God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 866

Chapter 866: You’re Pathetic
His stride was confident, almost arrogantly so.

A sharp grin stretched across his face as he looked down at the real Kafka, who stood pale and silent like a broken doll.

“What a joke.” He said softly, his voice laced with malice.

Kafka’s head lifted slightly, his empty eyes flicking toward him.

“What an absolute joke you are.” The other Kafka chuckled darkly and continued to degrade Kafka. “You’re supposed to be the real one, aren’t you? The original, the true Kafka. And I’m the fake—the copy, the mistake created just for your trial. And yet…”

He tilted his head, his grin widening.

“Look at you…You’re pitiful.”

He took another step closer.

“You can’t even handle the truth without falling apart. You’re trembling like a child. Honestly, I expected better.”

Kafka’s hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palm, while the other him went on mercilessly.

“Here your mother is, trying to save you. Doing everything she can to protect you—even sacrificing her own sanity for you. And you stand here, throwing a tantrum because you can’t accept it.”

“You’re too selfish to see it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Kafka whispered.

But the other only laughed.

“She’s doing this for you, you fool! For your sake! And yet you whine about fakes and replacements…How pathetic is that!?”

Vanitas tried to speak again, but he silenced her with a glance before turning his mocking gaze back to the real Kafka.

“Even your mother has accepted me—so why can’t you? She’s happy now. Isn’t that what matters? Isn’t your mother’s happiness important to you?”

His grin widened cruelly.

“Or do you just want to keep her miserable because you can’t stand sharing her love with anyone else?”

That was it.

The air around them suddenly shifted.

The stars themselves seemed to dim.

The garden grew eerily silent, save for the faint hum of power that began to vibrate in the air.

Kafka didn’t move. He didn’t shout, didn’t lash out. He didn’t even blink.

But something changed.

The temperature dropped.

The world grew silent.

And then, ever so slowly, Kafka lifted his head.

His expression was calm. Too calm. His eyes, once a warm black, had darkened—no, hollowed.

They were voids now, deep as the abyss, swallowing the starlight around him.

Even Vanitas shivered, never having seeing something so terrifying.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was so cold it seemed to drain the color from the world itself.

“You know…” Kafka murmured, his tone icy. “For the longest time…I actually felt sorry for you.”

The other him stiffened.

“I stole your life.” Kafka continued quietly. “Your family. Your place in this world. And even now, I can admit it, I did feel guilty about that. I pitied you.”

He took a slow step forward, shadows gathering around his feet.

“But that pity ends now.”

His smile, faint, razor-sharp was pure malice.

“And I promise, if you ever say another word about my mother, if you so much as look at her the wrong way—I will strip your skin off piece by piece. I’ll tear every tendon from your flesh, pull out every nerve, pluck out every organ in your body, and grind your bones into dust all the while you’re still alive with my own hands.”

The other Kafka froze, his grin vanishing.

“And then…” He whispered. “I’ll put you back together…just so I can do it again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…”

“…And again…

He went on in a maniacal manner with his eyes full of bloodthirsty hatred, as if his only purpose in life was pain and vengeance and finally ended saying,

“…over and over until even your soul begs for death—and then, I’ll deny you that too.”

And in response—the world itself seemed to shake at his words.

The ground quivered. The air rippled with a dark force, as if reality itself recoiled in fear.

Even Vanitas—ruler of creation—felt her body shivering.

Meanwhile, Kafka’s eyes glowed faintly, abyssal and merciless.

“And unless you want that to happen…” He said softly. “…then shut your mouth right now and step aside.”

Boom! Rumble!

The moment those words left Kafka’s lips—thunder resonated high above almost as if Heaven itself was attesting to his words

And the other Kafka—the replacement—stared at him, his breath shallow, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

For the first time in his existence, he felt something utterly alien to him.

Fear.

It was genuine, bone-deep fear. The kind that gnawed at the soul and made even breathing feel dangerous.

It shocked him—he had never felt it before.

Not once, not in battle, not in creation, not even when facing beings stronger than true gods.

But now, standing before the original Kafka, he truly felt it.

The realization hit him right in his face.

Even though Kafka hadn’t yet ascended to demi-godhood, his divine power was leaking out uncontrollably—twisting the air, cracking the ground beneath his feet, bending the very fabric of the realm around them.

His presence was enough to warp reality.

A bead of sweat slid down the other Kafka’s temple.

For the briefest second, his heart nearly faltered.

He knew that if the real Kafka so much as willed it, he could erase him from existence—body, soul, and memory.

…But he couldn’t falter now.

Not when they were so close.

Not when the plan was in its final stage.

Even if it cost him his life.

So, gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists, forcing the fear down, forcing a smile that came out tight and unnatural.

Then he took a step forward.

“Sure.” He began with his lips curled up, his voice unsteady but slowly finding a rhythm. “Your mother has told me how powerful you’ll become in the future. And I can see now that even right now, you’re quite powerful. It’s…impressive, really.”

Kafka didn’t respond. He only stared, his expression unreadable, the air around him humming with pressure.

The replacement continued, each word carefully thought out.

“It seems like with just a single thought, you could erase me from existence. I know that much.”

Kafka’s eyes narrowed faintly.

“But…” The replacement said, his smirk tightening. “By doing that…do you realize what you’d actually be destroying?”

Kafka frowned slightly, though he said nothing.

“You wouldn’t just be extinguishing me. You’d be extinguishing her—your mother’s happiness.” His tone softened, not mocking now, but insidiously calm. “The only happiness she’s managed to find in the middle of this cursed universe.”

Kafka’s breath hitched slightly, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Vanitas to notice.

The other Kafka caught it immediately and pressed on.

“Just think about it. Right now, Vanitas has absolutely no reason to tell you any of this. She could’ve kept it all to herself, you know. She could’ve kept this entire thing secret—hidden our relationship, made sure you never found out.”

Vanitas’s lips parted slightly as he spoke, her gaze uncertain.

“But she didn’t…” The replacement said firmly. “She told you because she wanted to be honest with you. Because she loves you. Because even now, after everything, you are still the most important person in her world.”

He took another step forward, voice tightening with conviction.

“She came forward and told you everything because she didn’t want to lie to her son. Because she wanted to show you sincerity, even if it meant breaking herself apart. Everything she’s done has been for you…For your sake.”

Kafka stood motionless.

“So tell me…”

He said with a shitty grin on his face, lowering his voice to a challenging whisper.

“Who’s really failing her right now? Because from where I’m standing, it isn’t her.”

Vanitas’s eyes widened faintly, while Kafka’s gaze became unsteady.

The other Kafka gritted his teeth slightly but didn’t back down.

“At the end of the day…” He said, forcing the words out. “…nothing wrong has happened here. Lady Vanitas herself admitted that she’s fine with it, more than fine, even. She enjoys her time with me. She said it herself.”

He pointed at Kafka, his expression hardening.

“So what’s the problem, huh? Why are you so angry? Why are you trembling like that?”

Kafka’s fingers twitched, the space around him rippling.

“If she’s happy—if your mother is truly happy—then why does that enrage you so much!?” The other him demanded. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?! For her to smile again? For her to have peace? Then why can’t you accept it?!”

His voice grew louder, harsher, pressing on every nerve.

“Why are you acting like this, Kafka?! Why are you so furious? Why do you feel so threatened? She already said you’re her number one, didn’t she? That no one will ever replace you! Then why—”

He stepped closer, eyes burning now.

“—why does it hurt so much to see her with someone else?”

Kafka didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His lips parted, but no sound came.

Because deep down, beneath all the rage and pride, he didn’t know the answer himself.

Seeing his hesitation, the other Kafka smiled faintly—not in victory, but almost pity.

“You don’t even know, do you?” He said softly. “You don’t even understand what you’re feeling right now.”

He let out a shaky exhale.

“You call it disgust. You call it anger. But maybe…it’s something else.”

He took one final step forward and muttered, almost cruelly.

“Maybe you just can’t accept that someone else can give her what you can’t.”

For a moment, Kafka froze. His heart twisted painfully, his thoughts tangled and heavy.

The replacement tilted his head slightly, watching him in silence for a few seconds before letting out a short, humorless scoff.

“Wow, you really don’t even know, do you?” He said, his smirk returning. “You don’t even understand your own emotions.”

Then his tone turned cold. “Fine. Then let’s make it simple.”

Kafka’s head snapped up, wary.

The replacement clenched his fists and exhaled sharply, almost like he was psyching himself up.

“I’m done with this endless arguing. I’m done with your self-righteous nonsense.”

He then grinned—wide, arrogant, unhinged.

“So here’s what’s going to happen right now.”

Vanitas’s breath caught. “Wait—”

“I’m going to seal the deal with your mother.” The replacement said, his eyes gleaming with defiance. “Right before your eyes. Just to piss you off.”

Kafka’s eyes widened, the ground beneath him cracking faintly.

“I’m going to walk over there…” He continued, pointing toward Vanitas. “…and I’m going to kiss her. Right on the lips. In front of you.”

“What?!” Vanitas gasped.

“I don’t care about the consequences.” He smiled cruelly. “I don’t care if you kill me afterward. I’ll still do it—just to make you feel. To make you understand what it is you’re really afraid of and also because you piss me off that much.”

He took a single step toward her and the air grew heavier. Kafka’s power surged instinctively.

But the replacement only smirked wider.

“And in the time it takes for me to reach her.” He said, voice calm but taunting. “I want you to figure something out, Kafka.”

Kafka glared at him, silent fury burning in his gaze.

“I want you to decide why you’re feeling like this.” He said. “Why you’re angry. Why you’re jealous. Why your heart’s tearing itself apart.”

He began walking slowly toward Vanitas, each step echoing like a countdown.

“The time it takes me to reach her.” He said softly. “That’s all you get. Either come to terms with your feelings…”

He smirked, glancing back at Kafka.

“…or I’ll steal your mother’s lips right in front of you.”

With one last smirk, the other Kafka took his first step toward Vanitas.

That single step was enough.

The countdown had begun.