black again.

My lungs are filling with water... every breath feels like knives. Fuck... I can't think straight. Everything's slipping, as if I'll fall asleep and never wake up... I'm not ready to die yet. No. I can't give up! I refuse to succumb to this!

I won't die.

I'll claw my way out of this, no matter what, because I haven't even built my dream harem yet… hah... I'm losing it. I'm really going crazy…

like chains. His limbs felt heavy, his chest ready to burst. But even as everything dimmed, he forced a bitter grin, because he knew — somewhere out there, a crazy woman was still waiting for him, even if he escaped.

After what felt like a good ten minutes, or maybe longer, something changed.

A sudden pull tugged at him.

It wasn't violent or abrupt. More like a thread, invisible but real, tugging at his chest, drawing him toward something... or at least someone. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a whisper in the dark, a presence reaching for him across the veil. It was so warm and familiar that he could not resist it.

His fingers twitched. His heart jolted once. Twice. And then he heard a faint, muffled voice calling his name through the thick, endless water.

Sylvaris…

It wasn't the system — he was sure of that. It wasn't even fear that guided him to death... No... It was something softer, as if it were something real.

The pain still lingered, his body still screamed, but the pull gave him something to move toward. And that was enough.

His legs kicked. His hands clawed upward blindly. He had no idea which direction was the surface, but he chased the warmth anyway.

The world around him was no longer water, no longer darkness. It was... a familiar world, as if it were a long-lost memory.

The air turned sharp, like the sting of cold steel, and light began to bleed into the edges of his vision. Sylvaris found himself standing in the middle of a clearing from long ago, the trees swaying softly, the smell of blood and dirt thick in the air. He looked down at his boots — they were somehow dry, as if untouched by water — but when he looked ahead of him, there stood the scene burned into his soul, though he'd never truly seen it.

The day everything changed.

Is that...? Me? What the hell is going on? His eyes turned bloodshot.

He saw his younger self first. It was when he was just a child, no older than three — bare feet soaked in blood, horns jutting from his head, dark leathery wings twitching behind his back. In his tiny hands, the severed head of a monstrous bear beast still dripped onto the forest floor.

And then he heard a soft voice.

Her voice.

"I'm telling you, you should simply drown him, and then the problem would be solved..."

The words struck harder than a blade. Sylvaris turned his head slowly, anger pooling in his chest. And there she was — Aureve. Not broken, not soft like she had been in his arms. No, this was her before the years of regret. She was still young and proud, extremely cold and unimaginably beautiful.

Her arms were crossed, lips drawn into a scowl, eyes sharp as ice.

"This thing isn't your son anymore, Arathor," she said, and her tone sent chills even through the watching Sylvaris. "It's a demon. A monster. You want to risk the entire bloodline because your pride can't let go?"

The other wives muttered, some agreeing, some silent. But she'd been the first.

The first to condemn him.

Sylvaris stood frozen, his adult body rooted to the memory, unable to look away. She didn't even hesitate when she said it. She didn't falter. She believed it. She wanted him dead.

Arathor simply watched his son giggle like a normal baby, but the demon horns on his head were screaming that he was no longer the son he once loved.

This has to be a fake memory… I… I don't remember any of this… I… I turned into a demon?Fuck, that's sick as hell. I love it!

But wait… why can't I do that anymore? Were all of them here responsible for that? Could it be… since she's here, I'm now able to see her memories? And she regrets it?

Hah… hahah! What a beautiful twist of fate. Very nice.

Let's see how this turns out… because I want to know exactly what my father did to me back then.

His thoughts were colder than steel — and soon, Sylvaris would find out more than he ever asked for.