Harem Stealer: Reborn with the God-Tier Sharing System - Chapter 44

44: Chapter 44: This is my son 44: Chapter 44: This is my son Chapter 44: This is My Son Noah stood over Elijah.

Not with glee.

Not with satisfaction.

With silence.

His silver eyes-cold.

Detached.

Still.

Elijah writhed on the ground, a trembling mess of golden embers and ragged breaths.

He couldn’t rise.

His limbs failed him.

His spirit, fractured, screamed within his chest.

But Noah didn’t move.

He stared, unblinking, like a god over a fallen idol.

He couldn’t kill him.

Not here.

Not yet.

The Academy wouldn’t allow it.

The Goddess behind Elijah wouldn’t allow it.

But even deeper than rules, Noah didn’t want him dead.

That would be too quick.

Too merciful.

No-Noah wanted Elijah to live.

To crawl.

To watch-powerless-as Noah rose above him.

He wanted Elijah to feel it.

That humiliating, soul-crushing realization that he was no longer the center of the world’s story.

That he’d been dethroned, not by a villain… but by a better protagonist.

Petty?

Maybe.

But Noah didn’t care.

Not after everything.

When Elijah killed Noah’s predecessor-killed him like it meant nothing-he didn’t hesitate.

No regret.

No mercy.

Just cold, mechanical execution.

The world didn’t flinch then.

They celebrated.

Called it righteous.

So now?

Why should he be the merciful one?

Would Elijah, if their roles were reversed?

No.

Noah’s thoughts sharpened.

‘I won’t just defeat you.

I’ll crush you so thoroughly that even the thought of revenge will feel pointless.

Hopeless.

Empty.’ And this moment?

This was only the beginning.

Because now the world had seen it: Elijah can bleed.

Elijah can fall.

The myth shattered-and the silence it had enforced crumbled with it.

All those who resented the golden boy, who whispered in backrooms and quiet corners, now had a symbol.

Noah Weaverheart.

He glanced down again.

Elijah remained on his knees, gasping.

Struggling.

Ash scattered around him like broken wings.

He wouldn’t heal quickly-not this time.

A wound to the soul wasn’t like a cut or burn.

It couldn’t be patched with Phoenix fire.

Not unless you knew how to rebuild yourself spiritually.

And Elijah wasn’t ready for that kind of pain.

But Noah remembered.

He remembered the punch Elijah had landed earlier.

The one that nearly shattered his ribs and rattled his organs.

So… He raised a hand.

“Lightning,” he whispered.

The sky obeyed.

A scream of thunder split the heavens.

A silver-purple bolt tore down like divine judgment, cutting through clouds with predatory precision- CRACK.

The lightning struck Elijah dead center.

Straight through his skull.

He didn’t even scream.

He just… collapsed.

A hush fell over the arena.

Mouths hung open.

People flinched.

Some gasped audibly.

A few even stepped back, as if the act might echo onto them.

“…Was that necessary?” No one said it aloud.

But they all thought it.

Except one.

⸻ Far from the battlefield-hidden in the icy halls of the Weaverheart Estate, in her glacial throne chamber-Selene Weaverheart laughed.

Uncontrollably.

Proudly.

Her cold eyes shimmered with something warm.

“That’s my son.” Frost leaked from her skin, freezing the floor, creeping up the windows.

She didn’t notice.

She didn’t care.

She was too entranced by the sight of her boy-standing above the world.

A smile touched her lips.

Perfect.

Perfect.

On her lap, a large feline watched the scene through a floating projection.

Luminara, in her cat form, licked her paw once.

Then paused.

Her tail flicked.

‘Too good…’ ‘He’s too good.

What monster have you birthed, Selene?’ ⸻ Across the continent, in the Imperial Palace, the Emperor trembled in his golden chair.

The room was silent.

Except for his heartbeat.

His fists clenched.

He didn’t know how to feel.

Fury?

Awe?

Paranoia?

He couldn’t decide.

Was Noah… better than Elijah?

That question haunted him.

But it didn’t matter.

Because the world had already decided.

And beside him, dressed in shadowed elegance, Emily watched him without a word.

Her green eyes glinted.

‘Your time is numbered, Rome,’she said softly.

‘Take your sweet time.’ The ripple spread like wildfire.

Nations paused.

Factions re-evaluated.

Noah hadn’t just beaten Elijah.

He had claimed something-stolen the narrative.

Turned a battle into a performance.

Power for power.

Aura for aura.

But Noah had something Elijah didn’t: Tactical cruelty.

Emotional control.

The boldness to weaponize the stage.

… And somewhere deep in the world- In a ruined temple, buried in the demon continent, drenched in dried blood and forgotten prayers- A shadow knelt before a shattered statue.

Bathed in gloom.

A glowing projection floated above the altar-replaying Noah’s final blow.

The lightning.

The fall.

And then- Light.

The statue pulsed.

Not with mana, but divinity.

A melodic voice rang out, soft and terrifying.

“He is the one.” “Bring him to me.” Silence.

The kneeling figure coughed blood.

The temple cracked overhead-one breath away from collapse.

They stood.

Her voice, when it came, was honeyed venom.

“How many do we have in the Academy?” Another figure emerged from the shadows.

Thin.

Cloaked.

“Multiple.

In the first year… two.” “Are they capable?” “They are our best.” A sharp smile bloomed.

“Then tell them.” “Let them get close to Noah Weaverheart.

Befriend him.

Earn his trust.” She paused.

“Then bring him here.” “No matter what it takes.” The cloaked figure bowed.

“…Understood.” … Back at the Arena… Damon stepped forward.

His coat swirled behind him, his eyes sharp.

“The test is over,” he declared.

The stadium listened.

Not just because he was an instructor-but because no one dared speak after what they’d just seen.

“The top three will have the chance to choose their own mentors… and an audience with the Dean.” He paused, letting it sink in.

“The first two are already set.” “Noah.

Elijah.” The names echoed.

The first, in awe.

The second, in ruin.

“The rest?” Damon continued.

“Settle it by agreement.

Or battle again.

We leave soon.” He raised a hand.

“Points earned during the tests are your only currency at the Academy.

Spend wisely.” He gestured to the rankings screen floating above.

First place: 10,000 points.

Second: 5,000.

Third: 2,500.

Fourth through tenth: 1,000 each.

“Decide quickly.” And then, without waiting, he turned and walked away.

The weight of it all hung heavy in the air.

… The world now knew Noah Weaverheart.

Some whispered.

Some watched.

Some started making moves to approach him-for good… or for blood.

It didn’t matter.

He was on the stage now.

And as a player- Didn’t every player need their pieces?

Noah smirked, still standing at the center of the arena.

Unmoving.

Unbothered.

‘Dear Patricia… Aiden…’ He could feel them.

Watching him.

Waiting.

‘How about I give you two a little hope?

A taste of vengeance… against your sweet brother.’ His smirk darkened.

Not kind.

Not noble.

Predatory.

-End of Chapter 44- CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheSmartOne Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!