God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 882

Chapter 882: Nine Little Angels
All eight of his wives lay resting peacefully on the circular arrangement of beds.

Their faces were tired, their skin glistened faintly with the sheen of exertion, but every one of them wore the same expression—quiet satisfaction and peace, the kind that came only after a battle well fought and won.

The sight made Kafka’s chest tighten with emotion.

He walked slowly eyes flicking from one sleeping woman to the next, overwhelmed by the sheer love he felt for them all.

“They’re all…beautiful.” He whispered to himself. “And they look so peaceful.”

But what drew his eyes most of all was the center of the room—a large cradle made of crystal, glowing faintly with holy light.

And there, standing beside it, was Evangeline.

She was smiling warmly, her arms crossed as she watched over the tiny bundles within the cradle.

When she noticed Kafka walking in, she lifted her gaze and greeted him softly.

“You’re just in time, proud father.”

Kafka approached slowly, his steps hesitant, his breath trembling. And when he finally reached the cradle and looked down, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes widened—and then immediately filled with tears.

Inside the cradle lay nine tiny babies, all wrapped snugly in soft, colorful blankets, each one glowing faintly with warm energy.

They were all sleeping soundly, their little faces calm and angelic, their small fingers occasionally twitching or curling.

Kafka pressed a hand to his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

“My children…” He whispered, voice trembling. “My daughters…”

Tears rolled freely down his cheeks as he knelt beside the cradle, his entire body trembling from the flood of emotions crashing over him.

“They’re so small…so beautiful…so adorable!”

His voice began to rise unconsciously, but before he could let out the next word, Vanitas’ sharp whisper cut through the air.

“Kafka! I said no shouting…Be quiet!”

He blinked rapidly, quickly lowering his voice to a whisper.

“S-Sorry, sorry, I forgot, I forgot!”

He said, rubbing at his face. Then, softer, he whispered again.

“I can’t believe I gave birth to all of you…To think one…” He coughed lightly and muttered in a hushed tone. “…extremely erotic night could end with such beautiful results…”

Evangeline smirked from beside him. “That’s…not exactly the kind of thing a proud father should be saying right now.”

He blinked, then chuckled nervously.

“R-Right, sorry. Just…overwhelmed.”

Evangeline simply shook her and folded her arms, amusement glittering in her eyes.

“Well then…” She said slyly. “…if you’re such a devoted father, how about proving it?”

He blinked. “Proving it?”

“Yes.” She said, gesturing at the cradle. “Why don’t you guess who’s who? If you’re really such a good father, you should be able to tell which baby belongs to which mother just by looking.”

Kafka’s expression turned determined immediately.

“Ha! That’s no problem at all! I already know everything!” He said, puffing out his chest slightly. “One look is all I need.”

Evangeline arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, do you now? Go on, then.”

Kafka didn’t hesitate.He leaned over the cradle and squinted at the babies carefully.

After a few moments of intense inspection, he slowly reached in and gently lifted two of them.

One of the babies had soft green skin, while the other had a delicate blue tint that shimmered under the light.

Kafka’s lips curved into a proud smile.

“These two are obviously Nina’s and June’s daughters!” He said quietly but confidently. “Look at them—their skin colors gave it away instantly! I’d recognize them even if there were a hundred babies in this room!”

He gazed down at them lovingly, his heart swelling with affection.

“They look so cute…like little jelly beans I could just—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Evangeline swiftly snatched the babies out of his arms.

“Alright, mister.” She said flatly. “Let’s not get too hungry now.”

Kafka froze, then chuckled awkwardly, scratching his cheek.

“Right…right. I wasn’t serious! Of course not! They’re just—adorable, that’s all!”

Evangeline rolled her eyes with a smirk, carefully placing the two babies back into the cradle.

“Now, what about the others?” She asked, thinking of this as some sort of game.

Kafka’s gaze moved again, scanning the sleeping infants. Then, he pointed to one baby with a tiny, determined expression even in sleep.

“This one’s got to be Seraphina’s.” He said firmly.

Evangeline lifted the baby gently, and even asleep, the infant’s small brow was furrowed, her tiny fist raised as if ready to strike.

“See that?” Kafka laughed quietly. “Look how strict her face is! Even now, she looks ready for battle! And that little fist—she’s already holding an imaginary dagger! She’s just like her mother—an assassin from birth!”

Evangeline smiled softly.

“You’re not wrong.” She said. “She’s going to be scary when she grows up.”

“Fierce, but beautiful.” Kafka nodded fondly. “Just like her mother.”

He gently placed the baby back into her spot, and then his eyes drifted to the next.

“This one…” He murmured, smiling warmly. “…has to be Lyra.”

“How do you know?” Evangeline asked.

“Easy.” Kafka said, pointing out the two babies nestled close together, their tiny fingers intertwined. “Even from birth, Lyra and Seraphina’s little ones are holding hands. They’re inseparable, just like their mothers. And look at her hair—that soft pinkish-blonde color? No doubt about it.”

He grinned.

“This adorable little girl is definitely Lyra’s daughter.”

Evangeline looked down at the pair and nodded approvingly. “Huh. You’re actually not doing too badly.”

“What did I tell you?” Kafka gave her a playful smirk. “I’m a natural-born father.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes. “We’ll see how long that confidence lasts. You’ve still got four more to go.”

Kafka shook his head, eyeing the remaining babies with a mix of awe and nervous excitement.

“Okay…from here on, things get a bit trickier.” He said, squinting slightly. “I don’t exactly have a perfect idea who’s who anymore. They all look way too cute for their own good—how am I supposed to—”

Before he could finish, one of the babies suddenly yawned and stretched—and to his utter disbelief, a pair of tiny, glowing angel wings sprouted from her back.

“WHAT THE—?!” Kafka jumped back, his voice cracking as his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Why does my baby have wings?! What the hell—did one of my wives cheat on me with a bird or something?!”

Evangeline immediately smacked her palm to her face, while Vanitas let out an amused sigh, shaking her head with a patient smile.

“Not at all, darling.” Vanitas said, her voice calm and amused. “It’s perfectly natural for them to show divine traits already. Don’t forget—they were born from you.”

Kafka blinked, utterly lost. “From…me?”

“Yes.” Vanitas continued, still smiling fondly. “They’re half-gods. It’s only natural that their powers begin to manifest early. That one simply happens to have revealed her angelic nature first.”

Before Kafka could reply, Evangeline leaned over and pointed at another crib.

“Oh—look at that one now.”

Kafka turned just in time to see a faint shimmer of golden light burst into a soft glow above another baby’s blanket, where flowers tiny, flowers were appearing in midair, growing and fading in a beautiful rhythm.

“Flowers?” He asked in disbelief. “Seriously?! She’s summoning flowers already?!”

“Indeed.” Vanitas nodded. “She’s also awakened her gift. You should be proud—they’re both showing exceptional strength for newborns.”

Kafka blinked at the little girl covered in ethereal blossoms…then suddenly grinned, letting out a quiet laugh.

“Well, that actually makes it easier! This one here…” He pointed to the winged baby. “…obviously belongs to Bella. Look at her! My sweet, angelic Bella—her daughter literally is an angel. And she’s so cute, so tiny—she even has her mom’s adoring eyes.”

He gently lifted the winged infant, eyes soft with pride and awe.

“Just look at you. So adorable. I can already imagine you calling me ‘Daddy’ in that sweet voice, just like Bella does…”

He then chuckled and tilted her up.

“I wonder—if I throw you in the air right now, would you be able to fly?”

Both Vanitas and Evangeline immediately snapped their heads toward him in perfect unison, glaring daggers.

Kafka froze. “It’s a joke! It’s a joke! I’d never throw my own daughter!”

Vanitas crossed her arms, her aura flaring just enough to make him sweat. “Better not, young man.”

“Right, right!” He quickly, carefully placed the baby back into the cradle, still smiling like a fool.

He turned to the second child—the one surrounded by flowers and smiled warmly.

“And this one…this one’s obviously Olivia’s daughter. Look at her—she’s got her mother’s grace already. This holy aura of life, plants blooming all around her…yeah, that’s Olivia through and through.”

He leaned closer, gazing into the baby’s small face.

“And she’s even got that same cold stare—look at that! She’s barely born and already looks like she’s silently judging everyone in the room. Totally Olivia’s daughter.”

Vanitas raised an amused eyebrow. “You realize she’s literally a day old, right?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Kafka said, kissing the baby’s forehead. “See? She already looks like she’s plotting my moral correction. Ah, you’re so perfect, little one…”

He kissed her again. And again. And again.

“Kafka!” Evangeline barked, exasperated. “That’s enough! Give her back before you slobber her bald!”

“Ah, right, sorry! Sorry!” He laughed sheepishly and handed the baby back.

Finally, he looked at the last two infants—identical little bundles with faint light-brown skin and the same sleepy smiles.

He froze, staring at them for a long moment, his expression softening into something quiet and reverent.

“…So these are the twins I’ve been hearing about.” He whispered.

He reached down and gently scooped them both up, one in each arm. They stirred slightly, letting out tiny noises before smiling in their sleep, and that simple sight made his throat tighten.

“They look just like each other…” He murmured, his voice trembling. “…and they’re so…so beautiful.”

Tears filled his eyes again, and he laughed quietly through them, wiping at his cheeks.

“And even if they weren’t the last ones, I’d still know exactly who their mother is. Just look at those smiles…”

He leaned closer, his voice breaking with emotion.

“…they don’t even know what smiling means yet, but they’re already smiling like that. And there’s only one woman I can think of who smiled like that through everything, even when she was in pain…”

He looked up at Vanitas, then back at the babies, his smile trembling.

“…it has to be Abigaille. These two—these bright, beautiful twins—they’re hers.”

Vanitas smiled tenderly.

“You’re right. She was also smiling the whole time she brought them into the world.”

Kafka chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over one baby’s tiny hand.

“Of course she was…she’s Abigaille, after all.”

He looked down at the twin girls again, each with faint blue eyes that shimmered like sunlight through crystal and whispered.

“You really are your mother’s daughters.”

But just then, a soft, tired voice broke the stillness.

“…Kafi…”