Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise! - Chapter 383

Chapter 383: Mortal Realm Finest Gathers 3
The Human Emperor.

Draped in immaculate white and gold robes, every fold and embroidery a testament to perfection. His movements calculated, not just refined, but engineered for dominance. A crown of pure energy hovered above his head—not mere ornamentation, but a living artifact, where technology and magic coalesced into a single, undeniable statement.

His eyes—glacial blue. Cold. Piercing. The eyes of a man who had carved an empire from nothing, who had conquered, strategized, and manipulated his way to the top. Where Dracula ruled with raw power, he ruled with influence. With control.

And yet—

He knew.

He had spent a lifetime cementing humanity’s dominance, yet here, within these walls, the vampires, the dragons, even the Beastfolk, still held power beyond his reach. The knowledge sat at the edges of his mind like a silent predator, but he would never speak it aloud.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he would erase that chasm.

He stepped forward with a confident nod to his advisors, who followed like shadows. The hall held its breath.

As the gathered nobles reacted to the Crown Prince’s arrival, a quiet conversation stirred in the waiting room.

Nysa’s golden eyes flickered with curiosity as she leaned forward. “He’s loud,” she mused, watching the Human Prince’s golden aura wash over the hall like an overzealous sunrise. “Champion of the Sun God… but how strong is he, really?”

Zara smirked, crossing one leg over the other. “Politically? A nightmare. He’s got the full backing of humanity’s religious and military elite. They call him the Sun’s Spear now, the man destined to lead the next great generation of humans, much like Drakon.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “In terms of raw power? Impressive. But nothing compared to those who truly sit at the top—at least before he became a champion of the gods.”

Astrid scoffed, barely sparing the prince a glance. “He flaunts too much. That divine glow—” she gestured lazily toward the stage, where some nobles looked mesmerized while others, like Selene and Valarie, seemed unimpressed. “He bathes in his own light, but the ones who matter don’t even blink.”

Nysa hummed, intrigued. “And the emperor?”

Zara’s gaze sharpened. “That one’s different. He plays the long game, crafty and nasty I am telling you.”

Human Emperor finally emerged, his presence a stark contrast to his son’s overwhelming radiance. Where the Crown Prince basked in divine energy, the Emperor carried something more dangerous—control.

His immaculate white and gold robes barely shifted as he walked, his every movement deliberate, refined, measured. He did not need to flaunt power—he was power, crafted through war, politics, and merciless ambition.

Zara exhaled slowly. “Like him or not, that’s a man who built an empire to it’s current level with his own hands after the fallout between human, witches and the Aether Dominion—the Civil war that had ripped the empire apart centuries ago thanks to his father but look at where the humans are now.”

Astrid nodded begrudgingly. “He commands influence on a scale even the vampires and dragons have to respect. His reach extends beyond his empire—it’s in trade, mostly and he still not done. Emberly said he even has a deal with Obsidian Tech currently!”

Nysa, however, was unimpressed. She twirled a strand of her silver hair around her finger, her expression darkening. “Respect? For a man who let his own blood suffer in his halls?”

Zara’s smirk faded.

Astrid sighed, arms crossing. “Alexa.”

A sharp silence settled between them.

Nysa’s golden eyes gleamed with quiet fury. “Whatever strategic brilliance he has, whatever power he wields—it means nothing. He let her be treated like nothing.” Her voice carried an edge, colder than usual. “Even my parents, no matter how brutal, never denied their own bloodline what was owed. Every child was raised strong, but equally.”

Zara clicked her tongue. “That’s how royal families and high nobles are. To him, power is worth more than family. He sees bloodlines as tools. The strong rise, the weak are discarded and Alexa at that time just so happened to be among the weak.”

Nysa scoffed. “Then he’s trash.”

Ammit said nothing. She had seen Alexandra—her sister now. Seen the scars hidden behind carefully placed silks thanks. Scars Alexa refused to remove, even with her power. Not because she couldn’t—because she wouldn’t.

They were a reminder. Of her suffering. Of her mother’s suffering.

Of the palace that had caged them both.

Ammit had seen the look in Alexa’s eyes before. Not grief. Not self-pity. Resentment. A cold, unwavering fury that had hardened over years of silent endurance. And now, Alexa had done what no one expected—discarded the royal name itself. Although she’d only shared this to only her sisters but not to Pyris —yet! She was planning to fully embrace the Obsidian name.

Nysa smirked, sensing Astrid’s thoughts. “Oh, he’s in for a nasty surprise when he gets home.”

Zara arched a brow. “The emperor?”

Nysa tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Maybe he just helped a certain runaway princess make things simple the moment he left the empire.”

Astrid exhaled, a rare smile tugging at her lips. The Human Emperor might hold a throne, might command armies, might control the tides of war and diplomacy in his empire—

But he had already lost something.

And when he returned home, he would realize it too late.

Outside, the Human Emperor—nobles were nodding politely to him, making his way to his seat with a quiet air of supremacy. But in the waiting room, Nysa’s green eyes didn’t leave him.

She had already judged him. And found him lacking.

_____

Later, the long, curved table was now filled, a grand illusion of peace woven between the leaders of the mortal realm. From the outside, watching through broadcasted screens or from the audience within the hall, it seemed like a night of unity—leaders laughing, exchanging tales, and raising glasses in camaraderie.

But for those who understood power, who had spent decades maneuvering through court intrigues, the reality was far different. Tensions simmered beneath the polished smiles. Every conversation held double meanings, every laugh was measured, every toast was another move in a long, drawn-out game. Few, if any, were simply enjoying the moment.

Among the exclusive few who sat at this table, beyond the recognized rulers, was Zolo Vallen, the sovereign of the Aether Dominion.

His presence alone was enough to set some on edge. The Aether Dominion was an enigma, neither a vassal of the Human Empire. But more like a kingdom within an empire, entirely independent, answering to no one. It was known for its mastery of the Celestial Element, a force as mysterious as it was perilous.

And Zolo Vallen, despite his low public profile, was a figure whose influence rivaled that of the Nepharion, the Fallen Angels.

Few knew much about him, even fewer understood the full scope of his power. And per his request, he had been introduced only as a special guest, without titles or embellishments. But those who knew, knew.