For exactly half a second, the universe held its breath.
Vicky stood there, frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, her brain clearly blue-screening under the sheer weight of what she had just confessed—and what I had just said.
"I..." she started.
Then stopped.
Then tried again.
"I m-mean... that's not... I didn't... you..." Her words tripped over each other like drunk goblins tumbling down stairs.
Oh no.
I knew that look.
Her cheeks darkened from crimson to lava-red. Her tail stiffened. Her wings twitched violently, scales crackling with heat. I could feel it—her aura spiking, swirling wildly, completely out of control.
"Vicky?" I tilted my head, suddenly concerned. "Hey. You good?"
Her heart was beating so fast I could hear it. Not metaphorically. Literally.
THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
Like a war drum heralding the end times.
"I— I didn't mean to say it like that... I mean, I did, but not like that... godsdammit, Morgi, stop looking at me like that!" she snapped, her voice cracking halfway through.
"I'm just standing here," I said innocently. "Existing. Breathing. Being very fuckable."
That was the final straw.
I had forgotten something crucial about my twin sister: her control was a thin, fragile veneer over a volcano of insecurity.
Her eyes went pure draconic gold.
"DON'T!!!" she tried to shout.
But instead—
FWOOOOOSH.
Fire exploded out of her.
Not just her mouth—oh no. That would've been normal.
Flames burst from her nose. From her ears. A full, panicked, uncontrolled dragon breath blasted straight into my face at point-blank range.
The office vanished behind a wall of fire.
Paper incinerated. Crystals shattered. The obsidian desk melted.
I didn't even have time to flinch.
The wave of fire washed over me—hot, golden, smelling of burnt honey and pure, unadulterated embarrassment. For a mortal, it would have been instant vaporization.
For me?
It was… pleasant like a particularly steamy sauna.
To be fair, Vicky's dragon flames weren't mature enough to harm a goddess inside her domain.
Silence followed.
The flames died down, leaving scorched stone, drifting embers, and the faint smell of ozone and burned paperwork.
Vicky stared at me in horror, hands clamped over her mouth.
"I..." she whispered. "…I didn't mean—"
"…Huh." I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Ash drifted lazily through the ruined office. One wall was half-melted. The ceiling had a very Vicky-shaped hole punched clean through it, edges still glowing faintly red. Somewhere far above, I could hear incoherent screaming rapidly fading into the distance.
"I'M NOT EMOTIONALLY READY—!"
followed by a Doppler-shifted dragon screech and the thunderous flap of wings.
And then—
"..."
Silence.
I stood there alone, smoke curling off my shoulders, my hair slightly singed but otherwise pristine. Good thing that I was already naked; otherwise, all my clothes would have been burnt to a crisp.
"...Well, fuck me," I muttered, brushing ash off my shoulder. My skin still tingled from the heat of her dragon breath, warm in a way that was weirdly arousing. "Didn't see that coming."
Not walked out.
Not teleported.
Vicky panic-launched herself through the ceiling.
"Sigh... by my holy tits."
I looked down at the scorched floor where she'd been standing moments ago. The faint outline of claw marks dug deep into stone, warped by heat and raw emotion.
That… wasn't nothing.
I flexed my fingers, rolling my shoulders as my domain responded automatically. Mana flowed. Stone reformed. Papers fluttered back into existence. The hole in the ceiling sealed itself with a low, annoyed rumble, as if the city itself was judging her life choices.
Still.
My chest felt… weird.
Not horny-weird. Not battle-weird.
Emotional-weird.
"…She loves me," I said aloud, testing the words.
The room didn't explode. Reality didn't collapse. The universe didn't smite me for incest-adjacent divine bullshit.
Good sign.
I laughed softly, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Of course she does. Possessive dragon. Territorial instincts. Millennia of unresolved feelings." I paused. "…And here I thought the dick bridge would be the most unhinged thing I built this week."
I glanced toward the ceiling, imagining Vicky somewhere above the clouds, spiraling wildly, screaming into the wind, probably regretting every life decision she'd ever made while simultaneously wanting to fly back and headbutt me out of sheer emotional overload.
"…She'll come back," I said with certainty.
She always did.
My twin sister was many things—proud, stubborn, emotionally constipated—but she was not a coward. She just needed space. Time. Several laps around the city to cool off her overheated dragon brain.
"And when she does…" I smirked. "…we're having a very long talk."
Preferably in a bed. With reinforced wards. And maybe a fire extinguisher.
"KYAHAHAHAHAHA~" The laughter echoed off the freshly repaired walls, bright and unhinged, bubbling up from my chest until my sides actually hurt.
"I can't wait to have dragon babies~."
...
Sigh... that wish was put on hold.
My sister has been avoiding me for the past two days like the plague.
Every time I tried to get closer to her, she would just move away. It was a cosmic game of cat-and-mouse.
But hey, on the bright side, that meant she wasn't cockblocking me anymore, but I couldn't bring myself to fuck another person.
She confessed her love to me, and I accepted it.
So to fuck another person now would be... a betrayal?
I was not sure.
So, to avoid the headache, I decided to use my living armor, Hunger. It's been a long time since I fed it my essences.
Anyway, since Vicky and Arwen didn't need me anymore, I took the time to create more Crimson Sentinels to expand my human army, each one more powerful than the last.
Vicky made some adjustments to the formula that eased Herma's burden. The Crimson Sentinels now had a higher chance of survival.
From 2% to 6%, to be exact. Still very low, but it's a step in the right direction.
Creating loyal and incorruptible soldiers is an extremely difficult and complicated process.
'I wonder which god Lilith stole the formula from?' I thought to myself while watching a group of new Sentinels training, their movements fluid and deadly. 'Did he ever make a new one or finish the old one?'
I really want to see the look on this god's face.
Imagine your life's work, your creation that you couldn't bring to life, got stolen by another god and finished with the help of two mortal humans.
That's gotta hurt.
I mean, I would be pissed. It's like someone shoved his cock in the pussy that I spent time and effort to prepare for myself.
"…Yeah. That would definitely piss me off."
The Sentinels, or the knights of the first chapter, the Harbingers of Silence, moved in perfect synchronization below me—rows of black-armored figures clashing steel, reforming lines, advancing and retreating with machine-like precision. Their eyes burned with muted red light, not hatred, not ambition—just obedience. Clean. Quiet. Reliable.
Exactly what I needed.
I folded my arms under my chest, watching as one of them took a blow that would have split a normal human in half, staggered… and didn't die. He recovered, adjusted his stance, and kept fighting.
"Six percent," I muttered. "Still awful. But better than two."
Progress was progress, even if it crawled.
Anyway, I left the Harbingers for their training and teleported to my temple, to a room where my firstborn minotaur son was meditating.
Yes, he was born using artificial means, but still my son, my blood. I could feel the connection between us, a silent, unbreakable thread.
He had grown. His muscles were more defined, his fur thicker, and the horns on his head had started to curve, forming a majestic crown.
Ahh~ how I wish I could give him a proper name, but his father said that names must be earned.
"Ready, son?" I said the moment I stepped inside the room.
"Yes, Mother."
His voice. Deeper now. A low rumble that vibrated through the stone floor. His eyes opened—molten gold, just like his father's, but calmer. Steadier. Focused.
"Good." I nodded, opened my inventory, and took out a palm-sized disc.
It was a device that put the person in a stasis-like state, designed and provided by my Nexus as a means of... how should I put it in better words?
Keeping the 'product' safe and allowing trading with other gods.
I hate it, but this is the only way that allows my son to be transported safely to his father's world. He didn't want to invite me to his world, and to be fair, I'm not going to trust a minotaur god with a BIG! Dick after just one fuck.
And if he tries to do anything funny to my son, well... he will learn the hard way why I'm called the Mother of All.
My son stepped forward, not a hint of fear on his face. He trusted me. Implicitly.
I placed the disc on his forehead.
"Rest well, my son," I said with a warm smile, "and remember that mommy loves you, and she will always watch over you."
He gave me a single, firm nod.
"Always."
With a final surge of my power, the disc activated, enveloping him in a shimmering cocoon of light. His form dissolved, shrinking, condensing, until he was nothing but a point of pure energy, contained within the palm-sized device.
"Now let's get you to your daddy," I said, the disc glowing warmly in my hand. "So you can be king."