Monarch's Journey: Infinite Wives In My Harem!

Chapter 1: Greatest Monarch System [1]

'Ah…'

'To my left stood an enchanting vision, her eyes shimmering like hidden gems, drawing me into their captivating depths. Her figure was a testament to divine craftsmanship, with soft, rounded breasts that seemed to invite my touch, their allure akin to a celestial warp zone. And her lips, oh how they beckoned with a delicate shade of pink, promising a taste of pure heaven. No further words could do justice to her ethereal beauty.'

'To my right, a woman of undeniable allure stood proudly. She possessed the timeless charm of a confident, experienced woman—a true embodiment of a mesmerizing MILF. Self Explanatory.'

'Beside my Excalibur, stood a captivating loli, her age spanning thousands of years while her visage appeared no older than a sixteen-year-old, or perhaps even younger. Her flowing green tresses mirrored the lushness of a verdant forest, and her skin possessed a silky softness that evoked heavenly sensations. With a petite frame that exuded an undeniable allure, she was an enchanting presence impossible to resist.'

'Their skills definitely couldn't be underestimated. Sucking? Using hands? Or perhaps, using their bodies? Approved!'

"Master..." the delicate girl called out to him, gracefully gliding closer with her lips glistening, a tantalizing trail of heavenly moisture cascading from her mouth like a gentle waterfall.

"Your highness.", said the busty milf, competing with the loli as she moved her bust closer, almost climbing him using his hands as support.

The third lady's voice resonated with dominance as she commanded, "Look at me only!" In a swift motion, she seized his head, her grip assertive, compelling him to meet her gaze. Yet, despite her authoritative demeanor, a blush graced her face, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath her commanding facade.

The blossoms beneath their feet created a luxurious bed, rivaling the gentle embrace of clouds. It was a heavenly experience, a sanctuary of unparalleled comfort and serenity.

'Heaven, this is indeed heaven!'

As Demitas, a young man with striking white hair, closed his eyes, seeking solace within the depths of his own thoughts, the tranquility was abruptly shattered by a deafening clash. Thundering echoes reverberated through the air.

Before him stood Kian and Misli, two fellow slaves who, like him, were trapped in this oppressive existence.

'Huh?'

Startled, he awoke with a jolt, his eyes quivering with the realization that his reverie had been nothing more than a fleeting dream.

The raucous cheers of the thirty-strong crowd quickly dispelled any remnants of sleepiness, as his senses snapped back to reality.

Rubbing his head in bewilderment, his gaze fell upon Kian and Misli, locked in a heated struggle, their hands gripping each other's clothes, threatening to tear them apart.

His eyes darted from side to side, taking in the scene around him—a circle of enslaved spectators, eagerly cheering on the tumultuous clash unfolding before them.

'Another dream…' he mused, shaking his head vigorously, banishing the remnants of slumber that clung to his senses.

Demitas found himself in a dimly lit, subterranean chamber, covered in layers of accumulated dust. This desolate space had earned a grim title befitting its grandeur: The Arena of Hell.

Its vast expanse, capable of accommodating over 10,000 individuals, echoed with the weight of despair, leaving no doubt about the true nature of this twisted spectacle.

"Woo!"

"Go, Kian! Show him no mercy!"

"Get that scoundrel's beard, rip it off!" shouted a towering, muscular figure, sending chills down the spine of anyone who glimpsed him from behind. But, upon turning to face him, one would be greeted by an unexpected sight—a face so youthful, it resembled that of a child.

Smooth-shaven, devoid of a beard or mustache, he possessed an innocent countenance.

'What a buffon…'

*smack*

A resounding slap struck his head, prompting onlookers to recoil in fear of his potential outburst.

The baby-faced man's gaze shifted to Demitas, his eyes filled with rage and determination.

"Baby face, have you forgotten whose side you're on?" Demitas questioned, his annoyance evident.

In an instant, the rage dissipated, replaced by a mixture of anguish and regret, as tears streamed down the baby-faced man's cheeks.

"Didn't we bet on Kian?" Babyface stammered, his name proving to be a fitting descriptor.

"You imbecile! No wonder you're still single!" Demitas retorted sharply.

"Can you guess why?" he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Because I don't have a beard," Babyface whispered, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably.

"No! It's because you have muscles instead of a brain!" Demitas snapped, highlighting the stark truth behind his scathing remark.

"We bet on Misli, our comrade!" Demitas exclaimed, trying to clarify the misunderstanding.

"Why the heck will we bet for our enemy to win!?" Demitas questioned, his anger flaring.

'Kian, a seventeen-year-old towering figure, possessed great strength, boasting a thick beard and a mane of untamed hair. His complexion, naturally pale yellow, appeared darkened by the perpetual layer of dust that clung to him. But above all, his character shone through—unyielding and courageous, never one to shy away from a challenge.'

"…"

'Ah, yes, that's not enough to become our enemy… One more, one more trait needs to be added: Arrogance.'

'Misli, aged 17. Though not bound by blood, I consider him my elder brother out of deep respect. His virtues? Strength, bravery, and remarkable agility.'

'Ha…'

'Can you come up with a more fitting classification? I trust you're capable, right?' Demitas fixed his gaze upon the vast expanse before him, seeking assistance from his peculiar companion.

[Keke, naturally I can, you pleb.]

'You again!' The customary exchange ensued, with Demitas finding himself subjected to the playful jabs of the system he had fortuitously acquired.

[What's the matter now?]

[Do you want my help or not?]

'Ahaha, yes, my esteemed master system, I was merely joking...'

[Keke, your sense of humor seems to be declining just like everything else about you these days.]

'This rascal...'

[What?]

[What's the matter now?]

"Ahem, I mean, please?"

[Haha, that's the spirit.]

[Just a second…]

[…]

[Here you go.]

[Name: Kian]

[…]