Vael ki Zidd: Vael hosh mein aata hai aur turant decide karta hai ki Anaya ko woh perfect poem sunayega, jise woh hamesha se sunana chahta tha. Usko lagta hai ki Anaya ko charm karna easy hoga kyunki woh uske Earth ki hai.
The Harem Blockade (Comedy): Jaise hi Vael poem shuru karta hai, teenon wives (Astra, Lyra, Seraphina) use alag-alag tareeke se rokengi:
Astra: Use pakad legi, "Tumhara har shabda mera hai, Consort! Tumhara 'crush' kaun hai?"
Lyra: Usko professional tareeke se chup karwayegi, "Asset, yeh alien threat hai! No poetic discharge!"
Seraphina: Zidd karegi, "Pehle mujhe sunao, King of Dreams! Us ajnabi ko kyun?"
Anaya ka Reaction: Anaya puri tarah se confused aur gusse mein hai. Woh Vael aur uski wives ko paagal samjhegi. Woh unke saath rahegi kyunki uske paas koi aur option nahin hai (no money, no world knowledge).
Vael ka God se Sawaal: Raat ko, Vael God se baat karega (jaise aapne kaha): "God, what have you done? Why war is here, and love is there?" (Yeh Vael ke liye ek naya philosophical conflict hoga).
Yeh Chapter bahut hi dynamic aur funny banega! Hum isko Human-like style mein likhte hain.
[Novel Title: I Got 100 Warrior Wives with My God-Gifted Poetry]
Chapter 8: The Harem Blockade and the Alien Crush
Vael woke up to the smell of dirt, dried meat, and furious, barely-suppressed rage.
He was still slumped on the ground, but he was no longer alone. He was propped up against the smooth, surprisingly comfortable armor of Captain Astra. Lyra was standing over him, arms crossed, while Seraphina was kneeling, inspecting his neck for any injuries.
"He's awake," Lyra stated flatly. "Good. Asset assessment complete."
"My Consort is not an 'asset'!" Astra growled, tightening her armored grip on Vael's shoulder.
But Vael ignored them all. His eyes were locked on the one person who mattered: Anaya.
She was sitting on a nearby log, looking completely out of place. Her "EAT. GAME. SLEEP. REPEAT." T-shirt and ripped jeans looked alien next to the steel and leather of the forest. She was arguing into her phone, oblivious to the fact that there was no signal and she was 800 years from Earth.
It's her! Vael's heart did a strange, painful flip. Finally, a chance to say what I couldn't! This time, no truck, no cafeteria, no fear. Just the perfect poem.
He had to Charm her. She was his true love, his original goal.
Vael struggled to sit up, reaching for his journal. "Anaya," he called out, his voice weak but determined. "Wait! I need to tell you—"
Before he could pull his pen, three hands, all equally strong, slammed down on his journal.
"Halt!" Astra roared, placing her massive gauntlet over the book. "No! More! Poetry! Your words belong only to the Legion! And only to me!"
Lyra grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the ground. "Vael! Do not waste your talent on this alien trespasser! She is a threat. You are not to engage with threats poetically."
Seraphina, meanwhile, reached over and gently covered Vael's mouth with her hand, her eyes flashing with a sudden, deep jealousy. "Shh, King of Dreams. You are tired. Your next poem is for your Bandit Queen. You will not risk your energy on this... unwashed stranger."
Vael muffled a yell. He was being held hostage by his own wives!
Anaya looked up from her dead phone, utterly disgusted. "Oh, my God. What is with this cosplay convention? 'King of Dreams'? And why are you fighting over that nerd? Can one of you at least tell me how to get to the nearest bus stop?"
Astra, Lyra, and Seraphina all stared at Anaya, then back at Vael, their protective instincts flaring up.
"Bus stop?" Astra whispered, baffled.
"Her language is unknown," Lyra observed clinically. "She is clearly unstable."
Seraphina scoffed. "She's wearing paper clothes. A pathetic peasant. We should trade her to the next town."
"NO!" Vael finally managed to shout, tearing his arm free from Lyra and pulling Seraphina's hand away from his mouth. "You cannot touch her! She is... she is my family! She's from my old world!"
Anaya's eyes narrowed. "Wait. You know me? You're that weird guy who used to stare at me in the library, right? What in the world is going on, Nerd?"
Vael opened his mouth, his mind racing. This was his chance! The perfect poem about destiny, about finding her across worlds—
He grabbed his pen. But before the ink touched the page, Astra yanked him backward into a full-body, armored hug.
"You are not writing for her, Consort!" Astra's voice was dangerously close to a sob. "She will steal your heart! I forbid it! You are protected!"
Lyra, seeing the asset was about to explode with emotion, delivered a sharp, merciful blow to Vael's neck.
Vael slumped immediately, unconscious again.
"He is emotionally compromised," Lyra stated, catching Vael's limp body before Astra could crush it. "He needs rest. And a muzzle."
The three wives now stood over Vael, the shared threat (Anaya) momentarily uniting them.
Anaya just watched the bizarre scene—the fainting nerd, the screaming knight, the savage bandit, and the calm, cold Vice-Captain—and sighed deeply.
"Seriously," Anaya muttered, sliding off the log. She saw the vast, terrifying forest around them. "Great. No signal, no bus, and three psycho girls fighting over a guy who faints. Looks like I'm stuck with the nerds."
Later that night, Vael lay bundled in a scratchy blanket, ostensibly asleep, while Astra stood guard, occasionally stroking his hair with a steel gauntlet.
Vael's eyes were open. He wasn't talking to Astra, Lyra, or Seraphina, who was sleeping twenty feet away, guarding the perimeter. He was talking directly to the one being who could hear him.
(Vael's Silent Scream to God Aethel)
Aethel! You bastard! I see your game now! You didn't just bring me here for a Harem—you brought me here for torture! She's here! My crush! The one I actually love! And you've tied my hands!
I asked for a life change! I asked for a way to tell her!
You gave me War with these three, and you made Love the enemy!
Why is War here, and Love there?
I swear, Aethel, the day I manage to write her a poem, you will pay for this cosmic joke!
Vael closed his eyes, the immense pressure of his new, complicated life finally sinking in. He had three dangerously jealous wives, one dangerously angry crush, and 96 more women to find. He had to be a poet, a husband, a diplomat, and a fighter, all while trying not to get killed by affection