Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 425 – I’m Going to Sue Them

He teleported out of Karzon’s hands mid-throw—reappearing behind Dravik, whose focus was now locked on Sira again.

Lux stabbed his dagger into Dravik’s kidney and whispered in his ear:

”You can’t expense this pain.”

Then kicked off his back and launched himself toward Sira.

She caught his hand in midair.

Their coordination clicked—two demons bred from sin and fire, twisting through the sky like dueling blades. They spun around each other once, wings snapping open, then broke off in opposite directions—Sira going high, Lux going low.

Sira dove straight at Lama again, her body glowing with radiant gold. Lama intercepted with a mimic-enhanced whip crack, wrapping it around Sira’s arm.

”You’re not stronger,” Lama hissed.

”No,” Sira growled back, yanking the chain closer, ”but I’m fucking prettier.”

She yanked—pulled Lama forward—and slammed their heads together.

CRACK.

Lama screamed. Sira laughed.

Meanwhile, Lux hovered above Karzon and Dravik again, both visibly struggling under the weight of their suppressed power.

The artifact still gleamed overhead, spinning lazily like a gold-plated guillotine.

[System Alert: Artifact Duration Remaining: 8 minutes, 47 seconds.]

[Combat Efficiency: Lux – 89%, Sira – 93%, Karzon – 61% , Dravik – 57% , Lama – 66%]

”Are we sure this is equal footing?” Lux asked, casually flipping a dagger. ”Because this is starting to feel... unfair.”

”TO WHOM?!” Karzon roared.

”To you,” Lux replied.

Dravik lunged again, mouth wide, trying to chomp down on Lux mid-sentence.

Lux let him get close.

”Touch.”

Midas Touch activated again—right on Dravik’s tongue.

Gold surged up his throat.

Dravik gagged.

Sira shrieked from the sky laughing. ”You turned his tongue to gold?!”

”Maybe he’ll finally shut the hell up,” Lux said, deadpan. ”Besides, they said they need money. I just gave them what they wanted.”

[Status Effect Applied: Silence – Duration: 10 seconds]

[Dravik’s Speech Attempt: Denied.]

Lama regrouped near Karzon, blood leaking from her temple. She looked up at the still-spinning coin artifact with growing fury.

”You little bastard, you can’t deactivate it, can you?”

”Nope,” Lux said, flicking his hand to recall his orbs. ”Manual override only. And we’re not done.”

Sira hovered beside him again, hair wild, eyes gleaming.

Blood smeared her cheek. His jaw dripped gold.

They looked unhinged.

”You look hot,” she said, licking her lips.

”You look homicidal,” he answered.

”Foreplay,” she whispered.

Below, all three warlords now stood shoulder to shoulder—wounded, worn down, but not broken. ℯℯ𝘭.

Karzon’s breath steamed. Dravik’s tongue was half-gold and twitching. Lama bled but her grip was steady.

”You think this is over?” Karzon spat.

”No,” Lux said. ”This is just Q2.”

The three lunged in unison.

And Lux and Sira?

They charged.

Their wings flared—gold and black, pride and greed in motion. They tore through the mana-thick sky with unhinged laughter and murder in their eyes. The air around them bent, screamed, shattered with speed and pressure. Two demons born from sin, dancing toward a three-headed disaster that still didn’t know it had already died ten minutes ago.

Lux ducked low, blades spinning in his hands like old friends whispering kill-counts. His right dagger slid into Dravik’s chest, curved under the ribcage and twisted with mechanical efficiency. His left arm blurred and tapped Karzon’s thigh.

”Midas Touch.”

The gold surged instantly—snapping Karzon’s knee backward as muscle locked to metal mid-step. The forge demon screamed as molten armor cracked, bones fracturing from the inside out.

Sira was already above Lama, wings slicing through the sky like red lightning. Her claws dragged downward across the mimic’s face, leaving gouges of heat and ego.

Lama whipped her chain upward—tried to bind Sira’s ankle. It worked.

But Sira dragged her into the air with it, flipped, and double-kicked Lama in the gut with both heels before letting go. Lama crashed down again, coughing blood and curse smoke.

The three warlords looked ragged. Cracked. Bleeding gold, fire, and bile. They were dying. And they knew it.

But even so—

Karzon growled, teeth bloodstained.

Dravik wheezed, aura surging with unstable necrotic flares.

Lama, still burning with her last pride, lifted her whip and screamed.

They pushed themselves back up, bodies trembling, and one by one summoned their final spells.

Karzon’s core ignited—true forgefire, the kind that eats the soul before the body.

Dravik bit off his own thumb and fed it to the corpse field. The ground began to rise—an undead army bubbling to the surface.

Lama activated her final mimicry array. Every spell she’d seen—hers and theirs—compiled into one chaotic abomination of copied destruction.

And just as they screamed in unison—ready to burn it all down—

The sky split.

A red slash cut the dome like silk. Light poured through.

And then she landed.

Officer Malris Korr.

Her heels struck the pavement like war drums. Red heels. Crimson dress. Stylish red hair in tight curls. Her lips matched her claws. Her aura was like breathing paperwork soaked in dragon blood.

And she was not alone.

Behind her, infernal guards poured through the dimensional rip—full plate, sigil banners, riot runes etched across their tower shields. Enforcers. Not soldiers. Not warlords.

Regulators.

The dome flickered.

The artifact—Coin of Equal Blood—recalibrated with a sound like a thousand gold bars rearranging themselves.

[System Alert: High-Authority Interference Detected. Officer Malris Korr Present.]

[Combat Authority Adjusted. New Rule Priority: Enforcement Protocol – Level One.]

[Coin Effect: Extended. Malris Override Active.]

The warlords’ spells died in their hands. Literally.

Karzon’s hammer blinked out.

Dravik’s undead army cracked and collapsed like wet puppets.

Lama’s mimicry sparked, stuttered, and fizzled.

Malris didn’t even blink.

”Karzon. Dravik. Lama,” she said coldly, voice echoing with multi-toned layering. ”You are hereby under arrest for attempted assassination of two royal-blood heirs, illegal deployment of domain-class magic in a mortal territory, and violation of Infernal Clause 7.3—’Don’t be fucking stupid in public.’”

Lux, still hovering above the field, dropped to one knee and groaned theatrically. ”Officer Korr,” he said weakly. ”I’m hurt.”

Sira arched a brow. ”What.”

”I’m in pain,” he whimpered. ”Mentally. Spiritually. Financially. They have to take the responsibility. I’m going to sue them.”