Dead Man's Harem. Since I can't kill myself, I'll find other ways to be happy.

"The countess! Where is she?"

"Her protection is our primary duty. The Algorians be damned!"

Shouts from soldiers from the two earls' armies went left and right, as Devon and countess Ilyana landed into a pile of leaves near the royal army.

A captain and several soldiers from the royal army saw Devon and countess Ilyana land near them, and informed the commander of the royal army immediately.

"Sir, the hostage has been seen flying through the air towards a tree near our backline. What should we do?"

"Do not inform the other armies, and proceed with the subjugation of the Algorians. Tch. To think that those old fools managed to employ the services of a powerful wind mage specialized in transportation magic… I'll have to send some spies to investigate this after the battle is over. Get back to your stations, and not a word about the hostage!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the two soldiers shouted, returning to their post near the frontlines of an increasingly bloody battle.

The commander made the prompt decision to withhold the hostage information from the other two allied armies, because the royal army's main objective was subjugation of the Algorian rebels. If the other two non-royal armies knew that the countess was safe and sound behind royal army lines, the other two armies would begin retreating, their mission successful, leaving the royal army alone against the Algorians.

Such was the nature of political maneuvering. The royal army wanted to continue leveraging the strength of the two earl's armies to quickly stomp out the Algorians, limiting bloodshed among their own ranks and averaging out the casualties amongst all three armies.

It was a shrewd but callous move by the commander.

As this unfolded, a certain grievously injured twenty year old man groaned, his spinal and nervous tissue reassembling itself. He couldn't even move his arms at the moment because of the spinal fracture causing paralysis in his arms, since neural information could no longer transmit between his brain to his arm and vice versa due to the connection being physically severed by traumatic impact with a thick branch.

The white haired eighteen year old noble girl lay unconscious in the pile of leaves nearby, her mana and stamina reserves completely spent, having defended herself against Algorians with her explosive magic for days now.

Devon tried to shout for help, but he couldn't muster up the voice to cry out. He lay on the ground in gut wrenching pain, grimacing and cursing in his own head.

---------

In an ether filled space, a universe away…

Creak.

A spectacled businesswoman in a tight office skirt and white shirt turned in alarm as the door opened, as a large man dressed in a cloak entered the room. The man's face was shrouded in a strange black mist, and his body emitted a haunting aura. If someone were to look directly at his face, they could make out a strong jaw and prominent straight nose, but not much else.

"Oh, manager, I didn't know you'd be back so soon!" Hecate said, standing up hastily and taking a respectful bow, as she knocked over a teacup which spilled onto the ground.

How there was a floor in a room that alternated between material and immaterial like a phasing schrodinger's box, was anyone's guess. The laws of physics seemed warped and distorted in this space, due to the influence of divine powers on the very fabric of reality in the vicinity.

"This is him?" the shadowy man said with a voice that echoed with magic. "Devon Hall?"

"Yes, manager." Hecate bent down and began cleaning the shattered teacup and spilt tea off the floor with a small rag. "He is the reincarnator who possesses…"

Her voice trailed off, unsure of if she should talk about the subject, which could potentially be a sensitive subject for her manager.

When Hades lost his passive, he was furious beyond belief. The entire underworld quaked from his rage that night. Granted, he technically did not need his passive [Dead Man Walking] because all gods were immortal, but now he had to go through the added inconvenience of rebirth through flame like the other gods. It was a slower and more cumbersome process, and the paperwork was an absolute nightmare.

Hades observed the screen for a moment, watching as the young man named Devon Hall lay splattered on the floor, his bent body slowly rearranging itself through the [Dead Man Walking] passive.

An inexplicable emotion passed over his face, or his aura, to be more precise.

"You. Come over here."

Hecate stood up in her pencil skirt, hands shaking slightly. "Yes, manager." She walked towards the shrouded man, who sat down on a chair and beckoned her forward with his hand like she was a dog.

The moment she arrived in front of him, the eight foot tall shadowy man grabbed her by the waist and bent her over his lap, then took his large and thick hand and tore through her stockings, revealing her thighs underneath. Her skin tone was bluish with a peach undertone, neither living nor dead. Despite her spectacled presentation, Hecate had the ethereal beauty of a divine entity, with glamorous features and a glowing skin tone filled with divine energy.

This was the first time the manager ever did something like this to her, and she had been working for him for eons. It wasn't like she could say anything, either. Of the Olympians, her manager held one of the highest positions of authority. Nothing could challenge his authority in several universes combined.

Even if she resisted, she knew it was futile. Her very existence was tied to his, subservient to his.

A thick finger entered her vulnerable area underneath as she lay bent over his lap like a submissive girlfriend. The temperature of the foreign penetrating object, his finger, was strange, both hot like magma and chilly at the same time, giving her an unbearable sensation. She let out a low moan.

"It angers me," the shadowy man said with a low timber, magically echoed voice. "That this boy has my passive, and squanders it like so. He does not know the beginning of the depths of my power, and he dares wield it so callously?"

A second of the man's fingers entered Hecate's private area, sending her reeling, her glasses askew as she bit down on the man's shirt and tugged at it with her mouth while moaning. "Manager, please be more gentle, it hurts."

The manager lifted her head by the chin, then made a sweeping motion with his hand. The fabric covering his lower region disappeared, revealing an ugly discolored knob of a penis of monstrous size, with bumps along the glans that gave it a demonic look.

"Pleasure me."

It was not a request, nor a suggestion. Hecate recognized that tone of voice. It was an order.

When one of the top brass gave an order, she had no choice but to comply. Hecate bent down onto her knees and brushed her purple locks back, then opened her mouth and pressed her tongue against the shadowy man's demonic cock.