Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!-Chapter 389: Dread—RUIN’s
Pyris was unraveling.
Without even realizing it, he was drawing power—not from his body, not from his mind, but from something deeper. Something buried. It was as if a gate had been thrown open, and from the depths of his soul, an ocean of locked power surged forth, roaring into existence with no restraint.
Reality bent.
The world around him twisted, the very fabric of existence struggling to contain the sheer force radiating from him. The air warped, turning dense and unstable, pulsing with energy so overwhelming that space itself seemed to fracture in places.
The moon should have begun its rampage by now.
Alexa saw it in her vision. By now, the celestial force above should have been raining annihilation upon them, its wrath shaking the world apart in a cataclysmic event. But it didn't.
It wailed.
It grieved.
It cried with Pyris.
His presence—his hold on the realm—had somehow stilled the moon's destruction, if only for a fleeting moment. The world teetered on the edge of collapse, but the moon, the very thing meant to bring down ruin, was frozen in sorrow.
But there was something else.
Pyris was taking in too much.
Power, more than his body could handle, more than his soul could bear. And it was killing him.
Ruvon, frozen just a bit away, could see it. Her eyes widened as the first fractures began to form.
Cracks.
Tiny. Hairline. Crawling up his skin like splintering glass.
Her breath caught in her throat.
A voice inside her head screamed.
[Run, Ruvon! That man is going to burst! Run as fast as you can, or you're dead before even the moon kills you and this empire for the loss of its child. Not even gods can save this empire!]
But Ruvon didn't run.
She couldn't.
She was trapped, locked in place by the sheer gravity of Pyris's presence, his power pressing down on her, keeping her in place. And even if she could have moved—
She wouldn't.
[Stubborn demon?]
She didn't answer.
Her eyes were locked onto Pyris, onto the cracks spreading across his skin like a breaking sculpture, onto the way his body was coming apart—
—Yet Selara Moonveil remained untouched.
She was right there, lifeless in his arms, but the chaos around them, the violent energy distorting space itself, refused to touch her.
Even as Pyris was falling apart.
Even as his very existence shattered under the weight of the power he had no control over.
And he couldn't stop it.
His soul wouldn't stop.
And the world was about to pay the price.
The academy trembled.
Not just the stone, not just the walls—reality itself.
Everything in existence was quaking beneath the sheer force erupting from Pyris, a storm of raw, unchecked power warping the world into something fragile, something close to collapse. The ground cracked in spiderweb patterns beneath his feet, ancient stone splitting like brittle glass. Pillars buckled under the weight of the unnatural energy flooding the space, the ceiling twisting inward as if the very laws of the universe had begun to fold.
The air was wrong.
Not wind, not heat—something else. Something deeper. A force that didn't belong, something so far beyond divine that even the gods would have recoiled in terror. The atmosphere split apart, currents of impossible energy swirling like a hurricane of ruin. Color drained from the world, devoured by the sheer magnitude of it all.
And at the center—Pyris was breaking.
His body was not built for this. His veins pulsed with something too vast, too immense, too infinite for mortal form to contain. Cracks raced across his skin, glowing fissures of molten light splitting him apart piece by piece. It wasn't blood spilling from him—it was raw power, leaking, spiraling, twisting into the chaos around him.
He was unraveling.
Every pulse of energy pushed him closer to nothingness. His breath came in broken gasps, his fingers twitching, his form caught between existence and erasure. He couldn't stop it. He wouldn't stop it. Because what was the point?
Moonveil was gone. The universe could burn, and it still wouldn't matter.
And then—
A chubby, fluffy creature appeared.
She was small. Too small. Tiny paws barely pressed into the stone as she perched atop Moonveil's still body, ears flicking, tail curling, silver fur unbothered by the sheer destruction consuming everything around her. A presence so innocent, so out of place, yet here—impossibly here.
Ruin.
Pyris didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't see her.
As if she wasn't even there. As if she didn't matter. Because nothing mattered. Because she was gone. But Ruin—Ruin did the impossible.
A tiny mouth opened.
And the chaos bowed.
The raw, uncontrollable devastation that had been tearing through reality, the boundless, unrelenting storm that even the heavens couldn't tame—it turned to her.
Like a river changing course, like a tide obeying a greater pull, the power that had been spiraling outward, threatening to consume the world, rushed inward instead.
Straight to her.
Pyris's energy—his grief, his rage, his destruction—stolen. Pulled from him as effortlessly as if she had always owned it, devoured by a presence that should have never been able to contain it.
She absorbed it.
Faster than he could release it. Faster than the storm could grow. Faster than even the universe could resist. The world collapsed inward, energy tearing from the sky, from the air, from the very threads of existence, siphoned, swallowed, redirected.
Straight into Moonveil as soon as Ruin touched her.
The moment it touched her—everything changed.
Her body, once motionless, once locked in the stillness of death, became something else. Light poured into her chest, seeping into her core, weaving itself into the very fabric of what she was. Pulse after pulse, rhythmic, controlled, deliberate—life rewriting death.
And the world obeyed.
The air stabilized.
The fractures in the academy—halted.
The storm—ceased.
Reality settled.
But Pyris—he didn't react.
His eyes remained hollow, his form hunched, his breathing shallow. The weight of his grief had hollowed him out, left him emptied in a way that even reality's mending couldn't fix. He was still lost.
Even as the chaos faded. Even as the moon stopped wailing.
And then—
A pulse.
It rippled outward, not from the ground, not from Pyris, but from above. A presence so vast, so impossible, that even Ruin—even Ruin—stopped.
Her tiny body tensed.
Ears twitched and she lifted her paw..And from the sky—a moonlit sphere descended, weightless. Luminous. Not of this realm. It landed in Ruin's grasp, pulsing with something deeper than energy—something final.
And she didn't hesitate.
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She pressed it to Moonveil's forehead.
The last of the stolen power followed, pouring into the elf's form, sinking into her like a final stroke of fate.
Ruin trembled.
Her small form flickered, the effort of breaking reality itself catching up to her. She staggered, blinked once, and then—disappeared.
Vanishing into Pyris's mana pool.
Silence.
And then—
A breath.
Small. Quiet. Inconsequential to the universe at large.
But here—it shattered everything.
Pyris—who had been absent, lost in his grief—
His eyes snapped open wide.
His breath caught.
His entire being froze.
Because he heard it.
A third breath in the room where two were living and the third was supposed to be dead.
A breath that shouldn't have been there.
