Harem Stealer: Reborn with the God-Tier Sharing System Chapter 459 Wrathful Aurelia

"Sweetheart, the hunt for all of you has begun. It spans the entire universe."

Courtisan Lust spoke while keeping her gaze fixed on Asaemon. "Our movements must be far more cautious from now on."

Her tone was gentle, laced with a subtle pity as she observed the former Elysiari of Monsters.

The radiant silver hair that once defined Asaemon was gone. Now, his head was crowned by a dull, sickly shade closer to rusty white than anything else.

To look upon him was to realize that a vital piece of his very soul had been extinguished.

Despite this, his crimson eyes burned with a ferocity and brilliance that surpassed anything seen before.

They were currently taking refuge within a concealed sanctuary deep in the heart of Hell, plotting their next move. The chamber was cramped, no larger than a common room belonging to a destitute family.

It had been constructed from the harvested flesh and bone of abyss monsters, fused together by the searing flames of Hell.

The two of them were the only occupants of the desolate space.

Scanning the area with her rose-colored eyes, Courtisan Lust acknowledged Sloth, Envy, and Gluttony.

These were the only three Demon Lords who had dared to risk everything to follow Asaemon on his path.

Each was driven by their own secret cravings.

"I am aware we are being pursued," Asaemon replied, his eyes moving from Lust to the other three. "However, I must trust in their survival instincts. Leaving Hell now would mean abandoning the slim window of opportunity I currently hold."

He stopped for a moment, forcing down the bitter taste of inadequacy that threatened to overwhelm him.

Now was not the moment for weakness. The time to grieve for his fallen faction members would come later.

For this moment, he required the power of Hell.

"The Progenitor has not yet arrived," Courtisan Lust remarked, beginning a slow, composed walk toward Asaemon. "Meanwhile, Wrath, Pride, and Greed are exerting all their effort to force Hell itself to speak and reveal our coordinates."

"What is the likelihood they can make the beast talk?"

"The chances are slim, sweetheart. Very slim. Yet, it remains a distinct possibility. Should Hell perceive us as a threat to its master, the Progenitor of Demons, it will stop at nothing to eliminate us."

"Everything... is such a bother," Sloth suddenly groaned, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Her speech was sluggish and heavy.

"So bothersome. We... lack a multitude of options. Just... choose one so we can be finished."

"She's right," Envy chimed in, idly twirling a lock of her dark hair around a finger. "Besides, killing Wrath, Pride, and Greed is an immense task. Even if you succeeded, it wouldn't grant you mastery over Hell. Such a clash would only draw the Progenitor's attention."

"Hell is merely the Progenitor's pet," Gluttony added. His lips were slick with grease, and his protruding stomach was so massive it nearly obscured his face.

He spoke with the labored breath of a man on the brink of exhaustion. "We must seize control of Hell from the Progenitor's grasp." He paused, struggling to catch his breath after finishing his sentence.

"That, my darlings, is the heart of the problem," Courtisan Lust said, now standing directly to Asaemon’s left. "How do we accomplish that? As Demon Lords, we understand the profound depth of the bond between them."

"Moreover, the Progenitor's return is imminent. We don't have the luxury of time to plan our moves carefully."

She turned her head slightly, studying the grim expression on Asaemon’s face. A small smile played on her lips. "So, sweetheart, what is our strategy?"

The weight of the situation was crushing.

Asaemon understood that conquering Hell was already a monumental feat, but the sheer scale of the challenge was only now becoming clear.

Nevertheless,

"I am reluctant to be the one to suggest this," he said, eyeing the four Demon Lords with a questioning look, "but every entity has a price at which their loyalty can be bought."

"Just as you abandoned your own kin for personal gain, Hell might do the same if offered something it truly craves. Something its current master has denied it."

"And... what would that be?" Sloth inquired slowly, her interest piqued.

The confidence in Asaemon’s voice suggested he held the answer.

And he did indeed have a plan.

Asmodeus, the Progenitor of Demons, had been his comrade. They had spent countless hours together, arguing and conversing about a myriad of topics.

During those times, Asaemon had frequently observed the dynamic between Asmodeus and Hell.

Those observations had revealed a specific desire held by Hell.

Asaemon squeezed his fist shut. He felt a wave of self-loathing at the thought of weaponizing a friendship for the sake of betrayal.

He had never imagined he would be forced into such a position.

Subtlety was never Asaemon's way; in fact, he despised it.

He preferred transparency and genuine connections, treating people with the same honesty he showed to beasts, free from lies and backstabbing.

And yet... here he was.

"You have no choice, sweetheart," Courtisan Lust whispered softly. She reached out, framing Asaemon’s face tightly within her hands.

She gently adjusted his head until their eyes met.

She smiled, radiating a beauty capable of shattering worlds. "This is no time to lament your past bonds, sweetheart. You must make a choice and follow through with unwavering resolve," Lust urged. "If you hesitate for too long, you will lose the respect of both the Progenitor and your own sibling."

She went silent for a moment, noting the hardening of Asaemon’s gaze.

Pressing her advantage, she murmured, "So tell me, what are you prepared to sacrifice?"

"A single friendship, or the legacy of your brother?"

At that moment, the need for deliberation vanished.

With a grim new determination, Asaemon, the Second Abomination, finally spoke.

"The Crusader of Gold Eagle," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Hell covets the Crusader of Gold Eagle, the Guardian of the Celestial Faction's Hidden Temple."

His words reverberated through the small room like a dark omen.

The Demon Lords were visibly stunned, their eyes widening in shock.

Sloth bolted upright from her lethargy, her body trembling.

Envy recoiled a step, her jaw dropping in disbelief.

Courtisan Lust’s expression froze, her hands falling away from Asaemon’s face as her breath hitched.

And then,

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Gluttony let out a piercing shriek.

Another scream followed. "ARGHHHHH! WHAT—!"

"Die in silence." Aurelia’s voice was frigid. Her golden daggers tore through the throat of a screaming elven woman before a single, swift strike severed the head completely.

The head spun through the air, painting the sky with crimson as the light of life faded from the woman's eyes.

Aurelia marched forward without emotion, her boots crushing the flowers beneath her, her form drenched in elven blood.

Behind her lay the bodies of hundreds—no, thousands—of elves scattered across the earth.

The carnage was horrific.

Hearts had been torn from chests, some still twitching with phantom life. The river of blood was filled with severed limbs, mangled remains, and detached eyes that seemed to bob like fish. The air was thick with the stench of gore, slaughter, and pure terror.

Aurelia stood in the center of what was once a magnificent garden, filled with enchanted flora and towering trees that reached for the heavens.

It had been a paradise. Now, it was a graveyard for the damned.

In the distance, Aurelia saw millions of elves gathered like a swarm of insects in a tight, desperate formation. At their front stood the Worldborn, their golden hair looking like burnt ash and their eyes a piercing green.

Aurelia had invaded Treehouse, the primary realm of the Worldborn.

And its inhabitants had come out to face her.

"First Abomination, you—!" "Be silent," Aurelia cut him off, and the very atmosphere turned still. Above her, a titanic golden tome the size of a manor materialized, causing the fabric of space to groan and tear like old cloth. A crushing weight descended upon the elves, as if the sky itself were collapsing.

Upon seeing the book, the elves—whose power had been severely diminished by Luelle’s passing—trembled with dread. Some began to flee in panic.

The artifact was legendary.

It was the vessel where the stolen Records were kept. If they had been hesitant to face the First Abomination before, the sound of Aurelia’s voice echoing through the garden turned that doubt into a heart-stopping terror.

"Forbidden Record number Three,"

Aurelia’s voice thundered like a celestial collapse.

"Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."

Aurelia’s transformation began. Treehouse shuddered and split into seven distinct fragments.

The elves shrieked in agony and disbelief as the Will of the World cried out in a horrific wail of pain.

All the while, Eric, Malrik, and Rouge stood amidst the elven ranks, watching the devastation with cold, unyielding eyes.

-End of Chapter 459-