The First Patriarch: Streaming My Cosmic Harem

She leaned back, her voice dropping into a low, serious tone as the holographic crests pulsed softly above the table.

"In the upcoming main tournament, the grand stage for female prodigies, all eyes will be on Yasmin Ro’Khan," Rosalind warned.

"She is the imperial princess, and alongside my own daughter, Eleanor, she is the primary contender for the tournament from the Sekhmet Empire. Whoever Yasmin handpicks as her male combat partner will be an absolute monster, trained to perfection by the Royal Guards."

She reached across the desk, gently cupping Azriel’s jaw as her golden eyes searched his.

"Which means you must be ready to face the pinnacle of high-society prodigies. My mother will push your limits to ensure you outclass them all, you just need to survive her training."

From there, Rosalind dived into the finer, more intricate details of the Sekhmet Empire, the delicate balance of power, trading routes, hidden factional loyalties, and long-standing rivalries between the prominent vassal houses.

A few hours flew by in quiet concentration.

While they had barely scratched the surface of the empire’s deep, blood-stained history, Azriel now held a solid, foundational grasp of the complex political chessboard he was about to step onto.

Satisfied, Rosalind finally closed the leather tome with a soft, decisive thud.

Azriel smiled, covering her hand on his cheek with his own as his violet eyes locked onto hers.

"Lecture complete, my Lady?"

Rosalind’s regal composure melted into a flushed, breathy smile.

"Complete... handsome."

Without a word, Azriel swept the glowing parchment map aside, leaned across the desk, and lifted Rosalind onto the polished mahogany surface.

He parted her crimson silk gown, capturing her lips in a ravenous, breath-stealing kiss while his hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him.

Rosalind locked her long legs around his waist, moaning shamelessly into his mouth as he lined himself up and thrust deep inside her drenched core in one smooth, unrelenting drive.

The heavy mahogany desk groaned under the impact as a fierce, rhythmic clashing echoed through the quiet study.

Rosalind threw her head back, her sweet, melodic cries filling the room as Azriel drove into her over and over with dominant, relentless focus.

Without breaking the rhythm, Azriel wrapped his arms around her lush body and lifted her straight off the desk.

Holding her firmly against his chest, he carried her across the polished floorboards toward the plush velvet bed, thrusting deep with every step while locking his lips over hers to drink in her breathless moans.

In the adjacent bedroom, separated only by a thin mahogany door, Vesperia lay sprawling on the massive bed.

The loud, wet impacts of skin meeting skin and her daughter’s uninhibited, breathless cries echoed clearly through the wood.

Vesperia rolled onto her side, her golden eyes glowing in the dark as her feline ears twitched with every sharp, heavy slap of flesh.

A low, husky sigh escaped her throat.

Her hand slid down her black gym shorts, her clawed fingers slipping beneath the elastic waistband.

Biting her lower lip, she began to rhythmically stroke her wet, hyper-sensitive pussy, her hips subtly writhing against the sheets in exact time with the punishing rhythm echoing from the study.

"Ah... that shameless boy..." Vesperia whispered raspily to the empty room, her breath hitching as she drove herself closer to the edge, completely consumed by the heat radiating through the thin wall.

Over the past two weeks inside the silver barrier, this had become their unwritten routine, intense martial training with Vesperia through the morning and afternoon, a lavish dinner, political and geographical lectures with Rosalind into the late evening, followed by wild, passionate sex between Rosalind and Azriel.

And every single night, right on schedule, Vesperia lay in the dark, fingering herself to the wet, echoing slaps of their passion.

Though Vesperia hadn’t crossed the line into physical intimacy yet, the implicit barrier between her and Azriel had completely shattered.

The lingering tension as the mother-in-law and son-in-law had morphed into a warm, comfortable familiarity.

As her body shuddered in a breathless, intense climax, Vesperia smirked into her pillow, deciding it was time to increase her efforts in seducing her daughter’s partner into her own bed.

The next morning, the silver temporal barrier sparkled with crisp, renewed light.

Azriel stepped out onto the dusty arena in a fresh set of high-density black gear, feeling completely rejuvenated.

As he stretched his shoulders, he spotted Vesperia standing in the center of the grounds, her kusarigama resting at her side.

She looked at him as he approached, her golden eyes lingering over his frame with a strangely deep, satisfied smirk.

"Morning, Senior," Azriel greeted smoothly.

"Good morning, Azriel," Vesperia purred, her voice slightly huskier than usual as she spun her iron weight in a lazy arc beside her boot.

"Hope you enjoyed your political geography lesson last night. Today, we begin Lesson Four, Target Entanglement."

Azriel rolled his shoulders, a confident grin touching his lips.

"I think I can do that."

Vesperia raised a sleek eyebrow, her golden eyes glinting with amused skepticism.

"Oh? Then show me."

With a low rumble, an enchanted wooden target dummy rose out of the dirt arena floor fifteen paces away.

Azriel immediately took his stance.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, he set the iron fundo spinning horizontally above his head, the chain whistling in a smooth, razor-flat orbit.

As his Warrior’s Instinct surged, he snapped his wrist forward, launching the heavy weight straight toward the dummy.

The trajectory was slightly off, the iron ball scraped against the dummy’s shoulder, but Azriel reacted instantly.

With a sharp, practiced tug of his forearm, the kinetic momentum snapped the slack chain around the wooden frame, binding the dummy in a tight, metallic coil.

Yanking the chain backward, he dragged the target flying across the dirt straight toward him.

Deciding to show off a little extra, Azriel shifted his weight to transition directly into a sickle strike, even though blade combat wasn’t part of today’s lesson.

As the dummy drew near, he swung the crescent blade in a lethal, arc-like sweep.

CRACK—THUD!

The blade bit into the wood, but the strike was far from clean.

Due to a microsecond delay in his alignment, the crescent edge didn’t slice smoothly, instead, it got wedged awkwardly three inches deep into the dense wood, leaving a jagged, splintered gouge before jamming completely.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!