Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

Step... step...

Soft footsteps echoed through the damp corridor, each one tapping against the stone walls like a whisper that refused to be silenced. The air was wet and thick, heavy with the scent of old rot and mold, the kind that settled in your lungs and refused to leave.

Only a few torches lined the passage, spaced far apart, their flickering flames casting uneven light across the stone. Between them stretched long, jagged shadows; pools of darkness that swallowed everything they touched. In those gaps, the figure walking remained hidden, their face masked by the veil of unlit space.

Step... step...

The footsteps grew clearer, closer, a quiet rhythm full of weight and purpose. And then, finally, the figure reached their destination—a cell of rusted bars, groaning under the weight of time, and within it, four women sat chained, their heads low, their eyes dulled by silence and suffering. The figure reached out, their fingers curling around the cold iron. The hand was pale, elegant, unmistakably feminine, with long nails painted a deep, gleaming red.

"Poor children..." The voice that followed was soft, familiar—too familiar. It slipped through the bars like silk, curling into the hearts of those inside and tightening something that had long been still.

"Aureve?" The voice that answered was weak but unmistakable, spoken by Liraeth, Sylvaris's beloved, her voice cracked by a week of silence, her heart straining with sudden hope.

They had been imprisoned here for days now, abandoned in the aftermath of the trial. Ever since Sylvaris had vanished into the broken realm, the world had shifted. People still whispered about that day. The man who shattered the rules. The man who showed a power no one could understand, just before the mana screens went black. A man now believed to be lost forever.

The man they loved.

And the one the world had already started to forget.

The hood slipped from her head, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman who looked no older than her mid-twenties. Flawless, radiant, the kind of beauty that once silenced rooms—but now, her eyes betrayed her. Red-rimmed, swollen from tears, they held a grief too old for her youthful face.

"Yes..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, soft as the air between heartbeats. "And I've come to get all of you out before they execute you… or sell you off to slavery." Her words were hushed, cautious; she knew better than to trust the silence. Even the guards she had paid off might still turn with the right offer, and she couldn't risk being overheard now.

But inside the cell, there was no spark of joy. The four women didn't move. They simply exhaled, all at once, a single breath of resignation shared like a ritual. It wasn't fear or sorrow—it was emptiness. Without Sylvaris, there was no freedom worth having. They didn't care whether they died here or out there. Without him, the world had no meaning, and even the hope of escape was nothing but ash on their tongues.

But Aureve refused to leave them in that silence.

She lifted her hand, and from her palm bloomed a small ember—black as the void, pulsing with unnatural heat. It hovered, weightless, then dropped. Within seconds, it expanded, a swallowing force that consumed the entire cell in silence: the stone, the air, the chains, and even her. When the guards finally stirred, drawn by a sudden absence they couldn't explain, they found nothing. Only an empty patch of dirt remained where the prison had once stood, a perfect circle of nothingness carved into the earth.

And none of them knew where the women had gone.

------

The man looked around, golden eyes scanning the vast emptiness around him, but there was no one—only tall, endless trees rising in the distance, their green leaves rustling faintly in the still air. His long black hair danced along with the wind, untamed and wild, a soft contrast to the sharp ache pulling through his body.

Sylvaris stood there alone, freshly torn from the broken rift, but there was no telling where he had ended up. No landmarks. No voices. No familiar energy to anchor him. Just silence. Thick. Unnatural.

"It's too quiet here… not even a single bird chirping," he murmured, the words barely more than breath, carried into the wind.

"This place… it's void of life. But why is it so green? Am I in heaven, or in hell? Or… is this still the living realm?" His voice trailed off as he took his first step, each movement a struggle. His muscles ached with every shift, his bones still sore from what had nearly broken him, but he moved forward regardless, dragged by instinct more than direction.

The heat pressed down on him like a curse; the sun blazed straight above, merciless and unmoving. There was no shelter except for the trees ahead—tall, lush, their leaves unnaturally thick and heavy, glistening with droplets of water that clung to their tips like tears.

Was it morning? Noon? It was impossible to tell. The light was flat, oppressive. Afternoon, perhaps. But the thirst in his throat and the burning on his skin made it hard to think of anything except the shade.

The forest loomed ahead like an invitation or a warning. And as he stepped closer, he noticed something strange—these trees were larger than any he had seen in Solaris. Thicker. Wilder. Older. Wherever he had ended up, it wasn't home. It wasn't Solaris. And if this place had a name, it wasn't one he had ever heard.

He walked slowly, and when the reached the tree ahead, he fell on his butt, pressing his back against the bark of the tree. He let out a heavy breath, and looked ahead, the shade made him cool down, and the soft wind gently tickled his skin, it felt good, but it didn't matter to him all that much, his mind was filled with his women, he didn't know how long had passed, and where they were now, were they still in the kingdom? Were they okay? Did the king let them go? Because if not, once he'd return, he would raise hell in the capital city...

His gaze drifted downward...

The system screen hovered silently before his eyes, glowing with its usual polished arrogance. First, the basics.

[Sylvaris Elyndor]

[Level 50]

Fifty?!? He had reached level fifty in that absurd, flaming hellstorm of a battle?

Look, author. That fight was already bordering on parody—he had more plot armor than a fortress built from dragon bone, and now you're telling me he leveled up this much? Through pure luck? Really? You may call me a nagging narrator, some meddling voice with no business poking around in the plot, but for the love of all that is logical—stop making this creep so broken! This isn't a power fantasy anymore; this is a divine joke! I would have rather watched him die dramatically in a puddle of blood than sit through this stat screen. But fine... let's take a look:

HP: 1650

MP: 855

Strength: 327

Magic: 373

Agility: 343

Intellect: 255

Defense: 295

Excuse me?

Those numbers are ridiculous. This isn't a level fifty character. This is a raid boss in disguise. He's at least twice as strong as he should be—and if that isn't favoritism, I don't know what is. What about me, huh? When do I get more attention in the story? Never? Great... That's just great... Fuck you!

Anyway...

Back to this trash story.

He looked lifeless. There was no joy in his eyes, no sadness either—just a hollow stillness, like he had used up every emotion and had nothing left to feel. But he saw the change, the system update, the confirmation of what had happened, and a small part of him thought, At least I can bask in this moment... Ahem...

But in his mind, his thoughts raced elsewhere. He immediately pulled up the Harem God System, afraid—terrified—that they might have been executed because of him. Yet there they were. All three of them: Aureve, Liraeth, and Faylira. Their names appeared clearly, and most importantly, so did one line beneath each.

[Status: Safe]

Relief washed over him, quiet and cold. They were alive. But the system didn't just stop there. Next to each name was a number, a distance reading that left him stunned—40321 kilometers. Wherever he was now, it wasn't home. He was on the opposite side of the world, possibly in an entirely different continent, and the road back would not be a short one. Even with his boosted level and strength, it would take time. Months, maybe longer. But they were alive, and that was enough.

That tiny line—"Status: Safe"—had never appeared before. It was likely a feature only a Harem God could see, a way to keep track of his women in times of separation. It made sense now. A cruel gift, but a necessary one.

The two nuns didn't appear. He hadn't claimed them fully yet; the system hadn't marked them as his. But wherever they were, he hoped they were still near the others, hiding, surviving, waiting.

He exhaled slowly, then whispered to the wind, his voice low but steady.

"Just you wait... I'll find all of you soon."