My Taboo Harem!

Phei had watched them cross the Dead Winter Realm beneath layers of suppression, enduring storms that could fold steel and cold vicious enough to force Danton into using the Flames of Beginning. He knew what they were.

Phei knew how far they stood above his miserable Master Stage<anno data-annotation-id="768deb4c-63d1-d759-bbe7-3f040134b820" data-title=".">.¹</anno>

But the number fourteen had sounded bad but watching these eleven beings unveiling fourteen cultivation stages above him made it obscene.

Five of them positioned themselves around the Coffer, close enough to seem part of its defenses. Two hovered above it, two guarded its flanks and one occupied the space beneath it. The remaining six formed an outer layer several hundred meters across.

Their restraints loosened by a fraction and as they breathed... Anarctica answered.

Storm fronts curved around invisible sovereignties as the ancient ice began humming beneath powers that had yet to act but just breathing and let out their cultivation base than keeping it inside. Frost veered from certain figures and vanished around others as eleven auras pressed upon the basin.

Power lived among them as it breathed through flesh, chains and atmosphere, drawing snow inward with every inhale. Each pulse travelled through the frozen earth and forced this ancient winter, the grave of a Titan, to acknowledge that greater monsters had arrived.

Phei’s confidence wavered.

Barely... but it fucking wavered.

He had entered Anarctica knowing the odds were obscene but he had prepared True Void Steps, and his Lust Reality too before he brought Consort because leaving Danton’s ancient experience on the board would be suicidal.

Plans looked wonderful inside the mind but the eleven World Transcendents made theory feel like something written by an idiot shortly before his funeral.

Phei exhaled. "This is one hell of a way to court death."

Eira did not laugh. "Indeed."

The gravity inside the place had changed and became heavy too; it bothered him.

The Elf who had given Danton Althea’s blood occupied the Coffer’s upper-right flank.

Phei remembered earlier, she had possessed almost-golden hair, delicate features and the kind of beauty fantasy stories seemed contractually obligated to give Elves.

That beauty had became predatory now as she let her power free:

Warmth had drained from her hair until it gleamed silver-white, then lengthened past her waist, thighs and knees. Her eyes became unbroken crimson with black horns that breached her temples and swept backward through the pale river of hair while jagged armour grew across her shoulders, chest, waist and thighs.

Phei’s Primordial Blood struck once inside him; hard.

He looked at the four skeletal wings tore open behind her, black spars carrying translucent membranes veined with carmine radiance. Those veins swelled and dimmed with a heartbeat... the wings spread and the storm staggered away from nearing them.

Phei stared. "Fuck."

Eira glanced at him. "Master."

"She’s terrifying."

"That part is obvious."

"And hot."

Eira sighed. "Fear and appreciation can coexist."

The elf in question proved it spectacularly; she looked like every beautiful thing associated with Elves but drowned in an apocalypse, sharpened and taught to fly. Crimson inscriptions crept beneath her eyes and spread over her temples and throat. Their first pulse released mist but the second turned it carmine.

Wherever the haze travelled, winter changed colour. White blushed rose, rose deepened into vermilion, and an incarnadine stain seeped through the glaciers until even the blizzard looked steeped in dying sunset.

Nothing had spilled from her and that was her presence alone staining the absolute winter; the chains around her ignited scarlet, suppression seals flashing as the force beneath them pressed outward. Metal groaned against blood.

"Master... that’s a Blood Elf," Eira murmured. "Blood Elves and Void Elves are among the rarest Dark Elven Races. Even during the older eras, meeting one was unusual.<anno data-annotation-id="8a8df452-dae0-afcf-b1fa-7f4487b00583" data-title=""">"<sup>1</anno> Her wings throbbed, releasing another crimson tide: "And she’s restrained, Master."

Phei watched the links tremble.

"If she wasn’t, this winter would forget what white looks like." Eira said.

His Primordial Blood was pulsing, the Blood Elf seems to have reacted... her one wing throbbed, and his blood answered. Another beat travelled through all four wings, matching the rhythm inside Phei’s veins.

Something ancient had felt something else ancient.

Her crimson eyes narrowed as she searched the storm.

Phei remained concealed within True Void and Eira, but a few things and instinct obeyed older laws than ordinary perception. For several breaths, he wondered whether she might find him.

With his Primordial Blood Phei could telll how her blood felt hungry.

The Blood Elf’s gaze passed dangerously close to his position before moving away.

Only then did he breathe properly.

Consort had noticed everything but she remained poised upon the Titan’s crown, yet one hand now rested on her katana; that small movement told Phei more than any killing intent could.

Even then, the Blood Elf was not the creature Consort watched most closely.

Two of the inner five had her wary:

The first was the massively chained figure Phei had noticed throughout the journey.

Even suppressed, the bastard possessed shoulders wide enough to make ordinary men look unfinished. When he inhaled, the chains creaked; calling him muscular became useless. His body was compressed brutality, thick cords of flesh packed across his arms, chest and back until his skin looked stretched over a violent mountain. Dirty black hair fell in a tangled mane around broken clasps and fragments of older restraints.

His face possessed none of the Blood Elf’s supernatural beauty; a heavy brow shadowed pitch-black eyes, his nose carried the accumulated damage of several terrible decisions, and his jaw looked capable of surviving whatever had broken it.

He grunted and the glacier beneath Phei vibrated and the snow sloughed from cliffs several kilometres away, while a tremor passed through the mountains resting upon the Titan.

"Oh, fuck."

The brute man’s figure expanded:

His spine lengthened through subterranean cracks. Shoulders broadened, arms thickened and his ribcage swelled until the chains around his torso screamed... heat glowed crimson beneath his skin, flashing falling snow into steam; he passed twenty feet, then thirty, and continued growing.

The other World Transcendents moved away without being asked.

That quiet concession revealed more than his expanding body ever could.

When his feet finally touched the glacier, the impact cratered it, fractures raced beneath him in luminous blue webs while Phei tilted his head so far back that his neck joined the conversation. The giant towered beyond twenty times Phei’s height, with thighs like pillars and shoulders broad enough to support a mansion. Even the cords across his forearms approached the size of Phei’s body.

He clenched one fist feeling his power and the atmosphere compacted around his knuckles, folding into visible layers until space itself groaned.

His fingers closed and the imprisoned pressure detonated, shearing several metres from a distant wall of frost.

Eira whispered: "He’s s Half Behemoth-Dwarf."

Phei almost laughed. "A unions between a Behemoth and a Dwarf?"

"Yes."

He looked up again. "How is that even possible? sex between a biggest and almost the tallest and then the shortest?"

Eira turned toward him slowly. "Master."

"I’m asking a legitimate biological question."

"The answer is standing in front of you."

"You’ve wondered too."

"I refuse to admit anything."

Phei studied the result of that ancient interracial sex.

Whatever had occurred between those parents sounded forbidden by multiple religious texts and possibly responsible for an international treaty.

Eira caught his sleeve. "Whatever happens, do not fight him physically."

"I wasn’t planning to wrestle him."

"I’m serious. Behemoth grants him monstrous vitality, mass and strength. Dwarf blood condenses flesh, bone and essence as his cultivation rises, dont start to wonder how powerful he is."

"He inherited both."

"Perfectly."

"That seems unfair."

"The universe has never advertised fairness." Eira tightened her grip. "Don’t block him, trade blows or let your stupid dragon pride decide being punched by a perhaps one of the physically strongest World Transcendent sounds educational. If his fingers begin closing around you, use True Void Steps before they meet."

"And if they meet?"

Eira gave him a small smile. "We learn whether Cosmic Dragons regenerate from paste."

Phei looked back at the giant. "Very comforting."

"Good. Stay frightened."

The woman beside the Blood Elf had changed too.

During the journey she had appeared almost harmless, pale and elegant beneath long robes while chains crossed her shoulders and throat.

She raised her head and the storm around her went mute.

Her garments stopped reacting to the blizzard and floated beneath another law. White cloth lengthened into funeral robes crawling with black inscriptions, while her skin became translucent.

Darkness lay beneath it and a crown appeared above her head, seven bone spires carved with symbols Phei’s True Void Sense hated before he understood them.

Then his perception caught what stood behind her.

Phei stiffened.

His eyes saw a woman.

True Void Sense saw an empire of thousands of dead beings occupied another layer of existence around her. Undead soldiers knelt with broken weapons lodged in their bodies and ancient Undead kings bowed beneath shattered crowns. Skeletal beasts larger than castles crouched among ruined cavalry, while endless corpses disappeared into impossible darkness.

Some had no faces, others possessed too many while several raised their heads toward Phei’s concealed position.

His senses recoiled.

The woman opened black eyes, and every snowflake entering her presence fell eroded and dead from the air. For the first time since arriving, Phei felt the Dead Winter Realm encounter something colder than itself.

"I’ll handle her," Eira said.

"That sounded urgent."

"It is."

"Who is she?"

"Death Monarch Race. An Undead Queen."

<annotations style="display: none;">He doesnt know they’re called Flames of Beginning by the wayHere we don’t mean really dark elves as in black, you’ll know the difference as we go on</annotations>

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