Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise! - Chapter 311

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He worked without needing to think, each movement guided by deeply ingrained memory. The hovering silver flames dimmed as he adjusted the temperature through a subtle weave of magic, a small gesture of his hand causing runes etched along the forge’s frame to shift, reacting to his will.

The enchanted conduits pulsed in time with his breathing, syncing perfectly with his presence.

The boy was seamless.

His teacher watched silently, arms crossed, yet her mind raced as she observed. Pyris was still young, yet he commanded this space as though it bent around him, as though the forge itself acknowledged his mastery.

She had taught him these techniques—but he had long since surpassed her expectations in execution.

After stabilizing the energy flows, Pyris turned and approached a reinforced section of the forge wall. A vault. There were two in the chamber—both bearing ancient markings—but today, he opened only one.

The protective seals unraveled at his touch, layers of spells peeling back like silk, revealing the vault’s contents. Inside, perfectly arranged, were tools—mastercrafted hammers, chisels, delicate spell-needles, and forging instruments of both ancient and modern design.

Everything they would need. No weapons. Not just mere artifacts. Just tools.

Yet even these tools radiated power.

Pyris retrieved them carefully, setting each in its designated place as his teacher continued to watch, still silent. She could feel it. The weight of something far older than steel.

She said nothing, though her sharp eyes lingered on the scarlet-glowing fragments nearby. Pyris hadn’t offered an explanation—and he didn’t need to. She already understood.

She remembered the first time Pyris had come to her for advice help concerning Dracula’s request.

Emberly had refused Dracula back then.

And yet… here they were.

The choice had been made. Pyris had taken the deal after all.

So… they will forge him his armor.

There was no hesitation in her heart, no reservations clouding her judgment. If anything, she was thrilled.

Blood Weapons? Blood Items?

Artifacts crafted not from metal alone, but from the crystallized truths of life and death—things far older than most realms could even remember. Once, only gods and immortals had possessed the ability to create such things, forging them from the blood truths of the fallen. And yet, those same deities had long since decided to stop.

The Blood Weapons had been purged. Erased from existence. Not even fragments had survived the purge. The craft itself was forbidden, the secrets lost to time and fear.

But today…

Today, she was about to witness the creation of one.

No—she was about to make one.

Alongside her student.

And the “rude” young elf.

Her fingers curled tighter against her arm, her pulse quickening with realization. Find adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

“Obsidians are truly the undoing of gods.”

Yes, the Blood Weapons were meant to be beyond mortal reach—crafted only by immortal and divine hands. But the Obsidians had long since shattered that restriction. The Cosmic Cursed Family. That was why they were feared. That title alone would send a chill down a god’s spine.

They didn’t break divine law. They outgrew it.

With all that ability and knowledge to achieve what only immortals and gods were once capable of, the Obsidians stood as a paradox—feared yet misunderstood, powerful yet cursed.

Their legacy of transcending divine limits. Yet, despite their mastery over forbidden crafts, the cost lingered. Each generation bore both greatness and tragedy, as though the heavens themselves conspired to keep their bloodline from reaching its full, terrifying potential as generations went on.

But Emberly? Emberly had taken it a step further.

She had infused technology into the ancient arts.

Ancient craft techniques, magic, technology—three forces combined into something entirely new.

She wasn’t skilled in forging, not like Pyris, which was exactly why she had made sure he mastered the craft from childhood. She had pushed him, made sure he could carry on what their ancestors had once wielded.

No Obsidian in this generation could forge like Pyris. And Emberly had ensured his path was clear—designing tools, enchantments, and amplifiers to aid him so he could focus purely on creation.

It had paid off.

The proof was everywhere, from the enchanted devices Pyris designed for Obsidian Tech, the artifact-level smartphones, the spatial storage rings constructs.

And now, as she watched him prepare the forge, selecting tools with a calm, silent precision, his teacher couldn’t help but wonder—

Who was more dangerous?

The boy who seemed to have no limits…

Or the mother who knew no bounds in how far she would go to make sure he stayed limitless?

She couldn’t decide.

Complications with the Obsidians ran deeper than anyone could truly understand. No mortal. No immortal. Not even gods fully comprehended what they were.

Perhaps the ancient gods had once known.

But they were quiet, not willing to share anything related to this family.

And all that remained…

Was a rise of family who birthed God-Slayers that no god could stop from happening.

Every generation.

The Cosmic Cursed Family.

The Obsidians.

The Obsidians—were not simply a family—they were a legacy of dragons, a bloodline infused with the very power to slay gods. This truth was undeniable across every generation.

It wasn’t sheer power or technique that had allowed Lucy Obsidian’s army to nearly erase the Heavenly Host from existence. No, it was something far more primal—an ancient force laced into their blood.

To gods, they weren’t warriors. They were calamities.

The Heavenly Army had once seemed unstoppable, divine, infinite. Until they met the Obsidians. What followed was not a battle but a slaughter. The Obsidians had crushed them so thoroughly that the Elemental Deity himself, an ancient god, had to intervene personally to erase the Obsidian Dragons from existence.

Yet the bloodline endured.

In this generation, Pyris wasn’t alone in carrying that legacy. His sister, Anastasia, was living proof of it—her life energy so intense that even Phantoms, beings capable of extinguishing gods, felt uncomfortable in her presence. Only Mira and Song, could tolerate her life aura.

Then there was Aurelia—the Death Dragon—his other sister. Like Anastasia, she hadn’t yet touched the true depths of her power. None of them had. Just like the generations after Lucy Obsidian, they had either died before awakening their full potential or vanished under mysterious circumstances.

Their grandparents. His grandfather had died right after cucking a certain god and then the leader of the Immortal Realms. He had cucked them both at once before dying together with his grandmother and the two ladies he had stolen from those beings had faced even a worse fate!

Anyway…

Even Pyris himself knew the pattern of how Obsidian die in mysterious ways. They all did.

And as for his mother? Pyris was certain she wasn’t just Rank 19. No—there was more to her than even he could understand.