Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

"Handle it?" he murmured, chuckling low under his breath as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with amusement, a little bit of pride, and the kind of arrogance only born from surviving the impossible. "You offer me power like it's a temptation... but you forget, I've already tasted it. I was born to carry what others can't. The only thing I need from you is to keep your word—because once I reach you... I won't be coming to ask for a gift."

He paused, lips curling into that familiar, dangerous smile—the kind that promised chaos or salvation, depending on where the blade fell.

"I'll be coming to take what's mine," he said, his voice low, calm, and full of certainty—but behind those words lay something far more dangerous, something deeper and entirely his own, a hidden meaning laced between the lines that only his wives would ever truly understand. It wasn't about power. Not entirely. It wasn't just about proving himself or saving the world or becoming some divine-chosen champion. No, what lingered behind that smile, what burned in the curl of his lips and the weight in his eyes, was something far more intimate, far more personal, as if he could already imagine himself claiming her body.

Even the goddess couldn't decipher it.

She heard his words, but she couldn't feel the heat behind them, couldn't see the twisted plans already blooming in his mind, because Sylvaris himself didn't know what she looked like yet, but he had a feeling. One he could only explain as a pull. A sort of knowing. Or maybe it was instinct. Perhaps it was the cursed blessing of the harem system in his soul whispering to him. Whatever it was, it told him one thing with complete certainty.

She had to be beautiful... And if she turned out to be anything close to what he imagined... Then she wouldn't just bless him with her powers, no... He would make sure she would beg on her knees for his dick, that was how arrogant and perverted this creature was. He never put anybody in his eyes, not even goddesses...

"Arrogant…" the voice responded at last, a silken edge of playful annoyance weaving through her tone, as if she were trying to sound offended but couldn't quite hide the amusement curling at the corners of her words. She might've been a little angry, after all, not many dared to speak to her like that, but deep down, she found it entertaining, maybe even refreshing, that he had the gall to address her not as a worshiper… but as a man who intended to touch what was supposed to remain divine.

I have watched over seventeen realms… her thoughts wandered, slow and deliberate, and this one… this one is the only mortal I've seen who didn't fall to his knees the moment he heard my voice… There was no worship in his tone, no fear behind his words, only boldness, which was staggering, arrogant, and exceptional.

Her gaze lingered on him longer than it should have, her eyes slightly distant, as if caught in the shimmer of something rare, some untamed gem pulled from the chaos of the mortal world, not yet refined, but already gleaming with a value she couldn't ignore. And in that breath, in that silence between thought and judgment, she now understood, truly understood, why Seraphina and Nyxaria had marked him, why they had stepped out of their divine stillness just to touch his path. Well… how could they not? she thought, the corners of her lips curling in the shadows of her private world. Look at him…

"But I like that," she said, her voice low, smooth, and touched with a warmth not often heard from the divine, "you sound very promising… and on top of that, you don't bend to anyone, which I respect more than you know." There was pride in her tone now, real and sharp, the kind of admiration not given freely but earned through something undeniable, and Sylvaris had earned it in a way that caught even her off guard.

"I can already see the day you face the demon lord, the moment that monstrous power crashes down on you, the kind of strength that should belong only to the gods—and still, you won't run. You won't kneel. You won't beg. You will fight. And if it comes to it… You will die standing, blade raised, eyes locked on your enemy without a flicker of fear. I respect that, young hero… and because of that, I will allow you to taste the power of gods... only if you clear this trial well. So go," her voice deepened, growing softer but heavier, a breath laced with heat and anticipation, "go and show me that your arrogance is earned, that your strength is not just noise, and that your power… your presence… is enough to make even a goddess like me feel the urge to submit."

Sylvaris stood amused, lips curled in that familiar smirk, his posture relaxed but his aura anything but. He didn't believe in promises whispered on divine winds—there was no such thing as free power, no gift without a chain wrapped around it, and if there were, he would've ascended already, crowned himself a god, or worse, something beyond the need for thrones. Power always came with a price, and he had no illusions about it.

"Dear goddess," he said, voice calm but edged like a blade fresh from the forge, "I will accept anything you throw at me, and no matter what challenge it is, I will crush it. Any power you offer, I'll take it without fear, without hesitation." His smirk widened, and the stars seemed to burn behind his golden gaze. "But if you ever dare to shackle me, if you ever try to bind me with those golden chains of yours, I will burn everything you hold dear. Hahaha! Give me more. Give me trials, monsters, gods, I want it all. I want to become the strongest being in this entire damn universe!"

His voice boomed like a war drum, echoing through the trial grounds, rattling the bones of everyone watching, so loud and filled with hunger that the crowd outside could do nothing but stare, horrified, shaken, silent. His women stood frozen, caught between awe and fear, their hearts pounding as they watched the man they loved declare open war against the heavens. And far above, in the realm untouched by mortals, Seraphina, the goddess of life herself, felt her heart twist, her breath hitching as she clutched the divine thread that tethered her to him. He had gone too far. Even she, who adored him, who watched him like a fool in love, now felt panic rise in her chest. He had crossed a line. She could feel it. She knew she would have to go to Valoria. She would have to kneel. She would have to beg.

But then, the silence shattered.

And what came next... what spilled from the mouth of the goddess of heroes, was something that not even the gods were prepared to hear.