Chapter 435 - HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEM

HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC38 38: Chained

Noah had no words.

What he was feeling couldn't be named.

This wasn't fear. It wasn't awe.

It was as if something had peeled open his soul—laid it bare, naked under a divine gaze.

Not eyes. Something worse.

Elizabeth's voice echoed in his mind.

"What a beautiful soul."

His frown deepened.

Instinctively, his Aura of Limitlessness ignited—veiling his soul in endless depths. An infinite chasm of being, unknowable, unreachable.

Instantly, the visibility of his soul vanished. Hidden from all perception.

But she still stared.

"Your soul…" she whispered, her head tilting ever so slightly. "Even Elijah's—radiant, endless, like a sun that never dies—doesn't come close."

Her voice now only existed in his mind. Private. Intimate. Terrifying.

"It's like something that could freeze entire universes. Birth storms across dimensions. I see both life and death in you… and yet neither. It's illusionary—uncertain, chaotic—but the pressure it emits…"

She inhaled sharply, almost shivering.

"…it's limitless, almost divine."

"What are you?"

Noah didn't answer.

To the outside world, it looked like they were just staring at each other—silent and still—after Elizabeth removed her blindfold.

But inside his mind, they stood within a domain of lightning and ice, shaped by his will. A fortress of illusions, wrapped in crushing, cosmic pressure. Even if someone broke the barrier, they'd find nothing but infinite blackness.

He finally spoke.

"How are you inside my mind?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Inside?" She played dumb. Her tone innocent.

"What skills did you use?"

He already knew the answer, but wouldn't say it out loud.

"Last I heard, you were a seer. A prophet."

She smiled. That same soft, sharp smile. "That too."

"…Too?"

"I can see the future. Fate. The strings that guide choices."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"I can access memories. Twist them. Erase them. I can see souls… and if I choose, destroy them so completely that even reincarnation becomes impossible."

Then she added casually, "Oh, and yes. My talent is SSS rank."

Noah's mind raced.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because," she said, "you're the first person I've ever met who can block me. At first, I saw your soul… but now? It's gone. Hidden beneath something endless. Is that your aura?"

She leaned in, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Even Elijah's mind cannot hide from my eyes. But he is shielded by the Goddess, but you—you're doing it alone."

She was trembling now. Her voice breathless.

"That makes you real. Untouched. Beautiful."

Noah's body tensed. Her tone had shifted—too gentle.

Too intimate.

"You should've told me from the start, Noah." She smiled, voice soft as silk. "If you had… I'd have chosen you instead."

He blinked. "What?"

"I've spent my whole life searching for someone like you. Someone I can look at without hearing screams. Without seeing lifetimes in a blink. Without losing myself in someone else's chaos."

She stepped forward, close enough for him to feel her breath.

"I've found you."

Noah couldn't move.

This wasn't about power anymore. This was obsession. And he was at the center of it.

Elizabeth's face hovered just an inch from his.

"Do you know why I cling to Elijah? Why I need his attention?"

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Because you're insane?"

She didn't even blink.

"No. Even after the Goddess sealed part of my power, my talent—even with this blindfold—I still hear voices. Whispers of madness, rage, laughter. Thoughts that aren't mine. Lives I've never lived."

"Only when I'm near Elijah… is there silence."

Noah paused. Then muttered, "Wait. That means…"

"Yes," she said. "The Goddess made it that way. She tied me to him. Made it so I'd never stray far. My entire sanity depends on his presence."

She laughed. Not loud. Not joyful.

Broken.

"So even if you succeeded in your plan—if I'd gone mad and killed every girl near him—I'd still be stuck. Still leashed to him."

"But now…" Her eyes locked onto his.

"Now it's different."

She stepped closer. Again.

"I don't know what your aura is, Noah. But it blocks the voices. It's like I'm wrapped in infinite layers of protection. Silence. Peace."

Her voice trembled. Her eyes were glowing.

It was mesmerizing, but also terrifying.

"You've done something only the Goddess ever could. You've silenced the voices."

"That's… incredible."

Noah raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what to say anymore. So he sat down, conjuring an ice chair from his mental domain.

But Noah is Noah after all.

He may be overwhelmed, but he was never powerless.

And now… he had leverage.

'I can use this to my advantage.'

"Then let's make a deal," Noah said calmly.

He leaned back, eyes steady. "I'll cloak your mind with my aura. Constantly. No more whispers. No more madness."

"In exchange, tell me about your Goddess. The truth. Why would a deity choose a champion in the first place? Don't lie—it's not just about fighting demons and monsters."

"Things don't add up."

Elizabeth's gaze darkened. Her posture changed. "I can't."

Noah frowned. "Why?"

"Because I don't know the full reason. And even if I did—I can't say. She's a Goddess, Noah. You don't talk about them without them listening."

"I won't risk my position as Saintess for you. Because losing it means my death. The goddess will never let me go with my life."

"Ask for something else."

Noah's eyes narrowed. "You're acting like you have options."

"You said it yourself. I'm the only one who can stop those whispers besides the Goddess. But unlike her—I don't chain you to Elijah."

"And you know it, Elizabeth. You're seeing it—Elijah's attention is slipping away. Soon, he won't look at you at all."

"You want to keep depending on someone who doesn't even see you?"

"Or do you want to stay sane?"

Elizabeth flinched slightly.

Noah stood. Slowly. His aura shifted—no longer passive. No longer gentle.

Limitlessness turned lethal.

Elizabeth gasped, recoiling. The pressure struck her like a crashing wave.

His voice dropped cold.

"Playtime's over, Saintess."

He stepped forward. One step. Just enough to make her eyes widen.

"Get the fuck out of my mind."

—End of chapter 38—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC39 39: Rising Fury

Cough, cough—

Elizabeth coughed harshly as she looked up at Noah. Her gaze shaky filled with surprise and pain.

She had been forcefully ejected from his mind, and the backlash had hit her like a hammer.

Noah stood over her, eyes indifferent.

He had played long enough. It was time to be serious.

"I wonder, Saintess," he said calmly, "what happens when your power doesn't work on someone?"

At that moment, frost bloomed around him. So cold. So lethal. The temperature around them dropped drastically.

Elizabeth shivered, instinctively stepping back.

But Noah wasn't done.

In a single step, he ignored distance—appearing instantly before her.

Elizabeth yelped in surprise, but Noah's hand moved faster.

His palm pressed to her forehead—

His voice was extremely cold.

"Ice of Blood."

He activated the new skill gained after his A-rank breakthrough.

Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock and horror.

Her gaze—normally an absolute nightmare for anyone else—meant nothing against Noah's Limitless Aura. Useless.

Without her gaze, she is just another ordinary woman, she cannot fight. Not resist either.

Noah's ice power was a nightmare.

Her blood began to freeze.

Her circulation slowed. Her strength drained rapidly.

Her body grew numb. Weak.

She collapsed to the ground, eyes losing focus, consciousness slipping away.

She was on the brink of death.

But—just as she was about to fall fully into the void—

Noah stopped.

"Ahhh… ahh… ahhh…"

Elizabeth gasped desperately for breath. Her lungs fought to pull in air as she trembled on the ground.

The audience stared in confusion.

They had no idea what Noah had done.

No one did.

No one… except Damon, the professors, and the Dean.

And right now—they were watching with fascination. With excitement.

"Wow, wow, wow… who is this monster?"

A huge, bald man with a deep, booming voice said. His face full of excitement.

"Freezing someone's blood directly inside their body? That kind of ice control—what kind of talent does he have?!"

Another teacher, a woman with deep blue hair and matching eyes, nodded. Her eyes glinted fiercely while watching this fight.

"Right? That's no small feat. And the Saintess isn't normal either. To enter someone's mind like that… incredible."

The rest of the staff remained quiet, but all were in agreement.

These two were worth watching. But more than that, they are worth teaching.

"They're worth nurturing with care," one finally said.

"Right, Dean?"

All eyes turned toward the head of the table—a stunning woman in her thirties with flawless white hair and white piercing eyes.

Her figure was perfect, every movement graceful, her beauty otherworldly. But looked at her, the only thing you could think of is white.

You can't explain it, it's just the vibe she gave off.

She stared at the projection for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

"Yes. Indeed."

Her voice was smooth—filled with quiet, unshakable authority. But, it's as if multiple people were speaking at the same time.

Eerie. But strangely hypnotic and pleasing to the ears.

No one spoke after that. Their attention returned to the arena.

…

Noah looked down at Elizabeth's trembling figure.

"Do I have to tell you to forfeit?" he asked coldly.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth, her eyes filled with indignation but finally spat the words:

"I forfeit."

"WINNER: NOAH."

Noah didn't wait. He turned immediately.

But as he walked away, he left her with parting words:

"My offer is still on the table. I'll be waiting for you—

When you're desperate enough…

When you start losing your sanity day by day."

Cheers erupted throughout the arena.

They didn't know what he had done.

But he looked cool.

And that's what mattered to them.

…

"We're in the semifinals," Damon announced.

"The first duel will be between Elijah Stoneheart and Sophie Castria."

Elijah stood before Sophie, face solemn.

"BEGIN!"

He wasted no time.

"Is this the Emperor's will?" he asked sharply.

Sophie tilted her head innocently.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act dumb."

Elijah's voice was laced with irritation.

"The Emperor promised me your hand in marriage. So why do I see you with another man? Showing him affection—publicly?"

From the stands, Noah grinned.

The crowd leaned in. Drama. And they loved drama.

But in the imperial palace, the Emperor was shaking.

His gaze was locked on Sophie through the projection—his fury barely contained.

He turned sharply toward Emily, who looked on in apparent surprise.

"You weren't aware of this?" Rome asked, voice trembling with rage.

But Emily… was no pushover.

Acting was her game.

"How could I know?" she replied, her voice shaky and filled with surprise.

"You know how arrogant she is. She never listens to me."

Rome fell silent—rage burning inside.

The humiliation was overwhelming.

"Contact Isac and Albert."

His voice was like ice. Cold.

"Tell them to take care of Sophie. Make her understand her duty."

His gaze turned deadly.

"Or I will act myself."

But Emily's eyes—hidden from him—were even colder.

'You want to touch my dear daughter? Dream on.'

The game had begun.

And the chess pieces were moving.

…

In the arena, Sophie stood tall and calm.

"I am my own person," she said clearly.

"I marry whoever I want. And I choose Noah Weaverheart—my childhood friend. My love. The one who's always stood beside me."

"I don't care if you're blessed or not. But stop looking at me like I belong to you."

Her voice turned colder. Sharp like thunder.

"Keep those eyes off me."

Elijah was silent for a moment, then spoke:

"Or what? Your dear husband will beat me up? Or will you?"

Sophie smiled coldly.

"I'm no match for you—for now."

She turned her back on him. Walking away.

"But don't get too confident. Noah will beat you. And when someone without a blessing does… I'll follow."

"I forfeit."

Her voice rang across the arena.

Clear. Defiant.

Elijah's jaw clenched.

He turned to Noah, whose grin was wide. Mocking. Confident.

"I'm waiting for you to beat me up, Noah," Elijah said coldly.

"Oh yeah," Noah replied with a laugh.

"Definitely. You should."

—End of chapter 39—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC40 40: It's your turn

The public buzzed with excitement.

They couldn't help but eagerly anticipate the inevitable clash between Elijah and Noah.

But before that showdown, one battle remained.

Noah vs. Aphasia.

And that fight… was about to begin.

Aphasia stood across from Noah, and for the first time since the tournament began, she spoke.

"You seem awfully confident that you'll win and make it to the finals."

Her eyes gleamed.

"For all we know, I might be the one to win."

Noah chuckled lightly. Finding her quite cute.

"Yes, that's certainly possible."

He tilted his head slightly, sarcasm playing on his lips.

"But you wouldn't do that to me, right? That would be so embarrassing. Will you really stop me from meeting my destiny?"

Aphasia smiled. A small but sweet smile.

This human intrigued her.

Like everyone else, she could feel the threat he posed—an undeniable pressure that didn't match what he had shown so far.

Which could only mean one thing:

He was holding back.

Of course, she was too.

But how much? That's what she wanted to find out.

"I'm afraid I can't let you pass just like that. I'm curious about the strength of the one going so openly against the Chosen One."

She raised a hand and smiled.

"So… let's give it our all, shall we?"

Aphasia made her decision—she would fight at full power. She will show him what she is truly capable of.

"Queen of the Spirit of Fire… come."

Instantly, a powerful pressure filled the arena.

Beside Aphasia appeared a spirit—a woman made entirely of flame. Her eyes were molten fire, wings translucent and glowing, a crown of flame atop her head. Her ears were long and pointed like an elf's.

Only elves could perceive and communicate with spirits.

But Aphasia… was no ordinary elf.

Her rare, unmatched talent allowed her to not just communicate—but command—even the ruler of the elemental spirits.

The sole SSS-rank talent of the Elven Domain.

Noah smiled at the sight.

"Since coming to this academy, SSS-rank talents are starting to feel pretty ordinary."

He shook his head slightly.

'Fortunately… I have something above SSS. And more of those will come.'

He looked into Aphasia's eyes, curious.

From what he'd read, this elf never became part of Elijah's harem—at least not within the first fifty chapters.

'I get it. She's highborn, an elf, extremely proud, and that SSS-rank talent of hers is unique. Controlling spirits of all affinities? That's rare. How do you even put a ceiling on someone like that?'

He exhaled slowly.

'Well… I'll think about that later.'

For now—he had to focus.

Aphasia was making her move.

"Merge with me," she commanded.

The Fire Spirit Queen entered her body in an instant.

Aphasia transformed.

Her hair ignited into flowing fire. Her skin glowed with dark warmth, and her eyes shone like miniature suns. She stood tall, divine—like a flame goddess descending upon a mortal.

But Noah was no ordinary mortal.

"If you were going to merge with a Spirit Queen… why choose fire? Knowing who I am?" he asked, curious.

He tilted his head.

"Or is she the only one you can use right now? What a shame."

Truly a shame.

Fire wasn't her true affinity—it lacked the depth and mastery she needed.

And against Noah, the very incarnation of ice, it was practically a guaranteed defeat.

Aphasia didn't respond.

Instead, she formed a bow from flame. As an elf, archery was in her blood.

Without delay, she fired a series of blazing arrows—fast and deadly.

Noah dodged easily, weaving through them.

But suddenly—an arrow appeared right before his face, about to pierce his right eye.

He twisted midair, coating his hand in ice and swatting the arrow aside.

Boom!

The force of the impact sent him flying backward.

He skidded across the ground but slammed his foot down just in time, stopping himself from flying out of the arena.

As he raised his head—

Aphasia was already there.

Her fist, wrapped in fire, aimed straight for his face.

Noah stepped back—and instantly teleported to the other side of the arena.

He looked across at Aphasia, whose punch hung frozen in the air.

"You're strong. Really strong."

He nodded.

"Your talent is incredibly versatile. Through the spirits, you can wield every element… even space and time."

He paused.

"That's amazing. But…"

Noah decided to show her why she wouldn't win.

He activated his Aura—but this time, not just Ice.

Ice and Lightning.

In an instant, the air turned frosted and electrified.

The crowd gasped.

Eyes widened—Elijah, Elizabeth, even Sophie stared in disbelief.

Not just the audience—everyone in the Empire watching through projections blinked in shock.

"Lightning?! Since when does he have lightning affinity? I thought it was only Ice?!"

The murmurs began.

But Noah didn't care.

The moment he activated his aura, his affinities surged—his power deepened.

He prepared his signature explosive skill.

Ice coated his right hand.

Lightning danced in his left.

He grinned at Aphasia.

"Brace yourself, princess. This one's going to hurt."

Aphasia's eyes widened.

CLAP!

He clapped his hands together.

BOOOOOOMMMMM!

A wave of ice and lightning erupted, freezing the air and burning it all at once.

Once again, the entire training ground was destroyed by Noah.

The arena became a frozen landscape, with purple and silver lightning arcing wildly, leaving the air charged and unstable.

And in the middle of that chaos…

Noah stood.

Untouched.

His aura flared—frost and lightning shimmering in his purple hair.

His eyes—mirrors of frozen light, with lightning flickering through them.

His hands rested behind his back.

At that moment—

He looked like a deity of Ice and Lightning.

Not a human.

Not a mage.

Something more.

Something divine.

He slowly turned his head toward the stands.

His eyes locked onto Elijah.

And for the first time—

Noah wasn't mocking him.

There was no humor.

He wasn't smiling.

His gaze turned cold.

So cold that simply holding it made you feel frostbite creep into your bones.

"It's your turn, Blessed One."

—End of chapter 39—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC41 41: Noah vs Elijah (1)

The arena, freshly rebuilt.

The ground still smelled of smoke and scorched mana and ice from the last battle.

Aphasia had been taken away.

Now, the storm everyone waited for had arrived.

Noah vs Elijah.

The two stood still, face-to-face in the middle of the arena.

The silence was deafening.

No words. Just pressure.

The crowd didn't dare to breathe. They sat frozen—statues carved by fear and awe. Their eyes wide, desperate not to miss a single frame.

Noah's lightning had already shattered their expectations. But they didn't know—

Noah wasn't done.

He had space and time affinities buried deep within. No skills yet to wield them. But soon.

For now, he didn't need them.

He was already enough.

Or so he thought.

…

Elijah's golden eyes stared at Noah. Calm on the surface.

But rage simmered underneath.

This wasn't just a duel. This was personal.

From the very beginning of these trials, Noah had been provoking him, hunting the girls Elijah desired, mocking him with every glance.

It wasn't subtle. It was deliberate.

He was doing it in purpose.

And Elijah wasn't stupid. He had noticed it.

He just didn't understand why.

But it didn't matter. Hostility was all he needed.

Whoever dared to show hostility towards him will not receive any mercy from him.

His body radiated fire. The arena's temperature soared. The floor cracked beneath his feet.

His eyes ignited—molten gold.

Noah tilted his head. "Seems you're done thinking."

He stepped forward lazily.

"So, Chosen One…"

He raised his chin.

"You ready to dance?"

A flicker of movement—then Noah vanished.

Before Elijah could even respond, Noah was already in front of him—a punch mid-swing.

Elijah reacted instinctively, palm raised—caught it.

The impact boomed. Sparks and frost exploded around them.

"Sneaking up on me now?" Elijah hissed, flames consuming his arm.

Noah smiled.

"Not sneaking. Just checking your reflexes. You are not bad."

His ice surged, and—

BOOM.

The two launched backward in opposite directions. Steam burst across the arena from the clash of fire and frost.

Noah didn't stop. His aura flared—ice and lightning roaring together.

He dashed forward. A lightning-forged javelin materialized in his hand. With a smooth throw—he hurled it like a god of war.

The ground beneath froze—turning the battlefield into a treacherous sheet of blue ice.

Elijah didn't flinch.

His fire aura erupted. The ice beneath him melted instantly. With a calm step, he caught the lightning javelin mid-flight—bare-handed. His strength was terrifying.

He spun—then flipped it back with absurd force. And vanished.

Light-speed teleportation.

His speed was incredible, even Noah didn't manage to react in time.

He reappeared behind Noah as the javelin returned to him.

BOOM.

Noah blocked it mid-turn—only to be blinded by a flash of light in his face.

"—Tch."

CRACK!

A fist to the gut.

The impact sent Noah flying—slammed into the ground hard enough to crater it. His shirt torn, blood on his lips.

The arena gasped.

But Elijah wasn't done.

From above, he appeared again. Floating. Wings of pure light spread behind him. Looking like an angel from the heaven.

Holy.

His hand glowed—a massive golden fireball forming.

Chains of light whipped from his palm, locking Noah down like glowing serpents.

Elijah's voice was cold.

"Burn."

BOOOOOOMMMMMM.

The explosion swallowed the field in smoke and fire. The stands erupted.

"ELIJAAAHHHH!!!"

"NUMBER ONE!! THE CHOSEN ONE!!!"

Cheers shook the city.

But not everyone celebrated.

The geniuses watched in silence.

Noah's allies—Ester, his shadow, his beast Neko—watched without emotion. Eyes like still water.

Selene, far away, frowned but didn't worry.

She knew.

This wasn't the end.

Elijah knew too.

He stood in the air quietly, forming a blade in each hand—one of fire, one of light. Twin swords forged through talent and years of quests, battles, and awakenings.

Elijah was a monster in his own right.

But then—The smoke cleared.

The crowd froze.

Noah sat there, unbothered.

Chains of light still wrapped around him.

But surrounding him—a shimmering dome of ice and lightning.

A barrier.

A last-minute defense.

Cracked. Flickering. But still standing.

Noah looked up—expression calm.

Then he broke the chains with a twist of his aura.

CRACK.

They shattered like glass.

He stood, brushing dust from his ruined clothes. Blood on his chin.

But his posture? Straight. Calm. Dangerous.

"You're truly good, Elijah."

His voice echoed softly—calm yet filled with steel.

"You actually made me bleed. With my aura active and me being serious, no one should have been able to do that."

"But yes…you are the chosen one after all."

Everyone felt the pressure. Even from the stands, it was suffocating.

Damon, watching, laughed softly.

"Monsters. They're almost on the same level as that damn Student Council President…"

Noah cracked his neck.

"I told my mother I'd beat all your asses today. Now look at me. Bleeding with a tattered clothes."

He shook his head wryly.

But then—

He grinned.

"Guess I'll just have to stop holding back."

"For real this time."

Elijah hovered above him.

Eyes narrowed. Voice colder than ever.

"Am I supposed to be happy hearing this? That I am the only one that makes you bleed?"

"You think I'm like the others?"

"I was chosen Noah. Over billions."

"That means I'm better than all of you."

He spat the words.

Noah just smiled.

Then—his aura vanished.

No lightning. No ice.

Just silence.

Then…

BOOM.

A new aura exploded from him.

Not elemental. Not magic.

Authority.

Noah had activated Aura of The Ruler.

The air crushed downward.

The skies darkened. The crowd began to sweat—those with weak mana nearly fainted.

Even Damon raised a brow.

Noah's silver eyes burned like stars of frost.

He looked up at Elijah. Voice heavy. Unrelenting.

"Great speech, Elijah."

"Now let's end the delusion."

"Because right now…"

"I'm done playing."

He stepped forward.

Each step—reverberated like thunder.

And then—

"And get the fuck down…when you talk to me."

BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM.

The aura hit Elijah like a meteor.

He dropped.

Wings flickering—knees slamming into the earth—face gritted under unbearable pressure.

It wasn't a spell. It was dominance. It was authority.

The Ruler had spoken.

And so,

You had no choice but to obey.

—End of Chapter 41—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC42 42: Noah vs Elijah (2)

Noah stood tall, eyes sharp, face still.

He looked down on the kneeling Elijah, unshaken. Expressionless.

His voice didn't come. His silence said enough.

The public?

Shocked. Paralyzed. Awed.

"What… is this?" someone finally breathed.

"A new aura?"

"No—wait… He has two auras?"

Even the most cynical ones now sat forward, pupils dilated.

Two auras.

Not one.

Two.

Lightning and Ice was already overwhelming. They were two very versatile elements.

But this?

An aura of pure Authority.

A force that didn't just crush—it commanded.

The stands erupted with gasps, whispers, disbelief.

Because being able to have two auras at only fifteen years old…was unheard of.

"What kind of monster is he?"

But Noah didn't care.

He didn't hear them.

He didn't need their praise or their fear or their acknowledgement.

He only saw Elijah.

And he hadn't finished yet.

Across the field, even the top talents—Sophie, Yuki, Aphasia, Rouge, Malrik—watched in stunned silence.

Two auras?

At his age?

And not just any aura—this was Ruler-type. Similar to Sophie's Empress Aura. But colder. Sharper. Heavier.

Something worse.

…

Elijah's teeth clenched. Muscles tensed.

His body shook, but not from weakness—

From fury.

The ground beneath him cracked.

Light fractured the space around him like glass under pressure.

And slowly, he raised his head.

His golden eyes met Noah's silver. His voice cold.

"You think you're the only one with more than one aura?"

CRACK.

The space around him shattered.

He vanished from under the Ruler's weight—appearing meters away in a burst of twisted gravity.

Tattered clothes. Blood dripping.

But his stance—unbreakable.

Around him, space warped and shattered, as if rejecting his very presence.

Noah narrowed his eyes.

"Tch. That aura…"

Aura of Space Destruction.

When Elijah clenched his fist—

The space where Noah had been ripped apart, folding inward like a collapsing star.

The crowd exploded again, awe rippling like waves.

Professors from their seats were surprised. Even the Dean leaned slightly forward.

"Since when…" one whispered.

"Having two auras at 15 old years is a common thing?"

A legit question.

But these two were monsters.

…

Noah activated a new aura.

Aura of the Trickster.

His aura shifted again. The weight lifted, but in its place came something else—

Illusion.

His presence blurred. As if he wasn't fully there.

Then—he moved.

He unsheathed his sword of Ice, slashed the air—And the sky answered.

"Noah's Technique — Sword of the Trickster."

The sky filled with thousands of shimmering sword slashes.

Each one floating midair, all pointed toward Elijah.

They fell.

Like a divine storm.

But Elijah didn't move.

His sword appeared in his hand—

A S rank sword rewarded by his system. Glowing with golden hue.

He shifted into stance.

"Chosen One's Sword Technique — Sword of Destruction."

He slashed upward—

BOOM. SHATTER.

The sky split.

Every sword that touched his slash was devoured, leaving trails of empty space behind—voids that healed slowly, unnaturally.

The arena trembled.

Noah vanished—

Only to reappear elsewhere.

But then—

Another Noah appeared behind Elijah.

Real? Clone? Too late to care.

"Improvised Sword Technique — Lightning Strike."

CRACKK!!!

The lightning-infused blade slammed into Elijah's back, sending him crashing into the ground like a comet.

BOOOOM.

Dust soared. Smoke billowed. The ground split open under impact.

The public was frozen.

Two Noahs?

"Is it a skill?" they whispered. "Illusion? Spatial manipulation?"

But for the professors and dean, they knew. The Dean's face now showing a slight surprise.

"No."

"That's a third aura."

She said in a low voice. As if unable to believe it.

And the teachers around him shared her feelings.

The real Noah stepped through the smoke. Calm. One Noah remained. The other vanished into the wind.

He stared into the pit, annoyed.

"Still not falling?"

"Why are you still standing?"

His voice was colder now.

"That strike could've killed a rank A beast."

"You really think I'm going to lose to that?" Elijah's voice echoed up from the crater.

His body rose, broken, battered—but still burning.

Blood flowed freely down his side. His breath was ragged. Yet—

He stood. Tall. Straight.

His eyes lifted to Noah. Gold, Light, still glowing with high intensity. Unshaken.

"I don't think you get it, Noah," he said, voice rising.

"I've been suffering since I was a child."

Silence spread like fire through the arena.

"I've been spat on. Kicked. Beaten."

"Begged for love from a father who never once looked me in the eyes."

"Watched my mother humiliated again and again."

"Because of what ? That I was born bastard? But I didn't ask to be born."

His voice cracked—but never broke.

"Is it my fault my father couldn't keep it in his pants? Is it my sin to be born from a woman who was discarded by the world?"

The crowd was dead silent.

Even those watching through screens, far across the continent—didn't speak.

Noah's frown deepened.

'Damn hero monologue cliché…'

But even he had to admit—this guy was legit.

But he didn't care.

It's not a matter of who suffered the most.

⸻

Elijah continued, his wounds glowing faintly with golden fire.

"I didn't break when they starved me."

"I didn't break when they dragged my mother through the mud."

"I didn't break when they beat me bloody just for existing. For breathing the same air as them."

"So what makes you think…"

He stepped forward.

"…that I'll fall now?"

"From just this pain?"

"No, Noah."

"I've lived worse. And all that as a child who didn't know nothing about the world."

"And I am still standing. And I will keep standing—above everyone."

Flames erupted behind him.

Not just fire—a phoenix.

Golden, divine, reborn.

It coiled around him like a guardian. His wounds healed rapidly. His power doubled.

His voice boomed:

"This world will remember my name—and the name of my goddess."

"I'll take everything I've been denied and more."

"I won't hold back. Not anymore."

"And anyone who stands in my way—will BURN."

He pointed at Noah.

"And you, Noah…"

"…are in my way."

His voice dropped.

"So burn."

The sky shimmered. The earth trembled.

As if the world itself obeyed.

Noah began to burn.

—End of Chapter 42—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC43 43: Noah vs Elijah (3)

Noah began to burn.

"Argh, damn it," he hissed, staggering back as flames erupted across his body like a curse. Flesh cracked. His veins glowed red-hot. Pain seared into him so viciously it nearly broke his focus—but he held on.

He reacted fast.

A blinding surge of ice exploded outward. A deep, ancient cold—not just frost, but something near-arctic in its primal purity. The stadium howled with the sound of sudden winter. Fire met frost, and the world screamed. Everything vanished in the rising fog of steam.

Elijah's third aura.

Aura of the Phoenix.

His flames weren't just fire—they were rebirth. Immolation and healing wrapped in divine heat. A power that burned him to ashes and rebuilt him stronger every time. His blood boiled with life.

He rose from the steam like a deity. No scars. No wounds. His body, reborn. Golden flames crowned him like a halo. His eyes were radiant. Too radiant.

The crowd gasped again—hundreds on their feet, breathless.

Three auras?

That wasn't rare. That was impossible.

"Monsters," someone whispered.

Noah stood somewhere in the mist. His outline shimmered—scarred, but steady. The fire still burned around him, licking his heels, trying to crawl up his back.

But his Samsara Aura worked quietly. His body, damaged seconds ago, was already mending. Bone reknitting. Muscle regrowing. His breath calmed.

"Elijah…" Noah muttered through the haze. "He keeps getting up."

This wasn't just a duel anymore. It was a war of philosophies. Of identities. Elijah, chosen by divinity, was the world's favorite narrative: the broken boy turned hero. He had every edge—power, sympathy, the narrative on his side.

Noah was different. Not chosen—made.

"A tenacious bastard," he whispered, wiping blood from his jaw. "Typical protagonist energy. If I don't end this now, he'll pull some last-minute miracle."

He closed his eyes.

Breathed.

Then opened them.

"I'm limitless."

And something shifted.

Reality buckled—subtly. Like the laws of physics stepped back in hesitation.

The fire didn't touch him anymore. It swirled around, roaring louder than ever—but none of it landed. As if space itself stretched between him and the heat.

"I'm not in the fire," Noah murmured. "I'm beyond it."

The mist faded.

He emerged.

Shirtless. Silver-eyed. His skin still bore red trails from the burn—but they healed by the second. His body hummed with quiet power. No flare, no flash—just dominance.

Elijah saw him and flinched.

"Three auras, huh?" Noah smirked. "Should've expected that."

He didn't wait.

His Aura of Limitlessness bloomed.

Noah whispered, "Time and Space do not bind me. My attack… is in the domain of spirituality."

And then—

Time slowed.

A second became ten.

The world moved like molasses. But Noah? He moved freely. Like he was untethered from the clock.

He stepped forward once.

And the world unraveled around him.

The space between him and Elijah folded. Reality parted like curtains. And in that one step—he was there.

Inches from Elijah's chest.

No light show. No sonic boom.

Just a presence.

Elijah's eyes widened.

Too late.

Noah's fist moved—not coated in elements, but just a normal punch. A punch sharpened into one thing: truth.

CRACK.

His knuckles collided with Elijah's sternum—and something broke.

Not just bone.

Elijah's soul.

A scream tore from him—not from the mouth, but from the spirit. His legs gave out. Blood exploded from his lips. He collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.

Time resumed.

To the audience, it looked like Noah teleported—and Elijah just dropped.

But those who understood—Damon, the professors, the Dean—they saw it.

They saw spiritual warfare.

Noah's fist hadn't just hit his body. It hit his inner world. His identity.

Elijah knelt. Trembling.

Not in fear.

In pain that went beyond muscle. Pain of the soul. Pain of being seen.

Noah stood tall above him, silent. The air bent gently around him. His aura no longer loud—but final.

"You were right, Elijah," Noah said. His voice was calm, but carried through the entire arena. "You are strong. Chosen by a goddess. Scarred by a cruel past."

He looked down. His voice darkened.

"But power doesn't make you right."

"You think the world owes you because you suffered?"

Elijah's eyes twitched.

"You want to take everything now—women, fame, thrones—just because you were broken once?"

The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Noah's words were peeling back something hidden.

"You're greedy. Vengeful. Lustful. Everyone sees it. And no one stops you. Why? Because you have power. Because they fear you. Because you're the Chosen One."

Then came the Aura of the Ruler.

It fell on the stadium like gravity. The audience straightened. Some gasped. Some clutched their hearts.

People listened.

Not because they wanted to.

But because they had to.

Noah's eyes flared.

"But not me."

"I'm not one of your admirers. I don't worship your titles. I don't care if you're blessed by gods or born from divine fire."

"I'm the one sent to check your arrogance."

His voice rose.

"I, Noah Weaverheart. Son of Selene Weaverheart, the Witch of Eternal Cold."

He stepped forward.

"—will not let you trample this world for your ego."

"You want to fight demons? Fine. But stop acting like you're the only one who's suffered."

The silence cracked.

"There are people out there who've lost more than you—and they don't use their pain to justify burning the world down."

Someone in the crowd stood.

Then another.

Then a voice.

"YES!"

"NOAH'S RIGHT!"

"HE'S NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO SUFFERED!"

The stands erupted. Cheers. Agreement. People who'd been silent—afraid—now found their voices.

The tide was turning.

Not just toward Noah's strength—

But his truth.

From the top of the stadium, Sophie watched it unfold. Poised. Her hands folded in her lap. But her eyes shimmered—not with surprise. With certainty.

This wasn't a rant.

It was a performance. Precision-crafted.

Damon grinned from the sky "What a bastard."

The Dean watched, unmoving. Her eyes narrowed.

She was one of the few who saw the full picture.

Noah hadn't just beaten Elijah physically.

He was taking his story.

Stealing the role of the "hero" by speaking truth everyone was too scared to admit.

And Noah?

He just stood there now.

Bare-chested. Calm. His silver eyes fixed on Elijah—who was still on his knees, shaking.

Not from fear.

From the realization that—for the first time—he might not win this.

—End of Chapter 43—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC44 44: This is my son

Noah stood over Elijah.

Not with glee. Not with satisfaction.

With silence.

His silver eyes—cold. Detached. Still.

Elijah writhed on the ground, a trembling mess of golden embers and ragged breaths. He couldn't rise. His limbs failed him. His spirit, fractured, screamed within his chest.

But Noah didn't move.

He stared, unblinking, like a god over a fallen idol.

He couldn't kill him. Not here. Not yet.

The Academy wouldn't allow it. The Goddess behind Elijah wouldn't allow it.

But even deeper than rules, Noah didn't want him dead.

That would be too quick. Too merciful.

No—Noah wanted Elijah to live.

To crawl.

To watch—powerless—as Noah rose above him.

He wanted Elijah to feel it. That humiliating, soul-crushing realization that he was no longer the center of the world's story. That he'd been dethroned, not by a villain… but by a better protagonist.

Petty? Maybe.

But Noah didn't care.

Not after everything.

When Elijah killed Noah's predecessor—killed him like it meant nothing—he didn't hesitate. No regret. No mercy. Just cold, mechanical execution. The world didn't flinch then. They celebrated. Called it righteous.

So now?

Why should he be the merciful one?

Would Elijah, if their roles were reversed?

No.

Noah's thoughts sharpened.

'I won't just defeat you. I'll crush you so thoroughly that even the thought of revenge will feel pointless. Hopeless. Empty.'

And this moment?

This was only the beginning.

Because now the world had seen it:

Elijah can bleed.

Elijah can fall.

The myth shattered—and the silence it had enforced crumbled with it.

All those who resented the golden boy, who whispered in backrooms and quiet corners, now had a symbol.

Noah Weaverheart.

He glanced down again. Elijah remained on his knees, gasping. Struggling. Ash scattered around him like broken wings.

He wouldn't heal quickly—not this time.

A wound to the soul wasn't like a cut or burn. It couldn't be patched with Phoenix fire. Not unless you knew how to rebuild yourself spiritually.

And Elijah wasn't ready for that kind of pain.

But Noah remembered.

He remembered the punch Elijah had landed earlier. The one that nearly shattered his ribs and rattled his organs.

So…

He raised a hand.

"Lightning," he whispered.

The sky obeyed.

A scream of thunder split the heavens. A silver-purple bolt tore down like divine judgment, cutting through clouds with predatory precision—

CRACK.

The lightning struck Elijah dead center.

Straight through his skull.

He didn't even scream.

He just… collapsed.

A hush fell over the arena.

Mouths hung open. People flinched. Some gasped audibly. A few even stepped back, as if the act might echo onto them.

"…Was that necessary?"

No one said it aloud.

But they all thought it.

Except one.

⸻

Far from the battlefield—hidden in the icy halls of the Weaverheart Estate, in her glacial throne chamber—Selene Weaverheart laughed.

Uncontrollably. Proudly.

Her cold eyes shimmered with something warm.

"That's my son."

Frost leaked from her skin, freezing the floor, creeping up the windows. She didn't notice. She didn't care. She was too entranced by the sight of her boy—standing above the world.

A smile touched her lips.

Perfect. Perfect.

On her lap, a large feline watched the scene through a floating projection. Luminara, in her cat form, licked her paw once.

Then paused.

Her tail flicked.

'Too good…'

'He's too good. What monster have you birthed, Selene?'

⸻

Across the continent, in the Imperial Palace, the Emperor trembled in his golden chair.

The room was silent.

Except for his heartbeat.

His fists clenched. He didn't know how to feel. Fury? Awe? Paranoia?

He couldn't decide.

Was Noah… better than Elijah?

That question haunted him.

But it didn't matter.

Because the world had already decided.

And beside him, dressed in shadowed elegance, Emily watched him without a word. Her green eyes glinted.

'Your time is numbered, Rome,'she said softly. 'Take your sweet time.'

The ripple spread like wildfire.

Nations paused.

Factions re-evaluated.

Noah hadn't just beaten Elijah. He had claimed something—stolen the narrative. Turned a battle into a performance.

Power for power.

Aura for aura.

But Noah had something Elijah didn't:

Tactical cruelty. Emotional control. The boldness to weaponize the stage.

…

And somewhere deep in the world—

In a ruined temple, buried in the demon continent, drenched in dried blood and forgotten prayers—

A shadow knelt before a shattered statue.

Bathed in gloom.

A glowing projection floated above the altar—replaying Noah's final blow. The lightning. The fall.

And then—

Light.

The statue pulsed. Not with mana, but divinity.

A melodic voice rang out, soft and terrifying.

"He is the one."

"Bring him to me."

Silence.

The kneeling figure coughed blood. The temple cracked overhead—one breath away from collapse.

They stood.

Her voice, when it came, was honeyed venom.

"How many do we have in the Academy?"

Another figure emerged from the shadows. Thin. Cloaked.

"Multiple. In the first year… two."

"Are they capable?"

"They are our best."

A sharp smile bloomed.

"Then tell them."

"Let them get close to Noah Weaverheart. Befriend him. Earn his trust."

She paused.

"Then bring him here."

"No matter what it takes."

The cloaked figure bowed.

"…Understood."

…

Back at the Arena…

Damon stepped forward.

His coat swirled behind him, his eyes sharp.

"The test is over," he declared.

The stadium listened. Not just because he was an instructor—but because no one dared speak after what they'd just seen.

"The top three will have the chance to choose their own mentors… and an audience with the Dean."

He paused, letting it sink in.

"The first two are already set."

"Noah. Elijah."

The names echoed.

The first, in awe. The second, in ruin.

"The rest?" Damon continued. "Settle it by agreement. Or battle again. We leave soon."

He raised a hand.

"Points earned during the tests are your only currency at the Academy. Spend wisely."

He gestured to the rankings screen floating above.

First place: 10,000 points.

Second: 5,000.

Third: 2,500.

Fourth through tenth: 1,000 each.

"Decide quickly."

And then, without waiting, he turned and walked away.

The weight of it all hung heavy in the air.

…

The world now knew Noah Weaverheart.

Some whispered.

Some watched.

Some started making moves to approach him—for good… or for blood.

It didn't matter.

He was on the stage now.

And as a player—

Didn't every player need their pieces?

Noah smirked, still standing at the center of the arena.

Unmoving. Unbothered.

'Dear Patricia… Aiden…'

He could feel them. Watching him. Waiting.

'How about I give you two a little hope? A taste of vengeance… against your sweet brother.'

His smirk darkened.

Not kind. Not noble.

Predatory.

—End of Chapter 44—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC45 45: The Winners

The rankings were in.

First place: Noah.

Second: Elijah.

Third: Sophie.

These three wouldn't just walk away with glory—they had earned the rare right to choose their own mentor and meet the Dean of Apex Academy. A privilege so coveted, most only dreamed of it. For many, this moment was the ultimate goal. For them—it was only the beginning.

The test was over. Spectators dispersed, their awe lingering in the air like static. Conversations bubbled with excitement, disbelief, even quiet jealousy. Life outside the arena resumed its pace, though the world itself felt subtly altered—plans rewritten, priorities shifted, all because of this one extraordinary event.

Noah now stood under the sunlight with his shadow finally returned to him… and his loyal beast, Neko, perched proudly on his shoulder. The feline's black fur shimmered faintly, like oil slick over velvet, and her purple eyes gleamed with contentment.

"You were amazing, Master," Ester said, voice brimming with admiration as she stepped beside him. Her black hair danced with the wind, eyes soft with pride.

"You're incredible, Noah," Neko added with a satisfied purr. Her tail flicked behind her, ever so smug.

The two beamed with pride, thrilled to see him triumph before the world, even against the so-called Chosen One. It was no small feat—it was the stuff of legends. Of whispered stories passed down in hushed tones among wide-eyed initiates.

Noah gave a soft smile. He was happy. They were back. Together. Whatever chaos lay ahead, it no longer felt quite as daunting.

"So," a voice chimed from behind, light with sarcasm. "What's it feel like to beat the Chosen One?"

He turned slightly. Sophie stood there, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on her lips and strands of wind-tousled hair framing her face. Her aura buzzed faintly, the residual energy from the final battle still clinging to her like a second skin.

He met her gaze with an easy confidence. "Refreshing," he replied. "Want to give it a shot? Might be your turn next."

She laughed, short and melodic. "Tempting."

There was an ease between them now—born not just from combat but from shared respect. Now they are getting closer. Sophie is accepting more and more Noah as her husband.

Just as Noah opened his mouth to fire back, another voice cut through the moment.

"We're moving out."

Damon's voice carried weight. He stood before the eighty victorious students, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd like a general surveying his troops. This year had been more brutal than most—and the monsters that emerged, even more unpredictable.

His gaze lingered on Elijah—still silent, still nursing his wounds—and then on Noah. These two… monsters in their own right, he thought. Unshackled potential.

He clapped once.

A brilliant magic circle in blue and white flared beneath their feet, pulsing with ancient light. Runes spiraled outward, delicate and fierce.

"We're heading to our realm. Ivor."

And in a flash of blinding radiance, they vanished.

…

They reappeared moments later in a breathtaking city of towering buildings, crystalline spires, and people clad in sharp blue-and-white uniforms. The ground shimmered faintly beneath them, alive with threads of magic. In the distance, massive gates opened and closed like lungs, breathing in the pulse of energy that ran through the city.

Yes, the academy was big enough to be considered as a city.

"This is Apex Academy," Damon said casually. "Not gonna waste time explaining everything. You'll figure it out."

Some students gasped quietly. Others looked around with barely-concealed awe. Every structure around them hummed with power. It was less an academy and more a sanctum—sacred, structured, surreal.

He pointed toward a large, ornate building that seemed to pierce the sky itself. Gold inlays ran across its marble surface like veins, and floating lanterns lit the path leading to its entrance.

"Rest up. Classes start tomorrow. Rules, orientation—all that comes then."

He turned to the top three.

"You three will meet the Dean first thing tomorrow. Your mentors—you'll pick them later when your schedules align."

He started walking away, then paused with a grin.

"Oh. And I'm one of your teachers. Weapon training. If you use weapons—or want to learn—report to me."

He vanished without fanfare, like a ghost shedding light.

The students looked around, murmuring among themselves. Some tried to process what they were seeing; others focused on what lay ahead. Most began drifting off to their assigned rooms—quietly, some limping, some still whispering about the final moments of the test.

Elijah said nothing and walked off with Elizabeth and Leona behind him. His expression unreadable. Not anger. Not defeat. Something else. Reflection? Calculation?

One by one, the others scattered—except for a few.

Yuki. Anya. And of course, Sophie—still firmly at Noah's side.

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you make it, Anya."

The petite, green-haired girl puffed out her chest. "Anya is strong," she said proudly, fists on her hips. Her bright green eyes sparkled with determination, the kind that didn't come from arrogance—but from having survived what others couldn't.

And Noah didn't doubt it. To make it into the final eighty out of thousands… she wasn't just lucky. She was lethal.

What's her talent system?

[Talent: Pulverization (SS Rank) – Anything she touches will be pulverized.]

His eyes widened slightly.

SS-rank? Seriously? Since when did this become common? Seriously this is going too far. And this kind of destructive power… that's insane.

I want it.

[Affection level: 60%]

[Note: She appreciates the tea you gave her during phase one of the first test. Finds you handsome. Wants to grow closer.]

Noah gave a thoughtful nod. 10% more? Easy.

"Well, congratulations, Anya."

She beamed. "You too, sir! You were so cool in that last fight. Like—like—BOOM! POW! So many lights and ice."

He chuckled. "Thanks."

Then he noticed Yuki. She hadn't moved. Her amber-orange eyes locked onto his silver ones—intense, unreadable. Not aggressive. Not admiring. Just… focused. The way a warrior appraises a sword they want to master.

Sophie smirked. "Why're you looking at my husband like that? Falling for him already?"

Her tone was playful, but Yuki didn't react. Her gaze didn't waver.

"Teach me," she said flatly. "What you did in our fight. I want to learn."

Sophie blinked. "Rude."

Noah chuckled internally. Classic Yuki. If it wasn't sword-related, nothing could faze her.

"I didn't learn that through technique," he said. "It was my aura."

"I'll still learn. Just explain the principle."

He tilted his head, intrigued. "And what's in it for me?"

She paused. Confused. She genuinely hadn't thought about that part.

She thought about what she could give him.

Her sword, her techniques… those were sacred. The legacy of her master. She couldn't trade them.

So what could she offer?

Yuki's expression twisted like someone trying to solve a complex equation with no formula. It was oddly adorable.

Noah watched her, amused. She really was like a blank page—isolated, a little broken, and easy to mislead.

But he wouldn't.

Instead—

"Alright," he said. "I'll teach you. But in exchange, I want your friendship."

Yuki blinked. Tilted her head.

Friendship?

The word echoed in her mind. Her master had mentioned it once—told her to find people she could trust. People who wouldn't abandon her when the swords were down and the war quieted.

Her expression softened. She nodded.

"Yes. Friendship."

Noah smiled.

How cute.

A gust of wind rolled through the academy.

Tomorrow, everything began anew.

—End of Chapter 45—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC46 46: Threads Of Power

Noah lay on the bed, arms spread across the soft sheets, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of his new room.

He was exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that seeped into the bones—where the mind buzzed even as the body screamed for rest. The adrenaline from the battles had faded, leaving behind the dull ache of overexerted muscles and the silent throb of lingering injuries. His body was in recovery. His mind, however, refused to stop.

The room was simple. Plain stone walls, a single window overlooking the outer fields of the Academy, a wooden desk, and a bed that creaked slightly when he moved. Compared to the opulence of his chambers back at the Weaverheart estate, this was nothing. Spartan. Impersonal. Almost sterile.

But it would do.

He exhaled slowly, letting the silence fill the room. His gaze drifted across the ceiling as his thoughts spiraled back to the final test—replaying every moment, every decision. He had learned things—unexpected, dangerous things.

Elizabeth…

He frowned.

Even with her talent partially sealed, it ranked SSS?

Madness.

That meant the original, unsealed version of her talent… was higher.

EX Unique Rank?

He sucked in a breath, the weight of the realization settling heavy in his chest.

The Akashic Records had claimed he was the first to possess a talent of that caliber in this worlds. So how did Elizabeth have it? Was it because the goddess had sealed her true potential, making the Akashic Records only register the diluted version?

And if her talent were fully unsealed before him gained the ultimate fusion talent…

He closed his eyes, thinking.

She'd have the Limitless title. A designation that even he had barely grasped the implications of. Limitless wasn't just a title. It was more than that.

And that, he knew, would be catastrophic.

He let out a slow, relieved sigh. "Good thing it's sealed. But what if I… unsealed it?"

His heart skipped.

And then shared it with me?

Goosebumps prickled his skin, and a chill raced down his spine.

What would the rank of an upgraded EX Unique ability look like?

There was no way to know. But one thing was certain—

"I want it. I need it."

The desire rooted deep in him, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Insistent. Addictive.

But there was a problem. A major one.

Elizabeth.

Stubborn. Loyal. Still tethered to that damn goddess… and Elijah.

'She needs Elijah', Noah thought, his mind already racing. 'Needs his presence to silence the whispers in her head. His aura keeps her sane. Stable.'

So then…

Separate her from Elijah.

Easy to say. Much harder to do. The bond between them wasn't just emotional—it was spiritual, anchored by divine interference. Severing it wouldn't be as simple as walking her away from him.

But maybe…

Maybe it didn't need to be severed. Just… strained.

His thoughts shifted like a storm cloud drifting toward an open flame.

Leona.

His silver eyes sharpened, cold and calculating.

Leona could pull Elijah's attention away. Distract him. Create distance. Slowly, subtly, drive Elizabeth mad with isolation. Just enough. Just long enough.

Yes.

But how?

'System,' he commanded silently. 'Show me Leona's profile.'

<< PROFILE >>

Name: Leona Tenebris

Age: 15

Race: Demon

Rank: A

Auras: Beastly Aura, Shapeshifter Aura

Titles: The True Shapeshifter, The Adaptive, Loved by Beasts

Affinities: Beast, Illusion, Transformation

Physique: None

Talents:

— Shapeshifter (SSS Rank)

— Supreme Beast Tamer (SS Rank)

<< END >>

Noah blinked.

Once. Twice.

"…What the actual hell?"

A demon.

With not just one, but two top-tier talents. One of them SSS rank. The rarest of the rare.

Another SSS rank talent holder ? This is crazy.

I am starting to believe only talents at EX Unique rank are worth having now.

I will find a way to elevate my Ice talent.

Noah thought

Then he shifted back to Leona's profile.

A shapeshifter—elusive by nature, impossible to pin down, and difficult to kill.

And not just any shapeshifter. The True Shapeshifter.

A demon that close to Elijah?

His lips curled into a grin. It started small—then widened, twisted, darkened.

"Of course. She's perfect."

It was almost laughable. As if fate itself was handing him tools, one after another, on a silver platter. It was so perfect it felt orchestrated.

He chuckled. Then laughed louder. The sound echoed off the stone walls—hollow, unhinged, hungry.

She was already ideal for his plan. Now, she was essential.

Noah leaned forward, sitting up on the edge of the bed, his fingers laced together beneath his chin.

She wouldn't expect him to find out. Shapeshifters survived by staying unnoticed, blending in. Most were harmless. Non-combatants.

But Leona was not harmless.

She was also loved by beasts.

That alone was dangerous. That alone made her a threat.

But it didn't matter.

He would use her.

All he needed was leverage—just enough to control her. To force her hand. Break her loyalty and bend it toward his purpose.

He didn't need her affection. Or respect. Or trust.

Just obedience.

"No love," he whispered to himself. "No support. No friendship."

"Just manipulation."

"Blackmail."

"Control."

"No mercy."

He grinned again, this time slower, colder.

"Leona, my sweet little demoness…"

"I was going to kill you. Or let Elizabeth do it."

"But you're far too useful for that."

Demon or not—if she served a purpose, she'd live.

And she would serve.

He would make sure of it.

He stood, walked to the small window, and stared out at the darkening sky above Apex Academy. Stars blinked faintly through the dusk. A sky full of power. And opportunity.

He whispered, voice like frost against steel—

"Let's make you mine."

…

Meanwhile, in another room across the vast academy halls, Elijah stood in front of a mirror.

His knuckles were white, fists clenched at his sides. His entire body trembled—not with fear, but fury.

He didn't speak. Couldn't.

The reflection staring back at him looked like a ghost of who he thought he was. Bloodied. Defeated. Shattered pride hidden behind clenched teeth.

He wanted to smash the mirror. Shatter it into dust.

Noah.

That arrogant bastard. Smiling like he owned the world.

Victorious.

Unshaken.

Elijah ground his teeth. The noise echoed faintly in the silence of his room. He wanted to tear him apart. Rip that smug expression off his face.

But deep inside, beneath the anger… he knew the truth.

He wasn't strong enough.

Not yet.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, dry and sharp.

"I guess the SS difficulty wasn't for show after all."

Then—

< You have taken your first setback as the Chosen One. >

< The Goddess watches you with love and concern. >

< You have been granted a portion of her divine power. >

< New Talent Acquired: Blade of the Gods (EX Unique Rank) >

< Rewards Granted for Progression Quest: >

— Soul Heal Potion

— Soul Protection Artifact

— Soul Strengthening Potion

— +50 Stat Points >

< Use them wisely. >

{Ding! Ding! Ding!}

{FANTASTIC!}

{A god-level being spoils you, a mere mortal.}

{New Title: The Goddess's Favorite}

Elijah stood frozen. He stared at the notifications, wide-eyed. Slowly, the tremor in his hands eased. Not because the fury had passed—but because something else had taken its place.

Power.

Divine, radiant power surged through his soul like wildfire. His wounds healed without a touch. His body burned with potential.

And in that moment, something inside him shifted.

A smile—genuine and awed—tugged at his lips.

"…You're amazing," he whispered. "Truly the best… my goddess."

He closed his eyes, the warmth of her presence coiling gently around his mind like a protective flame.

Let Noah laugh.

This wasn't over.

It was only the beginning.

—End of Chapter 46—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC47 47: Elira Varnis

Before a massive white door, Noah, Elijah, and Sophie stood in still, uneasy silence.

The air was tense—not from anything spoken, but from what awaited beyond.

They were about to meet The Dean of Apex Academy.

Noah's eyes shifted to Elijah. Narrowed.

Something was off.

The boy who had sulked in silence yesterday was now standing taller—eyes focused, posture sharp, even slightly smiling.

Too calm. Too confident.

What happened?

Noah frowned internally. No one shifts that fast without a reason. He must've received something. A blessing? A power-up?

Fucking protagonists. Walking plots twists. Always unpredictable. I need to move faster. Leona must be brought under control before he gets another lucky break.

Noah said nothing aloud, but his silence was loaded.

Elijah caught the look and smirked quietly to himself. Just wait, Noah. You're not ready for what's coming.

Before tension could break into words, a familiar voice sliced through the air.

"Well, you're on time. That's perfect."

Damon's voice echoed behind them. Smooth, relaxed… but there was weight behind it. The kind of presence that crushed without trying.

"The Dean has decided to meet each of you alone. You should be honored. She rarely bothers with students individually."

He paused, scanning their reactions.

"It means you're seen as worthy in her eyes."

Noah's heart ticked faster. He stepped forward as Damon turned to him.

"As first-ranked, you're up."

Noah gave a respectful nod and approached the door.

The moment he stepped through—it was like entering another world.

No. It was another world.

The Dean's office wasn't a room. It was a realm.

Everything was white.

The walls, the air, the ground… it wasn't simply colorless. It felt purified. Cleansed of distraction. Void of imperfection.

In the middle of the expanse, a lone table and a chair.

And there, seated with eerie calmness, was the Dean.

Her skin was pale. Her hair, white as snow. Even her eyes—completely white—lacked pupils or irises. A woman carved from moonlight.

What the hell is with all this white? Noah wondered before forcing himself to focus. This was not the time for stupid jokes.

He stepped forward and bowed with a firm voice. One that betrayed none of the nerves twisting inside him.

"I greet the Dean."

"At ease," she replied.

Her voice was like nothing he'd heard before. It echoed as if spoken by many—layered and vast—yet instead of unsettling, it felt… peaceful. Soothing.

But Noah didn't relax.

He couldn't.

He knew who he was facing.

For fifty chapters of the original novel, the Dean had remained a mystery. All that was known? She possessed mastery over space—on a level bordering divinity.

This realm? Likely created by her. Alone.

She gestured subtly, and the table between them shimmered.

"This meeting is your reward," she said. "For your ranking. For your talents."

"You may request something. If it's within my reach, I'll give it. If not, I'll offer something equivalent."

She paused.

"But…"

The atmosphere shifted. Pressure. Invisible yet immense.

"Do not overstep. I despise greed."

Noah stood still, calculating.

This was an opportunity. A rare one.

And he needed to make it count.

I need a backing. A strong one.

Mother's influence doesn't stretch here. In Apex, I'm alone. And if I plan to pull strings, manipulate power, and go to war with protagonists… I can't afford to remain alone.

What better choice than the Dean herself?

He smiled. Calm. Harmless.

"I want your support."

Silence.

No games. No twisting words. Just truth.

There was no point trying to manipulate someone like her.

The Dean tilted her head slightly.

"Did I not just warn you?"

The words carried no emotion—but the realm itself reacted. Reality pressed down on him. Like his very existence was being overwritten.

This… this isn't pressure.

This is suppression.

His memories, his confidence, even his name felt like they were crumbling.

His breath shortened.

His body screamed.

Death.

Not defeat.

Not injury.

True, soul-erasing death.

What the hell is this…?! he thought, instinctively unleashing his Aura of Limitlessness.

The pressure eased—just barely—but it was enough to remain conscious.

He stood straighter, refusing to bend.

First Damon. Now the Dean.

He was getting very tired of being tested by overwhelming forces.

But he didn't back down.

Not this time.

The Dean observed him silently, her eyes unreadable.

"Oh… is that your fourth aura?" she finally asked, voice curious. "Fascinating. And this one… this one is special."

She leaned forward.

"You're fifteen, correct?"

She smiled faintly.

"Let's test you properly."

"If you can endure my aura for one full hour without losing consciousness—I will give you my support."

Noah had no time to respond.

The pressure multiplied.

He dropped to his knees.

The floor cracked beneath him.

His vision blurred.

His consciousness bent under the weight of something ancient.

Across the room, the Dean—Elira Varnis—watched him. Still smiling.

Within her mind, voices echoed. Not one. Many.

'Are you sure about this?'

'This is too harsh. He's only a child.'

'Disciple, you risk too much.'

'Granddaughter, you can't take sides—not now. You know the rules.'

But Elira's expression didn't change.

'If he survives, I'll take him as my disciple.'

The voices fell silent.

Stunned.

'You can't mean that…'

'You understand what that means.'

'He has the talent,' Elira replied. 'Four auras by fifteen. One of them beyond what we've seen. Even our most gifted won't compare.'

She paused.

'If he can endure this… he has the will to match the talent. And that's what matters.'

'What about the Chosen One?' one voice whispered.

Elira's gaze didn't flicker.

'Let him be. He is the goddess's champion. His time will come. But this boy… this one is mine.'

The voices went quiet.

Uncertain. But unwilling to challenge her further.

Elira leaned back, flicking her finger once. Time shimmered.

One hour in this realm would be ten minutes outside.

She rested her chin on her hand, eyes on Noah as he shook under the pressure, every second a battle to remain conscious.

She didn't look cruel.

She looked… invested.

Come on, Noah…

Don't break.

Prove it to me.

Prove me you have what it takes to be my protégé.

—End of Chapter 47—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC48 48: The Heir Of White

While Elira Varnis calmly tested the boy before her, her mind split in multiple directions—half debating, half observing, but fully invested in the outcome.

But for Noah, this was no test.

It was a nightmare.

His very existence felt like it was being unraveled, crushed by an invisible force that gnawed at more than flesh. It clawed at his soul. At the essence of what made him real. Alive.

This is what it means to face someone who exists on a higher plane, he realized. This isn't strength. This is presence. Recognition by the universe itself.

And against that?

You don't fight. You endure.

This is too much, he thought, gritting his teeth. Every part of him—body, soul, mind—screamed in agony. It was as if his soul was being pulled apart, strand by strand, and there was nothing he could do but hold on.

He didn't scream. Didn't groan. Just clenched his jaw and endured.

His Aura of Limitlessness flared, wrapping around him in a wild dance of resistance.

But it wasn't enough.

So he released everything.

All his auras.

Instantly, the air shifted.

Lightning crackled across his shoulders.

Frost coiled at his feet like silver mist.

A presence of absolute sovereignty emerged—like a monarch entering his throne room.

His form blurred, fragmenting into echoes, as if reality struggled to contain him, to give him a proper shape.

Then came the Aura of Samsara—a whisper of life and death, a black-and-white river of eternal return that healed, soothed, and refused to break.

With all five auras in play, the tide began to turn.

Noah breathed.

Barely—but it was enough.

He stood up, back straight, silver eyes glowing. His expression unreadable, his presence impossible to ignore.

He didn't look human anymore.

He looked like something becoming.

Elira's white eyes widened.

"…Glorious!," she murmured.

She had expected talent. But this?

Not four auras. Five.

And one of them was a rare conceptual aura—life and death.

'Where did this boy come from?'she thought.

How can one so young wield so many rare affinities?

Her curiosity twisted into hunger.

She wanted him.

And she was satisfied.

"It's enough," she said softly.

The crushing pressure vanished in an instant.

Noah collapsed—not from pain, but from the sudden lack of resistance. He hit the ground hard, but forced himself up again just as fast. Shoulders squared. Jaw set.

Expression: unchanged.

Elira's smile curved.

Is he angry? How amusing.

She didn't address it.

"You still want my support?" she asked.

Noah's thoughts were still a little hazy, but one emotion burned clear: annoyance.

'I swear, if I ever get strong enough, I'll return the favor and drop a goddamn realm on her head…'

But he swallowed the thought quickly. If she could crush him with pressure, she could probably hear his curses mid-thought.

"Yes," he said evenly.

Elira smirked—a flawless, regal expression.

"Then become my disciple. My heir."

Noah blinked, momentarily thrown off.

He frowned. "I'm already the Heir of the Weaverheart. That's my mother's legacy. I'm not abandoning it."

Elira waved a pale hand lazily. "I'm not asking you to. I'm telling you to add mine alongside it. I don't need you to rule over land or people. I only ask that you inherit my legacy. My knowledge. My techniques."

Noah stared at her for a beat.

"…Are you dying or something?" he blurted out.

Silence.

Elira looked at him blankly.

Noah coughed. "I—uh—sorry."

She shook her head faintly. "No need to apologize. And no, I'm far from death. This isn't about mortality. It's about continuity. Someone must carry the flame."

She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with intensity.

"If you accept, I'll give you my full support. You'll be untouchable in this academy—as long as you know what you are doing. Do whatever you like. No one will stop you, even if they know you're the cause."

"I'll provide information, resources, protection."

"All I ask is that you grow stronger, master what I teach you, and—" she paused, "—retrieve something for me."

Noah's expression hardened. "What kind of something?"

"There is a realm," Elira said. "It will appear near the Elf Continent at the end of this semester. It only allows A-rank beings and below."

"I want you to go there. Enter it. And bring back what I seek."

Noah was silent.

Of course there's a catch.

"Will it be dangerous?"

"Extremely," she said without flinching.

"Will I go alone?"

"No. The top ten students of the first semester will enter. It's a chance for young talents to forge themselves—and fight for their fortunes."

So Elijah will be there too, Noah thought, eyes narrowing.

Still, it was a simple decision.

A powerful backer. Unlimited support. And training from a being this absurdly strong?

He straightened.

"I accept."

He bowed slightly, respectfully.

"I greet you, Master."

Elira smiled.

"Elira Varnis," she said. "That is my name. Remember it."

…

A moment later, Noah reappeared outside the door, fully healed, body restored—courtesy of his new Master.

Sophie and Elijah were waiting.

Without a word, Elijah stepped forward and entered the realm next.

Sophie turned to Noah, curious. "Did you get something useful in there?"

Noah smiled, stepping forward.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close—careful, but intentional. He was starting to enjoy holding her a little too much.

Sophie didn't resist. She just returned the embrace—growing more used to it with each passing day.

"I got more than I expected," he whispered. "Something useful… and something life-changing, dear wife."

She hummed, not pushing further.

Then, after a pause: "What would you suggest I ask for?"

Noah smiled lightly. He loved that she trusted him. Loved that she leaned on him more and more.

"Ask for skills," he said. "Lightning-based. Both physical enhancement types and mana-manipulation ones."

"You created your red lightning through your talent. With more foundation, you'll evolve it further. It's time to use your talent properly."

He looked into her eyes, voice softer.

"If you struggle, tell me. I'll help you. Always."

Sophie nodded, a faint blush rising—but she didn't look away.

Then silence fell between them.

A warm, comfortable silence.

From a distance, Damon watched with a sigh and muttered to himself.

"Goddamn lovebirds… Can't you flirt somewhere else?"

—End of Chapter 48—

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HAREM STEALER: REBORN WITH THE GOD-TIER SHARING SYSTEMC49 49: Claws in the Shadows

"I'm happy to have you all here."

The voice was strong—firm without being cold. A woman stood before the class of twenty, tall and broad-shouldered, every inch of her body honed like a weapon. Muscular without being bulky. Toned yet graceful.

She radiated discipline.

This was Asta Rommel, the lead instructor for the first-year Special Class.

The elite.

Most of the students kept their gazes respectful, though a few couldn't help a glance or two at her sculpted form.

Well—except for one.

"Wow…" Elijah muttered under his breath, eyes trailing up and down without shame.

Leona, seated beside him, smirked. "Want to add her to your collection too, Elijah?"

She spoke low—only loud enough for Elijah and Elizabeth, who sat nearby in silence, to hear.

Elijah blinked. "I mean… she is a teacher, y'know."

Leona rolled her eyes. "So? You're the Chosen One. You think rules apply to you now?"

He chuckled awkwardly, but said nothing. She wasn't wrong. Ever since the Academy opened, he'd noticed the way people turned to stare. Dozens of girls. Fawning. Whispers on the Academic Street.

Still… there was someone else getting stares.

Noah.

People had seen the duel. Had seen him win.

Whispers were already growing. Not just about power—but about allegiances. Students were starting to gather behind both of them.

This was no longer just Noah vs Elijah.

It was about to become a battle of factions.

⸻

Asta surveyed her class. Twenty students. Twenty of the highest-ranked new arrivals. Raw potential.

Her sharp gaze passed over them—then paused briefly on Noah.

His silver eyes met hers, neutral, unreadable. Cool. Almost cold.

So that's him…

She turned to Elijah. Ah. That look.

She recognized it instantly, even when masked. Lust. The boy could pretend all he wanted—she'd seen that kind of hunger too many times to miss it.

The Hero is a slave to his urges? What a waste.

She shook her head and stepped forward.

"You are the elite," she said clearly. "Top of the entrance trials. As such, you are given privileges: advanced dormitories, private training grounds, monthly merit point distributions, full food access, and higher-tier access to the library."

"But don't let it go to your heads. These privileges aren't permanent."

Her tone sharpened like a blade. "Any of you can be challenged at any time. If you lose, your spot in this class is forfeit. Whether it's another elite, or a regular student who wants in—your place must be earned. Constantly."

Some students shifted uncomfortably.

"Elites don't rest," Asta continued. "And neither will your enemies or rather your concurrents."

She folded her arms. "Now, this academy is full of factions. The two biggest are the Student Council and the Goddess's Followers. I won't waste time explaining them—if you're interested, go to their HQs and pass their entry tests."

"As for creating your own faction? You'll need followers, logistics, and more. Go do your research. I'm not your babysitter."

She paused.

"The first semester lasts four months. You'll be tested on knowledge and combat both."

"You will have to clear 5 missions in the mission center of the academy. The missions can be anything and you can do it alone or with groups."

"Not doing the five missions is an automatic fail."

"And for you, if you fail even one mission you will go down."

"So you have 4 months to do these missions."

"The other class will also be able to challenge you for your seat after one month. "

A beat of silence.

"And my class? Hand-to-hand combat."

She turned toward the door.

"Get up. We're heading to the training field."

"YES! FINALLY!" a voice rang out.

Rouge, of course. Already on her feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

Malrik, the unfortunate soul at her side, groaned. "You just fought like, yesterday…"

Rouge tilted her head at him. "And?"

Malrik exhaled deeply. Why did I think befriending her was a good idea?

Too late now.

He'd signed up for daily battles, apparently.

Asta, watching the two, smiled faintly. She liked Rouge already.

"Let's move."

…

Meanwhile, Noah hadn't paid attention to a single word of Asta's speech.

His eyes were open, but his mind was already moving three steps ahead. He didn't care about hand-to-hand combat. That wasn't his style. What mattered was information—and the right pieces on the board.

His gaze landed on Leona, the clingy girl stuck to Elijah like a shadow.

Will this actually work? he wondered.

It had to.

And even if it didn't…

I have my master now.

His eyes flicked downward, and his thoughts echoed in the quiet space between shadows.

'Ester.'

The voice that replied came instantly. Calm. Loyal.

'Yes, Master?'

'Go. Attach yourself to Leona's shadow. I want you on her at all times today. Don't let her notice you. Use your aura at the fullest.'

'Understood.'

She disappeared instantly, melting into the floor like she was never there.

A breath later, another voice chimed in—this one with a slight pout.

'What about me?'

'Hmm?'

'Me, Noah. Neko. Your cute, loyal, incredibly powerful beast. Feeling a little left out here.'

Noah grinned to himself. 'Right. I've got a mission for you too, my adorable weapon of mass distraction.'

Neko's ears perked up.

'There's a girl in the second year. She loves cats. Deeply. She's got a tragic past, all gray skies and demon blood. Perfect target.'

He locked eyes with the little creature, serious now.

'You're going to worm your way into her heart. Be as cute as possible. Purr, meow, roll around. Whatever it takes.'

'Infiltration… through affection?'

'Exactly. Think of it as acting. You've got talent, right? Now go prove it.'

'Be my wingman.'

Neko tilted her head. 'But what's a wingman?'

Noah blinked. Right. Different world.

'Just be helpful, okay? Leave the vocabulary lessons for later.'

Neko huffed, her tail flicking in mock annoyance, but still leapt off to fulfill her mission.

…

In a quiet room, far from the noise of the academy, Leona Beastfang let out a long, exhausted sigh.

Or rather—Leona Tenebris.

Here, alone, she didn't wear the fake smiles. The performative energy.

She was herself. Calm. Cold. Collected.

"Gods, that boy is exhausting…" she muttered.

She thought of Elijah. The Chosen One. Powerful—no denying that—but gods, was he lustful.

But she sensed something today…he was getting stronger. She'd felt it. A new kind of power.

"And he was already a monster yesterday," she growled. "Yesterday he was already a monster. And today ? He is stronger again ?Madness."

But then—

A flicker of purple hair. A calm gaze. Silver eyes like glaciers.

Noah.

"What kind of beast are you, Noah Weaverheart? No reports. No records. Where the hell did you even come from?"

Only the Chosen One was supposed to matter. That was the prophecy. That was the design.

And yet…

"Stronger than the chosen one…what kind of obscene monster are you ?"

Just as her mind circled around those thoughts—

A voice.

Smooth. Playful. Unbothered.

"Really? I'm that much of a monster to you?"

Leona froze.

The voice came from inside the room.

"And what about you, Leona Tenebris?" the voice continued. "A demon pretending to be a girl with a crush? That's… bold."

Her blood turned to ice.

She turned her head slowly—very slowly.

And there he was.

Noah Weaverheart.

Sitting on her windowsill like a phantom, arms crossed, silver eyes glinting with amusement.

"Hi Leona. It seems it's our first meeting."

—End of chapter 49—

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