My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 553 - 553: The Threads of Fate
“Yes,” she said, still wiping the corner of her eye with a manicured finger. “But we both need to accomplish a few things before we qualify to deserve each other.”
Phei opened his mouth—
Her tone changed.
Like someone had flipped a switch and cut the power to the big-sister warmth. The woman sitting across from him was no longer the girl who had tried to pinch his cheeks.
She was the blade from the Maxton dining room. Cold. Precise. Lethal.
“Phei. The real reason I’m here is to deliver a message from Madam.”
He sat back down. Slowly.
“Melissa was supposed to tell you this. But Mom thought it would be better if she delivered it herself. Through me of course.”
She folded her hands on the table. Precise like she was about to say things that mattered and wanted her body to match the gravity.
“Madam is happy you’ve asserted your dominance on the Legacies. Punished some of them. Yes, it was impulsive—but good.”
Phei nodded.
“But that’s the end of it.”
The words landed heavy.
“Whatever you do—under no circumstances should you kill a single Legacy heir before they awaken.”
She reached across the table and grabbed both of his hands.
Sudden and firm.
Her grip was stronger than it had any right to be for someone her size, fingers wrapping around his like she was physically anchoring him to the table, to this moment, to the seriousness of what she was about to say.
“Phei, the Legacy families—most especially the Heavenchilds and the Maxtons— are more dangerous than you realise. Any wrong move could spell your end. But killing any of them is even more dangerous. So—”
She looked him in the eyes. Dead on. No warmth now or any of ealier adoration. Just the flat, urgent stare of someone delivering a message that could save his life or end it depending on whether he listened.
“Do anything in your power to avoid situations that would make you kill them.”
He opened his mouth.
“What I mean—” she cut him off “—is do anything in your power to make them yours. I do not mean your women. The boys. The heirs. Make them your slaves.”
The words punched into Phei’s chest like a fist through a wall.
Not because they were new.
Because he’d heard them before. Today. Hours ago. While Cassiopeia rode him in the aftermath of Tiamat’s Claim and his brain was split between the woman on his cock and the notification blinking in his vision.
[DING! Hidden Mission Completed!]
[Make one Legacy member your slave!]
[Status: COMPLETED]
[Rewards: Cosmic Dragon Slave Mark!]
[Description: Works on both gender and all living beings! An absolute enslavement mark that binds anyone as your slave for eternity with no chance of breaking free!]
[Works on everyone as long as your willpower is stronger, despite the difference in power ranking!]
[Use: Instill absolute fear on the target. Press a finger to their forehead if the first step is successful and intone—Cosmic Dragon Slave Mark!]
He’d read it while Cassiopeia bounced on his cock. Read it with the absolute—what had he felt?
He still wasn’t sure. Triumph? Horror? The specific discomfort of being handed a slavery tool while getting laid?
All three, probably, in a cocktail that tasted like his life.
And before he could process the reward or Cassiopeia’s pussy or the moral implications of any of it, another notification had detonated.
[EMERGENCY MAIN MISSION 2 TRIGGERED!]
Well, well. He’d thought he had to finish the first mission before getting another. But the situation had triggered this one on its own.
[Mission: Legacy Conquer!]
[Description: Under no circumstances should the host kill a Main Legacy heir before they awaken. But leaving them running amok and untouchable would also serve great calamity to the host—and even more so if they awaken!]
[Requirements: Secretly place the Slave Mark on Legacy family boys and turn them into your enslaved allies before the Destined Day! Only then can you avoid the reckoning that would end you if they awaken!]
[Rewards: New Element!]
He’d asked Eira later. According to her, a great calamity was coming to him on that day. Delivered by the heirs of those families. It was him or them. Phei had realised what he’d always known—him and the Legacy boys would never coexist peacefully.
One would control the other. And things were more serious than he’d initially thought.
And here was Rune Natsuki sitting across a restaurant booth telling him the same thing his system had told him hours ago.
The universe is not being subtle today about my not so bright future, I see.
“What would happen if I killed one by accident?” he asked.
He knew he couldn’t take a life on purpose. That wasn’t him. But accidents were accidents, and when you were dealing with boys who ran kids over with cars for sport and tried to rape girls in VVIP suites, the line between self-defence and homicide got thin real fast.
And there was that thing—that hollow feeling that snapped inside him sometimes, the one that turned the world cold and his mercy off like a switch.
Rune stiffened.
The warmth that had been trying to creep back into her expression died. What replaced it was the face of a woman delivering a death sentence she wished she didn’t have to read.
“If your own hands killed a Legacy heir before the Destined Day,” she said, voice careful and measured, each word placed like a brick in a wall, “they would come back to life.”
Phei stared.
“But unlike those who awaken while alive—whose power grows gradually, naturally, through their bloodline’s progression—the soul that rises of the dead legacy you killed would come back to life a Supreme Immortal and not only that but they’d also awaken in its ultimate form. So strong that not even a Lesser God would stand a chance.”
She could see the confusion on his face. Too much information. Too fast. She pressed on anyway because the alternative was letting him walk out without knowing, and that was worse.
“Let me put it simply. If you killed a member of the Price family for example, they’d awaken in thier ultimate Fenrisúlfr Wolf at Supreme Immortal power level.”
“What’s a Fenrisúlfr Wolf?”
“What modern literature calls a Fenrir Wolf. But the real thing—the Fenrisúlfr—is more ancient. Primordial. The original predator that every wolf myth was diluted from. All Legacy bloodlines are like this, Phei. Old enough that the stories you’ve read are children’s versions of what they actually are.”
She leaned forward.
“Unlike normal Supreme Immortal beings—who are a level below Lesser Gods—a Legacy heir awakened at that level through death and resurrection could take out five Lesser Gods in seconds. But only if you’re the one who killed them!”
Phei knew a thing or two about power rankings from Eira. It was just—
“And why does this only apply if I kill them?” he asked. “Why me specifically?”
She sighed. “All I can say is it’s the fate of Phei Ryujin Tiamat the heir of the Ryujin Tiamat Bloodline and the Legacy families. I don’t know why. Nobody does. But those who can read the strings of fate can at least see this much—even if the reasons behind it are always hidden.”
Bullshit, Phei thought.
“Actually,” Eira chimed in, voice uncharacteristically serious, “what Rune said is exactly true. She didn’t lie. Not a single word. That’s why I told you when you attacked the Maxton Mansion—never kill Harold. No one knows the strings of fate or the reasons behind them. But those who can read them can see this much.” She did not explain more.
Phei didn’t argue. Didn’t ask Rune what would happen if he didn’t enslave the boys—the system had already told him. He understood.
As long as he didn’t kill them, they’d awaken and grow their powers naturally. Manageable. Beatable, maybe, with enough time and training.
But if he killed one—even by accident—they’d return as Supreme Immortals. And they’d come for him. And he’d die.
And if he didn’t enslave them before the Destined Day? Two roads. Both ending in the same ditch.
Either his head rolling— literally, figuratively, permanently—or him becoming their slave. Their property.
The dragon in chains, serving the families that had already spent ten years trying to break him.
Death or enslavement. Those were his options for failure. Pick your poison, mate.
He stood.
“Say hello to Chaos for me.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
“Phei—wait.”
He didn’t stop.
“Phei, there’s one more thing I need to—”
He kept walking. Not out of disrespect or out of anger.
But out of the simple, physical need to be moving.
To be anywhere other than sitting in a booth being told that his choices were enslave or be enslaved, kill or be killed, succeed before a deadline nobody would explain or spend the rest of his existence as someone else’s property.
The door closed behind him.
Rune sat alone in the booth. Hand still half-raised from reaching after him. The words she hadn’t gotten to say still sitting behind her teeth.
She lowered her hand.
Looked at the untouched glass of water on the table.
She’d just dumped a lifetime of cosmic lore on a boy who’d been the poorest person in Paradise a month ago and was now being told to enslave people his own age or have his head roll on some prophesied day—or worse, become their slave himself, depending on what happened between now and then.
Too much.
It was just too much. Even for her as a messenger. She was an adult. A lawyer. A woman who dealt in information the way surgeons dealt in organs—with precision, with care, with the understanding that cutting wrong could kill.
And she’d just cut deep.
What happened to being seventeen-year-old?
