Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

"Thank you for your praise, Uncle," Sylvaris said with a smirk. "But I can't accept it until I actually pull it off. Once I've cleared the trial, then you can praise me all you want. Hell, maybe even gift me a beauty or two from your family. Hahaha!"

His voice was teasing, light — but it carried that same commanding weight that made even jokes sound like declarations. The kind of tone that made women blush and men feel like they were being challenged.

Darian burst out laughing, the sound so thunderous it rattled the room — a booming echo like thunder cracking through the walls. "HAHAHA! WELL SAID! WELL SAID!" he bellowed, his hand slamming into Sylvaris's shoulder with the weight of a warhammer.

Once. Twice. A third time. Each strike sent a ripple of force through Sylvaris's body, strong enough to shake the bones of a lesser man. And while Sylvaris could take a club to the chest without flinching, this wasn't a man. This was a creature. A tank of a beast in human skin.

"HAHA! IF YOU CAN CLEAR THE TRIAL," Darian roared, "I WILL PERSONALLY INTRODUCE YOU TO MY NIECE! A TRUE BEAUTY — WORTH A MILLION FLOWERS! ONLY A HERO LIKE YOU IS WORTHY OF HER! BAHAHAHA!" He let go completely, laughter tearing from his lungs like a battle cry. The walls of the inn groaned under the force of his mirth, floorboards shaking beneath his boots.

Downstairs, the innkeeper clutched his prayer beads in silent horror. If one more tile cracked, he'd be living in the alley by morning.

What an idiot. He walked straight into my trap. Very nice. I was just wondering what I'd even do in the capital — and now he's handed me another reason to go back. Sorry in advance, Uncle. I hope you won't hold it against me… hahaha! Sylvaris smirked.

"Thank you, Uncle. But as a man, you can't go back on your word," Sylvaris said, smirking dangerously. "I'll be waiting for your niece in my room after the trial. If she's not there..." He let the words hang, the grin widening. "Well, I know a few secrets of yours your wife would not like."

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Even the air seemed to stop moving.

Darian — a man who faced dragons without flinching — suddenly looked like a kid caught stealing from the royal pantry. Slowly, with a face of absolute seriousness, he placed a heavy hand over his heart. "I swear on my life," he said stiffly, sweat beading at his temple.

Sylvaris grinned wider. He had hit the weak spot of this mountain of a man perfectly. After all, Sylvaris knew the rumors and whispers that Darian had warmed the beds of not just a few noble ladies... but the king's concubines too.

If that little fact reached the wrong ears, not even the Goddess herself could save Darian. His wife would kill him. The king would skin him alive, cut his dick off, and hang it on the city walls for the world to see. And Darian knew it.

He had hoped Sylvaris was joking — but one look at the younger man's serious face shattered that hope instantly. Now, there was no going back. No dodging the promise. His niece's fate was sealed.

"Good," Sylvaris said, flashing a devilish grin.

Beside him, the three women — Liraeth, Faylira, and Lilith — rolled their eyes like true sisters.

Even Lilith, the once-cold nun, felt a tiny pang of unfairness prick her heart. I haven't even had my proper chance with him yet... and now another woman's already being promised? The thought sparked hot in her chest before she crushed it with rationality.

But the other two were not so composed.

Liraeth pinched Sylvaris's cheek sharply, while Faylira twisted his ear hard, both of them brimming with raw jealousy.

"Aren't you expanding your harem a little too fast, huh?" Liraeth snapped. "When exactly did we agree to this new woman?" Faylira pouted, yanking harder. "You didn't even ask us!"

Sylvaris merely laughed, brushing them off like playful kittens.

"No, no, no — my harem, my rules," he said cheekily. "You need to adapt to the fact that I'm a very needy man. And it's not my fault my uncle wants to offer me a treasure, right, Uncle?"

He shot Darian a sly look. A look that said: Agree or suffer.

Darian — mighty, fearsome Darian — bowed slightly like a guilty child. "Yes... of course it's my fault," he said quickly. "I'm sorry for not discussing it with you lovely ladies beforehand. But I promise, you'll love my niece. She's... she's an angel."

Meanwhile, far away...

In the heart of Lucenhold, capital city of the Solandis Empire,a young woman sat in a cold stone chamber, her crimson hair cascading down her back like living flame.

Her fingers toyed idly with a small silver knife, its blade glinting wickedly in the dim torchlight.

Before her, seven prisoners knelt in chains, trembling. "So," she said sweetly, her voice a melody lined with razors," which one of you scum stole from the merchant?"

"We—" one unfortunate soul stammered.

THWIP—!

The knife flew from her hand with perfect precision, slicing deep into his chained wrist.

"I asked you which one," she said, stepping forward, voice now a harsh whip. "Did I ask for excuses, huh?" Her crimson eyes burned — twin infernos of wild, untamed power.

The heat in the room spiked instantly, the air shimmering around her like a furnace. A fire ignited in her palm, twisting into the shape of a burning whip.

Without hesitation, she lashed it forward —again, and again, and again. The chained prisoners screamed. By the end of it, six were dead — all innocent. Only one remained, bloody and broken — still innocent. But it didn't matter. She had already decided they were guilty.

"Case closed," she declared brightly, twirling the whip around her wrist like a ribbon. She turned toward the guards at the door, tossing her hair back like a victorious queen.

"Who's next?!" She smiled sweetly — a smile that could haunt a man's soul. After all... she was the angel Darian spoke of.

His beloved niece.

And Sylvaris's future headache.