Kael woke to a metallic shriek that tore through the dawn like a blade across his nerves. Steel rasped against stone in a steady, murderous rhythm—screee, screee, screee. For one disoriented heartbeat, he thought the temple was caving in again: ancient pillars giving way, the ceiling ready to crush him into paste.
Then his vision cleared, and he realized the truth was somehow worse.
It wasn't collapsing stone.
It was Rhyla.
The warrior sat cross-legged on his chest, her full weight crushing him flat like a bug on a tavern floor. Balanced across her thighs was her enormous greatsword, and in her calloused hands, a whetstone sang as it dragged along the edge, sparks spitting with every pass. Each scrape reverberated through his ribcage as though his bones were being used as an anvil.
On his chest.
Kael's eyes bulged. He let out a scream so loud a pigeon exploded from the rafters in a panicked flurry of wings.
"GAHHHHHH! Do you mind?!"
Rhyla didn't even blink. She tilted her head down, eyes cool, utterly unbothered, before turning back to her blade. Her voice came out calm, almost bored.
"If you flinch from a little steel, you'll never survive my training."
"A little steel?!" Kael sputtered, wriggling helplessly beneath her. "You're blacksmithing on my sternum!"
Groaning, he tried to peel off the other women who had somehow fused themselves to him in their sleep. Selvara's tail was looped around his throat like a velvet noose, her face slack with bliss as she drooled a suspiciously sweet-smelling puddle onto his shoulder. Lysera clutched his waist with the desperation of a drowning elf clinging to driftwood, murmuring "my lord" with feverish devotion, as though even in dreams she refused to release him.
Pinned, sweaty, and utterly disheveled, Kael stared up at the cracked ceiling beams and whispered in a voice full of despair:
"This isn't a harem. This is a sleep-paralysis demon convention."
---
A cheerful chime cut through the morning chaos.
The system's voice was chipper, as though it hadn't just watched him nearly suffocate under three women and a hundred pounds of sharpened steel.
[Harem Stability Check: 32%.]
[New Quest: Improve relationships through dates.]
[Objective: Take each waifu on a romantic outing.]
[Reward: +50 Stability.]
[Failure: -100 Stability. Possible mutiny.]
Kael sat up so fast Rhyla nearly slipped off his chest. His eyes bulged wide enough to pop. "DATES?! With ALL of them?!"
The system's glowing text blinked back, mercilessly calm.
[Correct. Timeframe: 24 hours.]
His voice cracked higher than a prepubescent choirboy. "TWENTY-FOUR HOURS?!"
The stirrings of motion answered him. Selvara cracked one eye open, her lips curving into a wicked smile that promised nothing wholesome. Her voice slithered like smoke.
"Mmm… a date, you say? Then I call dibs first."
Lysera shot upright as though struck by lightning. Her golden hair whipped about her flushed face as she snarled, eyes blazing with holy fire.
"Over my dead body, succubus!"
Rhyla stood with a fluid motion, sword gleaming as she hefted it onto her shoulder. Her jaw tightened with battle-born determination.
"Hmph. If this is a test of worthiness, then I'll prove I'm the strongest companion."
Kael buried his face in his hands and groaned, muffled and broken.
"Why couldn't I have fallen into a temple of free sandwiches instead…"
Date #1: With Lysera, the Tsundere Elf
Lysera didn't so much invite Kael as she did seize his wrist with surprising strength and all but drag him along, her ears twitching with an excitement she tried—and failed—to disguise beneath her usual haughty airs. He stumbled behind her, muttering complaints, until the trees parted and they emerged into a meadow that looked like it had been hand-painted by some overzealous god of romance.
The grass shimmered with morning dew, each blade bending under droplets that caught the sun like tiny jewels. Flowers, bioluminescent even in daylight, swayed gently in the breeze, their faint glow blending with the golden light that spilled across the field. Butterflies danced in lazy spirals overhead, while somewhere nearby a lark trilled a perfect note as if it had rehearsed for this very occasion.
Kael stood stiff as a board, sweat already prickling his back.
Date #2: With Selvara, the Succubus
Selvara had declared, with a mischievous lilt in her voice, that no proper date could happen without wine and company. Before Kael could protest, she had already looped her arm through his and pulled him toward town, her hips swaying in a rhythm that made half the marketplace trip over their own feet just watching her pass.
The tavern she chose wasn't a discreet corner hole, but the busiest one on the main street, already brimming with townsfolk by the time the two entered. Kael had barely stepped through the door when the entire room ground to a halt. Conversations died mid-sentence, mugs hung frozen halfway to lips, dice clattered forgotten across tables.
And all because of her.
Selvara strolled in wearing what Kael was fairly certain did not count as clothing by any sane mortal standard—black silk barely clinging to her curves, her tail flicking like a cat testing prey. Candlelight glistened along her skin, and every sway of her step sent a ripple of collective groans and stifled gasps through the tavern.
Men drooled openly. Women flushed crimson. Someone dropped a tray of mugs.
Kael slapped a hand over his face. Gods above, kill me now. We haven't even ordered drinks and I'm already on every wanted poster titled "Local Pervert."
Selvara, of course, reveled in it. She smirked, letting her fingers trail down Kael's arm in a deliberate tease before tugging him toward a private booth at the back. She leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she purred, "Mmm, don't be shy. Let's share a drink… and maybe some tongue."
Kael nearly inhaled his own ale. He coughed, sputtered, and smacked his chest as he choked. "C-CAN YOU NOT SAY THAT SO LOUD?!"
His voice carried across the tavern. Every head swiveled toward them in unison.
Selvara only leaned closer, pressing herself firmly against his side so that Kael went rigid as a plank of wood. Her eyes gleamed with wicked delight. "What? Would you prefer I… whisper it instead?" Her voice dropped to a husky whisper that somehow felt louder than a battle horn.
The tavern went dead silent. Not a chair creaked, not a breath stirred, as if the entire room had collectively leaned in to catch every word. Even the bard in the corner stopped mid-lyric, harp dangling limply from his hands.
Kael groaned, thunking his forehead against the table with a loud bang. "I hate my life."
The system chimed merrily, utterly immune to his suffering:
[Date Rating: 7/10. High embarrassment, but effective bonding.]
Date #3: With Rhyla, the Warrior
The "romantic outing" with Rhyla did not lead Kael to candlelit dinners, scenic lakesides, or anything remotely resembling romance. Instead, she hauled him—by the collar of his shirt—straight into the training grounds of her clan. The place smelled of sweat, dust, and iron. Wooden dummies lined the yard, scarred and splintered from countless strikes. Warriors in the distance sparred with the precision of predators, every crack of their weapons against each other echoing like thunderclaps.
Kael had barely stumbled into the dirt when Rhyla shoved a practice sword into his hands. The weight nearly pulled him off balance.
"Fight me." Her tone was flat, commanding—no room for argument.
Kael paled, gripping the sword as if it were a venomous snake. "Fight you?! On a date?!"
Rhyla's lips curved into a smirk, equal parts challenge and tease. "If you can't survive a spar, how will you survive leading a harem?"
Kael whimpered, backing up a step. "Why does everything in my life involve someone trying to kill me?!"
Rhyla lunged.
What followed was less "sparring" and more "Kael running in wild circles, flailing and shrieking while Rhyla pursued him with the calm, relentless stride of a predator toying with prey." Her practice blade whooshed past his head by mere inches, slicing the air with terrifying speed.
Kael yelped, tripping over his own feet. "STOP AIMING FOR MY FACE! I NEED IT TO SCREAM WITH!"
She didn't stop. If anything, her strikes grew sharper, testing him, forcing him to block or dodge or simply sprint away in sheer panic. Dust kicked up around them, Kael's terrified squeals mingling with the crack of wood clashing.
Finally, his foot caught on a rock. Kael tumbled to the ground with a graceless thud, the sword clattering uselessly from his hand. Before he could scramble up, Rhyla was already there—looming above him, her boot planted near his side, her wooden blade pressed firmly against his throat.
Pinned and gasping, Kael's wide eyes darted up to hers. "D-Do I pass?!"
For the first time, Rhyla hesitated. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but her cheeks were faintly flushed. "…Not bad. You lasted longer than I thought."
Kael blinked. His brain processed the words. Then his mouth, as usual, betrayed him. "…That sounded way dirtier than you meant it, didn't it?"
Rhyla froze, her eyes widening just a fraction before her entire face turned scarlet. Without a word, she balled her fist and punched him square in the nose.
"GAHHHHH!" Kael toppled back, clutching his face.
The system beeped cheerfully, uncaring of his suffering:
[Date Rating: 6/10. Physical pain endured, respect gained.]
---
By evening, Kael limped back into the temple, battered, bruised, and emotionally scarred from what could only generously be called "romantic bonding." His shirt was torn, his hair was sticking out at impossible angles, and his face bore the faint imprint of a fist.
The system chimed, mercilessly chipper:
[Date Quest Complete.]
[Stability +50. Current: 82%.]
Kael collapsed against the altar, every muscle trembling. "Thank. The. Gods."
The three waifus were already gathered, watching him like cats that had each claimed ownership of the same toy. Selvara lounged across a pew, her tail swishing lazily, lips curved in a purr. "Mmm. I enjoyed our time together, Overlord."
Lysera sat primly, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her, fingers fidgeting with her staff. "M-My lord, I shall treasure this memory forever!"
Rhyla stood with arms crossed, stoic as ever—though the faint pink still dusted her ears. "…Not bad. But next time, we fight for real."
Kael's jaw dropped. "Next time? There's a next time?!"
As if in direct response, the temple doors groaned open. A shadowy figure lingered in the threshold, their silhouette tall, mysterious, and very, very ominous.
The system beeped.
[Warning: Next Waifu Approaches.]
Kael's scream echoed through the temple rafters. "CAN I PLEASE JUST HAVE A WEEK OFF?!"