Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

"Good! Very good! Hahaha!" Darian's laughter shook the room, deep and booming like thunder.

"That's how a real man should accept his summons — no whining, no running away. Not like your brother, Vaelric, always trying to shirk his duties." His grin widened. "But tell me, Sylvaris... how did you end up here?"

The giant of a man, over two meters tall and built like a walking fortress, crossed his arms over his massive chest, waiting. Despite his intimidating size, Darian's heart was even bigger. He genuinely cared for Sylvaris — his disciple, his boy.

Sylvaris nodded, smiling faintly, and gestured toward the bed where the girls sat quietly. He introduced them one by one — Liraeth, Faylira, and Lilith — presenting them as his future wives. Lilith frowned at the title but didn't openly object, only lowering her gaze in stiff silence.

After the introductions, Sylvaris explained how he had been "carried away" for the Hero's Trial — how his carriage had been ambushed by thugs during the journey.

Of course, this version of the tale was... selective. He conveniently left out the part where it was his own recklessness that had gotten the driver killed. He didn't mention exactly how he met Liraeth and Faylira either, or the steamy details of what had happened between them. And he certainly didn't talk about how Lilith had been dragged from reluctant nun to cum-soaked worshiper.

No. Instead, he spun a cleaner lie — a hero's tale. He claimed the "spirit of the god" had called to him from Velithar, and that Lilith, touched by divine will, had chosen to guide him back. That much, at least, wasn't a total lie.

As for the still-wet floor outside — the lingering mess of cum and saliva — Darian said nothing. He wasn't blind. But he was a seasoned man, an ex-adventurer himself. He knew how things could get when a young lion found himself locked in a room with world-class beauties.

He only gave Sylvaris a small, knowing nod — a silent acknowledgment that his disciple had grown into a proper man. A man worthy of the Elyndor bloodline. Although... not yet matching the full glory of his father, a man who had allegedly bedded over a thousand women in his lifetime. And gods only knew how many more were hidden away for political, personal, or downright scandalous reasons.

After a long pause, Darian's smile faded. The giant man's face grew serious, hard, like a mountain settling before a storm.

"There's something else you need to know, Sylvaris," he said, voice dropping lower, heavy with meaning. "The Realm of Challenges opens in two days. You can't miss it."

Sylvaris raised an eyebrow lazily but said nothing. Inside, he was already calculating. Darian continued, his tone grave:

"The Goddess of Heroes herself oversees the Realm. It's her sacred ground — her battlefield. Only those who enter and conquer it are truly acknowledged as heroes."

He leaned in slightly, his massive frame casting a heavy shadow over Sylvaris. "If you miss the entry... if you don't participate... she'll deem you unworthy. You'll lose everything tied to your title. The blessings.The recognition.The future."

Darian's golden eyes sharpened. "You have power now. Fame. Authority. But it's fragile — all of it. If you don't step into that Realm, the Kingdom will look for a new Hero... and they won't hesitate to throw you aside."

Sylvaris gave a small, amused smile, almost lazily. As if the entire threat rolled off him like water off steel. Lose everything? As if any of it was truly mine to begin with. He didn't care about the Goddess. He didn't care about their fake glory. But... the Realm of Challenges wasn't useless.

If playing their little game gave him more power — if it made him even stronger while he built his shadow kingdom behind their backs —then fine. He'd wear the crown of "Hero" a little longer. Until the day he shattered it across their faces. Inside, his blood stirred with quiet excitement.

Grow stronger... let them kneel... let them praise me... And when the time comes... I'll be the villain who makes gods bleed. Sylvaris bowed his head slightly, masking his thoughts under a calm, respectful tone.

"I understand, Uncle Darian," he said smoothly. "I'll enter the Realm. I'll make the Goddess proud." But behind that soft smile... a storm was already brewing.

"What exactly is this Realm of Challenges that you must enter, Sylvaris?" Faylira asked curiously. She had heard of it briefly before, but her beastkin never gave birth to a Hero, so they had no idea what was actually inside.

"Let me answer that for you, lady," Darian interrupted, stepping forward. Sylvaris nodded in acknowledgment, letting him speak. After all, he had only heard about the Realm himself, never seen it, never participated.

"There are a total of four challenges that last for a whole year," Darian began, his voice firm. "If the Hero is unable to complete them within the given time, he will be deemed a failure and lose the chance to face the Goddess of Heroes."

Oh? I get to see the goddess… Wait. I have an idea. Sylvaris tried to hold back his lustful grin, but Lilith saw right through him, rolling her eyes. One look at his face and you could already smell the plan forming in his perverted head.

He wanted to fuck the goddess.

Well, we all know he already did it once — and the author was more than happy to write that scene, right? But now going after the Goddess of Heroes? Pfft. I'll wish him luck. She's a tough nut to crack, I'll tell you that. Oh? The readers are curious about my identity now? Well, they can stay curious. I'm just the narrator. But who knows…If Sylvaris ever comes knocking on my door, maybe I'll let them see the MC get humiliated for once. Fine, fine... going back to the story. Calm the fuck down, author.

Darian continued, face straight, tone dead serious — completely unaware of the chaotic thoughts happening beside him.

"The challenges are fairly simple on the surface, but here's the catch — and I'm only saying this because I want you to succeed, Sylvaris. So listen well."

He placed a heavy hand on the young man's shoulder. "The faster you clear each challenge, the higher your reward. But be careful. The difficulty scales based on your own strength. Rushing in without thinking could get you killed."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with something deeper than pride — legacy. "But I believe in you. Truly. I hope you surpass the two-hundred-day record — the one set by your great ancestor five hundred years ago. That feat made him a legend."

Darian gave one last, firm nod. "And I believe you'll carve a new one."