God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 863

Chapter 863: You’re…Me?
Kafka’s heart skipped.

The gods around him bowed their heads, silent in reverence, as though witnessing prophecy unfold.

Meanwhile, Vanitas herself, the announcer of the new was still frozen in midair.

For several long moments, the normally composed, haughty goddess looked utterly lost, her eyes darting between her son and the tree that was still cycling through death and rebirth.

Then, as the realization sank in—what she had said, what she had just recognized—her body trembled.

A spark of disbelief turned into an uncontrollable rush of emotion.

“My son…My son…” She whispered, almost breathless, her voice rising with every repetition. “My son—a True Sovereign of Life and Death—oh my god…oh my god!”

Her eyes lit up with feverish joy as she clasped her hands together.

“Do you understand what this means?! My baby boy…just like me! A true sovereign! And not just any sovereign, but a natural-born one—one who doesn’t even need to ascend, doesn’t need to fight, doesn’t need to bleed for it—one chosen by destiny itself to stand above all!”

She couldn’t contain herself anymore.

With a cry that was half laughter, half awe, Vanitas launched forward and wrapped Kafka in a crushing embrace, spinning him up into the air with her.

Kafka yelped, startled. “M-Mom—wait, what are you—”

“My baby boy!” She practically sang, lifting him higher as if to show him off to the entire heavens. “My beautiful son! My perfect son! I’m so proud of you, do you hear me? So proud! My heart could burst!”

Kafka blinked, face red as his mother peppered kisses all over his face and hair, laughing and crying at the same time as she twirled with him among the clouds.

“Mom! Calm down! Please!”

He hissed, trying to free himself as the other gods and their daughters stared up at the spectacle in open-mouthed astonishment.

“Everyone’s watching you right now! You’re losing your image! You’re supposed to be the ruler of the universe, not—”

“I don’t care!” Vanitas cut in, still smiling so wide it almost looked painful. “Let them watch! Let everyone watch! My son has surpassed every divine being in existence! Why shouldn’t I celebrate?!”

She held him closer, nuzzling his cheek.

“I love you so much, Kafka! You’ve made your mother the happiest mother in all creation!”

Down below, the gods and their daughters stared in stunned silence—until one goddess suddenly broke away from the crowd.

Her expression was resolute, her movements decisive. She was holding her daughter’s hand as she ascended toward Vanitas and Kafka.

“Lady Vanitas!” She called, voice trembling with both awe and determination. “Please—Please, hear my request!”

Vanitas blinked, pausing mid-spin, still holding Kafka under her arm like a prized trophy.

“Hm? And who might you be?”

The goddess stopped a few feet away and bowed deeply.

“I am the God of Victory, Ulsa!”

She said quickly, and with both hands, she lifted her daughter, a beautiful young demi-god with bright eyes and flushed cheeks forward.

“This is my daughter, Mavis! Please, take her! She will be the perfect wife for your son. She’s obedient, graceful, pure-hearted, she’ll serve him with her life! I beg you!”

Vanitas blinked, momentarily stunned by the audacity.

Kafka, still dangling from her grasp, looked equally speechless.

But before either could respond—

“I second that!” Another goddess shouted, rushing forward with her own daughter in tow. “My daughter’s a fine cook and healer! P-Please, Lady Vanitas, accept her as well!”

And then another.

“Lady Vanitas! This is my daughter Estelle! She’s gentle, skilled in divine arts, and absolutely loyal—she’ll make a perfect wife!”

And another.

“Please, please! Take mine instead! She can sing, craft celestial silk and has wide hips perfect for children!”

And just like that, in a matter of seconds, the sky erupted into chaos.

A swarm of women rose from the ground, each holding their daughters as if offering them to an altar.

“Please, take mine!” Cried the God of Frost. “She may not be as graceful as the others, but she’s diligent and loyal! She’ll do anything your son asks!”

“I don’t even want mine to be his wife!” Shouted another. “A concubine would be fine! Or a servant! Anything, please, just let her stay by his side!”

“Mine too! She can clean! She can fold clothes! She can polish shoes!”

Soon, dozens of voices overlapped, pleading, bargaining, and shouting over one another.

The sky above the Tree of Origin was filled with shimmering colors from all the divine auras clashing in desperation as goddesses thrust their daughters forward, each trying to outshine the last.

Even the host of this event, Aurelia held up her baby saying,

“Just a few more years and my daughter will be the most beautiful lady in existence! Please consider her as well!”

Kafka could only stare in disbelief as the sea of deities closed in around them.

“Mom…Mom, what is happening right now?”

Vanitas mouth twitched into a wide, smug grin as she looked around at the chaos.

“What’s happening…” She said proudly, pulling her son close again. “…is that the universe has finally realized what I’ve known since the day you were born.”

“That my son isn’t just special…he’s destiny’s masterpiece.” She smirked, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement as the gods practically fought below her.

“Mom, please don’t say that out loud.” Kafka groaned softly, running a hand down his face.

But Vanitas only laughed harder, lifting him higher still as the gods below continued to shout and plead for their daughters futures.

But just as she was enjoying everyone fighting over her son and was thinking of watching as this turned into a full on wae…she noticed something in the distance.

She turned, and in the distance, beyond the glimmer of crowd…stood Evangeline.

The Godd of Order watched her without speaking, her expression calm but her gaze heavy with meaning.

Seeing her, Vanitas froze and the joy that had filled her moments ago drained from her eyes, replaced by a growing, quiet dread.

She knew exactly what that look meant.

The time had come.

For a long, still moment, neither spoke. Then, with a slow exhale, Vanitas smile dimmed into something bittersweet.

“Applications for my son’s wives, concubines, or servants…” She said, forcing a faint smirk as she looked down at the gathered gods. “…can be submitted later. For now…” She turned her head toward Kafka, her voice softening. “…my son and I have something far more important to do.”

And in an instant, before anyone could react, the two vanished—leaving behind a chorus of disappointed sighs from gods and daughters alike.

Evangeline, too, disappeared a heartbeat later.

—

When Kafka’s vision cleared, he found himself standing in a place that looked like it had been taken straight from a dream.

They were in an expansive celestial garden, bathed in soft silver moonlight.

The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers—violets, lilies, and pale gold roses whose petals shimmered faintly under the starlight. Dozens of delicate streams wound through the garden, their water glowing faintly as if reflecting the heavens above.

It was night in the heavenly realm, yet the scene was brighter than day—illuminated by several moons of varying size and hue that floated across the endless sky, casting everything in a gentle radiance.

“Oh, thank god.” Kafka said, collapsing onto a white stone bench. “That was way too close. If we’d stayed even one more minute, I swear those goddesses would’ve eaten me alive.”

Vanitas chuckled softly, while patting his head. “Oh, darling, you exaggerate.”

“Exaggerate?” He gave her a look. “You didn’t see the way some of them were looking at me. I’ve seen wolves with less hunger in their eyes.”

“Well, that’s only natural.” Vanitas laughed lightly “You’re destined to be a True Sovereign, Kafka. Every creature in this universe—god, mortal, or something in between—will want even the tiniest piece of your destiny. It’s only expected.”

He slumped slightly, groaning.

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a curse…” He looked around, taking in the garden again. “Anyway, what is this place? It’s…really beautiful. Peaceful, even.”

Vanitas smiled faintly, her expression softening.

“This is Diavalo’s Garden. It’s my sanctuary. A place I come to when I need peace, when my thoughts are too heavy or my heart feels burdened.”

Her gaze drifted upward toward the luminous sky.

“Whenever I was troubled…especially about you, about the mistakes I made…I came here to think. To speak aloud my thoughts, as if the stars themselves were listening.”

Kafka blinked, surprised by the rare vulnerability in her voice.

“What, like a divine confession booth?” He teased gently. “So what now, Mom? You gonna confess something important? Something you’ve been hiding?”

He expected her to roll her eyes or laugh.

But she didn’t.

Instead, Vanitas went still.

Her violet eyes dimmed slightly, and the faint smile she wore disappeared.

When she finally turned toward him, her face was serious, somber, even.

“Kafka…” She said quietly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Hearing the seriousness in her voice, the light feeling in his chest vanished.

He straightened, feeling a sudden tightness in his stomach.

“Something to tell me?”

She nodded slowly.

“It’s something I’ve been hesitating to say for a long time. Something I’m…ashamed of. But it’s also something I thought was necessary for us to live a peaceful life. And I just…I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Kafka blinked.

His mother, the unstoppable, untouchable Lady Vanitas, hesitating?

That was new…The last time he saw her like this was when they reunited.

“I’ve been debating for ages whether to tell you the truth, or to keep it from you forever.” Her voice softened further. “I didn’t want you to think badly of me, or to burden you with something you didn’t need to know.”

“But after today…after seeing what you’ve become, what you will become…I realized you’re no longer the little boy I left behind. You’re someone who deserves to know everything.”

“Mom, you’re…really scaring me right now.” He tried to smile, but it came out strained. “What’s going on? Haven’t we already…y’know, cleared the air about the whole abandonment thing? What else is there?”

Vanitas didn’t answer right away.

She simply stood there, staring at him in the glow of the moonlight—her face torn between pride, guilt, and something deeper, heavier.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but steady.

“No, Kafka.” She said. “This isn’t about the past we’ve already spoken of. This is about something much unsightly…something that’s been hidden from you since I know how much you would hate it.”

Vanitas’ voice trembled slightly as she stared into her son’s eyes.

“Kafka…what I’m going to say to you is something that will shake everything you believe. It’s…shocking, even for you. You’ll probably think it’s a lie or a trick.”

“But I need you to stay calm, alright? Don’t panic, no matter what I show you. Just take it in slowly. I’ll explain everything, piece by piece.”

Her tone was unusually gentle, almost pleading.

Kafka, though trying to play it cool, couldn’t hide the tension in his shoulders. He gave a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mom, why are you acting like that? You’re scaring me with all this buildup. What is it, some deep dark secret? Are you about to tell me you secretly have a twin or something?”

But Vanitas didn’t laugh. She only exhaled deeply through her nose and murmured,

“No…it’s better if I just show you.”

Kafka blinked, confused.

“Show me? What are you—”

Before he could finish, Vanitas turned her head to the side, her gaze fixed on a seemingly empty corner of the moonlit garden.

Her voice shifted into something commanding, reverberating slightly with divine authority.

“You can come out now.”

Kafka frowned, following her gaze, but there was nothing there.

For a few seconds, he thought his mother had finally lost her mind.

But then…the air shimmered.

A faint ripple passed through space, like heat distortion bending the moonlight—and suddenly, out of nowhere, a figure appeared.

Someone stepped forward.

At first, he thought it was just another god or a conjured illusion.

But as the figure solidified, the familiarity of it struck him right in the face.

His body felt numb, his mind spinning as if reality had just cracked open in front of him.

The same dark hair.

The same eyes.

The same casual grin.

It was him.

It was himself.

An exact copy, standing confidently beside Vanitas, like some surreal reflection that had stepped out of a mirror and taken a life of its own.