Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

"Luveria!" he shouted, genuinely smiling for the first time since arriving in the capital.

For once, Sylvaris didn't look like the God of Destruction… or the God of Sex. Right now, he looked like a big brother — nothing more, nothing less. A man who wanted nothing except to see his beloved little sister again.

The one closest to his heart. His only true-blood sibling. While the others were half-sisters from different mothers, Luveria was the only one who shared both his blood and his soul — and she was the one he would protect above all.

A cute little girl raced into his arms like a gust of wind, her laughter echoing across the courtyard. She had black hair like his, soft and slightly curled, and her golden eyes sparkled with joy — a mirror of his own.

Where Sylvaris radiated the aura of a dangerous, handsome man with a blade and a harem, Luveria was like a breeze through flower petals: delicate, cheerful, impossibly graceful. She was only fifteen. The youngest of them all. Technically, two years younger than Sylvaris — though thanks to Liraeth's time magic aging him up to eighteen, it's now three.

We all know that it was done on purpose. The author just needed an excuse for sex scenes. We all know why. Don't look at me like that, author... Let's move on.

From a distance, softer footsteps echoed as three more teenage girls appeared — three more half-sisters, each stunning in her own way.

They rushed forward, eyes bright with excitement, smiles blooming like sunlight after a storm.

First came Seralyne — silver-haired, with bright blue eyes that sparkled like polished crystal. She carried herself with the grace and posture of a princess, yet… she never acted like one. She didn't care for titles or expectations. All she ever wanted was to be the "baby" of the house — even though she was already seventeen, only a year older than the others.

And, well… she had a crush on him.

A big one.

Sylvaris knew. Of course he did. She never exactly hid it. The way she clung to him, the shy glances, the little pouts when he ignored her for too long — it was all obvious. But he'd shut her down more times than he could count.

Not because she wasn't beautiful, no, she was stunning, with long slender legs and a height that nearly reached his shoulder.

But because incest was a line he refused to cross.

He didn't want children with twisted bloodlines or — gods forbid — disabilities. It just felt wrong. No matter how close they were.

Some people had different tastes.

He had his.

Still, she hugged him tight — like she always did — burying her face in his chest, sighing softly like everything in the world was right again.

"You're finally back," she whispered, hugging him tighter than necessary. "Next time, take me with you… or I'll cry."

Next came Velmyra — the frost queen of the family. Cold to everyone… except Sylvaris.

She called him "Big Bro" every time she spoke to him — a title she refused to use for any of her other brothers. She addressed them by name, never with affection, never with warmth. And it drove them crazy.

Why does Sylvaris get the special treatment?

That question had circled through the siblings more than once.

Velmyra had hair white as snow and eyes like frozen starlight — silver, icy, unreadable. She was a prodigy of frost magic, and it showed in her temperament. Distant. Reserved. Like a blizzard behind glass.

And yet… With Sylvaris, she melted. Even she didn't understand why.

He made her laugh. He made her lower her guard. He made her feel like she wasn't just a weapon honed by tutors, but a girl. A sister. Someone who could be soft without fear.

She was sixteen. And he was still her favorite person in the world.

And lastly — the third eldest — Ardyssa.

A fiery beauty with a personality as explosive as her magic. Crimson hair blazed like a living flame, untamed and wild, always falling over one eye like she was too pissed to bother fixing it. Her eyes, though… her eyes were something else. Gleaming gold — so sharp, so unnaturally bright — people whispered that her power wasn't in her fire, but in her gaze alone.

She hated the world. Truly. Fully. Passionately.

But she loved one thing.

Sylvaris.

She'd bared her fangs more than once in his name. Screamed at their father. Threatened nobles. Got into duels. Started fights she couldn't win and came out standing anyway.

She didn't care who stood in her way — if they hurt him, if they mocked him, they burned.

And maybe — just maybe — she was drawn to that darkness inside him. That raw, hungry thirst for destruction he kept buried under charm and silk words. Maybe it called to the wildfire inside her.

She was sixteen. And she would've set the world on fire if Sylvaris asked.

Which brought them all here.

All four girls clung to him now, wrapping around him like threads of memory and blood, laughing and crying and chattering all at once.

And in that moment, surrounded by arms, caught in warmth, Sylvaris remembered something:

His vow. To protect them. Always.

And if some bastard ever thought he was good enough to marry one of them?

Hah.

He'd cut the poor fucker's dick off before he even got a word out.

Sylvaris smiled, golden eyes softening for the first time in weeks. These girls? They were his. And no one would ever take them from him.

"Who are these sisters next to you? Could it be that our big brother finally brought women home?!"

All four of them lit up, practically bouncing in place as they looked over the new arrivals with wide, curious eyes. Not even a trace of jealousy flickered in their expressions — just excitement, teasing delight, and that dangerous sparkle of mischief only younger sisters could pull off.

They eyed the women behind Sylvaris from head to toe, whispering to each other, nudging their brother in the ribs like it was some grand achievement.

Sylvaris, for once, actually blushed.

The great Sylvaris. The so-called God of Sex. The Hero whose cock had turned nuns into moaning sluts and priestesses into begging pets — now blushing like a teenage boy caught with his first crush.

The four women trailing behind him stared, dumbfounded.

What the hell?

Where was the arrogant, dominant wolf they knew? The alpha male who claimed what he wanted — who made women beg, break, and come undone?

Right now, he looked like a little brother caught playing house.

And it was true — what they were seeing was a side of Sylvaris no one else ever did. No seduction. No manipulation. No games. Just a genuine, flustered big brother being swarmed by the only people who could ever make him stumble.

His sisters.

It wasn't that he didn't care for his brothers — he did, in his own way. But there was a gap. A distance. Something unsaid between all the men of the Elyndor bloodline.

But these girls were everything to him.

He would burn cities before he let one of them cry. He would raze kingdoms before letting any bastard lay a hand on them.

His parents, his brothers… they could fend for themselves. But his sisters were under his protection. Until the end.