The Golden Lord has a perverted SSS-rank summoning system!

Another seven days passed in the blink of an eye.

Ethan spent them showering his wives with love and, above all, poring over the vast trove of knowledge hidden within the eye of the Fallen Emperor God.

There were countless records inside it, ranging from the basics of wielding a sword to concepts so advanced that Ethan could barely read two or three lines before his head began to throb.

Even the most rudimentary notes shattered every rule of fencing and footwork he had learned throughout his life under various sword masters.

Clearly, the information stored in that eye had been meant for experts alone.

Beyond studying the fundamentals of swordsmanship and expert-level combat, Ethan also selected three main techniques to delve into more deeply.

Two of them were low-cost abilities, ideal for constant use, while the third was reserved for desperate moments, or for finishing off a difficult battle, devouring roughly 40% of his aura reserves.

The first was "A Thousand Divine Slashes," a technique similar to the conventional aura slash, only far more refined—imbuing the blade and unleashing terrifying aura edges with every strike.

The second was a physical enhancement ability called "Impenetrable Golden Steel Skin," capable of both protecting the user’s body and reinforcing whatever armor he wore.

The last was "Divine Lightning Blade," a skill of devastating power but with a massive aura cost—essentially a trump card, drawn only as a last resort.

Throughout those seven days, Ethan focused on training these three skills, preparing for the enemies he would face in the approaching war.

In between, of course, he also devoted time to organizing Goldenveil’s public transportation system, even creating a tram route between Goldenveil and Windmere. The children who commuted from Windmere to school in Goldenveil would now cover the fifteen-kilometer stretch in just ten minutes.

With an average speed of ninety kilometers per hour, even a third-stage warrior would struggle to keep up with that tram, and the Windmere–Goldenveil route alone had the capacity to move tens of thousands of people every day.

It was still overkill for the current demand, but that would soon change.

After hiring several low-level mages to operate the magical trams and finally getting Goldenveil’s entire public transportation system up and running, Ethan allowed himself to relax a little.

And so, at dusk on the last day of the sixth month of the year, with winter only a few months away, Ethan found himself in the lush garden of his palace.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of night-blooming flowers, mingling with the distant song of birds settling in for the night, while the sky burned in shades of orange and purple.

His head rested on Alice’s soft thighs, and his left hand traced lazy circles across her belly.

Now in her third month of pregnancy, Alice’s stomach already showed a small but clearly visible bulge beneath the light fabric of her dress.

Ethan’s right hand, however, was somewhere else entirely.

While he lay across Alice’s lap, Evelyn had settled onto his own, wearing those tiny leather shorts she knew perfectly well he adored. Her plump, juicy ass—shaped like a perfect, natural BBL—rested heavily on his pelvis, her warm weight pressing down in the most delicious way.

Ethan’s right hand roamed there, drifting slowly over that silky, creamy skin. His fingers followed the generous curve of her buttocks, and the leather fabric creaked softly with every movement.

When he squeezed a little harder, his fingers sank into that plump flesh with almost no resistance, molding it as though it were pure velvet. The soft heat of her skin melted against his palm, and a subtle tremor ran through the round curve every time he kneaded it.

"Are you sure you don’t want Ysara to go with you too? Arwen is a fourth-stage mage—she can protect the city on her own... you need as much support as possible," Alice asked, her fingers running gently through Ethan’s golden hair.

He smiled, his fingers tightening around one of Evelyn’s buttocks, feeling the soft flesh swell and squeeze between them.

"It won’t be necessary. The strongest of our enemies is only at the fourth stage," he replied calmly.

Honestly, he was only taking Amelia along as a safety measure, in case something went wrong.

This was a battle in which he had no intention of leaning on either her or Ysara.

The Goldenveil army had endured months of grueling training, accumulating the equivalent of years of combat experience in an absurdly short time.

Even so, they needed to earn experience outside the simulated environment—and, above all, they needed to avoid becoming dependent.

Together, Ysara and Amelia formed a tremendous fighting force, capable of easily handling every orc in the region, along with any army foolish enough to march against Ethan there.

But that could set a dangerous precedent.

What if their interventions ended up breeding dependency?

The Goldenveil army needed to learn to face its enemies, to deal with them, to cut them down cleanly, without relying on anyone.

Ysara and Amelia’s interventions should come only in truly desperate moments; otherwise, they might—without ever realizing it—cripple the Goldenveil army.

Its soldiers would grow overly reliant on the power of the two masters and, over time, complacent.

And when they finally faced a real enemy, without the two of them to shield them, what would happen?

Ethan wasn’t willing to find out. He preferred to correct the problem before it ever took root.

The Goldenveil army would meet the enemy head-on.

There would be deaths, yes, but those deaths and the blood spilled would be exactly what forged an even more powerful army.

Ethan sighed heavily, turning his face to press a lingering kiss against Alice’s belly, feeling the warm, soft skin beneath his lips.

Soon after, he forced himself to sit up, even though part of him wanted to stay there forever.

He gave Evelyn’s plump, luscious ass a firm slap.

The sharp crack echoed through the garden. His palm sank deep into the soft flesh before it bounced back with a heavy, quivering shudder—a ripple rolling across the round curve and spilling into the other cheek.

A faint pink bloom rose to the surface of the creamy skin, right where his hand had landed.

"Ready?" he asked, a crooked smile playing at the corner of his lips.

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