Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!-Chapter 422: Endless’s Ichor & Gift From Moon

The mana sea rippled once—softly—as if sensing that the conversation was nearing its natural end.

The goddess exhaled, and though her form was a mere silhouette of divine power, something in her posture told Pyris she had already shared too much.

"I won’t explain more," she said finally, her voice calm but resolute. "For now, all you need to remember is this—none of your women are to play the game. Not a single one."

Pyris blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Why?"

"Because they have nothing to gain from it," she said flatly. "Unlike the others, unlike players here in the mortal realm and even on Earth, the game is not made for them. They won’t receive what others do. No matter how far they go, it won’t shape them the way it shapes those bound to that world. The rewards would be illusions. And worse... they might lose more than they could ever win."

A strange heaviness settled in Pyris’s chest. He wanted to argue, to push, but something in her tone warned him against it.

"You’ll understand in time," she added. "To give you the experience you need... someone else will help. But not now."

Then, shifting back to the core of their discussion, she raised her hand once more, tracing a small spiral in the air that hovered and glowed like a soul-seal.

"The path to forming the Primus Core Soul is yours and yours alone. I cannot help you. No god, no system, no divine hand can shape it for you. It is a journey of will, identity, and origin. It’s not meant to be taught—it must be discovered and pursued on your own."

She paused, then added, "Yes, you walk the path of Lust. That much is true. But your journey isn’t limited to seduction, charm, or desire. That path... is only one thread in a tapestry far greater. Your existence isn’t bound to a single concept. You must forge your own."

Pyris stood still, eyes flickering with quiet turbulence. There were a hundred questions clawing at the walls of his mind.

Why was she helping him?

Why had she chosen him from the very beginning?

And more importantly—how had his soul been split across not just two, but three separate realities yet it remained full in all those separate versions?

His current self stood here in the divine realms.

Another lived still on Earth, unknowingly walking into trials made for gods.

But the third... the third soul. Where?

What world held that fragment?

He clenched his fists. His memory burned with a dream—a fleeting, disjointed vision from nights ago. A massive dragon cloaked in starlight and storm battling a woman cloaked in silence and cosmic level power. A clash that had shaken skies he’d never seen.

Was he related to that dragon?

No—deeper than that.

Was he that dragon?

The reincarnation of something ancient, something forgotten, something far beyond both Earth and the divine realms?

It wasn’t far-fetched anymore. Not after everything he’d seen. If his soul could exist across realities, if he was tied to concepts like Lust, Eternity, and even the Endlesses themselves... then who was to say that dragon—with those dark golden and pink scales— wasn’t him?

Although—

The thought faded as quickly as it came, like a whisper swallowed by the wind.

There was no answer yet.

Only questions.

But Pyris understood one thing clearly now:

His existence didn’t begin on Earth... or here.

It began somewhere else. And to become whole again... he’d have to find it.

The sea of mana shimmered gently as if holding its breath, the vastness around them quiet and golden, sacred in a way that even the gods didn’t speak of lightly.

Pyris stood amidst all this—his soul still trembling from the revelations, from the memories that weren’t quite memories and truths that felt older than stars. His thoughts spiraled—too many questions, too many loose threads. Who was he? What was he really?

Where was the final part of him? Had he truly once been a dragon? Why did everything—Lust, Death, Endlesses, and even divinity itself—seem to curl inward toward him?

But the goddess—still shaped like a silhouette woven from light and meaning—merely turned her head toward him and gave a soft sigh, one that rippled the mana like a mother silencing her child’s restless dreaming.

"Stop thinking too much," she said gently, but firmly. "Most of your questions will answer themselves as you continue on this path. In time, not all at once."

She took a step forward, and the air changed.

"I didn’t come just to lecture you. I brought gifts." Her voice was lighter now, almost teasing. "And you’re long overdue for one in particular."

Pyris looked up just in time to see a silvery-blue sphere rise from the distance—glowing softly like moonlight wrapped in crystal. It floated silently toward him, humming with familiar energy. There was something in it that soothed and called to him. Something old. Something beautiful.

"For saving the child of the Moon," the goddess said, her tone almost reverent, "Moon gave you something."

The sphere reached him, touching his forehead.

It melted through his skin like mist meeting fire.

[Ding! You’ve—]

The system voice was cut off abruptly.

The goddess raised her hand, silencing it mid-sentence.

"Not now," she said flatly.

Pyris blinked. "You cut off the system?"

"I did," she answered with a shrug. "It talks too much when I’m around."

Then, after a moment, she added, "And besides... I have something for you as well."

Pyris stepped back slightly, lifting his hands. "You’ve given me more than enough, Goddess. I don’t deserve another thing."

There was a pause.

Then they both laughed.

The kind of laugh shared between someone who told a harmless lie and someone who saw straight through it.

"Trying to be modest, are we?" she said, her tone full of dry amusement. "You really thought I wouldn’t notice that glint of greed flickering in your eyes like a child spotting an unopened treasure chest?"

Caught red-handed, Pyris ran a hand through his hair and smirked. "What can I say? Your knowledge is far too vast for a mere mortal like me to ever fool you."

She chuckled, pleased. "Good. At least you’re smart enough to know what’s before you."

Then she raised her hand once more.

From within her glowing, faceless form, something began to emerge.

It was pink.

But not any pink he’d ever seen.

Not soft. Not weak. It pulsed like a living thing, glowing with forbidden beauty. A liquid that shimmered with temptation, elegance, and terrible power. It was ichor—divine blood—thick with the weight of ancient emotions, the fragrance of forgotten touch, and the raw essence of Lust in its purest, most overwhelming form.

"This," she said, her voice now silk wrapped in thunder, "is the Lust Ichor—the core essence of the one who first bore the Concept of Lust. A gift few would dare to hold. But you..."

She walked toward him, and the ichor rose—floating forward like a serpent of light, coiling, dancing.

"...You are its perfect vessel."

Before he could brace himself, the ichor entered him.

Not gently.

It stabbed into his chest like a comet made of liquid fire, and Pyris gasped, his knees buckling almost instantly. The pain was not physical—it was conceptual, as if every thread of his being was being unraveled and rewoven into something far more dangerous.

His body twisted, mana convulsing. His eyes flashed with white light. Power and pleasure and agony merged into a singularity he couldn’t comprehend. He fell.

But he did not hit the ground.

The goddess caught him.

With arms woven from light and grace, she pulled him into her embrace—not like a lover, not like a mother, but like a protector shielding something crucial from being shattered too soon.

Her glowing gaze turned to the pagoda.

To the one who had watched everything in silence.

Ruin.

Still seated. Still silent.

But not unmoved.

The goddess looked to her and spoke only one word:

"Sister... take care of him."