Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

Far above the mortal realm, in the distant celestial planes where gods and immortals watched over the cosmos, the ripple of golden lightning reverberated like a thunderclap. It had been centuries since such power had been seen—since the heavens had been shaken by an energy so profound, so divine.

The gods stirred, their attention drawn to the mortal plane where the lightning had struck. Whispers echoed through the ether, voices filled with both curiosity and concern.

"Who dares wield such power?"

"It must be a chosen one—a force of destiny."

"Find the source! The golden lightning belongs to the realm of gods, not mortals."

Yet for all their power and omniscience, the gods could not pinpoint the exact location of the one who had unleashed the storm. The golden light had flared across the heavens, but the moment it faded, so did its trace. There was no sign of Pyris Obsidian or the Grove where the power had been unleashed.

Something—someone—had concealed him from their sight.

____

In the mortal realm, Song, the phantom guard of Pyris, moved with the speed and silence of a shadow. The moment the golden lightning had split the skies, he had felt the disturbance—a dangerous ripple that called forth the attention of powers far beyond the mortal plane.

Without a moment to waste, Song activated his own abilities, disappearing from the Grove entrance as though he had never been there. Moving through the darkness with precision and haste, he snatched Pyris and Alera from the battlefield, their unconscious forms vanishing into the shadows as the gods scoured the land for any sign of the wielder of golden lightning.

With skill born of years of service, Song navigated through layers of magical concealment and illusion, evading the gaze of even the most powerful divine entities. He slipped between the chaotic void pockets of his own creation, finally arriving at the estate of House Obsidian without a trace left behind.

____

The days following the battle in Blackscale Grove passed in eerie silence. Pyris lay unconscious in his quarters at the Obsidian Estate, his body recovering from the massive toll the golden lightning had taken. Alera, though exhausted, had been spared the worst of it, her own shadows providing her with a protective barrier.

During this time, the mortal realm was abuzz with rumors. Word of the gods' brief descent spread like wildfire, but no one could explain why they had come or why they had vanished so suddenly. Some claimed they had descended to punish a great evil; others whispered of an unknown power that had forced the gods to retreat.

Yet no one could provide answers. The user of golden lightning remained a mystery, his identity hidden even from the divine.

No one had seen the gods or felt their movements only their aura although it was concealed, it was too divine to be missed!

Pyris, however, knew none of this. His mind was lost in a deep, dreamless slumber, his body resting and regenerating from the energy he had unleashed.

It wasn't until the seventh day that Pyris's eyes finally opened.

He blinked slowly, adjusting to the soft glow of the room around him. For a moment, he was disoriented, the events of Blackscale Grove hazy in his memory. But then it came flooding back—the beasts, the fight, the golden lightning.

With a groan, Pyris sat up, his body stiff and sore from the exertion. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. A moment later, Alera stepped inside, her expression one of relief.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"You're awake," she said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "I thought you might never wake up."

Pyris gave a faint smile, his throat dry. "How long?"

"A week," Alera replied, walking over to his bedside. "Song brought us back here. You… you were out cold. I wasn't sure if you'd ever recover."

Pyris exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I pushed too far," he admitted. "The golden lightning… it nearly tore me apart."

Alera nodded, understanding. "You saved us. But I don't think it's just us who noticed. The gods… they came down. Or at least, that's what people are saying. They were searching for the source of the lightning."

Pyris's eyes darkened at her words. "And they couldn't find us?"

Alera shook her head. "No. Song acted quickly. He must have hidden us somehow. No one knows it was you." Explore more adventures at empire

Pyris leaned back against the pillows, processing the information. The gods had descended, searching for him, but they hadn't found him. Song's swift action had shielded them from their gaze, but the mystery still lingered. How long until someone else pieced it together?

For now, though, Pyris knew he needed to focus on his recovery—and his cultivation.

____

Over the next few days, Pyris and Alera devoted themselves to cultivation. The mana cores they had gathered from the corrupted beasts in Blackscale Grove were invaluable. Alera, eager to grow stronger, used the mana cores to refine her control over her shadowy magic, allowing her to rise to Rank 4.

Her connection to the Void and Shadows deepened, and with it came a new level of mastery over her necromantic abilities. Her army of shadow beasts grew stronger, and each night, she practiced summoning them from the shadows, their forms flickering with dark power.

Pyris, meanwhile, focused on cultivating the essence he had absorbed from the beasts, alongside the elementless mana cores he had stored. His rise in power was significant—he had pushed himself beyond his previous limits, reaching Rank 9. The essence of the fallen beasts flowed through him, strengthening his connection to his elemental powers.

The two of them trained relentlessly, pushing their limits in both combat and magic. With each passing day, Pyris felt his control over the golden lightning stabilizing, though he knew it was still a power that could overwhelm him if used recklessly.

Alera, too, was transforming. Her confidence grew as she mastered her necromantic abilities, her army of shadow beasts now a formidable force. She had gained a fearsome reputation within herself, knowing that if the time came, she could call forth her corrupted shadow warriors to fight at her side.

But even as they trained, the whispers of the gods' descent still hung in the air. Though no one knew why the gods had disappeared so suddenly, it was clear that their attention had been drawn by something—and it wouldn't be long before they began searching again.

____

The day Pyris finished his cultivation, the skies over the Obsidian Estate were clear, the tension of the past week seeming to dissipate. Pyris stood in the courtyard, his body humming with energy as he stretched his limbs, the essence of the beasts still thrumming through him.

But his peace was interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. Pyris turned, and there, walking gracefully toward him, was Emberly Obsidian—his mother, the Mistress of House Obsidian.

Emberly's presence was commanding, her white hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of midnight silk. She wore a regal gown of black and silver, her eyes gleaming with intelligence and power. There was a softness to her gaze as she looked at Pyris, but there was also the weight of expectation.

"Pyris," Emberly said, her voice smooth as silk. "I heard you've been resting."

Pyris inclined his head, his expression cautious. His relationship with his mother was complex, layered with both respect and distance. "I've been recovering," he said carefully.

Emberly's lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes were sharp. "Recovering from what, exactly? I've heard rumors, whispers of something… unusual happening in the Grove."

Pyris held her gaze, his expression unreadable. "There was an incident. But it's been handled."

Emberly's smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Handled? I've heard talk of gods descending, of lightning splitting the skies. And yet, no one seems to know what caused it." She paused, her gaze piercing. "Except perhaps you." She was teasing him of course.

Pyris met her gaze without flinching. He knew his mother was no fool—she had likely pieced together more than she was letting on.

"What's important," Pyris said calmly, "is that no one knows it was me. And it will stay that way."

Emberly studied him for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied for now. "You've grown stronger, Pyris. But strength brings attention. You'll need to be cautious."

Pyris nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The gods may have been thrown off for now, but there were always other dangers lurking in the shadows.

"I will be," Pyris said, his voice steady. "But I'm not afraid."

Emberly's eyes softened slightly. "Good," she said, her voice almost gentle. "Because the storm is far from over."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Pyris alone in the courtyard, the weight of her words lingering in the air.

The storm was coming. But Pyris was ready.