Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

Chapter 290 Cosmic Cursed Family

Now Pyris sat with both Emberly and Mira staring at him. His mother seemed to be processing the revelation he had just shared. Pyris couldn't quite discern what surprised her more: the fact that her son was a champion of Lust, him being a reincarnator or the far graver truth—that gods and immortals were plotting to infiltrate the game and subjugate everyone who dared to enter it.

Regardless, Pyris could tell one thing for certain. For all her disdain toward gods—a hatred rooted in the storied history between the deities and House Obsidian—Emberly was, at the very least, grateful for the Goddess's timely warning.

Grateful... but only just.

What Pyris couldn't guess was how she would react when the rest of the truth surfaced. How she'd take the knowledge that went beyond even the disturbing pieces he'd shared tonight. For now, all he could do was wait.

"I'm glad, Pyris..." Emberly finally said, breaking the heavy silence. Her words caught him off guard, earning a wide-eyed look from her son. She continued, "Of all the gods, at least it was the Goddess Lilith who chose you as her champion."

Emberly offered no further explanation, no context to the strange sentiment she had just expressed. Pyris, naturally, would pester her for answers in the days to come, but she would remain resolutely silent.

There were things she had just learned—facts she wasn't ready to voice aloud. At least, not yet.

Instead, she shifted the conversation to what truly mattered—the immediate decisions that needed to be made. She didn't mention the other thing.

After a long and heated discussion, they reached a conclusion. They would launch the game, using the version the Goddess had provided. It wasn't that Emberly trusted the deity entirely. No, her mistrust of the gods ran far too deep for that. But she trusted her son.

There was also the fact that the Goddess had warned them about the looming danger—the gods' plan to dominate mortals. If Lilith truly wished for their doom, why would she arm them with knowledge of the enemy? That act alone suggested ulterior motives, though Emberly was keenly aware of how gods often played the long game.

The Goddess of Lust was no exception. While Goddess Lilith and her two compatriots Goddesses were known for their affection toward mortals, Emberly doubted her benevolence was born entirely of love or pity.

No god ever acted without a deeper purpose.

And then there was the nagging thought—what of the other two Goddesses? Were they aligned with Lilith? And if so, to what end and why?

"What exactly is she up to?" Emberly mused to herself, her thoughts clouded with suspicion. "Is it Pyris she's protecting? Or is this simply another of her ploys?"

Goddess Lilith's reputation was certainly better than most among the divine, but Emberly wasn't naïve enough to think the Goddess was flawless. The deity's connection to that group of gods meant she was far from blameless, regardless of her outward goodwill.

As Emberly's gaze settled on her son, her concerns grew. She hoped Pyris wasn't blinded by faith, that he didn't trust too easily. The gods had earned their reputation for betrayal a thousand times over.

Emberly's knowledge of the divine surpassed most mortals, thanks in part to the legacy of the Obsidian lineage. For eons, the Obsidians had passed down fragments of forbidden truths, guarding secrets about the gods and immortals alike. Their knowledge had endured longer than the mortal realm itself, yet there was one thing even they couldn't answer: why no member of their bloodline had ever ascended to godhood or immortality.

They were known—although by few even for gods—as the cosmic cursed family. The most oldest family was cursed by the cosmos itself.

Shaking her head, Emberly refocused on the discussion. Pyris had made his decision—they would launch the game. They couldn't abandon it, not after years of preparation, not with the stakes so high.

The opportunities it promised were simply too great to ignore.

The game wasn't just a pastime. It was a lifeline. Progress made within the game's virtual world would translate partially to reality. If a player climbed from Rank One to Rank Four in the game, they would rise two ranks in real life as well. And then there was the real incentive—the Goddess's promise that a lucky few, the unawakened mortals, could gain their awakening after reaching a certain level.

A chance to awaken.

That promise, though slim, was enough to drive mortals to madness. Awakening was power, survival, and a chance to escape the shadows of mediocrity. It was a prize that mortals would risk everything for, even if the odds were akin to finding a needle in a desert.

And yet, that slim hope was a light in the darkness. For those who played the game, their chances of survival against the wrath of gods would increase, however slightly.

"I don't know if it's true but this looks like to the Era Of End mentioned in the Cosmic Curse Book! This game of Goddess Lilith and..." She looked at her son, "The only chance we have to survive gods!" But she kept that it herself.

Pyris on the other hand unaware of the the real implication behind the game and himself, sighed.

"To think we're doing all of this... just to survive their wrath," Pyris muttered bitterly.

He didn't know why the gods were so obsessed with domination, nor why they feared those who might one day rise to challenge them.

"Maybe that's what happens when you taste absolute power," Pyris mused aloud. But he couldn't help wondering:

Were the gods truly absolute?

Pyris was certain of one thing: If the gods' power was truly absolute, they wouldn't fear mortals. They wouldn't need to shackle them in chains of deceit and lies.

But they were afraid.

Afraid of some mortals' ability to be anything. To transcend limitations. To rise above even the divine.

"The decaying truth…" Pyris murmured, his voice tinged with bitterness. Soon—far too soon—the Truth would vanish, erased into nothingness.

If these mortals couldn't remember who they truly were—what they were capable of—their knowledge, their heritage, their very essence would become ownerless. A wandering shadow without roots, untethered to reality.

And when something had no roots?

It ceased to exist...

Forever...

The word echoed in Pyris's mind like a death knell. A chilling inevitability.

Truth was meant to have meaning, a foundation in those who carried it. But when its carriers forgot, when the roots of Truth were severed, its meaning unraveled. It dissolved, lost to time, until nothing remained.

That was the fate awaiting these special mortals.

Unless, by some miracle, they remembered. Remembered who they were. Remembered what had been stolen from them.

"Cruel..." Pyris whispered, his fist tightening. "The gods are so cruel. For power—for absolute control—they have no qualms about enslaving the entire mortal race!" The gods had hidden the real Truth of certain mortals.

But what they had done—the lengths they had gone to maintain their dominion—made them a target. A target for the one force that even the gods feared.

The unforgiving. The all-consuming. The absolute...

The God-Slayer.

"Unforgivable!" Pyris growled, his voice heavy with a seething rage.

The gods thought themselves invincible, but they had miscalculated. Their arrogance, their insatiable greed for control, had drawn the attention of something far greater.

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And it was coming for them.