Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!-Chapter 400: Death Wish in Lust

Pyris wasn't just charming—he was dangerous.

It wasn't a matter of looks alone, though those certainly played their part. No, it was something more. An ability, an aura, an insidious pull that made him appear to women—especially older, powerful women—like the ideal. Like everything they had ever sought, ever imagined, ever longed for in a man.

And he knew it.

He knew how to wield it, how to plant seeds in the minds of women who should have been untouchable. Women who had spent centuries building walls, mastering control, unshakable in their presence—until he stepped into their world. Until he looked at them a certain way, spoke in a tone that carried more weight than just words, touched them with just enough intention to make them remember.

Remember what it felt like to be desired.

The Elf Empress was no exception. If anything, she was the greatest challenge, the most fascinating proof of his ability. Because even with his unnatural allure, even with the subtle, insidious way he wormed into thoughts and lingered long after he left—women like her didn't simply fall at his feet.

No, Pyris had to work for it.

He had to press at the edges of their control, widen the cracks that already existed. fгeewebnovёl.com

He had to make them see him differently—not as a reckless young man, not as an amusement or a fleeting distraction, but as something more. As a temptation that couldn't be ignored. As someone who shouldn't be possible.

And he was very, very good at it.

The Empress's reaction had already given him what he needed. That moment of hesitation. That slight, nearly imperceptible shift in the air. She had felt it—his presence, his pull. And now, the game had begun.

But while the Empress might not have openly faltered, someone else had noticed.

Someone who wasn't pleased.

The silence that had followed Pyris' words and actions was deafening. The Elf Empress hadn't pulled away. She hadn't scowled. If anything, she'd hesitated—a moment too long. And in that pause, in that brief flicker of curiosity in her sharp eyes, Pyris knew he had pressed the right buttons.

But then came the shift.

A presence.

A subtle weight in the air.

The Elf Emperor.

His gaze was calm, regal, the look of a man who had ruled for centuries, who had seen more than most could even dream of. And yet, there was something behind those piercing eyes—something dark, something restrained.

The Elf Emperor had remained silent, his expression composed, regal—but his eyes told another story. Pyris could feel the tension radiating off of him, the way his presence had sharpened, the way his fingers pressed just a little too firmly against the table's surface.

He leaned back ever so slightly in his chair, his voice smooth but carrying the weight of an unsaid warning and then, at last, the Emperor spoke.

"Admiration is a blade with two edges, Pyris Obsidian. One must be careful not to let it cut where it shouldn't. A man who stands in the rain too long may mistake it for the ocean."

The words were even, philosophical, seemingly harmless. But Pyris caught the meaning immediately.

A warning. A reminder.

Know your place.

A few nobles nearby stiffened, sensing the underlying meaning.

Pyris turned to him slowly, amusement flickering in his dark gaze before a low chuckle escaped his lips.

Low. Amusement. As if the emperor had just told him an inside joke. He met the man's gaze, unfazed, and tilted his head ever so slightly.

"Feeling insecure, Your Majesty?" he asked, his tone light, teasing—but laced with something more. Something deliberate.

The Elf Emperor's expression didn't waver. He was composed, unreadable. The air cracked. Someone at the table coughed violently. A golden goblet nearly slipped from a hand.

The Elf Emperor's jaw barely moved. His expression remained calm, but something flickered in those ancient eyes—something cold. "Hardly."

Pyris smirked, stepping back just enough to let the moment settle, but not before letting his gaze flicker back to the empress. Pyris tilted his head, his smirk deepening.

"Good. Then you should trust your Empress more. Because as much as I would dream of a woman like her"—he glanced at her then, letting the heat in his gaze linger just a fraction too long—"she is far too devoted to you for those dreams to be anything more than a pipe dream."

A statement that should have been reassuring.

But the way he said it? The way his voice dripped with layered meaning? The way he made it sound like he had already imagined it—already thought of what it would be like, already wondered—

The entire table stopped breathing—nearly choked.

The sheer audacity. The sheer nerve.

A noblewoman audibly gasped. One of the advisors, a stoic elven general, actually clenched his fist. Someone nearly dropped their silverware. The only people who remained still, unfazed—at least outwardly—were the empress and the emperor themselves.

The Elf Empress, to her credit, remained perfectly composed, not a single crack in her regal demeanor. And the Emperor? He gave nothing away.

But Pyris knew better.

Pyris bowed his head ever so slightly to the empress, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Until we meet again," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "I trust you'll be looking forward to that unforgettable encounter."

And with that, he turned and walked away, the weight of his presence lingering in the air like a slow-burning fire.

The room held its breath.

Because if the Elf Emperor were a man of lesser control, there would have already been blood spilled—if the Elf Emperor were a man who acted on emotion, there wouldn't be a table left standing.

But he wasn't.

And that was what made this so much more fun.

They knew.

They knew.

But instead, he sat there—silent, composed, and yet, beneath that perfect mask of regal control, there was no denying it. His woman had just been seduced in front of him.

And she had smiled.

Someone at the far end of the table exhaled, barely a whisper—

"That man has a death wish."