Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!-Chapter 398: Mirrored Void

Madam Serenova exhaled slowly, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her seat. "So it's happening."

She wasn't surprised. She had seen this coming long before the assassin had even nocked his arrow. That was the curse of vision—knowing disaster was on the way and still being unable to stop it. She had tried, too. The moment she sensed that presence lurking above, she had moved, ready to end it before it began. But Emberly, in all her confidence, had stopped her—without even realizing what she had been about to prevent.

And now here they were.

She sighed, resigned. If it had to happen, then so be it. As long as it wasn't her daughter getting a hole punched through her chest, she really didn't give a damn. She had tried to be a good person. That counted for something, right?

The arrows sped closer—just inches from striking their marks.

Then—

BAM!

A force exploded into existence, a presence so overwhelming that it didn't just stop the arrows—it erased them. The moment the projectiles met this unseen wall, they shattered, the sheer energy behind their destruction rippling outward in a blast that should have leveled the entire city.

And yet…

No one reacted.

The hall remained untouched. The chandeliers still gleamed overhead. The murmured conversations continued. People sipped their overpriced wine, blissfully unaware that a force capable of rewriting reality itself had just surged through the room.

Serenova's breath caught. What the hell?

She strained her eyes—and then she saw it.

The world inside the hall was turning grey.

Layer by layer.

No, not just grey. It was flipping. The entire space around her shifted as if someone had taken reality and turned it inside out, stretching and folding until it no longer made sense. It wasn't like looking at a reflection in a mirror—it was like stepping inside the mirror itself.

Everything was upside-down.

Or maybe not.

Serenova wasn't even sure if up existed in this space. The walls, the tables, the people—everything had duplicated, mirrored in perfect detail, except… backward and upside down. It was as if the entire room had been peeled from existence and stitched into a parallel dimension.

And then the two worlds overlapped.

The real world remained untouched, its people still laughing, drinking, oblivious. But above them—no, beneath them?—the grey version of the hall was a different story.

The force from the shattered arrows blasted through this upside-down world like a tsunami, tearing through furniture, shattering walls, obliterating everything in its path. And the people?

They didn't scream.

They didn't bleed.

They simply… disintegrated.

One by one, they flickered out of existence like candle flames snuffed by the wind, turning into wisps of smoke before vanishing completely.

And yet—no one in the real world noticed.

Serenova felt her stomach twist. This wasn't just a flipped reflection. This was something deeper. Something wrong.

And then she saw him.

The assassin.

He wasn't floating—he was falling. Or maybe

flying? She wasn't sure! Gravity didn't seem to give a fuck about rules here, because he wasn't crashing down—he was drifting toward the ground like he was descending through water.

But the look on his face?

Pure. Fucking. Panic.

His feet hit the floor—the grey floor. And for the first time, Serenova noticed something else.

Unlike everything else that had been mirrored in this world, he wasn't. There was no second version of him in the real world. No reflection. No counterpart existing in both realities like everyone else.

He had been dragged into this world alone by his real self alone...

And by the look on his face?

He was realizing it too.

The assassin's breath hitched. His body was standing, that much he was sure of, yet his vision showed the real world from an upside-down angle. No matter how he tried—tilting, shifting, forcing himself to fall or fly—nothing changed. He willed himself to become weightless, to slip through the gap between worlds, but the space around him refused to yield.

Panic clawed at his throat. He could see his targets, all clapping and cheering, welcoming Pyris Obsidian like nothing had happened. This was supposed to be the moment—the perfect strike. His targets should've been dead in the wave of applause, not alive, not untouched. And yet here he was, stuck in a nightmare.

He tried to move, to take control of whatever was happening, but suddenly—his entire body locked up.

Limbs stretched, muscles straining like he was being pulled apart from every direction. Space itself became a crushing weight, pressing down on him, restricting every movement. Even blinking felt like a luxury he was no longer allowed.

Then, his horror deepened.

One by one, more figures began appearing in the mirror world, yanked from reality like discarded puppets. He recognized them instantly—his team. The elite assassins he'd led into this mission, the ones chosen to kill as many royal heirs as possible… and Pyris Obsidian himself.

And the man? The man was now standing center stage, card-free.

As if sensing everything, Pyris casually turned his head toward the assassin's direction—eyes sharp, expression unreadable. Then, with a snort of pure mockery, he dismissed him.

The last thing the assassin saw before the grey world collapsed into a prison of swirling nothingness was that damn snort—like he wasn't even worth the effort of a real reaction.

And then—darkness.

"I think the next thing I need to do," Pyris mused, stepping up to the mic with an easy wave to the waiting crowd, "is show these guilds and organizations who I am."

Pyris Obsidian stood on stage, the picture of effortless power and seduction. Dressed in a sharp black suit with a deep crimson shirt teasing at his chest, he looked like sin itself—dangerous, untamed, and undeniably magnetic. His gaze swept over the crowd, but it was the Elf Empress, Ambrosia, Madam Serenova, the Witch Queen, and the Demon Empress who held his attention.

Each of them—regal, powerful, untouchable. Yet Pyris wanted them. All of them.

It was as if the Champion of Lust had been possessed by Lilith herself.

His body moved before his mind caught up, a single step forward—

And the room froze.

Eyes widened. Breaths hitched.

Something happened.

Something no one was ready for.