The battlefield still shimmered with the afterglow of magical mayhem. Smoke curled from broken stones and scorched earth, feathers drifted like snowflakes, and magical chickens squawked somewhere in the distance. The crowd had erupted into wild cheers, confetti rained from above, and the name "Linked Hearts" now echoed across the coliseum like a song that no one expected to go viral but somehow had. Against all odds, the underdog guild — the guild no one had bet on, the guild whose bard was drunk and whose leader tripped over his own cloak twice during the battle — had claimed victory.
MC stood in the center of it all, still a little dazed, blinking up at the blinking scoreboard like he couldn't quite believe it. "Did we actually win again?" he muttered.
Lina threw her arm around his shoulders, grinning. "Told you your stupid luck would work out."
"I prefer the term 'creative tactics,'" he said, rubbing the back of his head, only to wince when a leftover spark from someone's fire spell zapped him.
Kaela looked like she wasn't sure whether to be impressed or just deeply exhausted. Her giant boar snorted beside her, its tusks still sparking from earlier enchantments. Iris floated down from a levitation spell, looking as serene as ever, though her flushed cheeks suggested she'd enjoyed the chaos more than she let on.
And then there was Luna.
She stood apart from the others, just outside the glowing circle of victory, her staff planted in the ground and her eyes low. The others hadn't noticed. Why would they? On the surface, she looked like she always did — timid, quiet, almost blending into the background. She offered a small, rehearsed smile when Jax drunkenly tried to hand her a celebratory chicken feather as a "trophy."
But inside, Luna's thoughts were a storm.
She had been placed here by the Cult — the System Whisperers, the ones who had been watching for anomalies, seeking them, hunting them. The ones who believed that those with hidden Systems that threatened the balance must be either assimilated or eliminated. And now here she was, standing beside the very person who represented the greatest anomaly of all: The Harem King.
He shouldn't exist. His System shouldn't be possible. Copying powers? Triggering fusion skills based on affection? It was an abomination in the Cult's doctrine. A threat to their carefully curated hierarchy of power.
And yet…
She'd watched him flail through training. She'd seen him accidentally charm an entire squirrel militia. She'd seen him copy powers at the worst times, trip over success, stumble into glory — and somehow bring people together while doing it. He was foolish, clueless, loud, and chaotic… but also kind. He made people laugh. He made people stronger. He didn't use his power to dominate, but to lift others up, even when he barely understood how it worked himself.
That wasn't the monster the Cult had described.
So when the victory horn had blared and the final spell had fallen, Luna hadn't cheered. She had simply watched him — the boy at the center of it all, covered in dirt and confetti, grinning like an idiot, flanked by girls who looked at him like he was worth more than gold.
And she had felt… conflicted.
The plan had been simple: join the guild, observe him, report back, and prepare for the day when the Cult would inevitably move to contain or destroy him.
But now… now she wasn't so sure.
Every time she saw him defy expectations, not with overwhelming power but with sheer unpredictability and heart, she found herself hesitating. Her reports to the Cult had grown shorter. More vague. She told herself it was for safety. Operational discretion. But deep down, she knew the truth: she didn't want to betray them. Not anymore.
So as the team huddled together, laughing and cheering, hoisting MC up on their shoulders while he flailed and yelled, "Wait—I'm not good with heights!" Luna stood quietly, her heart pulled in two directions.
One toward duty.
The other toward friendship.
The cult would come. Of that she was certain. They were always watching. Always listening.
But for now, she let herself smile—just a little—because maybe, just maybe, victory wasn't just about winning a battle.
Maybe it was about choosing who you stood beside when the real war came.
END OF CHAPTER 48