Wang Xiao lay on the sterile hospital bed, his body a twisted canvas of agony that no doctor could decipher. Tubes snaked into his veins like parasitic vines, pumping futile medications into a system that had long since rebelled against life itself. The illness—nameless, relentless—had gnawed at him for years, turning his once-vibrant youth into a hollow shell. He was twenty-five, but felt like a century-old relic, his skin pallid and stretched taut over bones that screamed with every breath.
The room was a blur of beeping machines and flickering fluorescent lights, the air thick with the metallic tang of antiseptics and his own sweat. Books and novels piled high on the bedside table—escapes into worlds of heroes, harems, and conquests that he could only dream of. Fantasy epics where protagonists rose from the ashes, bedding beauties and wielding godlike powers. Wang Xiao had devoured them all, page after page, as if the ink could infuse him with strength. But reality was crueler than any villain; no system, no rebirth, just endless pain.
Today was worse. A searing fire erupted in his chest, spreading like wildfire through his limbs. His vision swam, colors bleeding into gray. "Why me?" he whispered, his voice a ragged gasp. "This curse... no cure, no hope. I'm dying without living. Never even... lost my virginity. No girlfriend, no love. If there's a next life... I'll have them all. A harem of the most beautiful women. I'll conquer everything."
His eyes fluttered shut, the world fading to black. A cold embrace wrapped around him, numbing the torment at last. Death, he thought, finally here to claim its due.
But then, light. Not the warm glow of heaven's gates, but a voracious blaze that devoured him whole. It pulled at his soul, tearing through the veil of existence. Wang Xiao screamed silently as realities shattered around him—fragments of memories, pains, and unfulfilled desires swirling in a cosmic vortex.
When his eyes snapped open, the world was alien. He gasped, air filling lungs that felt... different. Heavy, yet resilient. He sat up abruptly, his body responding with unnatural fluidity. No pain. No weakness. He was in a lavish chamber, stone walls adorned with tapestries depicting epic battles and mythical beasts. A massive four-poster bed beneath him, silk sheets tangled around his legs. Mirrors lined one wall, and in their reflection, he saw not his frail form, but a stranger's.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with pale skin that shimmered faintly under the torchlight—like marble veined with shadows. His eyes were a piercing crimson, hair as black as midnight cascading to his shoulders. But something was off. His heartbeat... it was sluggish, almost absent. He pressed a hand to his chest—cold flesh, yet alive. Half-undead? A zombie-human hybrid? The thought hit him like a thunderbolt.
Memories flooded in, not his own. Lucien de Fauvoir, the body's original owner—a disgraced noble from the Fauvoir family, heirs to a shadowed lineage in the Grand Empire of Elyria, one of the five strongest empires in this world called Aetheria. Lucien had been poisoned, left for dead in a ritual gone wrong, his soul ejected to make way for... him.
Before he could process it all, a holographic screen materialized in his vision, glowing with ethereal blue light:
[Overload Harem System Activated]
[Host: Lucien de Fauvoir (Reincarnated Soul: Wang Xiao)]
[Race: Hybrid (Half-Human, Half-Undead)]
[Level: 1]
[Skills: None Unlocked]
[Harem Slots: 0/∞]
[Mission: Conquer the hearts (and bodies) of beauties across Aetheria. Each addition to your harem grants an overpowered skill. Build your empire of desire, defy the gods, and become the ultimate irregular.]
Wang Xiao—no, Lucien now—grinned, a feral excitement bubbling up. "This is it. Rebirth. Harem system. Jackpot."
But the system wasn't done:
[Warning: As an irregular, you defy the natural order. Enemies will rise—gods, cults, kings. The hidden society lurks, manipulating all. Your journey begins now.]
A knock echoed at the door, snapping him from the interface. "Enter," he called, his voice deeper, resonant.
The door creaked open, revealing a stunning woman in a flowing emerald gown that hugged her curves like a lover's embrace. Long silver hair cascaded down her back, elven ears peeking through. Her eyes, violet and sharp, widened in shock. "Lucien? You're... alive? But the ritual—"
She was Elara, Lucien's childhood friend and secret admirer, a half-elf spy in the empire's court. Memories confirmed it: she'd been the one to find his "corpse," but now...
Lucien rose, his hybrid body exuding an aura of dark allure. He stepped closer, the system pinging:
[Potential Harem Member Detected: Elara Voss – Beauty Rank: S-Class. Affinity: High. Conquer her to unlock Skill: Shadow Veil (Invisibility and Phasing).]
His heart—or what passed for it—raced. This was his chance. "Elara," he murmured, voice laced with newfound confidence. "I've returned... changed. But I need you."
Her cheeks flushed, but hesitation flickered. "The Dark Cult... they performed the rite on you. They seek sex maniacs, eunuchs for their god's blessings. If they know you're alive—"
Before she could finish, alarms blared outside. Shouts echoed: "The hybrid lives! Seize him for Dagon's sacrifice!"
Lucien cursed. The Philistines' god Dagon—principal deity of fertility and war, temples in hidden enclaves. The Dark Cult worshipped him, twisting desires into perversions, castrating males to "purify" them as followers.
Elara grabbed his arm. "We must flee! The empire's guards are compromised."
As they burst into the hallway, cultists in black robes swarmed, chanting praises to Dagon. Lucien's hybrid instincts kicked in—he moved like a shadow, dodging blades with unnatural speed. But they were outnumbered.
In the chaos, Elara fought beside him, her elven magic summoning vines to ensnare foes. Their eyes met, a spark igniting. Lucien pulled her close, lips brushing hers in a heated kiss that sealed the deal.
[Harem Addition: Elara Voss. Skill Unlocked: Shadow Veil.]
Power surged through him. He activated it, cloaking them both in invisibility. They slipped away, but not before overhearing a cultist's whisper: "Inform the Canaanite patrons—El, Ba'al, Anat. The irregular threatens the pantheon's balance."
Outside the palace, under a blood moon, Lucien and Elara hid in the shadows of the empire's sprawling capital. Towers pierced the sky, airships hummed overhead, and species mingled: humans, elves, dwarves, beastmen—all under uneasy peace treaties. But hostility simmered; slaves in chains, extortions in alleys, massacres whispered in taverns.
"This world is rotten," Lucien growled. "Empires, kingdoms, cults—all vying for power. Demon kings with sex slaves, human guilds with adventurers gambling fortunes, auction houses selling lives. And hidden places: elven forests, dwarven forges, beastmen prides. Everyone summoning gods to conquer, but a shadow society pulls strings, sacrificing races to end it all."
Elara nodded, pressing against him. "You're different, Lucien. An irregular. You can stop it—or become a god yourself."
His mind raced with plans: conquer beauties, build the harem, gain skills. Princesses, warriors, goddesses even. But enemies loomed—the Philistine Dagon, Canaanite El the supreme, Ba'al of storms, Anat the war-bringer, Astarte of lust, Asherah the consort. They'd adapted, influencing cults and kings.
As they fled into the night, a massive portal ripped open in the sky. A demonic figure emerged—the Demon King's vanguard, scenting the hybrid's power. "The harem Irregular... you'll make fine slaves for our lord."
Lucien activated Shadow Veil again, but it flickered—new skill, limited. They ran, but the demon closed in, claws gleaming.
Just as it lunged, a mysterious arrow pierced its eye—from the shadows, a veiled beauty with golden hair and beast ears smirked. "Not on my watch."
[Potential Harem Member Detected: Lyra Fang – Beauty Rank: SS-Class. Beastmen Princess in exile.]
The demon roared, summoning reinforcements. Lucien, Elara, and the newcomer fought back-to-back, but the portal widened, spewing horrors.
In the melee, Lucien felt a pull—his undead side awakening necromantic whispers. He raised a fallen cultist as a zombie minion, turning the tide momentarily.
But then, a thunderclap. Ba'al's influence? Storms raged, lightning striking allies.