God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 861

Chapter 861: Why Isn’t It Affecting Me?!
Meanwhile, Kafka was like a deer in headlights.

Not a single word formed in his throat. His hands hovered uncertainly in front of him, caught between confusion and the instinct to run.

The goddess closest to him, a tall, proud warrior-deity with a crown of antlers and armor, dropped her sword and staggered toward him on shaking legs.

Her eyes, usually sharp and piercing, were now half-lidded and smoldering. She didn’t speak, just moaned softly and pressed her thighs together, her hips rolling forward in slow, involuntary thrusts.

Her hand slipped beneath the slit in her skirt, fingertips working fast and relentless over soaked silk.

“Hnnn!♡~ Huaghh!♡~ Lord Kafkaa!♡~Help me, please!♡~”

He immediately backed up.

“Nope. Nope. Nope-nope-nope.”

He didn’t need anyone to explain what had happened. He knew.

Somehow, the incarnation of Lust that slept within him had awakened, its essence had reacted with the sacred tree, turning its energy into something else entirely.

And those glowing pink sparkles drifting through the air weren’t just some ethereal ornament or light show—they were an aphrodisiac.

Everywhere he looked—gods and demigods were succumbing to it.

Some even began staggering toward him, their gazes locked on Kafka as if drawn by an invisible thread.

He froze. His entire body tensed, his mind screaming.

This is bad. This is so, so bad.

This was supposed to be a celebration. A ceremony of birth and tradition. And somehow, he had turned it into…whatever this was.

He felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck, and his heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear himself think.

There was only one person he could turn to now.

He looked back toward his mother, his savior, his protector, the one who could fix anything.

“Mom!” He began, his voice wavering. “W-What’s going on? Can you help out or something? This is, this is—”

But when he turned fully toward her, his words died in his throat.

Because Vanitas, his all-powerful, all-knowing, utterly impossible mother, was standing there with the biggest grin on her face.

Her eyes sparkled brighter than the pink fragments swirling around them, and her entire expression screamed uncontainable delight.

“Mom, why are you smiling right now?!” Kafka exclaimed, his voice half-shock, half-desperation. “This is not the moment to be smiling!”

Vanitas turned toward him slowly, her grin only growing wider.

“Why shouldn’t I smile? This is amazing, Kafka!” She said, spreading her arms dramatically. “Do you even realize what’s happening here?”

“Somehow, your potential has manifested in a way no being, mortal or divine, has ever achieved! This is a once-in-a-universal phenomenon! You’ve done something even I couldn’t have imagined!”

“Wait—what?”

She started pacing in excitement, hair shimmering with light as she gestured wildly.

“This…This isn’t just power, Kafka! This is proof that your essence, your divine soul, is strong enough to influence true gods! Look at them! Every single one of them is under your sway!”

“It’s not just mortals who are affected, these are the same beings who could level galaxies if they wished! And they’re powerless before you!”

Kafka looked around helplessly as another goddess moaned, her divine aura flickering like fire.

“Yeah, Mom, they’re definitely powerless—so can we maybe do something about it—before they lose what’s left of their dignity?”

But Vanitas wasn’t listening. She was laughing now, loud, proud, and absolutely delighted.

“My son!” She cried, clutching her chest dramatically. “My wonderful, magnificent son! You’ve achieved the impossible! Oh, I knew you’d be special, but this, this is glorious! You’ve turned an entire pantheon into quivering mortals with a single drop of blood! You truly are my child!”

Kafka buried his face in his hands. “Please stop saying that like it’s a good thing!”

But she didn’t stop. She spun in place, still laughing.

“Do you realize what this means? Even as you are now, you’re strong enough to contest with gods themselves! Oh, I’m so proud!”

Then, suddenly, she stopped.

Her laughter cut short. Her smile faltered.

She blinked once, then twice, her expression freezing in confusion.

“…Wait.”

Kafka slowly lowered his hands, wary.

“…What’s wrong?”

Vanitas lifted her hand, staring at the pink sparkles still drifting through the air. They shimmered against her skin, sliding down her arm, glimmering faintly before fading away. She frowned.

“Hold on a minute…” She muttered, brushing one off her sleeve. “These sparkles, this energy, it’s touching me too. It’s all over me.”

She looked down at her hands, then at her dress.

“But why am I not…reacting?”

Kafka blinked. “Uh, Mom—”

Vanitas’ eyes narrowed, indignation rising.

“That’s not fair;” She said sharply, pouting like a child. “It’s not fair at all! I want to experience my son’s blessing too!”

“Mom, what?” Kafka’s voice cracked in disbelief.

“It’s my son’s heavenly power!” She went on, stamping her foot in frustration. “If anyone deserves to feel it—it’s me! Why should they get to enjoy it and not me?!”

Before he could stop her, she began floating upward, spinning in the air, gathering the pink sparkles in her hands and pressing them against her skin and face like she was trying to absorb them.

“Come on, come on…” She muttered desperately. “Do something!”

But nothing happened.

No warmth, no dizziness, no divine reaction. The sparkles simply dissolved harmlessly.

Her face turned pale with horror, her eyes wide.

“This…this can’t be…Why am I the only one unaffected? Why am I the only one left out of my son’s blessing?”

Kafka pressed a palm against his forehead.

“Mom…please stop being ridiculous and fix this!”

Vanitas paused midair, pouting deeply.

“Oh, who cares, Kafka? They’re all true gods, and yet they can’t even handle something as simple as this? Honestly, it’s pathetic.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head smugly. “Maybe this will humble them a little.”

Kafka’s exasperation boiled over. “Mom!”

That single word made her flinch. She sighed heavily, floating back down to the ground.

“Fine, fine. You don’t have to look at me like that, dear.” She said, waving her hand dramatically. “I’ll fix it…Honestly, you’re no fun sometimes.”

She made a slow, graceful motion with her fingers, and instantly, the pink sparkles vanished, dissolving into the air as if they had never existed.

Then, with another wave of her hand, a ripple of blue energy surged through the garden.

The lingering warmth and chaos faded, replaced by cool clarity and calm.

All around them, the gods and demi-gods gasped in relief.

The strange heat in their bodies evaporated like morning mist, leaving them panting and wide-eyed, some clutching their chests in disbelief.

Whispers began to spread among them like wildfire.

“What was that…?”

“I’ve never felt anything like it…”

“Was that…his doing?”

“That wasn’t holy energy, that was something else entirely…”

Kafka stood frozen in the middle of it all, his cut finger still stinging faintly. His heart pounded as dozens of divine gazes turned toward him, some in awe, some in fear, and some in…something else.

Seeing their dazed expressions, Kafka’s chest tightened with guilt. He took a hesitant step forward, bowing his head slightly.

“I-I’m really sorry.” He began, bowing his head deeply. “Everyone, please forgive me. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I didn’t even know it could happen. I swear, I didn’t intend to cause trouble or make anyone uncomfortable.”

His voice came out earnest, his expression open and apologetic as he finally muttered,

“It just…happened. I’m really, really sorry.”

The gods exchanged surprised looks, while Vanitas groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Kafka.” She muttered. “There’s no need to apologize! You didn’t do anything wrong. Even if you had, it’s not like any of them have the right to complain.”

“…This was my fault anyway, I should’ve expected something grand from you.” She flicked her wrist dismissively, but Kafka’s sincerity didn’t falter.

He smiled faintly, still embarrassed.

“Even so, Mom, I—”

“Stop that.” She cut him off, poking his shoulder. “No apologizing. None. You’re my son. You don’t need to bow your head to anyone.”

“Mom!” Kafka hissed under his breath.

But before he could say more, several of the goddesses spoke up, their voices overlapping.

“There really is no need to apologize, young one.” Said Amora, still fanning herself with a leaf of the divine tree. “Truly, it wasn’t unpleasant at all…”

She trailed off, cheeks coloring faintly.

Wisteria nodded slowly beside her.

“Honestly, it felt rather…good.” She admitted, drawing quiet gasps from the others. “Strange, but…it was like warmth spreading through my whole being.”

Another goddess laughed softly, brushing pink dust from her shoulder.

“It was shameless, yes.” She said. “But…we haven’t felt anything so alive in ages.”

Their murmurs spread, soft and scandalous.

One admitted that she hadn’t felt that much emotion ever; another whispered to her daughter that the sensation was oddly rejuvenating, almost addictive.

Soon, the air filled not with shame or anger—but quiet, curious awe.

Kafka blinked, speechless. This was not the reaction he’d expected. He’d braced for scolding, for cold stares and divine fury.

Instead…they were smiling. Blushing, even.

And worse, staring at him.

Their gazes turned warmer, more focused. Admiring. Appraising. The kind of look that made him take an unconscious step back.

He could feel it, each goddess’s eyes tracing over him, studying the mortal-born demigod who’d just turned the heavens upside down with a single drop of blood.

“What would happen…” One whispered to another, her voice trembling with curiosity. “…if he were the one to channel that power directly?”

Another giggled, her eyes shimmering. “Just one spark made me tremble like that…I can’t even imagine if he—”

Kafka froze, face burning.

“O-Okay, this is getting weird—”

Before the whispers could grow any louder, a low hum filled the air, a resonant tone that rippled through the ground like thunder.

It wasn’t loud, but it carried an unmistakable weight, one that made every goddess in the clearing stiffen.

The sound came from Vanitas.

Her golden aura flared faintly, wrapping around Kafka like a shield, and every god present felt it, a warning.

Without a single word, the meaning was clear:

He’s mine. Watch your thoughts.

A chill spread through the crowd. The playful warmth vanished in an instant, replaced by nervous laughter and awkward coughs as the goddesses averted their eyes.

Still, even as they looked away, their gazes flicked back toward Kafka every few seconds, drawn to him despite themselves, unable to unsee what they’d just felt.