Kujo was just about to leave for the dark elf district when he heard the soft click of his chamber door closing behind him.
He turned—and found Setara standing there, arms crossed beneath her ample chest, her sharp blue eyes glinting.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?" she asked, stepping closer with slow, deliberate steps. "Tsk. You've been making rounds to all the other girls. I haven't had my turn."
Kujo opened his mouth to reply, but she reached him before he could form a sentence.
She kissed him.
Once. Then again. And again. Her lips were insistent, possessive, pressing against his with surprising hunger. Her hands slid under his arms and around his back as she leaned into him with her full weight.
"Mmm…" she purred between kisses. "You're not allowed to forget that I need affection too."
Her hands guided his wrists up until his palms were pressed firmly against her chest.
She exhaled into his mouth. "You don't have to be gentle. I'm not made of glass."
Kujo blushed, caught between flustered confusion and buried desire. He gave her a light squeeze, which made her smirk before kissing him again—deep and drawn out—before finally pulling back.
"There," she said with a smile. "Now go help the dark elves. I'll be expecting more when you get back."
She turned and left, hips swaying as she went.
Still dazed, Kujo gathered himself and traveled to Zafira's region on the eastern end of the settlement. The dark elves had set up a ceremonial greenhouse in a shaded ravine. With his help, and some well-placed shadow magic and moonlight glyphs, the failing crops began to respond to life again.
Zafira personally thanked him with a soft embrace and whispered something about returning the favor in private.
He didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could without melting.
Later that afternoon, he took a rare walk alone, crossing one of the wide open fields near the outer edge of town.
But solitude didn't last long.
Fiore tackled him out of nowhere, pinning him to the grass with a loud thump.
"Fiore?!" he gasped.
She straddled him immediately, her pink hair falling over her face as she stared down at him, breath warm against his cheek.
"You've been spending a lot of time with everyone else," she muttered. "Even Setara got you to grope her."
"I didn't—she—!"
Fiore silenced him with her lips.
The kiss was fierce. Heated. Unlike her usual calm, composed demeanor, this one was primal—hungry.
When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her thighs gripping his waist.
"I've decided," she said plainly, "that I'm going to be more aggressive."
"More than this?" Kujo mumbled, completely red-faced.
She smirked and leaned forward again, grinding her plump butt gently against his crotch. "You always hesitate. I don't. I chase what I want."
She kissed him again, her armor cold against his skin, her body warm and solid above him.
Then the sky darkened for a brief second—and a figure landed beside them with a gust of wind.
"Fiore. Husband," Kyrie said cheerfully, folding her wings behind her as she crouched down beside them. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
Fiore didn't even flinch. "You are."
Kyrie leaned down and kissed Kujo softly on the lips, then pulled him up into one of her signature smothering boob hugs.
"I just came to inform you…" she said sweetly, "that I made a small miscalculation."
Kujo blinked. "What kind of miscalculation?"
She smiled. "The hero? Yeah. Turns out he's not arriving tomorrow."
Fiore's eyes narrowed. "How soon?"
Kyrie hugged Kujo tighter. "An hour."
Kujo shoved out of her cleavage and stood up instantly. "An hour!?"
"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. "I misjudged the terrain they were crossing. They used speed magic. And maybe a portal."
Fiore drew her sword. "Do we prepare the defense line?"
Kujo shook his head. "No. I'll meet him before he gets here. Alone."
Kyrie frowned. "That's dangerous."
"Maybe," Kujo said. "But I'm not hiding. If he came this far, he's looking for something. Let's find out what before swords start flying."
He turned, heart steady, pulse rising.
Because now… it was time to face not just his harem.
But his past.
And perhaps, his rival.
The forest trail was silent.
Kujo moved swiftly through the trees, his cloak trailing behind him, the only sound his boots on dirt and the occasional shift of his shadow magic stirring at his heels.
He didn't want a fight. That much was true. But if the hero was already this close, ignoring him wasn't an option. Too many lives depended on this town now—too many people who had only just begun to feel safe.
He paused in a clearing, letting his shadow magic stretch outward like an invisible web. And there—on the far ridge—a figure emerged.
Cloaked in bright blue and silver, armored in polished steel, with golden hair and a glowing blade strapped to his back.
The Hero.
He looked exactly like someone from the stories: radiant, noble, and full of himself.
"You must be Kujo," the hero said, his voice clear and arrogant. "The half-blood prince with a monster harem."
Kujo raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound so scandalous."
"I'm here to liberate the people under your control."
Kujo blinked. "What control?"
The hero scoffed. "You've enchanted them. Manipulated them. Twisted them into obedience."
"I gave them food. Shelter. Peace," Kujo said, voice calm. "They chose to follow me."
"They're monsters," the hero snapped. "They don't know better. They cling to you because you're convenient."
Kujo's shadow twitched.
"I came to offer you mercy," the hero continued. "Disband your camp, release the women, and surrender. Or I'll do it by force."
Kujo exhaled.
"I tried," he said, eyes narrowing. "Now I'm done talking."
Without warning, the hero lunged forward, blade drawn, aura flaring.
Kujo moved.
His body melted into shadow and exploded upward, reforming behind the hero with claws glowing violet. He slashed low—fast—but the hero blocked, countering with holy light that seared the trees.
They clashed in a blur, blades and magic flashing across the clearing. The hero moved like lightning, fast and aggressive—but Kujo's movements were sharper. More fluid. He didn't waste a single motion.
Black wings burst from Kujo's back mid-duel. Shadow scales crept up his arms as he took his half-dragon form, eyes glowing with deep purple fire.
The hero slashed his sword in a wide arc—blades of light firing out in rapid bursts.
Kujo dashed through them, tendrils of darkness snapping the beams apart as he closed in and drove his elbow into the hero's stomach. The boy coughed and stumbled—but recovered with a backflip and sent a shockwave of light toward the ground.
The clearing exploded.
Meanwhile, hidden just beyond the treeline, three shadows watched with bated breath.
"I hate this," Fiore muttered, hands on her sword hilt. "He should've let me come with him."
"We'd just get in his way right now," Setara replied calmly, arms folded. "He's testing this hero. Seeing what kind of man he is."
Kyrie crouched beside them, eyes locked on Kujo's movements. "He's good. But he's straining."
Fiore clenched her jaw. "Say the word, and we go in."
But Kujo didn't call for them.
Because after several more violent exchanges, the hero made a mistake—his pride blinding him.
He overextended.
Kujo caught him with a shadow-chain from beneath and slammed him into the ground. Dust kicked up. The hero coughed violently, his armor dented, his expression no longer smug.
Kujo walked up slowly, looming over him with glowing eyes and breath steaming the air.
"You think kindness is slavery. That love is manipulation," Kujo said coldly. "That tells me everything I need to know."
The hero struggled to rise, then stopped, breathing heavily.
"I'll be back," he muttered. "You haven't seen the last of me."
"I hope I don't," Kujo replied.
The hero vanished in a flash of light, teleportation magic spiraling into the air.
Silence returned.
Only then did Kujo allow himself to stumble slightly, clutching his side.
The watching girls emerged immediately.
Fiore rushed forward, sword already sheathed. "You idiot."
Kyrie darted to his other side. "You're bleeding."
Setara sighed. "Of course he didn't call for help."
Later that night, Kujo sat in his chair with a bandage wrapped around his chest. His coat was open, his breath shallow, his hair damp with sweat.
Kyrie sat on his lap, her wings lightly fanned out, her thighs straddling him.
"I'll bandage you properly," she said sweetly.
She leaned in, her fingers carefully wrapping fresh cloth across his chest. But as she leaned… she pressed closer. Her breasts smothered his chest as her hips subtly rolled forward.
"Oops," she whispered, "I keep sliding."
Kujo narrowed his eyes. "You're not even pretending to be subtle."
She smiled, leaned in, and kissed him. "You almost died. I'm allowed."
Before she could grind again, the door burst open.
"Master~!" Dimara sang, sliding in with two bowls of hot soup. "Time to feed and pamper you!"
Chusi entered behind her, grinning. "Kyrie, you stealing extra lap time again?"
"I'm his nurse," Kyrie said smugly.
Setara stepped in behind them. "Then consider me the head doctor."
Fiore leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. "You all better move before I remove you."
Zafira appeared last, sighing. "Is he going to get any actual rest?"
Kujo buried his face in Kyrie's shoulder as all six women closed in.
Overwhelmed?
Completely.
But in that chaos… he smiled.