Harem Master: Seduction System - Chapter 134

Chapter 134: News About Mobile Phone Across Entire World
The days after the Grand Banquet were nothing short of a spectacle. The ‘Phone’ had become the hottest topic in the kingdom, spreading faster than a noblewoman’s scandal. Everywhere you went—bustling marketplaces, quiet tea houses, even the dimly lit gambling dens—people were either raving about it or skeptically dismissing it as a hoax.

“It’s pure magic!” an excited merchant exclaimed, waving his hands dramatically at the tavern. “I swear, I heard Lord Turbor talking to his son who’s stationed hundreds of miles away! And his voice was as clear as if he were right next to me!”

“Nonsense,” grumbled an old man nursing his ale. “Just another fancy trick. Probably a glorified talking mirror.”

“But have you seen it?” a younger noble challenged. “Heard it?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s nothing like what we’ve seen before.”

Naturally, this commotion reached the royal palace, where King Thaleon, known for his sharp mind and sharper beard-stroking skills, listened with intense interest. He reclined in his ornate chair, fingers lazily twirling his beard as his advisors chattered away.

“Instant communication across the kingdom?” he mused, his tone carrying that dangerous mixture of curiosity and ambition. “That could change everything.”

His queen leaned in, her eyes gleaming. “Imagine it, Your Majesty. No more relying on slow, unreliable messengers. No more waiting weeks for critical reports. We could communicate with our generals, our governors—instantly.”

One of the younger concubines, who had been pretending to be deeply interested in embroidery, perked up. “Wait… does this mean we can gossip with our friends in other cities? Without those nosy messengers reading our letters?”

The Queen sighed, but the King chuckled. “Even the palace intrigues would change.”

Word of the ‘Phone’ spread like wildfire among the noble families who hadn’t attended the banquet. Some were furious at missing out, while others pored over the glowing letters from their peers, filled with envious praise and barely concealed desperation.

“This is outrageous!” barked Duke Albern as he slammed a letter onto his desk. “I should have been there! Who knew a Steele would be at the center of such an innovation?”

His wife, a woman who rarely looked up from her novels, raised an eyebrow. “Well, dear, maybe if you hadn’t feigned a ‘headache’ to avoid another tedious banquet, you’d know more.”

The common folk were equally enthralled, though their imaginations ran even wilder. In the crowded markets, eager storytellers spun tales about the ‘Phone’ being some kind of mystical artifact capable of summoning spirits. Others believed it to be a divine gift, while a few grumpy skeptics insisted it was just an elaborate ruse to raise taxes.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit study far from the bustling capital, a certain shadowy organization was taking notice. Lord Vortan of the Phantom Assembly, an infamous figure known for his ability to remain unseen yet all-knowing, leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his desk.

“Instant communication,” he murmured, eyes narrowing. “Now that… could be useful.”

Elsewhere, on the eastern borders of the kingdom, a very different reaction was brewing. Eskil, Alaric Steele’s long-time rival and self-proclaimed nemesis, stared at the letter in his hands, his face contorted with barely restrained fury.

“That… that smug, arrogant little brat,” he hissed, crushing the parchment in his fist. “Always one step ahead!”

His lieutenant, who had long since learned to let Eskil rant before speaking, took a sip of his tea. “Well, sir, perhaps we should try acquiring one of these ‘Phones’?”

Eskil whirled around, his face twitching. “Of course we should! Do you think I’m a fool?”

The lieutenant wisely said nothing.

However, before any of these factions could take any concrete action, King Thaleon made a decisive move. He issued a royal declaration, placing the Steele family under the protection of the Crown.

“The Steele family,” the declaration proclaimed, “are hereby under the direct protection of the Royal Family. Any attempt to interfere with their affairs, to threaten their safety, or to impede their endeavors will be considered an act of treason against the Crown and will be met with the full force of royal justice.”

This declaration sent shockwaves through the kingdom. It was a clear message, a stern warning to anyone who might have designs on the Steele family or their new invention.

Not only that but the King also issued another declaration, reinstating the Steele family to their former status among the noble families. They were once again recognized as an Earl family, granting them significant privileges and influence.

“The Steele family,” the second declaration stated, “are hereby reinstated to their rightful place among the nobility. They are recognized as an Earl family, with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities that come with this title.”

This meant that the Steele family could now develop their own armed forces, manage their territory as they saw fit, and exert influence over the neighboring baron and viscount families, who would now be required to pay them an annual tax.

Alaric was, naturally, quite pleased with these developments. He had anticipated some resistance, some attempts to undermine his plans, but he hadn’t expected such swift and decisive action from the King.

‘It seems His Majesty recognizes the potential of the ‘Phone’,’ Alaric thought, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. ‘He’s not just protecting me; he’s protecting his own interests.’

He knew that the King’s protection would deter most of his rivals, at least for the time being. It would give him the space he needed to consolidate his power, to develop his plans, and to prepare for the challenges that lay ahead.

~~

The night deepened, casting long shadows across the Steele estate. The echoes of the Grand Banquet still lingered in the air, a faint reminder of the revolution that had been unveiled. Alaric, however, was far from resting. He sat in his study, a messenger owl perched patiently on his desk, a small scroll clutched in its talons.

Even before reading the message, Alaric knew its contents. It was from Zylle Mordan, his superior in the Phantom Assembly. She would undoubtedly be inquiring about the ‘Phone’. He had planned to provide the Assembly with these devices eventually, but he would dictate the terms.

He took the scroll, broke the seal, and as expected, it was from Zylle, asking about the ‘Phone’ and its capabilities. Alaric chuckled softly.

‘They’re eager,’ he thought, a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘They know how valuable these devices will be for their network.’

He penned a reply, informing Zylle that the ‘Phones’ were in production and that he would send them hundreds of units. However, in return, he required the Phantom Assembly to gather precious elixirs, rare materials, and valuable resources for martial artists and mages. Treasures would also suffice.

‘They’ll agree,’ he thought, sealing the letter. ‘They need these ‘Phones’ as much as I need their resources. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

He tied the scroll to the owl’s leg and sent it off into the night. His business with the Phantom Assembly was settled for now.

He then rose from his chair, a different kind of fire burning in his eyes. He made his way to his mother’s chambers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He found Lyra in a silk nightgown, her voluptuous figure accentuated by the soft fabric.

“Mother,” he began, his voice low and suggestive, “why didn’t your sister attend the banquet?”

As he spoke, he reached out, playfully smacking her buttocks, his fingers lingering on her curves. Lyra let out a soft moan, her body responding to his touch.

“She… she sent a message,” she whispered, her voice husky. “She’s busy with a very important task at House Galanis.”

Alaric’s curiosity was piqued. “And what might that be?” he asked, his fingers now gently caressing her buttocks.

“Fiora,” Lyra replied, her breath quickening. “She’s undergoing her Second Awakening.”

Alaric’s eyes widened slightly. He understood now. Fiora, Cassandra’s daughter, was half a year older than him. She was sixteen, the age when mages and martial artists underwent their Second Awakening. She must have taken the elixir.

‘The Second Awakening,’ he thought, a hint of nostalgia in his mind. ‘It’s a crucial moment. It unlocks a person’s true potential.’

The Second Awakening was a pivotal event in the life of a mage or martial artist. It was a process that partially unlocked their latent potential, significantly boosting their rank and abilities. It was a rite of passage, a transition from adolescence to adulthood, from potential to power.

‘Fiora was at the peak of Apprentice Martialist rank,’ he mused. ‘After the Second Awakening… what rank will she reach? Expert Martialist? Or something… less?’

He sighed softly. It was a waiting game now. He wouldn’t know Fiora’s results until the process was complete.

He then looked at his mother, his eyes filled with lust. He then pushed his lips against Lyra’s as he kissed her.

Alaric’s kiss was brutal, possessive, his teeth grazing Lyra’s lip, drawing a gasp from her. He didn’t care for gentle caresses tonight. Tonight, he wanted to dominate, to conquer, to unleash the raw desire that simmered beneath the surface of their twisted relationship.

He tore at her nightgown, the silk ripping with a satisfying sound. He wanted her naked, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. His eyes burned with lust as he gazed at her exposed body, her ample curves glistening in the moonlight.

“You’re so beautiful, Mother,” he growled, his voice laced with a cruel edge. “So desirable.”

He cupped her breasts roughly, his fingers teasing her nipples, making them hard and erect. Lyra moaned, her head falling back, her body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and fear.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “You crave this, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He attacked her mouth again, his tongue plunging deep inside, exploring every inch of her mouth. He wanted to taste her, to consume her, to make her his completely.

He then moved his attention to her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks in their wake. Lyra whimpered, her hands clutching at his hair, her body arching towards him.

“Beg for it, Mother,” he taunted, his voice laced with cruelty. “Beg me to fuck you.”

Lyra hesitated for a moment, her pride warring with her desire. But the heat between her legs, the burning need for his touch, was too strong to resist.

“Please, Alaric,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Fuck me. Please.”

Alaric smirked, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, pulling her closer to him. He could feel her heat, her wetness, her readiness.

“You’re so wet for me, Mother,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Just like a whore.”

He didn’t care if his words hurt her. He wanted to humiliate her, to break her down, to make her completely subservient to him.

He plunged into her, his thrusts deep and hard, his movements relentless. Lyra cried out, her moans echoing through the room. She was being stretched, filled, dominated.

Alaric’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more aggressive, more brutal. He wanted to punish her for arousing him so intensely, for making him lose control.

He grabbed her breasts roughly, squeezing them, pulling at her nipples. Lyra gasped, her body arching beneath him, her nails digging into his back.

“You like it rough, don’t you, Mother?” he taunted, his voice filled with malice. “You’re a dirty little slut.”

He slapped her buttocks hard, the sound echoing through the room. Lyra whimpered, her body trembling, her eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry, Mother,” he said, his voice mocking. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You love being my whore.”

He continued his assault, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper, more violent. He was determined to break her, to push her to her limits, to make her completely his.

Lyra moaned, her voice filled with a mixture of pain and pleasure. She was lost in the moment, consumed by the raw, animalistic desire that coursed through her veins. She was his, completely and utterly.

Alaric reached his peak, his body shuddering with release. He cried out, his seed erupting forth, filling her womb with his essence. He collapsed on top of her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Lyra lay beneath him, her body still trembling, her mind reeling. She was bruised, battered, humiliated. But she was also satisfied, fulfilled, completely dominated. She had gotten what she wanted, what she craved. She was his whore, his plaything, his mother.

Alaric rolled off her, his eyes scanning her body, taking in the marks he had left on her skin. He smirked, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re a mess, Mother,” he said, his voice low and husky. “But you’re mine.”

He then turned away, leaving her naked and vulnerable on the bed. He didn’t care if she was hurt, if she was crying. He had gotten what he wanted. He had dominated her, conquered her, made her his. And that was all that mattered.

He left the room, leaving Lyra alone in the darkness, her body aching, her heart pounding, her mind filled with a confusing mix of emotions. She was his, completely and utterly. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Alaric didn’t return to his own chambers. One round with his mother had only fueled his desire, not satiated it. But his thoughts weren’t on Lyra anymore. They were on someone else, someone who had been occupying his mind all evening. He made his way to the guest room where Iridelle was staying.

Iridelle had returned only a short while ago from a long discussion with Professor Amelia Lyon. The two women had spent hours dissecting the ‘Phone’, marveling at its intricacies, debating its potential. Amelia Lyon had been impressed by Iridelle’s theoretical knowledge, while Iridelle was awestruck by Amelia’s practical skills.

‘She’s brilliant,’ Iridelle had thought of Amelia. ‘Her understanding of magical principles is unparalleled.’

Amelia, in turn, had been equally impressed with Iridelle. “Your insights are… extraordinary,” she had said. “You have a unique way of looking at magical theory, a real gift for innovation.”

Iridelle had blushed, pleased by the compliment. “Thank you, Professor,” she had replied. “But I still have much to learn from you.”

Now, Iridelle lay on her bed, exhausted but exhilarated. She had spent the evening discussing her passion with one of the most respected artificers in the kingdom. It was a dream come true.

‘I can’t believe she was so interested in my ideas,’ Iridelle thought, a smile playing on her lips. ‘She actually listened to me, treated me like an equal.’

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door open. She was startled when Alaric suddenly appeared in her room.

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know why she was so flustered. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him before. But there was something different about him tonight, something that made her pulse race.

Alaric walked straight to her bed and sat beside her. “Our project has completely turned the world upside down, hasn’t it?” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Iridelle nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… incredible,” she said, her eyes fixed on him.

She could smell him. He smelled of sweat, of something… intoxicating. It was a scent that both repulsed and attracted her. She didn’t know what it was, but she loved it.

‘He smells… different,’ she thought, her senses heightened. ‘What is that scent?’

Alaric reached out, his hand gently caressing her arm. “And it’s all thanks to you,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re the one who made it real.”

Iridelle’s heart pounded even faster. She could feel his touch, his warmth, his presence. She wanted to lean into him, to melt into his embrace.

‘He’s so close,’ she thought, her breath catching in her throat. ‘I can feel his heat, his energy.’

Alaric’s hand moved further, tracing the curve of her waist, his fingers lingering on her hip. Iridelle noticed but pretended not to. She wanted him to touch her. She craved his touch.

‘He’s… touching me,’ she thought, her body tingling. ‘I shouldn’t let him… but I don’t want him to stop.’

She was afraid. Afraid that if she stopped him now, she would lose him forever. She had seen the way he looked at Natasha, the way he danced with her, the way he made her laugh. She couldn’t bear the thought of him choosing Natasha over her.

‘If I let him… maybe he’ll choose me,’ she thought, her heart aching. ‘Maybe he’ll see that I’m the one he truly wants.’

Alaric’s hand continued its exploration, his fingers now gently massaging her thigh. Iridelle shivered, her body responding to his touch. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment, to the desire that consumed her.

‘He’s… so good,’ she thought, her mind lost in a haze of pleasure. ‘I want him. I need him.’

Alaric leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re amazing, Iridelle,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Iridelle gasped, her eyes fluttering open. She looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to believe him, to trust his words. But a part of her was still hesitant, still afraid.

‘Is he… serious?’ she thought, her mind racing. ‘Or is he just saying what he thinks I want to hear?’

She didn’t have time to ponder the question. Alaric’s lips were on hers, his kiss passionate and demanding. She moaned softly, her body melting into his embrace. She was his, completely and utterly. And in that moment, she didn’t care about anything else.