Harem Domain: I Fucked The Goddess of Lust, So What
Chapter 40: The Bond of the Fallen

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: The Bond of the Fallen

SYSTEM INTERFACE]

The moment the screen appeared, his heart skipped a beat. He expected bad news—maybe his condition worsening, maybe another malfunction. But instead, new text materialized in front of him.

[Congratulations! You have slain a High-Ranked Ancient Vampire. Due to the nature of the kill and your connection to Quinn, you have unlocked a unique ability.]

NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: [The Bond of the Fallen]

Azrael’s fingers twitched as he read the description.

[The Bond of the Fallen] – Passive Skill

The Fallen Heir has the ability to grant those he shares intimacy with the power to summon weapons. The type and strength of the weapon depend on the depth of the connection. A simple kiss may grant a dagger, while a more profound bond could summon legendary arms. The stronger the bond, the deadlier the weapon.

Current Users: 0

Azrael blinked. "What the hell...?"

[Oh, now that is interesting.] Quinn’s voice echoed in his mind, filled with amusement.

[This is more than just an ability, Azrael. This is a legacy power. A mark of royalty. Only someone with a bloodline like yours could unlock it.]

Azrael clenched his fists. A bloodline ability? He knew very little about his past—who he truly was before everything fell apart. But if Quinn was right, this skill meant something far bigger than he could understand at the moment.

[And the best part?] Quinn continued. [You don’t just get to wield a legendary weapon. You get to create warriors.]

Azrael exhaled slowly, shaking his head. His body was still weak, but he couldn’t afford to collapse now. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

The guards were still frozen, staring at him as if he were something beyond human. The townsfolk had backed away, murmuring in hushed voices. Some looked fearful. Others looked... intrigued.

Before anything else could happen, Azrael deactivated the system screen. The blue glow faded, leaving only the destroyed street and the echoes of whispers behind.

He turned, stepping away from the rubble, ignoring the stares. He had more important things to worry about.

In the distance, hidden among the treetops beyond the ruined district, three hooded figures , the same as the once from above earlier observed Azrael’s every move. Their cloaks were thick, blending with the night, and their movements were silent as they leaped from branch to branch.

"He’s stronger than we thought," one of them whispered, his voice barely audible.

"The sword—Quinn—it has fully awakened," another muttered. "We must report this immediately."

The leader of the trio, a tall figure with piercing golden eyes, nodded. Without another word, they vanished into the forest, their footfalls nothing but whispers in the wind.

They ran through the dense woods, dodging thick tree trunks and leaping over fallen logs, until they reached a towering structure hidden deep in the wilderness.

It was an ancient stronghold—its stone walls wrapped in thick vines, its towers rising high above the treetops. The entrance was guarded by monstrous beings, creatures with elongated limbs and twisted faces, their glowing eyes scanning the darkness.

The trio barely hesitated as they passed through, making their way toward the grand doors at the center. The doors creaked open, revealing a long hallway lined with flickering torches. They moved quickly, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor, until they reached a vast chamber.

At the heart of the chamber sat a throne, and upon it, a woman.

She exuded an aura of raw power. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, glowing faintly in the dim light. Her golden eyes, sharp and piercing, seemed to look through everything before her. She wore a flowing black robe adorned with intricate silver patterns, and her fingers rested lightly against the armrests of her throne.

One of the hooded figures fell to his knees, bowing his head. "My lady! The boy has just come into contact with Quinn. We must act now before it is too late."

The woman—known as the All-Mother of Bene Gesserit Academy—leaned forward slightly.

"I see..." Her voice was soft, yet it carried an undeniable weight.

The hooded figure hesitated before speaking again. "He is growing stronger at a rate we did not anticipate. If we wait any longer, he may become—"

"More than we can control," she finished for him, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "I had hoped to give him a little more time... but it seems he is moving faster than his own shadow. That, or fate has grown impatient."

She rose from her throne, the room seeming to tremble at her mere movement. "Adam!"

A young man stepped forward from the side of the chamber. His silver hair, identical to hers, marked him as someone of importance. His eyes burned with determination as he knelt.

"Yes, my lady."

"You will prepare a team. Tonight, we move."

Adam clenched his fist over his heart. "As you command."

The All-Mother turned back to the shadows, where the hooded figures remained kneeling. "Watch him. Observe his actions. But do not engage... not yet."

"As you wish," the golden-eyed leader whispered.

Azrael barely had time to catch his breath. The battle was over, the ruined street behind him still thick with smoke and ash.

That was when he heard it.

The sound of hurried footsteps. Fast. Desperate.

He turned his head just in time to see a figure sprinting toward him.

A girl.

Not just any girl—one of the ones he had left behind in the woods, giving her a chance to escape and settle elsewhere. Her face was twisted in urgency, her eyes locked onto his.

Azrael’s instincts flared. Was she in danger? Had something happened? He reached for Quinn, ready to summon his sword if necessary.

But before he could draw it, she leaped.

"Azrael, down!"

Her voice was sharp, urgent. He barely reacted in time, ducking just as she soared over him, her movement graceful, controlled. She landed behind him in a crouch, her hands already moving in a complex series of gestures.

Azrael spun around, confused, but then he saw it.

The men from earlier, the ones who had tried to arrest him were back.

And they were charging straight for him.

"Damn it," Azrael muttered, his grip tightening on Quinn’s hilt.