Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise! - Chapter 309

Pyris steadied himself, summoning another weapon to continue, but before he could move, his teacher raised her hand, palm outward—a simple gesture, yet absolute in its authority.

“Enough,” she said, her voice calm but still carrying that sharp edge of superiority.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips. “You’ve already shown me what I wanted to see… though I must admit, wiping the floor with you was more fun than I expected.”

Pyris exhaled through his nose, a low growl escaping him—not from anger, but from the undeniable sting of truth behind her words. He had lost. As much as he’d improved, as much as his new forging knowledge surged within him, he wasn’t there yet.

Not even close. He couldn’t stand against his teacher using only his forging skills.

Not yet.

And that wasn’t even her full strength. If she’d tapped into her raw power—her energy—he would’ve been overwhelmed completely.

“You’ve improved, though,” she added, her voice softer as she stepped closer. “Far beyond what I taught you. Is this… the legacy you mentioned?”

Pyris nodded, relaxing his stance. “Yeah… It’s been a lot to take in.”

His teacher sat down cross-legged on the cracked tiles, the earlier storm of battle fading into something more peaceful. Pyris followed suit, lowering himself beside her, the tension bleeding out of his body as the adrenaline wore off.

“How’ve you been, teacher?” he asked, his voice losing its edge, filled instead with genuine concern. The way you’d ask someone who meant more than just a mentor.

Her gaze softened, a rare warmth replacing her usual teasing sharpness. “Still worried about me, huh? I see you haven’t changed. I thought you’d be furious. Maybe even wouldn’t want to look at me after you cried when I left you behind all those years ago.”

From the far end of the rooftop, Lizzie had finally approached, arms crossed, lips quirking into a smirk as she watched. “Wait—you cried?” she snickered.

Pyris shot her a half-hearted glare before sighing, his attention returning to his teacher. “I was just a kid… I didn’t understand why someone who meant so much to me suddenly left. You were with me every day for years—teaching me, taking care of me. Of course I didn’t think about your responsibilities and your side. What kid would? I was selfish… emotional.”

She nodded quietly, as if hearing his words was something she’d needed for a long time. Then, with a small tut, she exhaled.

“I didn’t leave because of duties, Pyris,” she said softly, looking him in the eye. “You were becoming too dependent on me… even after I’d taught you so much. You weren’t growing. I had to give you space—and look at you now. You’ve proven me right.”

Her hands, small and delicate, cupped his face gently. “You’ve made me proud.”

Pyris blinked, struggling for words. This warmth, this closeness—it wasn’t something he expected even after so long.

“That’s…” He trailed off, unsure how to respond.

Her smile faltered just slightly, and she dropped her hands, staring past him for a moment. “And… I was becoming attached too. Maybe too much. That scared me.”

Pyris’s brows furrowed. “Scared you how?”

Without warning, her fist collided with his stomach, hard enough to send him skidding several feet across the broken rooftop tiles.

“Don’t get too curious about a woman’s feelings, brat,” she said, her face back to its usual calm mask, though Pyris swore he caught the tiniest motherly blush in her cheeks.

Lizzie covered her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

The teacher turned, giving Lizzie a polite nod before vanishing toward the rooftop exit.

Pyris groaned, dusting himself off as he staggered to his feet. The entire rooftop was in shambles—shattered tiles, broken edges, scorch marks. He rubbed his temples. Great. Another mess.

Exhaling slowly, he extended his hand. Earth mana pulsed beneath his feet, earthen-golden mana sparking to life as the ground shifted.

The broken tiles realigned themselves with a deep grinding sound, cracks mending, stone smoothing out until the entire rooftop looked as if the battle had never happened.

The helipad shimmered back into perfect condition just in time.

A pulse in the air drew Pyris’s attention upward.

A sleek, black helicopter descended silently, the blades barely making a sound as it hovered into place.

The helicopter touched down with a whisper, its blades slowing until only the steady pulse of mana thrummed in the air. The doors slid open in perfect silence, and two figures stepped out—one man, one woman. Their black suits were crisp, immaculate, tailored with a level of precision that spoke of wealth and authority, yet the subtle arcane stitching along the cuffs hinted they were far more than couriers.

They moved in sync, fluid and controlled, until their eyes met Pyris.

A flicker—brief but noticeable—passed between them. Expectation, perhaps. Yet now, seeing him up close, Pyris was… more. Taller than they imagined, his posture calm but commanding, golden eyes steady and sharp enough to unsettle.

Both figures bowed, their forms bending with practiced grace, not just as a sign of respect—but acknowledgment.

“Young Lord Pyris,” the man spoke, his voice smooth, measured. “We bring you the Blood Essence Stones on behalf of Lord Dracula, as per the terms of your arrangement.”

The woman stepped forward, presenting the four steel cases with both hands. The containers were flawless—cold, matte black with no visible locks or seams, yet faint etchings ran along their surface, sigils woven into the metal itself.

Old magic. The kind meant to hold power, not just secure it.

Pyris extended his hands. The cases settled into his grip without resistance, yet the weight was… nothing. Even Elsa could have lifted them with ease. The materials, the enchantments—they were mastercrafted. Designed to suppress the unbearable force locked inside.

No words. No unnecessary theatrics. Pyris, with a thought, the cases vanished into his inventory. Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire

The woman’s brow twitched, subtle but there. She scanned the air around him, expecting the flicker of a runic circle, the pulse of the spatial artifact.

Nothing.

No artifact?

“Lord Dracula,” the woman finally spoke, voice smooth as polished glass, “expects a confirmation of delivery immediately after the game’s launch.”

Pyris held her gaze, unwavering. “Tell my uncle he will have no reason for concern. The results will speak for themselves.”

The man bowed low, formal yet efficient. Without another word, he turned and began heading back toward the helicopter.

The woman lingered.

Her gaze drifted—not to Pyris but toward the far side of the rooftop, where the glass corridors stretched toward Esmeralda’s office. Her attention lingered just long enough for Pyris to catch it.

Curiosity.

But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She dipped her head, more restrained this time, and followed her companion without another word.

The helicopter lifted, the mana thrusters humming back to life, and in moments, it was just sky again.

Pyris remained still, eyes fixed on the horizon. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing.

“Time to face it now,” he muttered under his breath.

Behind him, Lizzie finally broke the silence. “I don’t know whether that was impressive… or uncomfortable.”

Pyris turned, lips curling in a half-smirk. “Why not both?”

And together, they made their way back inside.