My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 153 - No. The Rewards Are Finally Here (End)

[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Let’s see the other things.

I kept my breathing slow and shallow, matching the steady rhythm Grayfia’s frost sigils enforced around my ribs. On the surface, I was resting—eyes half-lidded, aura quiet, posture limp enough to convince anyone watching that I was barely conscious.

Inside?

The system continued unfolding itself with infuriating calm.

Tti-ring.

[Job Advancement Card — Ready for Use]

[Available Paths: ???]

[Warning: Job Advancement will irreversibly alter the soul-framework.]

[Proceed?]

"...Later," I murmured silently.

There was no rush. A job advancement was not something to pick while lying half-broken on a ritual bed with half the people who loved—or wanted to possess—me hovering just outside a crystal partition.

Besides.

Something told me this was the kind of choice that would echo.

The interface responded with quiet compliance.

[Deferred.]

Good.

I shifted my attention to the remaining notifications that hadn’t fully resolved yet, letting them hover at the edge of my perception like unopened letters.

[Blood Domain — Authority Fragment]

[Status: Incomplete]

[Description: A domain-type authority of the Vampire King—Alucard Dracul Tepes. It is but a fragment of a greater dominion once capable of rewriting the hierarchy of blood, night, and lineage itself.]

[Current Functions Available:]

— Blood Sense (Passive): Detect blood signatures, vitality fluctuations, and lineage resonance within range.

— Crimson Assimilation (Passive): Blood consumed by the host converts partially into soul-energy and stamina.

— Domain Seed (Locked): Requires Authority Synchronisation ≥ 30%.

[Warning: Authority resonance may attract entities aligned with Blood, Night, or Sovereignty.]

"...Figures," I thought dryly.

A fragment. Always fragments. Pieces of crowns, shards of authority, incomplete hearts—existence seemed determined to remind me that I was never meant to receive anything whole.

Not yet.

’Status Window.’

[Status Window]

• Name: Dominic Nocturne von Morningstar

• Race: Demon (Incomplete Primordial Fragment) / ???

• Level: 188—> 199

• Job: Demiurgic Archon

• Rank: A

• Title: [Dances With Wolves], [The Forsaken Lucifer(Locked)], [He Who Shouldn’t Be Awake(Locked)], [God-Eater], [The One Who Creates in Defiance].]

• HP: 7080/7080 —> 7190/7190 (+500)

• MP: 0/5170 —> 0/5280

[Stats]

• Strength: 808—> 819 (+50)

• Agility: 627—> 638

• Stamina: 708—> 719 (+50)

• Intelligence: 517—> 528

• Sense: 689—> 700

—Available Stats Points: 200 —> 400)

Reduction in physical damage: 60%

Heh...

HUH?!

If a mirror were in front of me, I would be wearing the dumbest, most undignified expression imaginable. The kind of look that belonged on someone who had just discovered the universe had quietly handed him a loaded gun and a manual written in riddles.

Level 199.

Four hundred unassigned stat points.

A half-assembled divine heart beating inside my soul-space.

A fragment of a Vampire King’s dominion hums patiently, like a crown waiting for a head.

And yet—

I was still lying on an obsidian bed, ribs wrapped in frost, mana dry as a desert, pretending to be one bad breath away from unconsciousness.

"...Don’t get cocky," I warned myself silently.

Because this was exactly how people died.

Not from weakness.

From mistaking momentum for safety.

I exhaled slowly and dismissed the Status Window, letting it fade back into the quiet glow behind my eyes. The system obeyed without comment, returning to its usual, infuriatingly discreet presence.

Outwardly, nothing changed.

Inwardly, I began reorganising.

First priority: no visible changes.

No aura flares.

No unconscious regeneration surges.

No sudden stat-based movements that would trip Grayfia’s instincts.

She was already on edge.

And Grayfia Lucifuge on edge was... dangerous.

To her enemies? Of course

To me? Definitely!

Dangerous in a quiet way.

The kind of danger that didn’t announce itself with killing intent or mana pressure, but with precision. With care sharpened so finely it could cut gods.

I felt it even now—Grayfia’s presence just beyond the veil of my closed eyes. Not looming. Not hovering. Simply there. Like a constant, absolute constant. If the world collapsed, she would still be standing at my side, calculating how to kill whatever caused it with half a core and no margin for error.

Which was exactly why I had to be careful.

Very careful.

I let my breathing hitch slightly—just enough to be believable. My fingers twitched once, weakly, against the obsidian surface. A practised imperfection. A reminder that I was still injured. Still fragile. Still very much not fine.

Grayfia noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

Her footsteps approached, soundless against the sanctum floor. I felt the shift in temperature before I felt her touch—frost mana tightening its lattice around my ribs, reinforcing rather than healing further.

"Do not move," she said quietly.

I didn’t open my eyes.

"...Wasn’t planning to," I murmured.

Her hand hovered over my chest for a moment, silver eyes narrowing as she measured pulse, breath, soul-pressure. Not with magic alone—with instinct earned over centuries of war and loss.

"You are thinking," she said.

I smiled faintly. "Am I not allowed?"

"You are allowed to rest," she replied. "Thinking can wait."

That was... almost gentle.

Almost.

"I’ll rest better if I know everyone’s not about to start a civil war outside," I said.

A pause.

Then, faintly, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"They will behave," Grayfia said. "For now."

For now.

That phrase carried an entire future of headaches.

She straightened, turning away from the bed. I heard the faint chime of the sanctum’s secondary seals shifting—privacy layers adjusting, external sound dampened further. She was giving me space.

Or the illusion of it.

I waited three heartbeats.

Then four. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Then—

"Fia," I said quietly.

She stopped.

"Yes, master?"

"...Love ya~"

Grayfia froze.

Not figuratively.

Actually froze.

The frost lattice around the sanctum walls spiked for exactly half a second—sharp enough to crack the obsidian floor with a faint tchik—before she forcibly reined it in.

"...What," she said carefully, very carefully, "did you say?"

I kept my eyes closed.

Because I valued my continued existence.

"I said I’ll rest," I replied innocently. "Just... appreciating my wifey~"

Grayfia did not turn around.

For a long, suspended moment, nothing happened.

No killing intent.

No frost eruption.

No annihilation spell, rewriting the sanctum into a cautionary tale.

Just... silence.

Dense. Pressurized. The kind that built before avalanches.

"...Wifey," Grayfia repeated slowly.

Each syllable was precise. Carefully shaped. Like a blade being tested for balance before use.

I swallowed.

Internally, chibi-me stopped dancing, put on a helmet, and lay flat on the ground pretending to be dead.