Harem Stealer: Reborn with the God-Tier Sharing System Chapter 428: Humiliation

The battle was cataclysmic. The once pristine, white-silver horizon of the Buntu was now stained by a chaotic spectrum of colors, each a lingering mark of a devastating technique.

Positioned far from the epicenter, Laeh watched with bated breath. Sensing the desperate condition of her sisters-in-law, she yearned to intervene, but the women had strictly forbidden her from joining the fray. Her left foot tapped the ground in a rhythmic, anxious tremor while her lips quivered uncontrollably.

A colossal emerald Tree had manifested out of thin air, towering over the landscape. Its massive roots delved deep into the very fabric of space, forcing the Buntu to groan under the immense pressure.

Orien stood beneath the Tree's canopy, his appearance seemingly flawless. However, a keen observer would notice the profound fatigue flickering within his verdant, leaf-like eyes. Behind his back, his clasped hands were trembling.

The Genesis Law proved to be an overwhelming force, being a primary Law of his progenitor. Furthermore, the World Tree skill was an absolute anomaly. Orien lacked the sufficient Cultivation to maintain such a technique for long, as it was a signature ability of Luelle. To keep it active, he was forced to drain the very depths of his reserves.

He had reached his breaking point; he couldn't sustain this much longer. His brow furrowed in frustration.

‘The constraints are far more rigid than I anticipated,’ Orien mused darkly, eyeing the adversaries before him. ‘It’s a relentless cycle. These silver-haired women just keep coming without pause. They refuse to submit.’

He clicked his tongue, his irritation mounting.

Sari and Ester had been joined by Lucie, Apollonia, and Yuki, who had finished their previous objectives early to provide Reinforcements. Yet, even with their combined might, they were unable to topple Orien while the World Tree stood behind him. Their hearts burned with indignation, which was rapidly curdling into a consuming rage.

They were the only ones left standing, and only just barely. The Shadow siblings and Klaus had been rendered completely powerless, their skin turning a sickly green from Orien’s potent toxins.

“This is unacceptable,” Apollonia ground out, her voice simmering with fury. “He is a single man, and we are many. Why can we not claim victory?”

She let out a pained groan immediately after. Her left arm had been lopped off by Orien, and now a disgusting green film of necrotic flesh clung to the stump. Her complexion grew increasingly pale as the poison surged through her system. Though she used her own Law to stall the toxin’s progress, it left her dangerously exposed in the heat of combat.

Sari let out a weary sigh at Apollonia’s outburst. Like her companion, her body was decorated with a gruesome array of wounds. Sweat poured from her brow, and her lips shook with exhaustion. Finding the strength to stand was becoming an impossible task, forcing her to drop to her knees, her chest heaving with every labored breath.

The others were in no better shape; Ester, Lucie, and Yuki were similarly battered.

The Origins they had brought along were unable to help. They were either too crippled by injuries to fight or paralyzed by the terror of facing a Progenitor’s power. Their dread was visceral, and the women lacked the time or energy to coerce them.

“Mindless charging will get us nowhere,” Ester growled, the shadows in her black eyes deepening. “A strategy is required.”

“That Tree provides him with constant regeneration, regardless of the damage we deal. It acts as a perfect shield, leaving no openings. Furthermore, those roots can strike from anywhere, each imbued with different elements and venoms.”

As Ester broke down the Tree’s mechanics, the group's expressions soured. Regenerating flesh was one thing, but healing damage dealt to one's very existence was unheard of.

How could such a thing be possible? The only logical conclusion was that Orien possessed the Origin of Life. Nothing else could explain it.

They began to coordinate, whispering plans even as they fought like demons, their strikes and defenses flowing in a perfect, synchronized rhythm. Using the rings Noah had provided, they communicated through thought, making their teamwork nearly flawless.

Still, Orien remained as immovable as the Tree itself, parrying every assault with terrifying precision. Suddenly, he froze and tilted his head toward the sky. His brow twitched for a second before his face split into a wide, mocking grin.

He burst into laughter.

“I almost lost faith in you, Grandmother!”

The women stopped dead in their tracks. They stared at Orien in confusion until a sudden vibration caused their bodies to shake. It wasn't just them—the entire Buntu was trembling, cowering like a frightened animal before a predatory monster.

They felt Laeh’s sheer terror bleeding into their minds, followed by her desperate, horrified scream.

“RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!!!” Laeh shrieked at the top of her lungs. The space of the Buntu began to ripple and warp like a sea caught in a violent gale.

The women were still reeling from the sudden shift, but the atmosphere changed completely as a thunderous aura began to tear the Buntu apart. With dread freezing their hearts, they looked up to see a massive rift forming in the sky of their world.

The tear widened until it was large enough for a person to pass through. A foot stepped out, accompanied by a voice. It was a calm, inquisitive tone, yet it carried enough weight to crush their souls, forcing them to their knees in involuntary submission.

Their faces drained of color as their heads were forced down.

“Doubting me?” the Progenitor of Elves murmured. “Orien, my dear, perhaps you require a thousand years of confinement in your quarters?”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the now-silent realm. The wives exerted every ounce of their strength to lift their gazes. As they struggled, blood began to leak from their eyes, noses, and ears. They gritted their teeth, pushing through the sensation of their bodies turning to ash.

Finally, they managed to look up just enough to see the breathtakingly beautiful Elf. It took only a single glance. One look, and their eyes literally exploded, painting the ground in a horrific display of gore.

“ARGHHHHHH!”

A collective, soul-wrenching scream tore from their throats. Their very forms began to suffer corruption as the mere presence of Luelle, the Progenitor of Elves, began to unravel them. The woman paid them no mind, glancing around with mild interest. Her eyes eventually settled on Laeh, sensing her unique power. A small smile touched her lips.

That wasn't all. She detected the familiar power of the threads that had recently challenged her. Her smile grew wider.

She turned her attention back to Orien, noting his extreme exhaustion. Though she did nothing, her presence alone caused the Buntu to decay and fray. Between the screams of the wives and Laeh’s violent tremors, the cold scent of true death began to permeate the air.

This wasn't a standard death. The wives realized with terrifying clarity that this was the end of their existence.

“Do not use that skill again, Orien. Your soul is still too fragile,” Luelle said eventually. With a casual flick of her finger, she dispelled Orien’s Law. Another flick sent a surge of green light into Orien, mending his fatigue and wounds instantly.

She finally turned her gaze downward to acknowledge the women and the others below.

“Tell me, child, what are these... creatures?” she asked, referring to the women as she drifted toward the ground.

The closer she got, the more the souls of those below were ground toward total annihilation.

“Ah, they are nothing of consequence. Just a group of pathetic women who think too much of themselves because they share the same man,” Orien answered, his voice thick with contempt as he stood healed and refreshed.

“A shared man?” Luelle repeated, sounding amused.

“Noah Vaelgrim, the Third Abomination,” Orien clarified, moving to her side. “It seems he is also the progenitor of a new race they call the Elysiari, Grandmother.”

“Oh!” Luelle let out a laugh. “In that case—!”

She stopped abruptly, her expression hardening as she stared at the women. Or rather, she stared at the rift that had just manifested in front of them. A man stepped out from the void.

He was tall, with silver hair streaked with purple and piercing, slitted violet eyes. Luelle smiled at him, feeling the waves of power radiating from his form.

“I presume you are Noah,” she remarked with a chilling familiarity. “And I also presume you are the one who dared to threaten me.”

Noah didn't respond immediately. He turned slightly to witness the state of his wives. His expression remained unreadable—cold as a glacier and as still as a frozen lake.

The women were gasping for air, their ruined eyes unable to mend under Luelle’s aura. They shook like leaves in a storm. They tried to compose themselves in Noah’s presence, but they were physically unable to. A torrential rage began to boil within them like liquid fire. They were trembling and weeping piteously before their husband.

In that moment, the wives craved death; the sheer humiliation was more than their souls could bear. They pressed their heads into the dirt, trying to shrink away as if they wished to vanish from reality.

Noah took it all in, yet he remained silent. He shifted his focus away from his wives and locked eyes with the watching Luelle. He could feel the Buntu screaming in agony, unable to tolerate her presence. He was acutely aware of the massive chasm in power between them.

And yet...

And yet...

Despite everything, and goddamn it, yet...

“You,” Noah whispered, his voice low and steady as he leveled a finger at Luelle.

“You are dead.”

—End of Chapter 428—