The forest—what once was the Core Forest of the Verdant Vale near Velderoth City—was now an echo of its former self. A small section, once filled with ancient trees and lush, magical flora, now lay flattened.
Crumbled peaks and broken stone formed the remnants of what used to be a mountain range, all reduced to barren wasteland stretching hundreds of kilometers across. Ash clung to the breeze. Mana, heavy and unstable, pulsed faintly beneath the scorched earth.
In the midst of this devastated land, battle raged.
Or perhaps, to call it battle would be a lie.
It was a one-sided beating.
A single man stood at the center of it all—Alaric Aurelian.
And hurtling toward him from every direction were four girls: Aurevia, Cellione, Serineth, and Virellen.
Blades danced. Spells crackled. Earth split. But Alaric remained untouched.
Their efforts were relentless. Aurevia surged with frost-laced aura, her strikes clean and forceful. Cellione's flames roared with wild hunger, while Serineth weaved shadows like ribbons through the dust.
Virellen struck with thunderous gauntlets, her earth-attributed aura making each blow quake the ruined terrain.
But none of them could land a hit.
Not a scratch.
Alaric moved like a phantom—effortless, calm, devastating. A gentle tap from him sent Virellen tumbling fifty meters.
A flick of divine energy knocked Cellione's spell back into her own barrier. They weren't weak, not anymore. But compared to him, they were still infants standing before a god.
And yet—they never stopped.
They returned to their feet. Again. And again. And again.
A week had passed since the day they broke through. Since their souls anchored themselves to the paths they'd chosen. Since Alaric had shattered their limits and dragged them toward higher ground.
In that week, their control had sharpened. The wild surge of power from their breakthrough had finally been tamed.
They could now fight longer, strike smarter. Their strength had become refined rather than just raw.
It wasn't just growth. It was evolution.
Their progress was unnatural, rapid in a way that defied logic—but it made sense. After all, they had Alaric.
Through the Authority of Growth he bestowed, their potential blossomed like divine seeds given sunlight.
Of course, Alaric hadn't spent this past week idle either.
He had left the sanctuary once, heading into Velderoth City alone.
His first stop: the slave trader.
The man, already expecting him, bowed deeply.
"Master Alaric,"
He said with a smile that barely masked his nervousness.
"Preparations are still underway. I've deployed all my contacts—every trusted channel—to gather the finest girls as per your request."
Alaric didn't nod. He simply said,
"Good. I need them delivered to the capital."
The trader blinked.
"The capital? I—of course. Yes. Absolutely. You're a VIP, Master Alaric. There's a branch of our company in the capital of Velmora. If you provide a location, we'll arrange direct delivery. Or, if you prefer, you may collect them in person—within one month."
"That will do,"
Alaric replied. And just like that, the trader bowed again, sweat on his brow.
His next destination: the Adventurer's Guild.
*****
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶
✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧
⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
*****
Behind the receptionist's desk sat a familiar face—Lirael. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back, her eyes sharp yet soft with nostalgia as they landed on him.
"Well, well,"
She said with a small smile.
"Alaric. It's been a while. The city's been… livelier since you showed up."
Alaric returned a faint smile of his own.
"Can we talk in private?"
Lirael nodded and led him into one of the soundproof rooms at the back. Once the door closed, the silence between them shifted—familiar, but distant.
"I'm leaving,"
Alaric said simply.
Lirael blinked.
"Leaving…? Oh."
Her voice softened.
"I guess I expected it. You've outgrown this place. It's time for you to spread your wings."
Alaric gave a slow nod.
"Something like that."
They spoke for a while longer. Though he had only been in Velderoth for a few months, it had been long enough to make his presence felt. But it was time to pull back.
Of course, Alaric wasn't truly leaving.
He was simply erecting a veil—an illusion to mask their real operations.
Their true sanctuary, hidden deep within the Core Forest, was too precious to expose. He couldn't risk it—not now, not ever.
This "move" to the capital was just smoke and mirrors. A red herring. One that would keep prying eyes away from the truth.
By the time he returned home, dusk had bled into night. The mansion lights flickered on as he stepped through the gates.
The girls were waiting in the great hall.
"We're moving to the capital,"
He announced.
Silence.
Then—
"Wait, what?"
Virellen tilted her head.
Cellione looked up from her notes.
"Master… why? I thought we were staying here."
Serineth frowned, shadows rippling across her cloak.
"Has something happened?"
Aurevia's expression was calm, but her gaze lingered on his face, searching.
Alaric raised a hand.
"We are not actually moving. It's a distraction. People will believe we've relocated. That way, no one will suspect that we've returned here."
He stepped forward, voice quiet but firm.
"Our sanctuary must remain secret. I have plans for it—long-term ones. And I don't want a single soul, other than my most trusted vessels, knowing about it."
The girls exchanged glances. Then they all nodded.
"I'll start packing,"
Virellen said, already heading toward the supply room.
"Also… should I notify Father?"
"Yes,"
Alaric said.
"Tell him we'll meet in the capital. I plan to discuss our future business endeavors with him. Be discreet."
Virellen gave a mock salute, her smile playful but sharp.
"Understood, Master."
As preparations began, the mansion buzzed with quiet purpose. Behind the illusion of departure, Alaric was setting the stage for the next chapter of their saga—one only he could see, and only the worthy would walk.
-To Be Continued