The first rays of dawn filtered through the east tower's arched windows, casting a golden haze over the tangled sheets and sweat-slicked bodies.
Viola stirred first, her warrior's instincts pulling her from the depths of slumber.
She blinked against the light, her muscles aching in that delicious post-battle way—not from swordplay, but from the night's relentless passions.
As she sat up, a surge of vitality coursed through her veins, sharper than any adrenaline rush she'd known. Her scars felt fainter, her reflexes keener.
She flexed her hand, watching the play of tendons under her skin, and a faint glow emanated from her palm—mana, unbidden and potent.
"What in the hells..." she muttered, glancing at the sleeping forms beside her.
Auther lay sprawled in the center, his chest rising and falling steadily, the tattoos of his classes pulsing softly.
Lana curled against him, her pink hair splayed like a banner of surrender, her breathing deep and even.
Lana awoke next, her purple eyes fluttering open. She stretched languidly, expecting the usual post-exertion fatigue, but instead felt invigorated, as if she'd quaffed a dozen stamina potions.
Her mind sharpened; alchemical formulas that had eluded her yesterday now snapped into crystal clarity. She sat up, touching her abdomen where Auther's seed had spilled deep inside her multiple times. A warmth lingered there, not just memory, but something... transformative.
"Viola," Lana whispered, her voice hushed with wonder. "Do you feel it too? Stronger. Clearer."
Viola nodded, her dark eyes narrowing. "Like I've broken through a barrier. Swordsmanship feels... elevated." She glanced at Auther, a smirk tugging her lips. "That Nurturer class of his. It's no joke."
Auther stirred then, his moss-green eyes opening to meet theirs. He grinned lazily, propping himself on an elbow. "Morning, ladies. Sleep well?"
Before they could respond, a shimmering portal tore open in the air above the bed—a vortex of celestial light, swirling with stars and ethereal mist. From it emerged a figure of breathtaking divinity: Hopelys, the goddess who had summoned Auther to this world.
She floated gracefully, her form clad in flowing robes of silver and gold, her hair a cascade of midnight constellations, eyes like twin nebulae. The air hummed with her presence, divine power pressing down like a gentle storm.
"Mortals," she intoned, her voice echoing with the weight of creation. "I sense the awakening has borne fruit."
Auther sat up fully, unashamed of his nudity. "Goddess Hopelys. To what do we owe this visit?"
Hopelys' gaze swept over the trio, lingering on Viola and Lana with knowing amusement. "Your Divine Grade Nurturer class, Auther. It is not merely a title. Through your essence—your seed—you nurture potential. The more you bestow upon a woman, the stronger she becomes. Vitality, mana, physical prowess—all amplified. Reach a threshold, and she ascends: one class tier higher, unlocking new abilities, rarities untold."
Viola's eyes widened. "That's why I feel... upgraded. Like my Legendary Swordsmanship has edged toward Mythic."
Lana touched her chest, feeling the alchemical surge. "And my Extra Rare Alchemist... it's shifting. Formulas I couldn't grasp before are mine now."
Hopelys nodded. "Precisely. Auther, you are the catalyst. In this world you hold the key to elevating allies. But use it wisely; power breeds envy, and envy breeds war."
Auther's expression turned thoughtful, but a glint of mischief remained. "Generous gift, Goddess. I'll make good use of it."
Hopelys smiled faintly. "There is more. Come with me, summoner. The Arkon awaits."
Before Auther could protest, the portal enveloped him, whisking him away in a flash of light. Viola and Lana exchanged glances, the divine afterglow lingering in the room like perfume.
Auther materialized in a vast chamber of crystalline walls, floating amid the stars—the Ark, a cosmic nexus where gods convened. Before him stood the Akron, an ancient entity of swirling energy, humanoid in form but composed of nebulae and void. Its voice boomed like thunder across galaxies.
"Auther, Supreme Magus and Divine Nurturer. Welcome to the Ark of Realms."
Auther steadied himself, the void's chill seeping into his skin. "Hopelys mentioned you. What's this about?"
The Arkon gestured, conjuring holographic visions: worlds colliding, species clashing. "This multiverse is tiered. Humans—your adopted kin in Hopelys' realm—are third-tier. Versatile, resilient, but bullied by the supreme races of the second tier: Elves with eternal magic, Dragons with primal fury, Celestials with divine mandates. They raid, conquer, subjugate. First-tier? Gods and ancients, beyond mortal strife."
Auther watched the visions—human villages burning under draconic fire, elven arrows piercing royal guards. "And me? Summoned to play hero?"
The Arkon's form pulsed. "Hopelys hopes you reverse this. Your classes could elevate humanity, forge alliances, topple hierarchies. Become the fulcrum of change."
Auther nodded, but inwardly, his thoughts twisted selfishly. Elevate humanity? Sure. But first, my harem, my pleasures, my kingdom. World-saving can wait.
The portal returned him to the palace, the Arkon's words echoing. He dressed and descended, the day's duties calling.
At home in the royal wing, Auther found his mother, Queen Elizabeth, in the solar. She sat rigidly, her short stature accentuated by the high-backed chair.
Beside her stood a girl his age—Trina, with silver hair cascading like moonlight and crimson-red eyes that burned with quiet intensity.
She wore a gown of duke's silk, emerald and gold, hugging her lithe figure: pert breasts, a slender waist, hips that promised grace in motion.
"Auther," Elizabeth said, her voice detached as ever. "Meet Trina, daughter of Duke Harlan of the Eastern Marches. She is your bride, betrothed to seal alliances."
Auther's eyes locked on Trina, drinking her in. "Bride? Mother, you move fast."
Elizabeth's lips thinned. "The theocracy demands stability. Your awakening elevates us; this union secures it."
Trina curtsied, her crimson eyes meeting his with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "Your Highness. An honor."
Auther stepped closer, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "The honor's mine, Trina. Tell me, do those eyes see through to a man's soul?"
She flushed, overwhelmed by his proximity—the heat of him, the jade stare that undressed her. "I... I see ambition, Prince."
He chuckled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her shoulder, his touch lingering. "Ambition? Or desire?"
Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Enough. Trina stays for the week. Court her properly."
As days unfolded, Auther seduced relentlessly. In the gardens, he'd whisper compliments, his hand grazing her waist. "Your hair shimmers like starlight, Trina. Makes me want to tangle my fingers in it."
She'd stammer, overwhelmed, her body responding despite her mind's protests—heat pooling between her thighs, nipples hardening under his gaze.
But shock came when she witnessed him with Viola. In the training yard, Auther sparred with the sword master, their bodies close, laughs shared. After, he pulled Viola into a kiss—deep, passionate, his hands roaming her ass possessively. "My Demon," he murmured, lovey-dovey in a way that twisted Trina's gut.
Jealousy flared, hot and unexpected. Why her? A commoner instructor? I'm his bride!
That night, it consumed her. She wandered the halls, finding Auther's chambers. He opened the door shirtless, smirking. "Trina. Couldn't sleep?"
"You... with Viola. It's unseemly," she accused, but her eyes traced his chest.
He pulled her inside, closing the door. "Jealous? Good. Means you want me."
She protested, but his lips crashed onto hers—demanding, skilled. His hands explored, cupping her breasts through silk, thumbs circling nipples until she moaned. "Auther... we can't..."
"We can," he growled, stripping her gown. Her body was exquisite: pale skin, crimson eyes wide with lust, pussy already wet. He laid her on the bed, kissing down her neck, sucking her breasts—pert and sensitive, nipples like rubies under his tongue.
Trina arched, overwhelmed. "Please..."
He spread her legs, tongue delving into her folds—lapping her clit, fingers curling inside. She came quickly, crying out, juices flooding his mouth.
Auther rose, cock hard and ready. "Ready for me?"
She nodded, jealous fire turning to need. He thrust in, stretching her virgin tightness. Pain melted to pleasure as he moved—slow at first, then faster, pounding deep. "So tight... perfect..."
Trina wrapped her legs around him, nails raking his back. "More... gods, Auther!"
He flipped her, taking her from behind—ass up, silver hair gripped like reins. His Nurturer essence spilled inside as he came, her orgasm clenching around him. Strength surged through her—her Common Noble class edging toward Rare.
She loved it, begging for seconds. They fucked again—her riding him, breasts bouncing, crimson eyes locked on his. "Yours... all yours..."
Dawn found her sated, glowing. Going home, she burst into Duke Harlan's study. "Father, I'll make Auther mine. All to myself. No sharing with that sword demon or anyone!"
Harlan raised a brow. "Ambitious, daughter. But the prince is... untouchable."
Trina's crimson eyes flashed. "I'll tame him."