Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

This moment felt... special to Sylvaris... At least, in a way that made sense to him.

He hadn't realized until now that his wild, blood-soaked soul had a softer side hidden somewhere deep beneath the layers of ego and power. And yet, here it was: Quiet, still... And found only in this woman's presence walking beside him under the stars.

But of course... that tenderness had a time limit.

Not long after, after several hours of travel, they crested a grassy hill, and the lights of a small city came into view. At that moment, the peace within him began to crumble.

The city lay nestled like a secret at the edge of the world, pressed right against the invisible line dividing human lands and demon territory. Its walls were sharp and proud, its towers reaching for the sky with arrogant beauty. It was a place where only one race was welcome. And so, it was a racist city, and a cruel one. But god... it was beautiful.

And so were the women.

The moment Sylvaris saw them: walking through the gates, laughing near the fountains, serving drinks in the inn courtyards, his heart didn't just stir. It roared like a hungry lion.

His cock twitched inside his pants, swelling with a hunger that had been simmering far too long. His eyes moved like a starving beast's, scanning curves, hips, full lips and tight skirts with the trained precision of a man who hadn't had a real taste in too long.

The dam was cracking. And whether he liked it or not... it was about to fucking burst.

"Sylvaris, are you alright?" Iselynne asked, glancing at him with curiosity.

He had suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, his posture stiff, chest rising slightly—then… he sniffed the air.

Slowly and deeply, like a predator catching the scent of prey on the wind. The scent of sweet flowers... Yes... that's the stuff... So many to deflower... he thought, a smirk spreading across his lips.

Iselynne tilted her head, confused. But then, playfully and innocently, she mirrored him. Took a deep breath of the city air, smiling widely as the scents of grilled meat, spiced perfumes, roasted nuts, and fresh bread filled her lungs.

"Aah... that smells amazing," she said cheerfully. "What a lovely idea! Smelling a new city! It's like... like meeting a place through your nose first!" She laughed softly to herself, finding the whole thing unexpectedly fun. A cute little ritual.

...Poor soul.

So innocent. So untouched. So full of wonder and joy.

If only she knew what he was actually sniffing.

If only she understood what kind of beast stood beside her.

Oh gods… what a beautiful soul.

Author, please. You've got to protect this one for me, okay? She can't fall victim to that trash MC. Not her. Not this sweet thing. I'm begging you...

Sylvaris looked at her, watching the way she twirled and smiled and breathed in the city like it was some kind of dream.

And for a second… he felt embarrassed.

Not because of her. But because of himself.

His needs were boiling. His hunger rising like fire under the skin. But this girl—this one—he didn't want to touch yet. Not now. Not like this. It felt wrong, and that alone surprised him. He had taken women under stars and in blood-soaked fields, bent them to his will with lust and power alike.

But Iselynne... oh Iselynne...

He wanted to save her. Not from the world. But for something better: A special moment.

"Let's go," he said, voice calm but tight. "There's a place I want to visit. Not sure if they have it in this city or not."

Please don't mean a brothel, the narrator muttered silently, I swear to all gods, if you take her there…

"Yes!" she replied brightly, bouncing slightly on her heels, clearly excited to follow him anywhere. Completely unaware that as they strolled side by side, Sylvaris's golden eyes were subtly flicking to every passing woman. Hips, curves, exposed collarbones—every detail registered, filed, fantasized. His lust coiled like a snake ready to strike, and every second in this city made it worse.

Because Rosa was no ordinary place.

He heard the name spoken by a group of locals, laughing over drinks near an open-air café as they mentioned the "Rosa guildhall." The name clicked easily—Rosa. A city blooming like its namesake, built where human lands brushed against the edge of demon territory.

Rosa's streets curved with elegance, paved in polished stone that caught the lamplight like glass. Vibrant buildings rose on either side, painted in warm shades of orange, gold, and wine red. Arched balconies dripped with flowering vines, and carved statues of saints and warriors stood watch from above, their expressions stoic in the moonlight.

Perfumed air drifted from silken veils hanging in shaded tavern doorways. Somewhere in the distance, music played—strings and tambourines weaving through the alleys like a spell. Every woman in this city seemed to move with effortless sensuality, their dresses just tight enough, their glances just lingering enough to remind Sylvaris exactly how long it had been since he'd taken what he wanted.

And God... he wanted.

He clenched his jaw, ignoring the twitch in his pants and the rising heat in his blood.

He had a mission. A vault to find. A girl beside him who deserved something pure. But tonight... tonight Rosa was whispering to him.

And Sylvaris was starting to wonder just how long he could keep ignoring it.

"We're going to the Adventurer's Guild," Sylvaris said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone as they moved deeper into the city's heart. "If we're lucky, we might be able to register and form a party there. After all, finding that vault is going to take resources—money, people, information."

For once, he sounded like a proper leader.

But then she tilted her head and, in a completely different tone, casually dropped a bomb.

"It's not actually that hard to find the vault."

He stopped walking.

"What?"

Iselynne nodded, her voice calm, but her eyes sparkled like someone who'd just revealed the ending to a book nobody else had read.

"I've heard a lot about it," she continued. "The real problem isn't finding it. The problem is nobody's ever managed to reach the entrance. The entire area around it is like a labyrinth. Thick fog. Twisting paths. Confusing terrain. I've heard of heroes and adventurers who enter the mist and never come back. Most either go mad, get lost forever, or are torn apart by the monsters that nest there."

Sylvaris frowned. "Monsters?"

"Very strong ones," she said, raising a finger dramatically. "The kind that eat gold-rank parties like snacks."

Then, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, she turned to him, eyes gleaming. She raised her fist and grabbed her own forearm, mimicking the pose of a cheering soldier.

"But! You and me? We've got this! I know it! You're strong, I'm smart! And together, we're unstoppable!"

Sylvaris blinked several times. His eye twitching.

Did she just call me stupid...?

For a second, he stood there—speechless—completely unsure whether to laugh, smirk, or start questioning if he was the all-muscle, no-brain sidekick in his own goddamn story.

He took a breath.

"...Thanks," he said flatly.

The streets of Rosa welcomed them like an open lover's arms—warm, colorful, and pulsing with life. Each turn brought another splash of vibrance, from lanterns glowing above to the soft sounds of laughter echoing between carved stone walls. They passed small buildings packed with taverns, open markets, and even the occasional street festival where dancers spun in silk under golden lights. There was music in the air, but more than that—something else.

The way this city smelled and felt...

It clung to the wind like perfume—desire, longing, the intoxicating aura of a city that thrived on romance and lust. Sylvaris felt his blood stir again, and even Iselynne, for all her poise, blushed softly as she walked beside him, her eyes wide with quiet wonder.

But the spell didn't last long.

Because soon, their path led to a towering structure at the end of a wide stone avenue.

The Adventurer's Guild.

Built from dark mountain timber and sun-bleached sandstone, the guild hall looked less like a simple registration building and more like a fortress for warriors. Its roof arched in sweeping red tile, banners fluttered from high balconies, and two iron golem statues stood silent guard at the front—massive things with empty eye sockets, etched with glowing runes.

The entrance doors were engraved with scenes of battle, of triumph, of blood and coin—heroes past and present immortalized in gold and shadow. From inside, the hum of activity echoed: laughter, shouts, the clink of steel and mug alike.

Sylvaris stepped closer, and something in his chest tightened.

He could feel it. A sort of presence, a promise that this place... was more than it appeared.

Iselynne tilted her head as she looked up at the arch above the doors.

"So this is where the real adventurers gather, huh?" she said, half in awe.

Sylvaris smirked, resting a hand on the hilt of his blade.

"Let's see if they're ready for us."

And as the doors creaked open before them, a wave of heat, steel, and power spilled out into the morning.