Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

The Dragon Emperor stood proudly near the edge of the platform, regal and unshaken—but Pyris could see the truth beneath the scale and silk. The man was under the influence of Zorynthar, the Dragon God. Not possessed. Not enslaved. But guided, his fate-thread wrapped in draconic sigils laced with divine authority.

Pyris didn't need the system's appraisal anymore—his Fate Nemesis Eye saw it all.

And it wasn't just him. Everyone here bore some mark. Some corrupt. Some tragic. Some neutral, like Zalaria Serenova, known to most as Madam Serenova, the quiet puppeteer of the commerce world. Her thread shimmered with soft dark and white of elegance and danger held in velvet gloves. She was harmless—for now. But Pyris didn't trust harmless.

He scanned them all at once, the entire summit of the mortal realm powerhouses, and exhaled with a scoff.

Why waste time unraveling their little games? Their schemes were rooted in a reality he now stood above. They moved chess pieces. He rewrote the board.

What mattered now was something far deeper—something that had been clawing at the edge of his mind since the moment he absorbed Moon's gift.

Without a word, he raised his hand.

The air around him tightened—like someone had pulled a string through existence itself. Space didn't just ripple—it fractured. Time followed.

With a single step, Pyris exited the current moment.

Not teleported.

Not blinked.

He stepped out of Time.

What surrounded him now was the Flow—a twilight tunnel of fragmented seconds, inverted minutes, memories running in reverse like rivers uncoiling from the sea. The stars moved backward in stillness. Light flowed upward. Sound reversed like a song unplayed.

And then, just as easily, he stepped out again—into a night he remembered.

A night that had scarred him.

He stood on a lonely cliff near the Moonveil Cradle. Below him: the ancient temple where it happened. The place where she had nearly died.

He watched silently as the scene unfolded.

There she was—Moonveil. Even being this busy in her office she was glowing faintly, just beginning to blossom with her potential that she didn't even know heard.

And then he appeared.

The man.

Or whatever he was.

Pyris moved closer, his footsteps no more than vibrations in the rewound air. He stood mere feet away from the figure that had killed her. Towering. Shrouded in ragged elegance. A presence that made the laws of reality flinch.

Pyris narrowed his eyes, activating the Fate Nemesis Eye to its fullest.

Nothing.

No threads.

No identity.

No molecular imprint.

Not even a soul signature.

It was like the man wasn't just from another dimension—he wasn't from the reality Pyris was observing him from. As if the Mortal Realm itself was unable to write him into its code.

Pyris' jaw tightened.

And then—the moment.

A flash.

That was when the attack began.

Pyris stood within time's fracture, untouched by the flow, watching history unfold like a scene written in pain. Down below, Moonveil fell—her body limp, her aura dimming like a fading star. And from the shadows came Ruvon, the demon girl who, by all logic, should have run away.

But she didn't.

She charged toward danger with nothing but fury in her fists and desperation in her heart.

"She's quite something…" Pyris murmured, arms crossed as he stood just outside the current of the past. His eyes narrowed. "And definitely not the sane kind."

He watched as Ruvon tried to shield Moonveil, taking the full brunt of the enemy's power. She failed—miserably—but her intervention had delayed the inevitable for one precious second.

And that second… was everything.

Because then he arrived.

His past self.

Although it was too late...

An explosion of raw, uncontrolled Omni Energy cracked through reality like lightning through a mirror.

Pyris watched the chaos from above, expression unreadable. When Mira appeared, chasing the killer, he followed briefly—shadowing her path through the folds of memory, listening to her exchange with the mysterious enemy. Their words confirmed it. Everything was about to ignite.

The upcoming wars, the collapsing alliances, the powerhouses's games from beyond… it all made sense now.

Satisfied, he reached into the veins of time again—and broke it.

Reality bent, unraveled, and then folded backward.

The night reset itself like a page turned in reverse.

He returned to the exact moment when he just arrived… but this time, he didn't follow Mira. No. He moved closer to himself—to the crying Pyris hunched over Moonveil's body, cloaked in guilt and grief. The future Pyris didn't flinch. He simply observed.

He wasn't here for tears.

He was here for the shift.

He was here for the energy—for the moment Omni Energy first surged into being. He saw how it began—like a spark from a collapsing star—and how quickly it spiraled into something monstrous. Uncontainable. It warped reality. Nearly wiped everything out.

Then he appeared.

Ruin.

The observing Pyris instinctively stepped back. A chill raced down his spine. Because Ruin—who wasn't supposed to see anything croaked in webs of tempoal laws—glanced his way. Through the timestream. Through the rewind. Through him.

Did he just get seen… by a being inside the past?

No. That thing didn't just glance. It looked. It knew.

Pyris stared at the Embodiment of Ruin and suddenly doubted everything he thought he understood. Was that really just a concept given form? Or was Ruin something... older? Something that even time couldn't hide from?

He didn't stay to find out.

Time cracked again.

He rewound his way back to the present, landing back inside the dome.

But this time, he staggered forward a step, catching himself on one knee. His breathing was heavy. His skull pounded. And his right eye throbbed like it was about to split open.

Time-travel, even for him, wasn't free.

Just because he could do it… didn't mean he should do and for free at that. Just because he could walk time didn't mean he was built to abuse it. He wasn't some invincible god. He wasn't some limitless god. Hell, most gods couldn't do what he just did.

And the Fate Nemesis Eye? That was a whole different punishment on its own.

He exhaled through his teeth, clenching his jaw.

"…Shit."

He grounded himself over the dome—just as before—his boots gently tapping the air, space quivering beneath him. This time, his breathing was heavier, chest rising and falling in slow exhaustion. His head rang with pressure, like a hammer tapping at the inside of his skull.

The Fate Nemesis Eye pulsed painfully, especially the right one—burning like a brand left open too long.

So this was the cost.

His eye throbbed again, and he shut it briefly.

Power had a price.

And Pyris had just started counting it.