Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 265: The Next Stage

"Dare to be alone with another woman in a closed space?"

"I didn’t cheat, I swear!" Eastiel’s voice cracked. "Lady Mero, testify for me!"

His golden eyes were wide, panicked, the look of a man who had just been caught red-handed despite doing absolutely nothing wrong.

Emra stood up straight.

Her fluffy ears perked. Her magnificent tail gave an involuntary wag. A grin spread across her fox-like features, delighted and relieved.

"Saintess!" Emra practically bounced, her fluffy ears perking and her magnificent tail wagging with unabashed delight. "You’re here, hehe~!"

Cecilia chuckled, releasing Eastiel’s neck and letting him slump forward in exaggerated relief after realizing she was just joking.

"Lady Mero." Her voice was warm and pleased. "It’s nice to see you again."

As she spoke, the tent flap rustled, and two more figures entered.

Arkai first, his dark presence filling the entrance, his eyes immediately finding Cecilia with that particular intensity he always wore. Then Oathran, mist white-haired and elegant, moving with the quiet grace of someone who had centuries of practice at being unnoticed when he chose.

Eastiel’s face reddened even more.

He looked like a chastised man. The presence of his brothers made it worse.

"His Majesty Arkai Dawnoro will escort your people himself tomorrow." Cecilia said, cutting through the tension smoothly. "Please stay the night."

Emra’s eyes widened, then sparkled.

"Thank you~ Saintess!" She beamed enchantingly, her fox-like features lit with gratitude. "Oh, how generous of you to lend me one of your men~ hehe!"

Cecilia beamed back, a mirror of that enchanting smile, but somehow more gentle.

"Yes. Thank you for lending me your men when I needed them too." Her eyes crinkled. "They were very useful."

A few years ago, one of the girls from Emra’s tribe had gone missing.

Emra had searched. Had raged. Had spent sleepless nights imagining the worst. A girl like her own daughter, subjected to the same nightmare she had survived. Sold, or traded, worse, used.

After years of searching, the girl was found, alive and healthy, living in a Werebear’s tribe.

Emra’s fury had been apocalyptic.

She had moved to incite a war between multiple fox and bear tribes. She had the beauty, the manipulation skills and the contacts.

Then Cecilia’s letter had arrived.

Cecilia proved just via the letter that Werebear who had taken the fox girl hadn’t touched her or harmed her. He had simply... adopted her. Taken her in as his own daughter, raised her with love and care, given her a dignified life.

It was a misunderstanding. A terrible coincidence.

This was one of the famous tales of Saintess Araceli’s accomplishments, restoring peace between the Werebears and Werefoxes, preventing a war that would have devastated both species. The official story was clean and simple.

No one knew it was actually Emra who had incited the near-war. No one knew how close they had come to disaster because of the Lord of Meroron Tribe.

And Cecilia had kept her secret.

Knowing that Emra’s motivation had been love, how fierce and protective it was, she had chosen mercy over exposure.

In return, Cecilia had asked for a small favor. She asked for some of Emra’s werefoxes, loaned for a specific purpose. Cecilia wanted their magnetic field detecting magic. Their natural ability to sense what others couldn’t.

Cecilia was studying magnetic fields, trying to predict disruptions to mana communications and the leylines caused by solar storms.

The werefoxes’ abilities were invaluable for mapping geological structures, locating resources, navigating via natural compasses, and understanding past continental shifts. They helped ensure the long-term protection of the atmosphere from solar wind.

Their relationship was built on trust and mutual respect. On secrets shared and kept. It ran deeper than any of Emra’s relationships with other lords on the continent.

And now, standing in Eastiel’s tent, with three of the most powerful men on the continent watching, Emra felt something she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Safe.

"Now that you’re here, you must be tired, Saintess and the Lords." Emra’s voice was light, respectful and perfectly timed. She curtsied gracefully, her magnificent tail sweeping the ground behind her. "I will be taking my leave and resting for the night~"

She straightened, caught Cecilia’s eye, and waved energetically, almost childishly, with pure warmth and affection.

"See you tomorrow." Cecilia waved back, her smile as genuine and warm.

Emra slipped out of the tent, her presence fading. And the moment she was gone, the moment her scent and her existence had fully departed, Oathran and Arkai lost it.

They descended on Eastiel.

SLAP. "Hahahah—" SLAP. "Huhuhuh—" SLAP.

Their hands connected with the youngest’s back in rapid succession, each blow accompanied by unrestrained laughter. The kind of laughter that came from somewhere that had been waiting for exactly this opportunity.

"Good for you, brother." Arkai said, thick with amusement. "Good for you."

"Eastiel Edengold’s charm is undeniable." Oathran’s eyes gleamed with mirth.

"STOOOP!" Eastiel exploded.

His face was deep crimson, burning red that started at his cheeks and spread to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. His brothers’ teases burned.

"Even though she looks like she’s still eighteen," Arkai added, his rare glee evident in every syllable, "Emra Mero is already twice my age, you know?"

"I see." Oathran nodded sagely, stroking his chin. "Her long life and enchanting appearance compensate for her much weaker power compared to most lords." He paused, considering. "That is impressive in itself."

Eastiel buried his face in his hands and groaned.

Meanwhile, Cecilia giggled softly and moved to sit where Emra had just been, the warm spot still holding the fox lord’s presence. She faced her three husbands, her eyes sweeping over each of them in turn.

"I wanted to meet the three of you today," Cecilia began gently, "to tell you something important."

Her expression shifted and became incredibly solemn.

"Oathran." She met his mist grey eyes. "Arkai." Those dark, burning ones. "Eastiel." The golden gaze that still held traces of rose.

She called their names one by one.

"I think it’s time for the next stage in our relationship."

Oathran froze.

Arkai froze.

They had been standing, relaxed, amused moments ago. Now they were statues, every muscle locked, every breath suspended.

Eastiel did the opposite.

His hands shot out, grasping both his brothers’ arms at his sides, gripping them tight. His crimson face had gone through several shades and settled on something between shock and barely contained excitement.

The next stage in their relationship?

What?

Could it be...

The three minds connected at once, a rare moment of perfect synchronization between three very different beings.

’Babies?!’

Cecilia clasped her hands together.

"I think we’re ready to tap into the next two of our bond capabilities," she said.

"Telepathy." She met Oathran’s eyes. "And Summon." Her gaze moved to Arkai, then Eastiel.

The three men stared at her.

Huh...?

No...

Not babies?

Eastiel’s grip on his brothers’ arms went slack.

Telepathy? Mind reading? Through the bond? And Summon...? What does Summon mean...?

But... no babies?

"Oh." Eastiel’s voice was small. "Oh, that’s—that’s good."