CHAPTER 280: CHAPTER 279: SEED COMPLETION

Her golden eyes met his, weary but steady. The weight inside them was heavier than words—like two lanterns burning in a storm, both fragile and unyielding.

"...demigods, Atlas. Demigods. They’re after us. After you."

The words dropped like stones into a black well. Atlas didn’t answer at first. He only stared at her eyes—those eyes, burning with flaring mana. He saw the exhaustion there, the way it pulsed with accusation, part of her blaming him for the ruin she carried inside her veins. He saw it. He knew. He knew she wasn’t lying. Her condition told it all.

His jaw tightened. "...you need to get bandaged. Quick."

Aurora’s lips pressed into silence. Her hand clutched her staff, knuckles pale against the wood. She said nothing, only gazed at his back as he stepped forward, towards the storm.

Atlas lifted his hand.

{...stop!} His voice ripped through the air like a blade, bellowed with a weight that felt older than mountains. The sky roared in reply. Thunder cracked, lightning writhed like chained serpents.

And yet—the storm obeyed. The wind slowed. The debri stilled. The black clouds folded in on themselves until the sky was clean, for a moment trembling with fear of him but it was not his domain...yet. so the dark smoky clouds covered them again, a reminder, of the three empress’s rule.

Silence fell. Heavy, resounding silence. And in that moment, everyone knew. The demons watching from shattered walls. Azazel, broken but alive. Aurora, her lips parting in awe. Forgetting her little ember of rage.

All of them understood. Atlas had marked the land. This ruin, this scarred earth—they all belonged to him now.

He was a king. A demon king.

Aurora’s lips trembled into a faint smile. "...always surprising me to the end," she whispered.

Atlas didn’t need to announce it. Power had a sound of its own, and his had already spoken.

He rose from the ground, slow and effortless, drifting toward the ruined city like gravity no longer mattered. The devastation stretched beneath him—blackened stone, rivers of ash, buildings collapsed like broken ribs. A wound. A wound he himself had inflicted. And now that wound throbbed in him, demanding he mend it.

Aurora floated too, lifting herself beside him, her mana shimmering faintly despite her injuries. Lidia came gliding at her side, her wings folding and unfurling like restless thoughts.

"...oh, you changed," Aurora said, voice softer now. Her body still glowed faintly green as she forced her healing into place, her flesh knitting at a cost.

Lidia’s smile cut sharp. "Thanks to you..." Her voice was low, almost mocking. Her wings beat gently, black feathers dropping into the wind.

Aurora gave a huff of dry laughter. "...yeah, I knew this horny dog wouldn’t stay still if he got a chance. And he didn’t disappoint."

Lidia sneered, her eyes glinting with cruel memory. "Indeed... such raw experience, that much pleasure. Never in centuries..."

Atlas turned sharply, irritation flaring in his chest. "Can you please... stop talking?"

Aurora’s laughter spilled into the silence, brittle but real. A sound that cut through smoke and ruin.

Then her face turned, and her tone shifted. "Oh yeah. I have another bad news..."

Atlas groaned, rubbing his forehead. "What is it now? I think demi-gods being after my ass tops all my problems."

Aurora’s smile lingered, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Oh, it’s worse. Worse for you."

"Come on. Just say it. Don’t spool your words like you always do."

Aurora swung her staff, knocking him lightly on the head—though she knew it did little against him. "...I had contact with my master. Only verbal, of course."

Atlas’s brows lifted. "...and then?"

Aurora’s voice dropped lower. "...he said he’s on the brink of finding a way here. Through his own method."

Atlas snorted. "Let him come. Extra muscle. Honestly, I was wondering why he didn’t come with us in the first place. We’re here because of your master’s arrogance—putting Loki in that position."

Aurora went silent. Guilt clouded her eyes.

Atlas sighed, the sharpness in his voice faltering. "Haaa... sorry. Tell me then—what’s so bad about it?"

Aurora’s gaze turned heavy, and for a moment she looked older than she ever had. "...he didn’t do it alone. Your genius sister... she figured out a way. Helping Merlin. So you know... if my master comes, she will insist on coming too."

Atlas froze. His head tilted back, his eyes tracing the smoke-dark clouds above. A long breath slipped from him, heavy with the weight of inevitability.

Lara.

Not the problem by herself. But Lara never came alone. The relentless queen. The empress. They would not stay behind. They would come with her. They always did.

His voice was tight when it came. "...how long?"

Aurora shook her head, her golden hair swaying. "...can’t be sure. Time works different here. They might come a century later. Or... they might come the next second. I don’t even know how in Hell my master contacted me."

Atlas’s thoughts spiraled, bitter and sharp. Lara... she bends fate itself. In the game, Asmodeus was the one who brought her into Hell. But there’s no Asmodeus in the mortal realm. So how? His teeth clenched. No. It doesn’t matter. It’s a waste of time. She’s a force. Always has been. I’m just delaying the inevitable.

The air shimmered.

[Notification]

[Genesis seed completion.]

Atlas blinked. "...what?"

The voice of the system came again, cold and clear.

[Active Catalysts:] —Elizabeth

Compatibility: 68%

Status: Pregnant

(Override pregnancy for development of life seed)

—Isabella

Compatibility: 78%

Status: Life Seed Processing: 100%

[Isabella life seed completion.]

Atlas’s chest went still. No words came. Only silence.

.

.

.

Within the Luxembourg capital, in the silent corridors of the royal palace, the queen’s chamber was anything but quiet. Curtains were drawn tight, suffocating the noon sun, yet light—unnatural, golden, almost divine—bled from within the room.

Isabella clutched her stomach, nails digging into the damp fabric of her gown. Her body convulsed, caught between agony and ecstasy. Pain like knives twisted deep in her womb, yet threaded through it was pleasure sharp enough to draw moans from her throat.

It was the same cruel rhythm she remembered from him.

Aiden (Atlas as disguise)

The name slipped through her clenched teeth in a whisper, then in a cry. The viscount with hair of molten gold, the man who had entered her life like a storm, breaking her will with the sheer weight of his charm, his body, his unrelenting claim over her flesh.

For nights he had carved his presence into her, thrust after thrust until her body betrayed her hatred, until she moaned his name with worship instead of resistance.

And now, even with him gone, he remained. His absence was inside her. His seed had not left; it had kindled something else.

Her breath hitched. Her back arched.

Her womb burned.

"..its...its coming out..."

She bit her lip until she tasted copper. A sob slipped free—half scream, half moan. The chambermaids had long since been dismissed; no one dared enter when her cries rose like hymns of both torture and lust.

And then it happened.

"Aaaaaaaa..."

From beneath her ribs, from the very pit of her belly, something flared—searing, holy, unbearable. A golden bloom. Her slim stomach, damp with sweat, glowed as though a lamp had been lit inside her flesh.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"