Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 500: Greed VS Greed [Part 3]

Chapter 500 – Greed VS Greed [Part 3]

Lux didn’t answer.

He just exhaled slowly.

The air shifted. His twin daggers dissolved into smoke, fading back into whatever invisible inventory he kept them in. No flourish. No smug line.

Just silence.

The kind that filled auditoriums after the final verdict. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Zavros stood there, panting. Not because he was tired—but because he felt it.

The shift.

Lux wasn’t just fighting.

He was interrogating the world.

Probing.

Measuring.

Like a predator wondering not if he could win—but what it would cost to break the system itself.

Zavros’s eyes narrowed.

The chain around his arm unwound slightly, loosened by doubt.

It wasn’t hesitation—Zavros Vaelthorn didn’t hesitate. He calculated, predicted, projected, then executed.

"What happened to you?" Zavros finally asked. "I don’t get it. You fought me for real."

Lux let the transformation fade. No wings. No horns. No armor. Just the Hell CFO in a tailored black suit, sleeves rolled, hands slightly burnt from the last spell impact. Tie half-loose. Hair damp with sweat. Lux’s voice came out quieter than before.

"I needed to," Lux said simply, straightening his cufflink like he was prepping for a boardroom ambush instead of explaining why he just tossed abyssal magic at his own father. "Because I did the same to Zoltarin."

Zavros flinched. Slight. Barely there. But it cracked the atmosphere.

"You... what?" His voice dropped low. No theatrics. Just raw confusion laced with something darker.

Lux let out a slow exhale. He stepped forward—heels echoing across the obsidian floor of the Vault Nexus Training Arena. The faint hum of residual infernal energy buzzed through the air like heatwaves over desert sand.

He shifted. No armor. No glowing eyes. No smirk. Just the Hell CFO version of him, tailored suit sharp enough to slit a throat, hair slicked back with precision, and a voice like contracts folded in blood.

"You heard what he said, didn’t you?" Lux asked quietly. "That line. ’You dare slander me like I pawned off my legacy to a mortal whore?’"

Zavros blinked once.

Lux tilted his head. "He said that before anyone even mentioned that the circlet was in the mortal realm."

Zavros froze. Just for a beat. Then his lips parted.

"...So he did give it to the lamia."

"Exactly." Lux’s voice was razor calm. No accusation. Just confirmation. "He wasn’t imprisoned. He was prepped. Coddled. And that guy? He might be moving soon."

The air shifted.

Something about the way Lux said "that guy"—so dismissive, so loaded with history—turned Zavros’s stomach.

A low rumble echoed from the walls. Not magic. Not power. Just tension bleeding into the foundations of the place.

Zavros didn’t speak.

Lux didn’t let him.

"One more thing, dad."

"The seals," Lux continued, pacing slowly like a lawyer cornering a witness. "Who made them? Besides Lucaris. Besides you. Besides the King. Who?"

Zavros looked away. Then back.

"The Lord of Sins," he muttered. "I wasn’t a Greed Lord yet back then."

"And they’re eternal, right?" Lux asked. "Can’t be broken. Can’t be recast. Can’t be fixed. They’re a status quo."

Zavros’s face twisted. "Yes. That’s why no one ever bothered to check on him for centuries. Not even the seals."

Lux’s smile came slow and thin.

"So..." he said, voice like ink bleeding into ancient parchment, "the Greed seals were made by grandfather?"

Zavros nodded once.

Lux’s eyes gleamed. The kind of gleam that said the numbers were finally balancing.

"Oh," he said. "That explains it."

Zavros squinted. "Explains what?"

Lux turned, hands in his pockets.

"The seals are already weakened," he said casually. "And the barrier? It’s not to contain him."

He stopped walking. Looked back over his shoulder.

"It’s protecting him."

The chain around Zavros’s arm tensed again.

"Say, dad..." Lux’s voice dipped. Lower. Deeper. Not angry. Not mocking. Just... tired. "Is granddad really that fond of Zoltarin?"

Silence.

But Zavros didn’t need to answer. Not verbally.

It was in the way his fingers flexed, the way his jaw clicked, the way his gaze drifted, not down, not up, just away. As if looking Lux in the eye at that moment might confirm every bitter thing he never said aloud.

Yeah.

That disappointment? That betrayal wrapped in fine silk pride? It was real.

Zavros inhaled. Held it. Then let it out.

"He was," he admitted. Quiet. Bitter. "He always thought Zoltarin was more capable than me."

Even after what he did.

Even after the treason.

Even after the screams that echoed down the financial halls of Hell when the truth came out.

Lux nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he said. "I figured."

They stood in the center of the massive circular arena. Ancient infernal runes carved into obsidian pillars. Emberlight flickering. The air was heavy with legacy. With memory. With the ghosts of blood-signed contracts and brotherly wars.

Lux rolled his shoulders once, and the illusion of being "just a businessman" cracked slightly. The pulse of abyssal magic still hummed under his skin.

"You know what that means, right?" he said. "If the seals were made to protect, not imprison... and they’re weakening... it means he was never meant to be locked away forever. Just... hidden. Sheltered."

Zavros didn’t reply.

"Which means," Lux said, turning fully to face him, "he never left the game. Not really."

The chain around Zavros’s wrist rattled. Just once. Like it was angry for him.

Lux kept going.

"And now he’s got a mortal puppet dancing around in a circlet blessed by the first generation of greed. He’s whispering sweet madness into the ears of celestials and demons alike. And that puppet? She’s wearing our bloodline like jewelry."

A bitter laugh escaped Lux’s lips.

"And the funniest part?" he added. "Everyone thinks I’m the threat."

Zavros’s shoulders lowered, tension draining like oil down a slope.

"You think he’s after the greed throne again?"

Lux tilted his head. "No. I think he wants the whole board. And I’m the last piece that doesn’t play by his rules."

Then, he stepped closer. One step. Two. Close enough to smell the faint char of Zavros’s aura—like smoldering ink and burnt currency.

"Tell me something, dad." Lux’s voice was soft now. Too soft. "When you sealed him in, did you feel proud?"

Zavros’s hand curled into a fist.

"Did you feel like you finally proved yourself to grandfather? That maybe—just maybe—he’d look at you the way he looked at Zoltarin?"

Zavros looked away.

Lux’s lips curled.

"You didn’t, did you?"

"...No."

The admission was hoarse. Not weak. Just old. Ancient and tired.

Lux exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. I figured that too."

They stood there, surrounded by silence and flame.

And maybe... maybe this was the closest they’d ever get to understanding each other.

Father and son.

Both betrayed.

Both used.

Both abandoned.