The dragon's harem

“I still insist. Am I really that untrustworthy?” The Saintess looked up at Eris’s statue, and the voice rang once more in her head.

[Indeed, believe it or not, out of a hundred angels, ninety voted against ranking you any higher. I am still a new divine, so I rely on their judgment a lot, and you lack the will and stubbornness.]

Then, after a whole minute of dead silence, Eris spoke again.

[If you want to prove them wrong, they prepared a list of impossible tasks to test your obedience, willingness, and how far you could go both mentally and physically. Push through them all, and I’ll have something to argue with in your favor.]

Eris sighed, looked at the council of angels sitting on the great golden table with her, and then at the floating woman above that table. Amaterasu looked back at her with a grin. “I can understand why the angels refused her. At her current self, she’ll break the moment she delves into murder. They can’t waste the life of such a saint.”

She smiled, floated toward Eris, and then looked back at the angels. “But I bet they also understand that such people are good vessels to turn into angels, even archons. The main quality you look for is a clear understanding of the god’s bad and good sides.” She pointed at one of her archons, who was on the white cloud with her.

“As an archon, she both understands my good side, and hate my bad one. Do you think she likes it when I use her for my own pleasure? No, she hates it.” Amaterasu looked at the archon again, prompting her to speak.

“Conviction is what matters. I fully understand Amaterasu, and I’m willing to burn the world to keep her as she is, because that’s what I believe should be done. People can call her a whore as much as they want, but even knowing how fully rotten she is, that won’t change my mind, even if I’m still getting burned by that bad side.”

Then, a voice rang in the saint’s head, and she blinked several times. That wasn’t Eris’s voice, but a strange, unfamiliar one that she had never heard before.

[This is Amaterasu, just calm down for a second. I’ll handle everything from now on. First, pick a path: do you want to just rank up in the church as a mortal, become an angel, or an archon? Of course, the higher you go, the harsher the path would be.]

After a moment of silence, the saint replied with a smile.

“It is all or nothing, I’ll go for the archon.”

[You’re just a stupid fool, but we like fools. From now on, forget being human, you’re nothing more than a tool in Eris’s hands, you don’t ask questions, you don’t make requests, you just obey.]

“I’ll do my best.”

[Then, for a start, to just confirm you’re willing to go through hell, see that offering bowl at the statue’s feet? You have half an hour. I want all of your fingers and toes there, and both of your eyes. Good luck.]

As the saint paled, the divine voice faded away, leaving her alone. Eris stared up at Amaterasu, “Isn’t that a bit too harsh?”

“Not really, if she isn’t insane enough to do this, she’d better just give up. The best approach would be to gouge her eyes out and then bite her fingers off, and most fail at the first step, or drop from the pain after pulling one eye. The goal is to give her every reason not to go through with this.”

And while that was going on, far in a whole other world, Arad had already made his way to the underground fighting arena. He found himself in the reception hall, and he was sitting among more than fifty other fighters.

Surprisingly, the hall was filled with absolute demons. Large men and women, all filled to the brim with scars and battle wounds, and many of them looked like they won’t go down even with a stab to the chest. Arad could tell that even without magic or strange powers, any of those fighters here could fold a hundred men like pieces of paper, and it only made him more surprised when he heard of the rules.

There are no rules; everything is allowed, except weapons, unless declared before the tournament starts, and given to all fighters to inspect. Soon, the arena representatives approached him with a massive tray of weapons.

“Sir, you’re the last to register. Do you intend on using any weapon?” As they could see, Arad didn’t carry anything with him. He was sitting on the bench wearing simple pants and a tank top, nothing more on him.

Those representatives were three people, two men and an elderly woman, and when they stood face to face with Arad, they realized something scary. He was sitting down, yet his head was higher than theirs, and they were tall people.

The old woman forced on a smile. “You’re huge… Sir.”

Arad smiled, lifted his arm, and touched the ground with his fist. “Do those count as weapons?” When the old lady looked down, she paled. Arad’s arm was as long as she was tall, and thicker than her hips.

The two men beside her smiled, and one of them even chuckled. “Yeah, they don’t. Those are your arms, as massive as they are, you’ll be marked as unarmed.” The man then gave Arad a closer look, “You’re massive, but… not a single scar on your body, that I can see at least. Have you ever been to a fight? It is rare, but a few people have died in this arena.”

Arad leaned back. “It makes sense. People who risk their lives a lot tend to have scars.” He then looked at the tray of weapons. “Those are the weapons of the other contestants, so I can’t break them.”

He turned slightly to the side, touched the wall with a finger, and then, like a jackhammer, he forced his index finger into the stone, scaring everyone in the reception hall. “As you can see, I don’t need a weapon.”

“Many of the fighters here can cut stone with their weapons. Doing it with your bare hand is impressive, but not by much.” The woman cleared her throat, “But, if you still want to go unarmed, do as you want.”

Then one of the men added, “But before that, we’ll have you get the sealing tattoos.” He pointed to where some of the fighters were lining up to get tattooed. “Those tattoos are made of a special ink created by the Great Elder Bloody Rose. It would save your life from a single fatal hit by transferring that damage to her.”

Arad blinked twice. ^Bloody Rose? Isn’t that Hermit Gulang’s daughter?^

“Bloody Rose?” He looked at them, and the woman smiled from ear to ear, “Yes! The Great Elder herself is sponsoring this year’s tournament. I’ve heard that she would take the winner as her disciple, and the entire arena got filled to the brim because of that.”

“I guess… the money prize isn’t changing, is it?” He glared at them, and the woman flinched as she took a step back. “No, the prize still stands. But, most fighters are here today to become her disciple, not for the money.”

“Well, fine, the tattoo guy is here.” Beside him, a young man approached. “I’ll get with your tattoo, sir; how do you want it to look? It would disappear in a week, so if you don’t want tattoos, you can rest easy as it won’t last.”

But before Arad could reply, another man came rushing in. “Sorry, but as the esteemed elder asked, we need to give the participants two more tattoos. The first one to save them from a fatal wound, the second would be to measure their raw power, and the last one would look out for cheats.”

Arad stared at the man for a second, “I guess she wants to know the power of her future disciple, and make sure cheaters aren’t causing trouble.” He then looked at the artist, “Make it three simple dots on the shoulder, simple and easy.”

“Are you sure? Many fighters are using this chance to advertise their family names, their clans, or even themselves. Would you want something more… unique?”

Arad sighed, he shouldn’t bring anything from the other world, so he could only think of something from here. He isn’t backed by any clan, and doesn’t have much going for him besides being a lumberjack and living alone in the forest with Tina.

So in the end, he ended up with a large heart on his shoulder with Tina written inside it, and an axe above it. “This should do it. When will the fights start?”

“In a while, you can relax now.” The arena’s representatives quickly left, and Arad was left alone to wait. To get the best of his time, he closed his eyes and shifted his perspective back toward Eris. His other incarnation, a nymph, was walking through Eris’s divine hall, and soon, he saw Eris coming out of the meeting room with a tried face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and she shook her face. “Not at all, I’ve got this saint that is a bit too clingy, and with Amaterasu’s help, we’ve put her through a harsh test just to get her to give up, but now I’m stuck having to actually try turning her into an archon.”

Amaterasu floated out of the meeting room and waved her hand at Arad. “Don’t worry, having an archon would help Eris stabilize her power, and it could make it easier for her to make a Gravastar, but indeed, forming an archon at her level is extremely hard.”

“Is there any way I could help her with?” He asked, and Amaterasu shook her head. “Not really, it all depends on the saint’s willpower, and Eris’s time and divine energy reserves.”