Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

"I'm Miren Solane," she said, her voice soft yet deliberate. "I'm truly honored the Hero has chosen me to follow him. I promise to serve you well… no matter what your request may be." Her words carried a subtle weight — a hidden meaning tucked behind her formal tone.

A system screen blinked instantly before Sylvaris's eyes:

[Possibility of Next Harem Member: 100%]

[Love Meter: 30%]

Oh shit... So this nun already had a crush on me or something? Back when we met before... that look in her eyes, the way she lingered — damn, she really wanted me right there and then, huh?

Sylvaris grinned internally. This one's a diamond. Pure. Refined. And she walked right into my arms like fate handed her over. Very nice. The luck's shining again. And she's petite too… mmm. I'm really starting to appreciate all sizes of women. Except for fat. Fuck no to that.

"Welcome to our noble party, pretty nun," he said aloud, flashing her a slow, knowing smile. "I'm glad you decided to meet me again. We have some… unfinished business to discuss later." He reached for her hand and pulled her gently toward him.

Her body moved like it belonged there, closing the distance between them until their lips nearly touched —close enough to feel the heat of his breath, close enough to make her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.

She was small. Delicate. At most, 163 cm. Sylvaris, by contrast, now stood at over 194 cm — taller than he'd remembered. The Harem God System had apparently increased his height without him knowing, and now, Miren looked tiny beside him. Practically bite-sized. Fuck… She's gonna feel perfect screaming under me.

Even Darian looked at Sylvaris with a proud grin. He didn't say anything — he didn't need to. The look in his eyes said enough. This kid's quick. Sharp with women. And building his party faster than any man I've trained.

Soon, the group arrived at the base of the towering staircase that led up to the levitating portal platform, surrounded on all sides by armored guards standing watch with spears crossed and eyes sharp.

Sylvaris was used to it by now. But the girls weren't.

None of them had ever experienced teleportation of the elite — something only nobles and the filthy rich had access to. The cost alone was outrageous: 1,000 gold coins per person.

But of course… Sylvaris wasn't just anybody. His title carried weight — and more importantly, discounts.

Traveling with six people should've cost him 6,000 gold. Instead, he only had to cough up 5,000. Still, the pain in his wallet made his eye twitch. So much for the mentor figure.

Darian — the bulky, two-meter-tall beast of a man — just brushed it off like nothing happened. Didn't even reach for his coin pouch. His look said it all: "Well, I'm not as rich as your daddy. So… you pay up."

Typical. That was how this world worked. Just like the last one. Sylvaris sighed, tossing the gold bag over with a grunt. The city guards took the pouch of gold with the care of men handling their own survival.

Each coin was counted with deadly precision — their eyes darting across the gleaming stack, lips whispering calculations, fingers moving faster than most merchants could dream. Not a single piece could be missing. Not when the teleportation portal cost more than their yearly wages. And not when failure meant punishment.

After confirming the amount, one of them gave a sharp nod. "Clear. Activating."

The runes on the platform flared to life — golden lines igniting like veins across black stone.

"Step forward," the captain instructed. "All six."

He guided Sylvaris and his party onto the levitating platform. The runes buzzed beneath their feet, lifting slightly off the ground, suspended by invisible force.

Around them, the crowd held its breath.

Even the great lake in the distance seemed to still, its surface mirror-flat, reflecting the radiant light spilling from the portal ring.

Portal activations were rare. Costly. And above all — a spectacle.

People came to watch like it was a festival.

The teleportation portal stood bright — a massive stone ring etched with thousands of glowing runes that pulsed like living veins. A wide, circular platform of obsidian lay beneath it, smooth and polished, inlaid with golden sigils that shimmered faintly beneath the afternoon sun.

At its peak, the runes sparked to life, humming softly as arcane currents weaved between them like a net of lightning. It wasn't just magic. It was runic architecture — ancient, intricate, and impossibly precise. Power like this couldn't be wielded by normal mages. It had to be carved, line by line, word by word — a language of the gods, etched into stone.

The way the runes danced. The shimmer of raw magic bending space. The moment when bodies simply vanished — disappearing into streaks of light and then reappearing, godlike, in another city far, far away. It was like witnessing divine power. And now… it was the Hero himself stepping through.

Sylvaris glanced back once, golden eyes sweeping over the silent crowd. Then he looked forward — toward the warping mirror of runes and time. And stepped into the light.

As the runes synced in rhythm, a low chime rang through the air. Then the light deepened.

The center of the portal began to ripple like water, folding inward as a shimmering pool of space distortion formed — a mirror of raw mana, bending time and reality in its center.

"Stay close," Sylvaris muttered to the others.

The girls stepped forward nervously, eyes wide with awe and tension. And then, the pull began. It didn't feel like walking. It felt like the world blinked.

Their bodies were seized by invisible force — no wind, no pressure, just motion. A gut-deep wrench, like being yanked out of existence by a hand too large to see. The runes flared around them in a cascading flash of violet-gold light.

They weren't moving. Time was.

The sky disappeared. The town dissolved into streaks of light. Everything collapsed into a tunnel of swirling, silent void — not dark, not bright, just... endless.

For a moment, there was no gravity. No breath. Just a disorienting stillness as if they were floating in the space between seconds.

Then —

SLAM.

The world slammed back into place.

A jolt ran through their bones as they landed on a new platform — almost identical in design, but this one bore the crest of the Solandis Empire etched deep into its center. Air rushed into their lungs again.

Heat, scent, noise — the sharp tang of city stone, the far-off clang of metal, the distant murmur of voices — all flooded back in like a crashing tide.

Sylvaris stood calmly, adjusting his cloak. The girls, however, stumbled slightly — some clutched their stomachs, others blinked rapidly, dazed.

"Ugh… what the hell was that?" Faylira muttered, gripping her tails like they might fly off.

"Welcome to Lucenhold," Sylvaris said, grinning as the capital unfolded around them.

And there they were — three figures standing before the portal to welcome him. One was tall and broad, a crown resting atop his head. The other two were women Sylvaris knew all too well, standing imposingly at his return: one wearing a smile laced with unmistakable lust, the other watching him with the cold, proud gaze of the empire's eldest princess.