Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise! - Chapter 384

Chapter 384: Mother Hand of Mortal Realm
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 even among the nobles 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.

If Pyris had been here, his sharp eyes would have immediately picked out Thorne Vallen one of the Legacy leaders—Zolo’s son and the prince of Aether Dominion, seated amongst the princes and princesses.

And amongst them was Selene Seranova.

She was impossible to miss.

The white-haired beauty of House Seranova, of the Fallen Angels, commanded attention without effort.

Her gown, a blend of ethereal silver and deep midnight blue, shimmered under the grand chandeliers, reflecting light like a sky full of stars. The fabric clung to her figure like mist over moonlit waters, every movement fluid, controlled. No excessive jewelry, no gaudy displays—only a single celestial pendant rested against her collarbone, its soft glow pulsing like a heartbeat.

She didn’t need embellishments.

Her presence alone was enough.

At the grand table, seated among the empire’s most powerful, was Selene’s mother, the Priestess of the Fallen Angels.

Her seat was positioned with quiet significance. To her right sat the Supreme Judge, an elven beauty whose cold gaze was sharper than any blade. Beyond her, the seat belonging to Ambrosia, the Beastfolk Empress. Madam Serenova was a woman whose power and presence went beyond even the oldest rulers.

And yet, beside the Priestess, there was an empty seat.

A seat reserved for someone not yet present.Anastasia, standing at the platform, let a brief silence settle over the hall before clearing her throat.

Then, with a carefully honed smile, her voice rang out, carrying weight, reverence, and a hint of undeniable pride.

“Honored guests,” she said smoothly, “I ask you to humbly join me in welcoming the mistress of House Obsidian—the eternal pillar of our House, the one whose very name commands respect, awe, and power.”

Her voice dipped slightly, drawing attention, building anticipation.

“My mother the leader of the House Obsidian business empire.”

A pause.

Then, with the weight of centuries behind her words, she finished—

“The Matriarch of the oldest dragon family!” She didn’t add the title of duchess on purpose.

The moment Anastasia’s voice rang through the hall, cheers erupted.

It wasn’t just polite applause or restrained admiration. It was thunderous, a wave of excitement rippling through the audience like an unstoppable current. The hall itself seemed to tremble beneath the weight of House Obsidian’s influence. Even amongst the nobles and mundanes watching from home, voices rose in hushed conversations, some leaning toward each other, murmuring about the feats of the Obsidian Mistress and her Duchess.

“I heard she’s even responsible for those teleportation stones, isn’t she?” one low noble whispered.

“You mean the reason so many awakeneds can now return alive even after impossible fights?” another responded, shaking their head in awe.

“That’s not even touching the technology House Obsidian has introduced—their medical advancements alone have saved more lives than entire empires.”

“If you measured contributions at 100%, House Obsidian’s impact would sit at seventy, while the very leaders at this table wouldn’t even reach thirty.”

That was an indisputable fact. No leader in this room, no matter how arrogant, could refute it. There wasn’t a single life untouched by House Obsidian. Their influence was everywhere—from the highest courts to the humblest villages, from elite soldiers to wandering adventurers.

And yet, unlike the other leaders who flaunted their arrivals, Emberly did nothing.

One moment the platform was empty—

The next, she was simply there.

No grand entrance, no display of power. Just a presence, effortless and undeniable. A simple smile was all she offered the crowd before turning to Anastasia—her daughter.

Her expression softened, warmth overtaking her regal demeanor as she mouthed, “I am proud of you, and you’ve handled everything so well.”

Anastasia, who had stood with such practiced elegance moments ago, bowed her head, her lips moving in a quiet thank you. The bond between them was tangible, something more profound than just blood.

A connection so strong it could be felt in the very air.

And then, Emberly did what no one expected.

She didn’t take the stage. She didn’t steal the spotlight from her daughter. Most had assumed she would be the one to oversee the launch of the game.

Instead, she simply walked to her seat.

A statement in itself.

And as she approached, her gaze swept across the table of leaders. She chose her target well. Turning to the Supreme Judge, her lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What, no welcome speech for me?”

The Supreme Judge exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if she’d expected this the moment Emberly arrived. “You want a speech?” she drawled. “Fine. Welcome, oh great Mistress of House Obsidian, whose presence humbles even the stars—” one could tell these two had a good relationship.

Emberly lifted a hand. “Alright, alright. I take it back.”

The Supreme Judge smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Emberly rolled her eyes before shifting her attention. With a graceful bow of acknowledgment, she greeted the Elf Emperor and Empress—the couple who, despite the formal setting, still had their fingers intertwined, their connection unbroken.

“Hey,” Emberly mused, turning back toward the Supreme Judge. “Tell me, do you smell that?”

The Supreme Judge gave her a dry look. “Unless it’s the scent of another one of your absurd jokes, I’m going to assume this is leading somewhere.”

Emberly grinned. “Eternal love.”

The Elf Empress let out a soft laugh, tilting her head against her husband’s shoulder. The Elf Emperor simply squeezed her hand, entirely unfazed by the attention.

“You see that?” Emberly gestured between them, her voice dropping into mock despair. “How am I supposed to compete? They’re like a romance novel in real life.”

The Elf Emperor, usually a figure of solemn dignity, merely raised a brow. “You could try holding someone’s hand,” he suggested smoothly.

Others almost choked on their drinks mostly the men who’d tired tens of times to get her long ago.

The Supreme Judge smirked, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “Oh, I’d pay to see that happen.” Looking at the Dragon Emperor, Dracula and the human emperor.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Emberly countered. “You’d just use it to blackmail me for eternity.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “And please. If I’m going to hold anyone’s hand, I’d rather take my son’s than any other man’s.”

The table quieted for a beat, some exchanging glances at the weight behind her words.

Then, the Supreme Judge let out a soft chuckle. “Now that, I’d believe.”

The Elf Emperor gave a slight nod of approval, while his Empress smiled, amusement and understanding flickering in her gaze.

“Honestly,” Emberly sighed dramatically, “you all act like I have the time for romance when I’m busy keeping the entire mortal—that includes your empires—from falling apart without House Obsidian.” she said sarcastically.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” the Supreme Judge quipped. “Some of us enjoy watching you do all the work.”

At this point, the table that had been tense with veiled hostilities was filled into real smiles. Even Madam Seranova, known for her sharp composure, let out a chuckle behind her hand.

Only two figures remained unmoved—

Zolo Vallen, unreadable as ever, like he was simply observing pieces move on a grand chessboard.

And the Dragon Emperor.

He sat rigid, his fingers curled ever so slightly against the table’s surface. There was no laughter in his expression, no ease in his posture. It wasn’t indifference. It was anger.

And Emberly did not acknowledge him.

Not with a tease, not with a joke.

Just a single nod—a mere courtesy.

For all his power, for all his authority—he had no choice but to accept it.