Extra's Harem: Invincibility Starts with Marriage and lots of Children

Within the eastern territory of the Azure Flame Kingdom, belonging to Count Haldun, there existed a landmass considered barren and prone to being an experimental ground for forbidden techniques by demonic cultivators, given the Count's affiliation with an unorthodox faction.

The existence of the faction did not determine an individual's open retaliation against others.

It had now become a common scenario where individuals declared themselves as part of a faction without engaging in open struggle.

Instead, they engaged in continuous but smaller conflicts, similar to those seen in the aristocracy, where some declared themselves into thinking they were part of either the orthodox or unorthodox factions, participating in a small but steady hassle with each other.

There was an already established system where a title could be withdrawn from an aristocrat based on his defeat by another.

It was natural for someone from the unorthodox faction to take over the seat of power while becoming the ruler and changing the overall policies of his estate based on suitability, even going so far as to allow sacrifices.

However, such open practices often provided the orthodox faction with a valid reason to engage in multiple family battles in the aristocracy, to overthrow the rule under the pretext of justice.

This made such practices not on a large scale yet existent and quite common in the estates of aristocrats ruled by an unorthodox faction.

Similarly, in the estate belonging to Count Haldun, who had recently defeated the previous Count from the orthodox faction, he had especially summoned the leader of the exorcism sect to purify this land.

It had become the area for forbidden practices due to the previous Count's atrocities, leading to the formation of ghouls and ghosts.

"Chase it! It's running away!"

Five figures raced through the dark forest, their talismans glowing faintly against the twisted trees.

The ghost, a shifting mass of gray and black, let out a guttural screech as it weaved between the gnarled roots, trying to outrun them.

"Block the left flank!" one of the exorcists ordered.

Two of them veered off, cutting off the ghost's escape route, while the remaining three pushed it deeper into the ruined courtyard ahead. The ghost twisted, its hollow sockets flickering with rage.

Realizing it was trapped, it turned on them, a distorted wail rising from its throat.

The air grew thick, the stench of decay curling around them like an unseen fog. The exorcists braced themselves.

"Prepare the seal!" one of them shouted, slamming a talisman into the ground. Golden lines spread outward, forming a binding formation.

The ghost shrieked and lunged, its claws stretching unnaturally toward the nearest exorcist. He barely dodged as another threw a talisman forward.

It burst into light, slamming into the ghost's chest and forcing it back.

Then—

A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees.

A deep, commanding voice echoed from the shadows.

"Step back."

The exorcists froze as four figures emerged from the darkness, moving with eerie, synchronized grace.

They landed without a sound, their robes billowing as they positioned themselves in perfect formation. In the center, the sect leader stood tall, his presence alone shifting the atmosphere.

The ghost recoiled, its body flickering erratically as if instinctively sensing its impending doom.

The sect leader's gaze was cold. "Struggling is futile."

Lifting his hand, he traced an intricate symbol in the air. The four men beside him moved simultaneously, each slamming a talisman into the ground.

The formation pulsed, golden chains of light shooting upward, wrapping around the ghost's form.

The ghost let out a screech, its body twisting violently against the restraints. It turned its empty gaze toward the sect leader, hatred and fear mingling in its expression.

"You… cannot…" it rasped.

The sect leader didn't waver. With a simple flick of his wrist, the talismans ignited, their glow turning blinding.

The golden flames surged, consuming the ghost in an instant. Its final scream echoed through the forest before it was reduced to nothing but drifting embers.

Silence followed.

One of the exorcists exhaled. "That was… efficient."

"It should be the last one. What is the condition of the other team?" the Sect Leader of the exorcism sect turned toward the newly arrived individual, inquiring about the other team, which was fulfilling the other mission for which he had personally taken the mission of exorcism within the eastern borders.

"Sect Leader, we have found the entrance of the legacy within the eastern mountain range, but it's difficult to activate it just now as it may take the other team some time because there are too many ghosts surrounding the area," informed the individual whose face was covered with a talisman.

They were here to search for a legacy belonging to the Puppet Master, which was their secondary task that led to the sect leader personally arriving.

"Hm, then let them do it. We will first visit the sect and then—crack." The sect leader, as per his plan, now that he had found the legacy, wanted to first visit the sect and bring the elders together to enter the legacy, which, once activated, would send a signal around the whole continent, making more individuals arrive.

He needed to be prepared in advance, but...

The crisp snap of the beads echoed in the still air. One after another, they shattered, crumbling into dust against his wrist.

The sect leader's breath hitched. His eyes locked onto the fragments falling through his fingers—pieces of the soul-bound beads linked to every elder of the sect.

Crack. Another broke. Then another.

His heartbeat roared in his ears. A sick, suffocating dread coiled in his chest. His body stiffened as realization slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave.

Impossible.

His gaze snapped toward the distant horizon, toward the capital where his sect stood—or where it should have stood.

A tremor ran through his fingers, but he crushed it into a fist. His teeth ground together, jaw tightening until it ached.

"What happened, Sect Leader?!"

The frantic voice barely registered. His disciples stood behind him, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm.

His breathing was shallow, controlled—too controlled. Rage, thick and suffocating, burned beneath his skin.

His sect. His people. The very foundation of their legacy—wiped out.

Not a battle. Not a siege. Eradicated.

The beads were forged in blood, tied to the very lives of the elders and the vice sect leader. For them all to break in succession...

A massacre.

His fingers twitched. He had seen death, commanded executions, sent men to war.

But this? This was not war.

This was the extinction of everything he had built.

"Sect Leader!"

A hand grasped his shoulder, shaking him slightly. The touch grounded him, but only barely. His disciple looked at him, worry bleeding into his voice. "What happened?!"

He forced his throat to work, to speak through the tightness clawing at his chest.

"The sect is destroyed."

The words left his mouth in a growl, low and venomous.

The disciples recoiled as if struck.

"What do you mean destroyed?!" one stammered, horror creeping into his voice. "We have to go back! If there's even one survivor—"

"NO!"

The word cracked through the forest like a whip, raw with rage and finality.

The disciples froze, and their bodies flinched due to the sudden outburst accompanied by the sharp voice.

The sect leader's gaze was sharper than a blade, his presence suffocating as a gush of energy rushed out of his body, clearing his seething anger.

He took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable, but his voice...

"Five hundred dead. Every elder. The vice sect leader. The foundation of our sect, reduced to nothing." His eyes burned with something unreadable—anger, grief, cold calculation. "The one who did this did not leave survivors. They erased us."

Silence.

No one dared speak, Instead, there was simple horror on their faces, with eyes looking at each other through the gap of the robes, breeze shoing the intensity

One disciple, fists clenched, gritted his teeth. "Then we must return! We cannot—"

"And die?" the sect leader cut him off, his eyes glaring towards them, with his voice firm and cold, "Do you think we stand a chance against someone who wiped out five hundred in a single night?"

The disciple faltered, realization dawning like ice settling in his veins.

Another swallowed thickly. "Then what do we do?"

The sect leader turned toward the mountains, his expression unreadable. But his next words carried the weight of a decision that would carve their future.

"We open the legacy."

The disciples stiffened. "Why now? We should—"

"You don't understand," the sect leader said, his voice low and dangerous. "The elders are dead. The sect is gone. We are the last." His fingers curled into his palm. "If we go back, we die like insects. But if we take the legacy… we become the storm."

A tense silence settled over them.

Then, one by one, their expressions hardened.

Survive. Become stronger. Avenge the fallen.

No more words were needed.