Harem Stealer: Reborn with the God-Tier Sharing System - Chapter 431

Capítulo 431: Chapter 431: Permanent wound

Chapter 431 – Permanent wound

“Yelp! The lad actually did it.” A black-haired man with matching eyes laughed while gazing at the half-destroyed universe from afar.

He stood in nothingness, his right hand gloved in sticky yellow blood that writhed like clustered worms.

He spared them a glance, watching as they tried to eat his flesh. His brow knitted together.

“You are so annoyingly persistent, Yellow,” he hissed, clenching his hand and bursting the worms, obliterating them from existence itself.

He waved his hand lazily, then squinted his eyes back toward the crumbling universe.

He witnessed the progenitors acting in a disorganized tandem, desperately trying to heal their collapsing home.

But that was not all.

The Pillars of Reality became aware as well, turning their gazes toward that single universe.

In one frightening instant, that universe became like a red fish in the midst of blue fishes.

It became glaring, an offense to the eyes of all.

Even to those of other universes.

Still, reactions were diverse.

Some peered into the situation with nothing but curiosity. Others were already five steps ahead, their minds weaving schemes to place another universe beneath them. Not out of hostility, but simply because they could.

So they would.

But there were some who watched with unmistakable hostility. A group of strange, malformed beings. For them, this opportunity was god-sent.

So in a span shorter than seconds, all of reality burst into motion, eager to feast upon the crippled lamb laid bare before them.

The strange man saw all of this unfolding, yet he did nothing.

He had said it before. He would help his chosen one only once.

He had aided him in the matter of Ruin. Now the boy had to shoulder the consequences of his own actions.

Still, he was not worried. His face split into an open smile.

“The Spirit World, huh…” the man murmured. “I almost want to participate in their reunion. I wonder. I truly wonder… how this will turn out.”

He shook his head, amused.

The lives of these beings were endlessly entertaining. They made his eternal war against Them slightly more bearable.

Nevertheless, no matter how strong he was, he was still only one. And They were many.

Each one capable of devouring this Perfected Reality in a single second.

He needed his chosen ones to grow.

“Little Brandon is the most promising,” the man whispered, hand resting against his chin. “His actions are bolder. Though little Ethan is just as unhinged. Aminata, the cute lass, lags behind, but her path is unique in its own way. She is fire. The first.”

He grinned.

“I have high expectations for her.”

All three were progressing steadily, but too slowly.

Still, there was nothing he could do except keep the wall unmoving until they grew strong enough.

Would they fail him?

They had better not.

His eyes flashed with alien luster.

“Whatever I give,” he whispered coldly, then smiled once more, “I can take back.”

He cast one final glance at the wounded universe and vanished into the folds of nothingness.

Things were in motion.

All he had to do now was wait. Good grief.

Patience, after all, was his greatest virtue.

He disappeared completely, leaving the universe to fend for itself.

‘Power attracts power, my chosen ones.’

…

Across the vast expanse of space, progenitors who normally never interacted with the universe began to stir, their souls restless.

That unease multiplied tenfold when they felt presences closing in on their domains.

Beings intended to enter their dwellings uninvited. And that…that was something none of them could afford.

Wordlessly, with the aid of the Records, the progenitors sealed their natural barriers and reinforced them. Each worked alone, feeling no need to convene with the others.

They barely succeeded in halting the intruders. But not for long. The barriers were strong, yet strength meant little against these type of numbers.

And if there was one defining trait of gods…

They had an embarrassing excess of time.

They would wait. They would strike. Again and again, until the barriers shattered.

That meant preparation for war was inevitable.

And that was where things turned truly unsightly.

Luelle, the Progenitor of Elves, a Pinnacle of the universe, was dead.

Her death was not simple.

It could never be.

Her demise had weakened the core existence of the universe itself.

Just as a world grew stronger and more dignified through its inhabitants, so too did a universe.

Meaning, a universe also had ranks. And just now, that universe had fallen, not by one rank, but by two.

Many powerful beings had kissed death far too intimately for it to let go. It swallowed them all into its depthless love.

The King in the North was dead. The Mother of Change was dead. Laka, the Bloodline Sage, was dead. Tiamat and Ouroboros were dead. The Queen of Hearts was dead.

A multitude of Origins — death, war, spirit, and countless others — had perished.

All killed by the Elysiari.

Their reputation as madmen surged.

For these were not deaths that could be ignored.

No. Not at all.

These were not mortal deaths.

These were the deaths of divinities, of aspects, that formed the very foundation of the universe.

With their collapse into dust, a permanent and terrifying wound had been carved into the whimpering cosmos.

The Will itself writhed upon the ground.

At that moment, it resembled shattered glass crudely pressed together to resemble a whole.

A whole had indeed formed. But the cracks remained.

They always would.

“You have doomed us, Records,” Esmeray, Mother of Dragons, growled, rage boiling over.

She stood atop her main world, eyes fixed upon the canopy of ruined stars above, as though challenging existence itself.

Her slitted, draconic black eyes burned with untamed fury.

“Do you realize what you have done?” she continued, the world beneath her trembling in response. “You allowed an entire universe to stand on the brink of death for a single individual.”

As Esmeray fully grasped the scale of it, the urge to kill surged violently through her being. A suffocating power erupted from her, swallowing the surrounding space in her wrath.

{A fair game.} The Records answered mechanically.

Esmeray laughed incredulously. “Fair?” she echoed, her whole body slithering as if snakes were moving inside. Veins erupted all over her body, even in her eyes.

“One being is worth all of this?”

The Records did not answer, but Esmeray did not need one. This whole situation was reeling her mind, and the reaction of the Records even more.

It was not like They did not know the current state of the universe.

The Void beasts were banding together under the leadership of Void Lords. With what had just happened, the corruption—!

Esmeray halted in her thoughts, her eyes dilating.

{You finally understood, Mother of Dragons.}

The Progenitor did not answer, her mind connecting the dots she had just grasped. Soon, a clear map of the whole universe appeared inside her mind.

She examined it. Shock deepened.

Only now did she realize that the part of the universe destroyed by that madman was the very region where Void Beasts and Void Lords had gathered like ants.

It was the part that was completely rotten, corrupted by the Void, infested with trauma-inducing monsters that even they would think twice before fighting.

That madman had targeted that zone in his blast.

“Does that mean…” Esmeray’s power receded into a hazy calm, “…he planned this while fighting Luelle, Change, and the King?”

She blurted it out.

{He did.} The Records confirmed. {And the remnants that survived could be eliminated by you, if you gather together.}

The Records paused, then continued, their voice now laced with mocking disdain.

{But will you?}

Esmeray did not answer. She had none. She knew her fellow progenitors better than anyone. She knew their nature.

They would gather only when extinction itself began to wave at them like a long-lost friend.

Until then, each would prioritize the safety of their own faction.

Esmeray herself was no different.

That was what they had become after eons of standing at the Pinnacle.

And there was nothing harder than discarding a bad habit.

Esmeray sighed, fully grasping the situation. If they banded together, they could at least eliminate the Void.

Then only the external threats would remain, not the internal rot.

A faint glimpse of hope pierced the fog of doom coiling around her.

It was a fool’s dream. But Esmeray wanted to make it real.

But first…

“My granddaughter. Is she dead?”

{Spirit World.}

The Mother of Dragons clicked her tongue.

It was comforting to know she still lived, even if it would be utterly different from her past lives. Yet it still hurt to know she had died.

But there was nothing she could do. Nothing except hate those Elysiari bastards.

She cursed.

The Soul Rulers were terrifying, especially within their domain. None could defeat them.

She prayed her granddaughter would endure there.

As for whether she could return to the Waking Universe…

Esmeray shook her head and vanished.

“Impossible. None of them would come back.”

Their lives in the Waking Universe were over.

Esmeray exhaled and refocused.

She had peers to rally. And a home to save.

‘I wish Evadam were still here. He could talk reason with that silver tongue of his. Damn that scholar!’

‘Where even is he?’

—End of Chapter 431—