Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

Chapter 289 Festered Dragon Empire Big Families

"Tell this to House Obsidian, the traitorous ducal house," Drakos Valyrian's voice had reverberated through the capital like the growl of an enraged beast. His proclamation echoed beyond the palace walls, resonating across the land. "I, Drakos Valyrian, and the whole of the Dragon Empire will not tolerate them harboring a criminal!" Either they hand over the former princess when she shows up, or they prepare for the consequences!"

The underlying threat of war was unmistakable. A showdown between the Dragon Empire and House Obsidian—two powers that had been locked in an uneasy balance for centuries—was looming.

Many whispered that the emperor had finally found an excuse to crush the Obsidians, whose power rivaled his own.

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In the fractured family

In a quiet chamber far from the imperial court's bluster, Pyris Obsidian sat with his family. The air was heavy with tension, yet Pyris's face remained calm, though his body betrayed his true state. His breathing was shallow, each rise and fall of his chest labored. Wounds from his recent battle with the guardian pulsed angrily opening up again, and though his outer injuries were minor, the damage within was severe.

Magic had failed to close them—divine mana was the only solution, something he currently lacked.

"Sister," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "How is she?"

Anastasia, his elder sister, hovered over Seraphina, who lay unconscious on a nearby bed. Her face was pale, but her expression was serene, as though she were merely sleeping. "It will take time," Anastasia replied, her voice gentle yet firm

"Severing her bloodline was a grave act. She's paying the price for it now. But she's stronger than she appears. The Star Dragon bloodline in her is awakening within her—it will heal her in time."

Pyris nodded weakly, but his worry didn't abate. His thoughts churned, restless. He couldn't allow himself to rest—not when so much was at stake.

"Mira," he called out. The shadowed corner of the room stirred, and a figure stepped forward—Mira, The Venerable. Her presence was as commanding as ever, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

"Young Lord," she acknowledged, bowing her head slightly.

"What are their intentions?" he asked, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade.

Mira hesitated for only a moment. "The emperor seeks to kill her if she resists even slightly. His patience with her rebellion has already run thin."

The room fell silent.

Pyris's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles whitening as a suffocating gray energy seeped from his body. The room trembled as his aura darkened, his fury manifesting physically. It was Nysa who acted swiftly, stepping forward to place a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Enough, Pyris!" she urged, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. Only she could stop touch the God-Slayer's aura.

He coughed violently, blood staining his lips as his body shook. His injuries flared in protest, but Pyris managed to calm himself.

Mira's voice broke the silence again. "There's more. I sensed a divine aura around Drakos Valyrian. He's been in contact with the gods. And…" She hesitated, her gaze flickering toward Pyris. "I peeked into his mind."

"What did you see?" Pyris demanded.

"A conversation," Mira replied. "Between the emperor and a god—Zorynthar. They're preparing for something. A divine descent is imminent."

The revelation sent a ripple through the room. Emberly, let out a low growl of frustration. "Fools. They'll seek to destroy us all in their pursuit of power?"

"It's likely he's been in contact with the gods. While peering into his mind, I glimpsed a conversation between him and Zorynthar." Mira went on to tell him about the prophecy and their plans—between Drakos and Zorynthar.

Pyris, however, seemed almost amused. "So, it begins," he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The prophecy… Is this the same one that bound the Phantoms to our house?"

"No, Young Lord," Mira said firmly. "Our loyalty to you is not based on the fickle words of gods. We serve because we trust you, because you've proven yourself capable. We follow you because we believe in you."

Pyris's smile widened, though it was tinged with weariness. "Good," he said softly.

Though Pyris heard her words, they felt like blind faith. But Emberly knew better. Mira, the Venerable, wasn't one to gamble the fate of her race on trust alone, let alone the Loli Goddess trusting without reason.

Before long, Pyris addressed the others. "Is there anything else I need to know before I speak with Mother and Mira alone?"

Emilia, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, shifted nervously. "Pyris…" she began hesitantly. "Seraphina came to visit me recently. She said she wanted to get to know me better. I didn't think much of it at the time, but…"

Pyris's expression darkened.

Pyris leaned back in his chair, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. It wasn't one born of humor, but rather a wry acknowledgment of the twisted path fate seemed to carve out for him. His gaze, sharp and calculating, rested on the dimly lit chamber around him, his thoughts racing.

Pyris's lips curled into a faint smile. "So this is how it begins…"

If he had doubted before, he didn't now. Fate had severed its ties to him entirely. Emilia's meeting with Seraphina was the spark that would ignite a chain of events.

"This is how Emilia's assassination attempt will happen," Pyris thought grimly. Seraphina's visit had painted Emilia as a potential suspect in Seraphina's disappearance. Emilia, a near-family member of the Obsidians, would inevitably be targeted.

If he had doubted before, he didn't now. Fate had severed its ties to him entirely. Emilia's meeting with Seraphina was the spark that would ignite a chain of events.

The details of Emilia's assassination—the fragile puzzle he had spent months piecing together—clicked into place with an almost cruel precision. Seraphina's visit to Emilia would act as the trigger. That single act, an innocent gesture, would paint her as the prime suspect in Emilia's untimely demise.

"Convenient," he mused bitterly, his fingers drumming on the table before him. Seraphina, who had always been an enigmatic presence, would suddenly be thrust into the center of chaos. Her association with House Obsidian, and Emilia being almost like family to them, was too perfect a setup. It was a masterstroke of manipulation.

But the identity of the mastermind? That, Pyris believed, was painfully predictable.

"It will either be an order from the emperor," he said aloud, "or from Zed. They're the only ones who could command the Silent Army of the empire." His eyes darkened at the thought. The Silent Army—legendary assassins cloaked in myth and fear—wouldn't act unless someone in power pulled the strings. This was not some rogue operation.

It was precise, calculated, and backed by authority.

Still, Pyris allowed himself a small, sardonic smile. The emperor and Zed, for all their machinations, would find themselves in for a rude awakening.

Emilia was far more than a mere ally; she was family, in every way that mattered. He couldn't—wouldn't—risk losing her.

"When does it happen?" Pyris murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. He knew he wouldn't see it coming. The Silent Army was infamous for their unpredictability, their attacks so perfectly timed that even the sharpest minds could not anticipate them.

Yet Pyris wasn't deterred. If he couldn't stop the attack, he could at least ensure he was nearby when it happened. He needed to be close enough to capture the leader. Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire

The leader was a key in his next plans.

And while he doubted the leader would personally strike, this mission was too critical to delegate entirely. They'd be watching, lurking in the ACCshadows, and that would be their mistake.

"Well, no worries," he said with a faint smirk, pushing his thoughts aside for now. His mind, however, lingered on Emilia. For all her strength and wit, she would never see this coming. But Pyris would ensure that when the time came, she wouldn't stand alone.

His gaze softened as he stood and adjusted his coat. "Thank you, Emilia," he said quietly, a rare note of gratitude in his voice. She had unknowingly set the stage for him to act, to turn the tide of this cruel game.

His thoughts turned to the two women who anchored him in this chaotic world. "Mother," he began, his voice steadier now, "Mira—we should talk." There was no need for dramatics, no exaggeration.

Just a quiet resolve that spoke volumes.

He left the room with measured steps, ready to face the storm that loomed ahead.