My Taboo Harem!

The Emergency Main Mission and the Omni-Primordial Path had not merely merged.

The latter had devoured the former whole — drawn it upward into a grander, far more delicious register, reframing its entire meaning.

Both demanded the same delicious act: chain every Original Progenitor.

But the Emergency Mission had been born of desperation — do this or be spectacularly unmade on the Destined Day.

A cowering, tail-between-the-legs survival mission, really.

The Omni-Primordial Path on the other hand, was the same mechanic but elevated to godhood — do this and become the being who dictates the Destined Day’s rules while sipping something expensive and watching lesser Immortals squirm.

‘Same chains. Opposite direction. From hunted to their Master.’

‘I don’t avoid the reckoning,’ he thought, his grin widening into something positively feral. ‘I become the fucking reckoning itself for those who were going to be my reckoning. And I look damn good doing it.’

Then he paused, lips barely moving.

“System,” he murmured, voice velvet-soft. “The new Element. The one I was promised as the reward for the Emergency Main Mission. Do I still get it? Now that the Emergency Mission has been… absorbed, elevated, or whatever pretentious term you prefer.”

[DING!]

[Host remains entitled to the originally promised reward upon fulfilment of the absorbed mission’s requirements.]

[Note: The Omni-Primordial Path delivers distributed rewards at each step — one reward package per Original Progenitor added to the Host’s roster of enslaved progenitors.]

‘Ah. So, the power from enslaving Kyle wasn’t a one-night stand kind of reward. It was instead like a long-term relationship with generous, recurring tribute.’

Every Progenitor I enslave, I get more reward.’

‘Which means—’

[REWARD DISTRIBUTED]

[Ding! 200,000 EXP added.]

[Ding! 200,000 Points added.]

[Ding! Host has unlocked the POWER-LEVEL RANK system.]

[Current Rank: ——]

[Ding! Host has brokenthrough the First Power-Level Rank.]

[Rewards: +10 to ALL stats. Charm Speech +5 levels. +10 Charisma.]

[Ding! New Element Awakened: PRIMORDIAL BLOOD.]

[Ding! Host has awakened: SOUL REALM and SOUL ENERGY.]

The notifications flooded in like a beautiful blue cascade before his gorgeous eyes— ring after ring of text blooming across his inner vision in the system’s signature unhurried, almost smug procession.

‘It had clearly been hoarding this reward pool like a dragon on top of its favorite pile of gold.’

His amethyst eyes tracked every delicious line. The EXP. The points. The shiny new ranking system promise he couldn’t see just yet. The blanket +10 to all stats. The Charm Speech boost. The Charisma that would probably make people want to kneel for entirely different reasons now.

And then, arriving with more gravitas, heavier, final —

‘Primordial Blood.’

‘Soul Realm.’

‘Soul Energy.’

Three cosmic foundations stacked like the tiers of a cake baked for the coronation of a very smug new deity.

These were not mere abilities… but the very meaning of bedrock, the architectural substrate upon which the full Cosmic Dragon on the Omni-Primordial Path would one day lounge.

He stared at the text. The text stared back with the quiet confidence of something that knew it had just made him significantly more dangerous.

Then, at the very end of the cascade, a final notification that lacked the usual cheerful ding.

[ACCEPT? Y / N]

[NOTE: Host is strongly advised to defer acceptance until located within an environment capable of containing the physical and energetic consequences of integration. Integration of this magnitude within an inhabited structure is contraindicated. Please relocate to a secured isolation environment before selecting Y.]

‘In other words: Don’t blow up Infinity Chaos Hotel and everyone in it, you walking natural disaster.’

“Ah,” he said softly, aloud.

Cassiopeia, whose face was still tilted up toward his, eyes remained red-rimmed and endearingly puzzled, twitched her fingers against his in silent question.

He stroked her hair once. Slowly. Almost reverently.

“I’m fine, Cassiopeia. I’m okay.”

She searched his face with that piercing, too-knowing gaze. Clearly did not believe a single word but did not press. Smart woman.

He would accept it later.

‘In the forest hollow maybe?’

Deep within the endless canopy where Eira had once held them — that location had been already calibrated by the Void itself to swallow catastrophic energy releases without so much as a polite complaint.

‘Tomorrow?’

Until then, nothing had integrated. His body remained precisely the same tired, slightly hollowed-out vessel it had been before the Kyle fight — a fatigue Eira could no doubt scrub away in under a second. No new Element burned in his veins yet. No fresh stats. No rank.

Just the luscious promise of it all, suspended in his peripheral vision like the world’s most tempting loading screen.

Phei sat up slowly.

Cassiopeia rose with him, refusing to release his hand — bringing her tear-streaked, beautifully wrecked face up as he straightened, her hair tumbling more fully out of its knot, cheeks shining under the dim recessed lighting.

She looked up at him with raw, post-weeping vulnerability — a day without sleep heavy behind her eyes, hours of grief still glistening on her lashes.

He took her chin gently between his thumb and the crook of his forefinger and tilted her face upward.

He looked at her for a long, lingering moment — the pink nose, the reddened eyes, the salt-tracked cheekbones, the raw bitten lip, the utter glorious catastrophe of her once-impeccable composure — and smiled again. Softer this time. Almost tender.

“Thank you for watching over me.”

She closed her eyes. A fresh tear escaped. He watched it trace a slow, glistening path down her cheek like a liquid diamond of devotion.

Then—

‘Above all else,’ he thought with wicked satisfaction, ‘this calls for a celebration.’

He could already picture it in vivid, sinful detail: Melissa, Sierra, Maddie, Patricia, Valentina, Goddess, maybe even Amber — gathered in his suite by midnight, perhaps Roxanne if her pussy had recovered enough to join the festivities, a bottle of something catastrophically expensive from the private cellar, a playlist heavy with bass that would make the floor throb, his hair loose, shirt strategically unbuttoned, and Cassiopeia in the corner pretending at composure until Maddie inevitably dragged her into the glorious chaos by the wrist.

Kyle was enslaved. Anderson, Aiden and Zack were still floating in whatever high-tech recovery tanks the Heavenchild medical wing had stuffed them into. Jonathan was Marked and obedient. The Omni-Primordial Path was unfurling like a blood-red carpet laid at his feet.

In the space of six exterior minutes and two interior days, he had become the proud owner of an Original Progenitor.

He had definitely earned a drink.

Frankly, he had earned several drinks and at least three of his women. Possibly four, if the night went particularly well.

[Ding!]

One final notification. Small. Almost an afterthought as he began swinging his legs off the edge of the bed.

[Host can now observe through his slave’s sight.]