God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 614

Chapter 614: Meeting With The Devil
Lyla’s excitement bubbled over, her heart pounding with anticipation at the thought of meeting Kafka, the man who had reshaped their world. Her eyes sparkled as she fidgeted in the passenger seat.

Seraphina, however, didn’t share Lyla’s starry-eyed enthusiasm. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles whitening as she glanced at Lyla’s beaming face. The serene mask she’d worn earlier cracked, revealing a flicker of something darker—dread, perhaps, or the weight of a memory she couldn’t shake.

“Lyla…” Seraphina said, her voice low and edged with caution. “You need to calm down. Stop acting like he’s some kind of saint or hero.” Her words cut through Lyla’s chatter like a blade, sharp and deliberate. “Yes, he’s our savior in a way. He gave us a new life, freed us from those bastards who chained us. But don’t fool yourself into thinking he’s some noble knight. In some ways…he’s worse than the ones who came before.”

“…So much worse. And so much scarier than you can possibly imagine.”

Lyla blinked, her smile faltering as she caught the haunted look in Seraphina’s eyes, a rare vulnerability from the woman who was always unshakable.

“Worse? Scarier? Sera, what are you talking about? He’s the one who saved us, who gave us freedom! How can you say that?”

Seraphina’s jaw tightened, her gaze fixed on the jagged mountain path ahead, the car’s headlights slicing through the darkness.

“You’re only this excited because you haven’t seen him, Lyla.” She said, her voice dropping to a near—whisper. “You haven’t seen what he’s capable of. You haven’t stood in front of him and felt…But I have.” She paused, her breath hitching as her mind dragged her back to a night she’d tried to bury, a night that still clawed at her dreams. “I’ve had first-hand experience of what he can do. The monstrous things he’s capable of.”

Lyla tilted her head, her curiosity piqued despite the unease creeping into her chest. “What exactly do you mean?”

Seraphina’s hands trembled slightly on the wheel, and she forced herself to steady them.

“It was what I told earlier, the night I met him.” She began, her voice heavy with the weight of the memory. “He came out of nowhere, Lyla. Like a shadow, like he wasn’t even human…One moment, I was alone, and the next, he was there, standing in front of me, his eyes…God, those eyes.”

“He didn’t say much, just grabbed my arm and said he wanted to show me something. I didn’t have a choice—I couldn’t have fought him if I’d tried. He dragged me through the city, to the houses of every family that ruled the organisation, the ones who kept us in chains.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight.

“And then…he slaughtered them…Every single one. But it wasn’t just killing, Lyla. It wasn’t clean, or quick, or anything like what we’ve done. He used his bare hands. He tore through them like they were nothing, slicing their heads clean off—clean off, Lyla, with just his hands and tossed them at my feet like they were garbage.”

“One after another, house after house, until the ground was slick with blood and I was standing in a pile of heads, staring at him while he just…stood there, calm as you please, like it was nothing.”

Lyla’s eyes widened, her breath catching. “He…He did that? With his hands? You didn’t tell me about that.”

Seraphina’s laugh was bitter. “Yes, with his hands! Tell me, Lyla, what kind of human does that? What kind of person can rip a man’s head from his body like it’s paper? It’s impossible. It’s not natural. He’s not…he’s not human. He’s a demon wearing a man’s skin, I swear it.”

Lyla shifted uncomfortably, her earlier excitement dimming but not entirely gone. She clutched her hands together, her voice soft but defiant.

“But…We’re killers too, Sera. We’ve taken lives, spilled blood. We’ve got just as much on our hands as he does. What’s the difference? Why does it matter how he did it?”

Seraphina’s eyes flashed with frustration, and she turned to face her sister, her voice fervent, almost desperate.

“Because there’s a world of difference between killing someone with a gun or a knife and tearing their head off with your bare hands.”

“Think about it, Lyla…Imagine standing in front of someone who you know could crush every bone in your body, one by one, slowly, until they’re nothing but powder…Imagine looking into their eyes and knowing they could break you without even trying, in the worst possible way, and they wouldn’t blink.”

“…That’s what it’s like to be near him. That’s what I felt that night.”

She shuddered, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“And it’s not just his strength, or his speed, or the way he moves like he’s not bound by the same rules as the rest of us. It’s his eyes. There’s a darkness in them, Lyla, a kind I’ve never seen before, not even in the worst monsters we’ve hunted.”

“It’s the kind of darkness that says he’d burn the entire world to ash, watch it all go up in flames, if it meant protecting his family. He wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second. And that…That scares me more than anything.”

Lyla’s lips parted, but no words came. She wanted to argue, to cling to the image of Kafka as her savior, her hero, but Seraphina’s words had planted a seed of doubt. She sank back in her seat, her hands twisting in her lap, her earlier giddiness replaced by a quiet unease.

Seraphina’s gaze softened, but only slightly.

“He’s not someone you should idolize, Lyla.” She said, her voice firm but not unkind. “He’s given us freedom, yes, and I’m grateful for that. But he’s no hero. He’s something else entirely. And you’d do well to remember that when you meet him.”

The car’s engine hummed as it climbed the final stretch of the jagged mountain path, the dense forest closing in around them. Seraphina’s eyes narrowed as she sensed they were nearing their destination, a secluded clearing deep in the wilderness where no one would hear a scream.

Her earlier unease lingered, but she forced it down, her voice taking on a steely edge as she glanced at Lyla, who was still wrestling with the conflicting emotions stirred by Seraphina’s chilling words.

“Lyla…” Seraphina said sharply, snapping her sister out of her thoughts. “We’re almost there. You need to be ready to meet him. And I mean ready. Don’t do anything careless, not a single move, because one wrong step could end your life before you even realize what’s happening.”

Lyla’s eyes widened, her earlier excitement now tangled with a growing sense of dread. “End my life? Sera, you’re making him sound like—”

“Like the devil himself.” Seraphina cut in, her voice low and grave. “That’s exactly how you should act when you meet him. Treat him like you’re standing in front of something that could destroy you without a second thought. Because he can, Lyla. Don’t let your guard down, not for a moment.”

Lyla’s lips parted, but no words came. The image of Kafka as her savior, her hero, was crumbling under the weight of Seraphina’s warnings, replaced by a nebulous fear of a monster she couldn’t yet comprehend.

She clutched her hands together, her heart pounding with anticipation and apprehension.

‘What kind of man could inspire such terror in her unshakable sister?’

Her mind conjured images of a grotesque figure, a face so horrifying it could scare ghosts, a presence so vile it would make her stomach churn. She braced herself for the worst, expecting a demon in human form, a creature whose very existence would justify Seraphina’s dread.

And just as she was figuring out her master’s looks, the car slowed to a stop in a small clearing, the trees forming a dense canopy that blocked out most of the moonlight.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint thumping from the trunk.

Lyla’s breath caught as she peered through the windshield, her eyes scanning the shadows for the terrifying figure she’d Imagined.

But what she saw made her blink in disbelief, her mind struggling to reconcile the reality with her expectations.

There, in the center of the clearing, sat a young man—Kafka, unmistakably sat casually atop two stacked barrels. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp features and a relaxed posture that exuded an almost disarming confidence. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his eyes, though shadowed, held a glint of something unreadable.

But what threw Lyla completely was his outfit: a bright yellow rain suit, complete with a hood, covered in a cheerful pattern of cartoon ducks.

The sight was so absurdly adorable, so utterly at odds with the monstrous image Seraphina had painted, that Lyla’s jaw dropped. She rubbed her eyes, half-convinced she was hallucinating.

She whipped her head toward Seraphina, her voice a full of shock and disbelief.

“This is him? This is the guy you’re so scared of? Seraphina, he’s…he’s wearing a ducky raincoat! He looks like he’s about to go splash in puddles, not…not tear people’s heads off! And he’s young! He’s gotta be younger than me, what, like nineteen? Twenty? How is this the terrifying demon you were talking about?”

Seraphina, too, was momentarily thrown by Kafka’s appearance. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the incongruous sight of their fearsome master in such a whimsical outfit.

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I…I don’t know why he’s dressed like that.” She admitted, her voice tinged with confusion. “But don’t let it fool you, Lyla. Appearances are deceiving. He’s still the same man I told you about. That raincoat doesn’t change what he’s capable of.”

Lyla crossed her arms, unconvinced, her earlier fear giving way to a stubborn skepticism.

“Come on, Sera. He’s practically a kid! And he’s cute! Look at those ducks! How am I supposed to be scared of someone who looks like he raided a toddler’s closet? There’s no way this guy’s the monster you described.”

Seraphina’s eyes darkened, her expression turning grave as she leaned closer to her sister, her voice a low, urgent warning.

“Don’t. Underestimate. Him. I don’t care how young he looks or how ridiculous that outfit is. He’s not some innocent boy, Lyla. He’s the same man who tore through entire families like they were nothing, who could snap your neck before you blinked.”

“…Promise me—promise me you won’t do anything stupid just because he looks harmless. Swear it.”

Lyla hesitated, her gaze flickering between Seraphina’s deadly serious expression and the absurdly charming figure in the clearing. Part of her wanted to laugh off her sister’s warnings, to cling to the hope that Kafka was the hero she’d imagined.

But the intensity in Seraphina’s eyes, the raw fear beneath her words, gave her pause. Reluctantly, she nodded, her voice soft.

“Fine. I promise. I won’t do anything stupid. But I still don’t get how that guy is supposed to be so scary.”

Seraphina exhaled, a small measure of relief softening her features. “Good…Now, are you ready to meet him?”

Lyla swallowed, her earlier excitement rekindling despite the knot of unease in her stomach. She wanted to know the truth, to see for herself who Kafka really was—hero, demon, or something else entirely.

“Yeah.” She said, nodding with a hint of determination. “I’m ready.”

Seraphina gave her a final, scrutinizing look before shutting off the engine.

“Stay sharp.”

She murmured, then pushed open her door. Lyla followed, her heart racing as they stepped out into the cool night air, the crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound in the eerie stillness.