Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 271: Journey’s End: Thirteen Beauties, One Man, One Destiny

Chapter 271: Journey’s End: Thirteen Beauties, One Man, One Destiny

Journey’s End: Thirteen Beauties, One Man, One Destiny

The sun was suspended high in the sky, propelling a golden radiance down upon the limitless world below. Its warm beams poured like liquid honey, flowing across the infinite emerald fields that stretched seemingly into infinity towards the horizon. Weathered trees stood tall and stately, standing watchful in unbroken silence like nature’s guardians. Their great canopies rippled softly in the wind, whispering low against the air. Everywhere else, the land lay bathed in a quiet, regal silence—the sort that slowed even the birds to afloat through the air, as though they also paid homage to the quiet.

Every blade of grass glimmered in the golden light, and the summer wind caressed the treetops with tender courtesy. The sky was blue above, without a single cloud, limitless, as though heaven itself was frozen in breathless wonder.

But this tranquility wasn’t unblemished.

Cutting through the peaceful green was a caravan—splendid, regal, and anything but of the common world. It moved on, not hurriedly, not in thunder, but with the silent strength of power that did not require fanfare. Its very presence demanded notice.

This was no usual procession—it was Duke Leon Moonwalker’s personal caravan.

Banners danced in the wind, every one of them embroidered with the sigil of the House of the Moonwalker. Soldiers wearing silver armor rode in perfect drill on white warhorses, their polished swords sheathed but always at the ready. Centered in this ceremonial procession advanced a grand carriage, a jewel in motion—wrought in a silver-blue color that shone under the golden eye of the sun.

Its sculpted shape shone like metal imbibed in moonlight. There were four Windsteeds drawing the carriage—wondrous beasts of unadulterated white, etched with understated cerulean lines—whose resplendent manes flowed like river silk, hooves hardly disturbing the ground as they thundered. They were not beasts but living images of elegance and nobility, their movement itself an ode to the majesty they represented.

Surrounding them, the guards glided with clockwork precision, silent and obedient. No shouting, no barking of commands—only the muted thrum of spells and the repetitive beat of intent, resonating like a pulse across the land.

Outside, the caravan seemed to radiate power, nobility, and discipline.

Inside the central carriage... the world changed.

Within, luxury was not merely seen—it clung in the atmosphere, in each breath, each texture, each fragrance. The subtle smell of expensive perfumes blended with the heat of summer sunlight that poured through the pale blue velvet drapes. Windows poured the room with a soft glow, casting dainty shadows across silk-upholstered chairs, crystal fixtures polished to their core, and inlays of wood worked with precision.

At the center of that beautiful room was a man—a figure, actually.

Leon Moonwalker.

He was not only good-looking. He was striking, magnetic in a manner that caused the world to tilt toward him. Raven-black hair fell to his shoulders in smooth waves, surrounding a face etched with power and poise. Golden-amber eyes glowed softly, catching the sunlight and holding it like a secret flame. He was dressed in a high-collared black tunic, its golden embroidery dragging like sun light across night.

Leon’s stance was easy, uncoiled yet filled with the subdued force of a man who ruled empires and hearts both.

And around him. were thirteen stunning women.

Every one a vision. Every one truly unforgettable.

At his side sat Rias, his first wife—the daughter of his heart, the one who had marched beside him longer than anyone else. Her scarlet-red locks gleamed as living flame would beneath the gilt light illuminating the carriage windows, igniting at each shift of her head. Her eyes, similarly deep crimson, glinted with a mix of pride and roguish playfulness, dancing as she leaned softly against Leon’s shoulder, her proximity as warm and reassuring as a breath.

Mia lay beside him in quiet, the antithesis to Rias’s fire. Her own black, silky hair cascaded like ink down her back, flowing with every gentle motion of the carriage. Her black eyes, soft and increasingly growing more self-assured, lifted occasionally to look at Leon—shyness still aflame on her cheeks, but now no longer concealing her affection. Her fingers, tentative and dainty initially, now rested more firmly in his hand, their hands clasped together at the waist in subdued intimacy.

Leon’s arms encircled both their waists in a natural, unfussy way, his fingers laced with theirs, relishing the heat of his women against him. But even that intimacy was dwarfed by the brash pose of the one reclining in his lap.

Sitting gracefully against his chest like a cat taking her rightful position, Lira nestled in his arms. Her silver-white hair flowed down her back like a shining veil of moonlight, rippling in the soft breeze that circulated through the slightly open window. Her ocean-blue eyes, peaceful yet unyieldingly confident, met his eyes with a facility afforded only by deep love. She leaned her head to one side with a knowing smile, the line of her body leaning against his chest as though it had always been so. Leon’s breath across the ear made her shiver. Next, his tongue drew a slow, teasing stroke along her earlobe.

"Stop that, darling..." Lira laughed, her voice light, laced with delight and subtle protest. She nestled in further, her smile broadening as his hot breath danced over her skin.

"Hmm?" Leon’s smile twisted in a wicked grin. "I thought my little princess enjoyed it."

His response was rewarded with a soft laugh from Lira, one that held the hint of secrets shared and long, sensual nights. From the side, Rias and Mia turned their faces, looking at the silver-haired princess with faces that flickered between mock-exasperation and playful envy—though Rias’ playful glare at Lira was undermined by the tiny curl at the edge of her lip. Mia, never one to vocalize, merely narrowed her eyes with pale, pouting disapproval, even as she held on a little tighter to Leon.

In front of them, reclining with poise and comfort on the front sofa, sat the other women who claimed parts of Leon’s heart.

Aria, queenlike in her own self, sprawled across one side with easy nonchalance. Her soft violet hair cascaded over the velvet pillows, surrounding her angular features and glittering purple eyes which twinkled with perpetual tease. Cynthia, their calm voice of reason, sat erect beside her with a delicate porcelain teacup perched daintily in her fingers, her attitude poised and elegant, but now and then her eyes lingering on Leon with a warmth only great love could give.

Standing at their sides were the impish green-haired twins, Syra and Kyra. Shoulder to shoulder, the two mischief goddesses quietly spoke to one another with grins twitching at their lips. Syra, never the shy one, threw Leon a wink, while Kyra nuzzled into her twin, speaking something naughty into her ear that had the two girls suppress giggles, their eyes flicking towards Leon as if they were plotting something nefarious.

Rearward of Leon, kneeling on a cushioned velvet bench, Fey worked her slender fingers into his shoulders with practiced smoothness. Her black hair was pulled up in a loose knot, tendrils falling here and there to frame the soft nape of her neck. Her maid’s uniform stuck to her like a second layer of skin, accentuating each lovely curve, but she moved with peaceful intent, her hands firm but soft, coaxing out her lord’s tension like a worshipful ritual.

The remaining four maids, Mira, Mona, Lena, and Rui, were placed on the remaining seats around them, each of them wearing matching sexier uniforms that complemented their smooth hourglass figures. They had black hair as silky as silk, eyes that gazed at Leon with a combination of affection, longing, and unbreakable devotion. They smiled with sweetness, playfulness, or more, but all had an attitude expressing the same idea: they were his.

The carriage had a subtle scent of lilies, sweet perfume, and something richer—hunger, warmth, and the unmistakable tang of intimacy breathed in whispers and skin revealed.

It didn’t smell like a caravan.

It smelled like family. A large, strange, gorgeous family with one man softly loved at its core.

Leon’s smile pulled at the edge of his lip as he let his eyes slide shut for an instant. The sweet, musical giggles and teasing voices of his women wrapped around him like silk, calming and tantalizing at the same time. His hand glided idly along Rias’ waist, fingers tracing over her side, barely enough to make her wriggle. A gentle shiver ran through her as she edged in closer, her flame-red hair tumbling over his shoulder, and a throaty giggle slipped past her lips.

To his other side, Mia released a soft gasp as his thumb brushed the delicate skin close to her bust. Her breath caught, cheeks deepening in color, but she did not edge away—rather, she released a soft nervous laugh, eyes darting downward as though she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. Leon wrapped his arms around both Rias and Mia, drawing them into his warmth. Lira, on the other hand, stretched herself out across him like a spoiled cat, her silver-blond hair brushing against his shoulder, purring happily.

He shut his eyes completely then, drawing in the moment.

Six days. It had been only six days since they left Moonspire, but already it seemed like a memory etched deep into his heart.

Every day had been its own variety of dream—long days of riding over empty plains, the caravan moving steadily under the sunlit heavens, punctuated by nights camping under the stars. They splashed in limpid lakes, whispered secrets around the campfire, shared silences in the cold of dawn. Last night, they’d crossed the southern border into Moonstone—the duchy’s land. And if things went as planned, they’d arrive in Silver City before sundown today.

But the ride wasn’t over land alone. It was something much more personal. It was the gradual, smoldering opening of hearts.

He recalled that evening with absolute clarity—how Rias slipped into his tent hours past everyone else’s bedtime. She didn’t knock. She never had to. The flap opened, and there she stood, dressed in nothing but her revealing, silken nightgown which barely concealed her figure. Her crimson hair cascaded down over her bare shoulders, and her crimson eyes blazed with passion he knew all too intimately.

Without waiting, she straddled him, her soft thighs settling around his waist as her hands pressed against his chest. "Lie back, Daddy. I’m in charge tonight.," she whispered with a teasing grin, but her body was already grinding down against the growing bulge in his pants. The moonlight bathed her from behind, outlining every perfect curve—her round ass, her heavy breasts swaying beneath the thin fabric, her hardened nipples poking through.

Leon didn’t struggle. He never did where she was concerned.

His palms glided up under her nightgown, fingers cupping the round of her ass before they stroked lower, tracing down into the wet heat already seeping through her panties. She was warm—and no surprise. Rias was always starving for him, burning just below the surface. And tonight, she didn’t want easy.

She wanted to be fucked.

With a single movement, he rolled them over, holding her under him as his cock burst free—thick, hard, needing to be inside her. Her hand closed around it instinctively, stroking him, guiding him to her drenched pussy. When he slid into her, they both groaned—deep, animalistic noises. She tightened around him, hips rolling up to meet his strokes, nails piercing his back as he started to pound her into the bedroll.

Their bodies flowed as they had a thousand times before—needy, fluid, rough where rough was necessary. Her breasts jiggled with each drive, her nipples grazing his chest, her moans escalating until the tent shook with the wet sound of flesh on flesh.

"Harder," she gasped, nipping his shoulder. "Bang me like you mean it, Daddy."

Leon growled low in his throat, pounding into her harder, deeper, his hands wrapped around her thighs and pushing her wider. Her pussy tightened around his cock like it didn’t want to release him, and she bucked beneath him, her crimson hair matted against her sweat-slicked skin. His mouth landed on her nipple, sucking, biting softly until she screamed with pleasure.

And then, it happened.

Her aura burst apart—chaotic and aflame. A spasm of power erupted from her center, her spine curving as she slammed hard, pussy closing around him in desperate waves. Her climax wasn’t bodily—it was metaphysical. Sheer moment, under him, midst-fucking, Rias had breached.

She’d entered the Grandmaster Realm.

Leon continued fucking her through it, riding her waves, until his own orgasm ripped through him. He plunged deep inside, shooting inside her with a grunt, their bodies still entwined as the sheen of her accomplishment glowed around them.

Following, she folded into him with a pleased smirk, her lips skating across his chest. "Told you I’d do it with you inside me," she mumbled softly.

Leon only smiled, draping the blanket over them as moonlight poured over their entwined, damp bodies.