Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

The exhale wasn't just fire. It wasn't just destruction. It was annihilation itself. A golden-pink storm of raw, unfiltered might that turned the cosmos into ashes. The breath touched an immortal, a god of the highest pantheon, and he didn't just die—he ceased to exist. No soul left to reincarnate. No energy to return to the cycle. Just... gone.

Yet, despite its overwhelming might, the dragon was wounded. Glistening pink-golden blood dripped from deep gashes, each wound carved by beings that should never have had the power to harm it. Thousands of figures swarmed like ants against its celestial form—gods of all shapes and sizes, titanic beasts infused with divinity, dragons of ancient bloodlines, their own scales paling in comparison to the being they sought to slay.

Some rode upon cosmic warbeasts, others wielded weapons forged from the cores of dying fellow gods and stars forged from unknown materials, their strikes landing with force enough to shatter galaxies—but it wasn't enough. The dragon roared, and the sound alone sent dozens of them into oblivion, their divine bodies disintegrating before they could even scream.

But still, they fought.

A god of shadows wrapped the dragon's wings in chains woven from the void.

A colossal wolf-headed deity sank its fangs into its throat, its own blood boiling at the touch of the dragon's essence. A primordial serpent coiled around its limbs, venom sizzling against scales that should have been untouchable.

And yet—its eyes still burned.

Not with rage. Not with pain. But with something else. Something deep. Something that made the gods hesitate, if only for a moment.

And in that moment, the dragon moved.

Its claws, massive enough to tear apart planets, swung in an arc, rending through the divine horde like parchment. Its tail, a weapon in itself, crashed through legions of celestial warriors, breaking their formations as if they were nothing but insects.

The battle raged, a war beyond mortal comprehension, where gods perished like insects and reality itself bent under the weight of the combatants. The dragon—its sheer size enough to eclipse the heavens—moved with terrifying grace, each motion a calamity, each breath a death sentence. The air burned with divinity, raw and untamed, as thousands of celestial beings threw themselves into battle against something beyond gods, beyond fate.

And yet, none could stand before it.

The dragon's claws tore through the ranks like scythes through grass. Entire legions of deities—some clad in armor forged from dying suns, others wielding weapons infused with the essence of creation itself—vanished in an instant. There was no scream, no resistance. Just erasure. A single swipe, and hundreds of divine beings ceased to be, their very existence shattered.

Its tail, a weapon as vast as the cosmos, lashed out with apocalyptic force.

Space itself shattered under the impact. Gods who had ruled for eternity—creatures that had watched civilizations rise and fall like mere tides—were reduced to dust, their eternal lives snuffed out as if they had never mattered at all.

The dragon roared.

The sound alone was enough to break reality. Realms cracked. Stars trembled. Even the gods who had not yet stepped into the battlefield felt it—the weight of something greater than themselves, something they could never hope to match.

Pyris had seen power before. He had seen the leaders—beings that could break mountains, shatter the sky, twist the very fabric of space with a flick of their fingers. He had stood before Zaryana and witnessed the raw might of a divine, had felt his own insignificance then.

But this?

This was beyond power. This was existence itself bending under the weight of true supremacy.

The dragon was not a creature. It was a force.

Its wings alone stretched across eternity, their sheer span blotting out realms. Not stars. Not planets. Entire realms.

Its breath was not fire, nor energy, nor any element Pyris had words for—it was annihilation.

A single exhale, and an immortal—not just a immortal, a god—was erased.

Not killed. Erased.

No body. No soul. No lingering trace.

One instant, they were standing proud, radiant in divine glory. The next—gone. As if they had never existed.

And yet, the gods fought back.

Thousands of them.

Celestial beings, greater than anything Pyris had ever known.

Divine warlords clad in shifting starfire.

Serpentine deities stretching through galaxies.

Wolves with moons for eyes and suns for hearts.

Dragons—other dragons—lesser than the golden one but still so vast, so powerful that their mere presence sent shivers through the fabric of reality.

And yet—they were prey.

Its tail lashed out, cracking against the very foundations of existence, and entire divine realms collapsed.

Not cities.

Not continents.

Realms.

Whole planes of reality, worlds stacked upon worlds, were obliterated in an instant. Pyris saw them—entire civilizations, entire pantheons snuffed out in the blink of an eye. The fate of those below? Unknown.

It was beyond power. It was beyond scale. It was beyond anything he could comprehend.

But then…

She appeared.

She was not like the others. She was not one of the countless deities, not one of the celestial beasts that sought to strike the dragon down.

No, she was something else.

The moment she stepped forward, reality itself struggled to define her. Her presence could not be comprehended. It could not be measured.

She simply was.

Where she stood, the concept of time wavered.

When she walked in the space, the very idea of space twisted.

And yet, for all her unfathomable power, she moved with effortless elegance. As if she had done this before. As if she had done this countless times before.

The dragon—this incomprehensible force of destruction, this calamity made flesh—stopped.

Its blazing golden eyes, burning with power beyond gods, locked onto her.

It did not snarl. It did not roar.

It simply watched.

And then—she moved.

Faster than thought. Faster than light. Faster than existence itself. One moment, she was in the void above. The next—she was atop the dragon's back.

A step. A breath. A punch.

Her fist—small in comparison to the dragon's celestial form, yet somehow immeasurable in might—slammed into the golden scales of its head.

And then—the heavens broke.

The dragon fell.

Not gracefully. Not in control.

It was sent hurtling downward—through the realms, through existence, through everything that had ever been and ever would be.

The impact alone was cataclysmic. Entire dimensions shattered as its body crashed through them, each one folding in on itself like fragile glass beneath the weight of something too great to withstand.

Realms collapsed.

Worlds burned out, their inhabitants consumed in the wake of forces beyond mortal comprehension. What became of them, none would ever know. Their fates lost, devoured by the sheer magnitude of the destruction.

And yet—it roared.

Even as it fell, even as it crashed through countless planes of existence, its voice tore through reality itself, a sound so powerful that it rippled across creation.

A declaration.

Not of pain.

Not of defeat.

But of wrath.

A warning that even this—even her—would not be enough to end it.

And she simply watched.