The First Patriarch: Streaming My Cosmic Harem

Azriel burst out laughing, leaning down to press a quick, affectionate kiss onto her forehead.

"Fair enough. Let’s get you fed before you decide to eat me instead."

[LIVE CHAT]

[Sadistic69] (Red): THEY’RE FINALLY AWAKE! HE STILL HASN’T PULLED OUT SINCE LAST NIGHT!!

[Nine_Tailed_Vixen] (Cyan): Look at her blushing! The terrifying Duchess gets embarrassed over a hungry stomach! My heart can’t take this cuteness!

[Lusty_Sera] (Golden): The way she shifted her legs to keep him inside... she is completely addicted to him now.

[Moon_Priestess_99] (Cyan): MORNING DOMESTICS ARE THE BEST!

Azriel happened to catch a glimpse of the floating System interface out of the corner of his eye and froze.

A sudden realization hit him like a bucket of ice water, after the intense, stamina-draining marathon last night, he had been so completely exhausted that he had entirely forgotten to cut the feed!

These horny divine entities and voyeuristic goddesses had literally stayed tune-in, watching them cuddle and sleep all morning.

He mentally cursed every single one of those bored high-tier entities in his head, but seeing the sheer volume of Karma Points continuing to trickle into his account, he decided against closing it.

He might as well let them watch his morning routine if they were paying this much for it.

As Azriel slowly slid out of her tight heat, drawing a long, shuddering sigh of sensitive pleasure from Rosalind’s swollen lips, the massive doors to the master suite suddenly creaked open without a single knock.

"Well, well. Glad to see the two of you didn’t manage to break the floorboards down," a raspy, ancient voice cackled from the doorway.

Azriel instantly pulled the silk duvet over their bare bodies, turning around to see Vesperia standing at the entrance.

She was back in her frail, sixty-year-old library disguise, leaning lazily against a wooden walking cane while holding a large silver tray filled with steaming meats, exotic fruits, and fresh bread.

Rosalind’s playful, soft expression instantly vanished.

Her golden eyes narrowed into icy slits, and her cat ears pinned back against her head.

"Old Hag," Rosalind growled, her tone dropping three octaves.

"Has anyone ever taught you the concept of knocking?"

Vesperia chuckled, stepping into the room and setting the heavy tray onto the bedside table with effortless ease.

"Why knock when I already know what you two were doing? Besides, someone had to bring food before my dear daughter starved her new mate to death."

Rosalind didn’t waste her breath arguing.

With a subtle flick of her wrist, a strand of white aether enveloped the silver tray, sending it floating gracefully through the air to rest on the silk sheets between them.

Without a word, she began eating, popping a piece of sweet, exotic fruit into her mouth while gesturing for Azriel to join her.

Azriel awkwardly grabbed a piece of roasted meat and chewed, his eyes darting back and forth between his bare waist and his mother-in-law, who was still casually watching them from the doorway.

Once the breakfast was finished, Rosalind wiped her lips with a cloth and turned her attention back to her mother, her demeanor shifting from relaxed to sharp.

"What did you come for?" Rosalind asked plainly.

"I checked out the bodies of those assassins," Vesperia replied.

The ambient temperature in the room plummeted instantly.

Azriel felt a sudden shiver run down his spine as he watched Rosalind’s face drain of all warmth, her golden eyes turning into slits of pure ice.

Vesperia continued, her raspy voice unusually somber.

"They didn’t belong to any organization we know of. When I tried to pry into the aether signatures of the Master-stage assassins, their bodies detonated instantly."

Shock flashed across Rosalind’s face.

"Even you weren’t able to extract their memories?"

Her disbelief was entirely justified.

Vesperia was an Overlord-stage powerhouse.

In this world, people awakened classes ranging from F- all the way to SSS+, advancing their strength by leveling up through dungeon conquests and slaying beasts.

The path of power followed a strict hierarchy: Awakened, Adept, Master, GrandMaster, Overlord, Sovereign, and finally Transcendent.

Since Transcendent-stage beings were largely mythical legends with no confirmed living existence on Tartarus, an Overlord stood just one step below the absolute apex of the world.

If a seal was strong enough to prevent an Overlord from extracting lingering memories from a mere Master-stage corpse, it meant the mastermind behind the attack was either a far more formidable Overlord than Vesperia, or a Sovereign.

Rosalind’s pupils contracted into thin pinpricks.

Vesperia let out a low sigh, turning her keen gaze toward Azriel.

"What is his true potential, Rose? Why are entities of that caliber already moving to lay their hands on him?"

"How could they have even found out?" Rosalind muttered, her hands tightening against the sheets.

"Rosalind," Vesperia warned softly, her tone laced with ancient wisdom.

"You’ve been managing the House of Bastet for decades. You know exactly what kind of hidden eyes exist in the shadows."

Rosalind remained quiet for a brief moment before taking a deep breath.

"He possesses an S-rank Class. On top of that, he has awakened a latent bloodline with the potential of SSS+ rank."

Vesperia took a slow, deep breath, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at Azriel with renewed, sharp interest.

"No wonder..." Vesperia murmured, a dark glint in her golden eyes.

"No wonder a Sovereign-level faction is trying to harvest him so early."

She paused, leaning lightly on her walking cane.

"So, what is your plan for him?"

"He will be joining the Ancient Beast Academy," Rosalind stated firmly.

A wide, knowing smile spread across Vesperia’s face.

She looked directly into her daughter’s eyes, her tone carrying a sharp, teasing edge.

"As Eleanor’s partner?"

Azriel, who had been sitting quietly listening to the high-stakes conversation, blinked in utter confusion.

He looked back and forth between the two women, his brows furrowing.

"Hold on a second," Azriel asked, his voice laced with bewilderment, "What academy? And who is Eleanor?"

Rosalind’s posture stiffened slightly.

The formidable Duchess, who had spent the entire night submitting to him in bed, suddenly avoided his gaze.

She looked at Azriel with a rare trace of hesitation flickering in her golden eyes before softly clearing her throat.

"Eleanor..." Rosalind began, her cat ears pinning back nervously as she met his eyes. "...is my daughter."

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