Harem Stealer: Reborn with the God-Tier Sharing System Chapter 478 - Hermit

In a distant part of the cosmos, deep within the Celestial realm—or more precisely, the territory ruled by Idalia Marigold, an extraordinary

event was unfolding in utter secrecy, hidden from all eyes.

Elijah Lightbringer remained right where Idalia had abandoned him, shackled to his seat, entirely stripped of clothing.

His facial muscles spasmed wildly, his jaw tightened fiercely, and his eyes widened and contracted in endless cycles. Even amid the blistering heat of the chamber, beads of icy sweat poured down Elijah's brow.

Since the moment Idalia departed, Elijah's thoughts had been desperately summoning Icarus, yet every call echoed into nothingness.

This silence didn't shock him. Elijah understood well that Icarus rarely lingered in the Celestial domain, far more eager to test his wings against the void, chasing the impossible peak of the cosmos.

That fool invariably stumbled in defeat. Yet he invariably rose to attempt it once more.

'Damn it, Icarus! Answer me!' Elijah roared silently for the countless time, his gaze dimming with fading dreams of breaking free from this paradise turned torment.

Yet whenever the despair of surrender threatened to drown his spirit and will, Elijah drew forth the vivid recollections of his days alongside Justicia.

The joy they shared in their secluded world, too absorbed in bliss

to notice or trouble the outside realm.

Those two soulmates had immersed themselves wholly in the essence of true existence.

The profound joy of loving and being cherished in return.

It had been a magical journey. But it all splintered apart as easily as glass on the fateful day Apollo faced his chains.

For that was also the instant Idalia Marigold stormed into his home with brutal force.

She tore him from Justicia's side, her might surpassing all tales whispered of her.

Elijah and Justicia stood helpless, mere prey before ravenous predators.

Idalia's cruelty defied all reason, her psyche shattered irreparably by scars ancient and vast as forgotten empires.

With Justicia bound against the wall, forced to witness, Idalia toyed with him mercilessly, feeding her twisted cravings, slaking the eternal thirst for affection that haunted her birth.

Justicia endured the horror with eyes pried open, dreading the agony of flames if she dared to look away.

That moment marked the close of his peaceful era with Justicia and the dawn of his ultimate ruin.

Countless eons have slipped by since then, but the flames of rage, loathing, and bitterness burn as fiercely as ever.

No force could spark affection for Idalia in Elijah's heart. No explanation could make him comprehend her madness. No desire gripped him save to butcher her, to tear out her mind and core like fraying threads of silk.

The sole barrier was his uncertainty about Justicia's fate.

But now clarity had come. And vengeance would follow.

As for Idalia's claims that Justicia belonged to another... Elijah dismissed them as her amnesia speaking.

She merely had to awaken to the truth.

"And we will reclaim our lives." Elijah murmured, his jaw and fists tightening, "This time armed with the strength to safeguard it all."

A heavy sigh escaped Elijah next.

He loathed resorting to this, knowing it would alert the Gold Eagle and inflict a permanent scar upon his essence.

Yet alternatives had vanished.

With that resolve, his Jugular Vein—the vital pulse tied to his very survival—ignited in radiant splendor, resembling a staff forged from pure, molten gold.

The essence of Light stirred around him, drawn forth by his command.

Elijah parted his lips wide.

In a flash, he channeled every gleam across the stars to broadcast his plea:

"Icarus, I need your help."

And just like that, the surge ended.

Normality resumed in an instant, his deed undetected by most,

save for a select few like the Gold Eagle and Progenitor.

And, of course, the one destined to hear that very summons.

Blood trickled from Elijah's eyes, nostrils, and ears as his soul drained nearly half its vigor, with another portion erased forever.

He slumped against his restraints, his gaze hollowed by fatigue, doubts already creeping in about his choice.

...

In a far-flung reach of the universe, a man with sun-kissed skin and wings of feathers sprouting from his arms cocked his head precisely when Elijah's voice pierced the void.

He pivoted, revealing features so refined they mirrored

Elijah's own. A stranger might mistake them for brothers born of the same womb.

And such a guess wouldn't stray far from reality.

Icarus served as the singular Aspect Elijah embodied at birth. In simpler terms, he was his shadowed twin self.

"Elijah, that fool blinded by love, is in deep trouble." Icarus muttered, one brow curving upward.

Then he breathed out deeply, pondering his counterpart.

Icarus chased ascension to loftier planes, yearning for elevated being. Elijah, by contrast, craved serenity, shunning ambition for power or glory in favor of peace woven from bonds of the heart.

Icarus despised that trait in him, just as Elijah chafed at his brother's reckless bids against the skies.

Elijah often warned that one day he might scorch himself by brushing too near the forbidden blaze.

Icarus would retort that Elijah courted disaster by chasing passion in realms barren of it.

They clashed like frost against inferno.

Despite their clashing philosophies on existence...

"Lovesick fool, don't you dare perish on me." Icarus cried out with a avian shriek, then beat his wings, shattering the emptiness.

In the next heartbeat, he streaked ahead as a bolt of gilded brilliance, outpacing all light, hurtling toward the source of the call.

Meanwhile, beneath a colossal portal of gold, entwined in fetters thicker than empires piled high, an ancient figure lingered.

He perched in meditative pose, spine curved, his aureate gaze fixed on the scattered cards before him.

He played a solitary game.

Perched upon his left shoulder sat a Gold Eagle.

"Phoenix invoked his Second Birthright Aspect." The Eagle declared, its tone masculine and soft as a whispering wind—soothing and warm.

"I know." The elder murmured, extending his gnarled, age-worn fingers to turn a card.

"He summoned Icarus for assistance, it appears." Eagle pressed on, "Seems he's at last prepared to break free from Marigold."

The elder met this with quietude. His hollow, barely open eyes lingered on the revealed card.

It depicted thirteen figures—women, specifically—their visages obscured in haze. He observed how the ninth and seventh glowed faintly, their auras nearly entwined. The eleventh and sixth stirred faintly, as if touched by that bond

between the pair.

The elder studied it intently, his gaze sharpening in thought.

Eagle kept speaking, unperturbed by the silence. He understood his lord and ally better than any soul in creation.

No utterance was needed to grasp his master's intent.

"You still haven't explained why you permitted Marigold to seize Phoenix? I confess I loathe that feathered wench, but he's kin all the same."

"A mission was assigned to me." The elder replied, "That's my sole concern.

And watch your words."

"What if Phoenix perishes?" Eagle probed further, "He's just suffered a wound to his soul.

Should Marigold return, it's finished for that har-! I mean, that wee sprite."

Whether Eagle fretted or relished Elijah's peril remained unclear.

"Icarus will aid him." The elder stated, drawing and turning yet another card, "Our roles demand focus. That's my only priority. And it should be yours too."

Eagle tsked sharply with his beak. One flaw in his master irked him above all: that unyielding devotion.

It drove him down a single road once commanded, no matter the peril.

Even if that road led straight to oblivion.

Nothing proved more pitiful than pledging fealty to one blind to loyalty's true essence.

Eagle swiveled his gaze rearward, eyeing the bound gateway.

His expression twisted into revulsion.

"I despise this lineage, Hermit. Endless strife. Endless rot. Endless

wounds and needless crimson agony."

"You grasp their essence, old companion, you know their core. Still you stand vigil,

shielding for Him his foulest deed."

"That's the divide we'll never bridge, Eagle." The elder responded

while eyeing the card.

It portrayed The Prince. Yet in this version, oddly, the figure clutched a curved blade slick with golden ichor.

The elder's eyes flickered. He went on, "Your allegiance carries caveats, Eagle. Mine bears none." He

drew another card, adding, "I vowed my troth to Him. And I'll endure the fallout of that vow till my final breath."

"Until that end, I'll fulfill my charge. And not even you can sway me."

"Then brace for an end that shames your origins." Eagle snapped. "Death is death." The elder laughed without mirth, "No death holds honor or shame. You cease to draw breath, your mind fades. If fortune frowns, you wander the Spirit World. If it smiles, you find eternal quiet, forsaking all ties of this mortal coil."

"Nothing majestic marks it. Truly, True Death stands as the sole respite in a storm of strife."

"Why fret over the manner of dying when the dying itself suffices?"

The elder, revered among celestials as Hermit, spoke while regarding his final turned card.

Its image jolted him, then drew forth a genuine grin unseen for millennia. Eagle craned to peer, replying even as he did,

"You're a damned infuriating sprite, Hermit. And I-!"

His protest choked off at the card's revelation.

It bore the stark scene of an Eagle soaring against...

the very Earth?

"The hour approaches."

-End of Chapter 478-