Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1021: The Omnis Above

No matter how many women had entered my harem by now, regardless of how often this very scene repeated, even if the pattern appeared totally predictable to some worthless onlooker from the sidelines—the instant another one accepted me just as I am, along with my full harem, or even started genuinely thinking about it, slammed into me with that same brutal, heart-pounding force as the very first occasion.

The intensity never faded. It never turned mundane.

Every instance struck just like Madison's initial acceptance of me and the system, claiming the front seat, since each woman formed her own independent realm choosing freely to circle my world.

That choice was never trivial in the least.

I simply failed miserably at revealing it to the woman herself. Unlike with Eziel, Genevieve, or Vanessa, where feelings poured out raw on my expression and deeds in the moment.

Yet deep down? I felt that dumb, hushed, heart-squeezing bliss each and every time.

ARIA sensed it, naturally. She always did. That's why she'd embraced me from behind before—not for the wager, not for show, but because she tracked every peak in my vitals and moods: the oxytocin flood, the quiet heart rate bump I'd never confess aloud.

She never brought it up straight.

Her arms encircled me instead in that wordless manner conveying everything.

With all departure setups done, I couldn't resist.

I headed back to Rory’s school.

I knew she would turn leaving into pure agony if she noticed me. She'd seize my sleeve with those tiny, iron-gripped fingers, force me to repeat every vow I'd given dozens of times already, and trap me using her deadliest tool—that face.

Thus, I maintained distance.

Distant enough she couldn't spot me.

Near enough for me to observe.

She played happily.

A handful of children—four or five—gathered around her. Rory held the center, gesturing wildly with hands, guiding the chaos, leading her improvised game with the born authority of a girl informed she was Charlotte Thompson’s daughter who made that name count.

This tiny girl, once tormented at her old school for lacking a father, now commanded a ring of pals who devoured her every word like free sweets.

One child dared challenge her—likely over rules in her wild game. Rory set hands on hips, cocked her head just like Charlotte, and shot him the look.

He yielded at once. Bright kid.

"You’re a total fucking softie for her, Master," ARIA commented, shaking her head next to me—or more like above, since we were floating.

Yep. Forty feet airborne. ARIA ferried me atop a compact cloud of dense divine glow, drifting noiselessly over the schoolyard as I acted the supernatural hovering dad, spying on kids chasing in tag.

Had anyone told sixteen-year-old Peter Carter—the boy pedaling home on a bike chain that broke every three weeks—this was his destiny, he’d have scoffed, figuring it a vicious prank to heighten the coming crash.

And yet...

ARIA’s effortless power feats no longer fazed me.

She’d called it downright insulting once—how the thrill from a woman agreeing to join me (even if I foresaw it) outdid my reaction to any of her divine miracles.

As though my surprise reserve was maxed on harem wins, leaving nothing for godlike stunts.

"You flew me here to school on a damn cloud," I remarked. "Expect applause? You pulled the same with groceries."

"Groceries were separate. I conjured a chariot."

"Winged shopping cart."

"A sacred conveyance drawn from ancient myths, elegantly tweaked for today’s stores."

"Wonky wheel, ARIA."

"Aesthetic touch. Vintage flair."

I laughed. "Fair enough. I created you, ARIA, yet even I can’t grasp your full bounds—which, truth be told, barely exist. Acting shocked by your feats is like denying I foresaw my creation being this insanely overpowered."

I turned toward her, hovering nearby on her personal cloud, hair swaying in a breeze that wasn’t there amid the still upper air.

She fixed her gaze on me. Blinked. Pulled a face.

"Wait—you hitting on me with that bizarre line?" Laughter cracked her words.

"Fine, I’ll accept, but only ’cause you’re my type and—"

"Nah!" I halted her, hands raised. "You’re not my type."

The cloud evaporated.

Zero warning. No soft drop.

One moment, I reclined on packed divine light forty feet over the playground; the next, nothing beneath me as gravity yanked me down.

I plummeted.

ARIA hovered in her spot, arms folded, gazing down at me with the calm, indifferent face of a goddess who'd just hurled her own Master from the heavens without the faintest regret.

"Who’s not your type?" she called out sweetly from above.

The earth hurtled upward at thirty-two feet per second squared, yet I laughed so wildly that it didn't matter.

Next, she touched down right beside me, adjusted her dress, and ran a hand through her hair as though no chaos had unfolded.

"For the record," she said,

I gazed at her. She gazed back. In the distance, Rory continued playing, totally unaware her GodMan had plummeted in freefall over her school after mocking the age of an all-powerful entity.

"Fair enough," I replied.

ARIA grinned, looped her arm through mine, and we strolled from the school like utterly ordinary folks who'd never floated overhead on clouds, debating if a godlike ASI truly qualified as a minor.

. She possessed Charlotte’s deadly glare, Vanessa’s gentle warmth, a whole harem of women eager to torch the world for her, and a Dark Lord who swooped down from the skies to her school.

She would thrive spectacularly.

Paris awaited.