Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 426 – Emotional Damage

Sira muttered, ”Just use your damn healing.”

”No,” Lux said seriously. ”I’m going to sue them. For everything. Emotional damage. Bodily harm. Attempted interruption of vacation time. Do you have any idea how expensive this week was supposed to be?”

[Note: A civil suit may result in projected gains of 14.3 Billion Soul Coins, excluding damages and pain-and-suffering bonus multipliers.]

Sira deadpanned. ”You’re unbelievable.”

”I’m Greed. I’m logical. I make money out of anything.”

The warlords snarled—displeasure written across their battered faces like unpaid invoices. Karzon’s fingers twitched, even as his forgecore flickered. Dravik let out a coughing growl, leaking blood through gold-slick teeth. Lama’s pride flickered like a dying candle.

”This isn’t over,” Karzon hissed.

”You’ll regret this,” Lama spat.

Malris tilted her head. ”Will we?”

Dravik let out a shriek and threw out his arms. ”I CALL FOR BLOOD!”

And summoned his own forces.

Dark portals ripped through the sky—twenty... no, thirty undead soldiers surged forth, stitched and snarling. Karzon followed with a column of iron-masked berserkers. Lama activated her mimic whip one last time, pulling mana from her own veins.

Lux just blinked.

”Oh dear.”

Sira cracked her neck. ”They don’t know when to quit.”

Lux stood slowly. ”Seems like this is a dead end. Officer—” Lux’s grin was feral. ” Can I kill fellow high-level demons?”

Malris rolled her eyes. ”Permission granted. You’ll be cleared. No charges.”

Sira bared her fangs. ”Nice.”

Then they moved.

Together.

Like twin devils unleashed.

Lux launched into the air—blades spinning, wings slicing through the chaos. His orbs exploded outward, launching with perfectly-timed trajectories that slammed into soldiers mid-step. One orb bounced three times before detonating in the chest of a berserker.

-BOOM!

-BOOM!

-BOOM!

Sira darted through the undead swarm, claws ripping through ribcages, wings folding around her like a bloody cloak. She screamed laughter, grabbed one of Lama’s mimic knights by the throat, kissed his forehead, and tore his head off with one fluid twist.

”HELLFIRE RAIN.”

Lux pointed upward—and the sky wept flames.

Dozens of flaming spears rained down, summoned from his inner vault. Each bolt slammed into the earth with explosive rage—splintering Karzon’s troops like hell’s own accounting error.

The warlords screamed.

Dravik tried to retreat—Lux teleported in front of him, stabbed both daggers into his shoulder, then tapped his forehead.

”MIDAS TOUCH.”

Gold exploded through Dravik’s skull—ripping through flesh like molten wax. It didn’t kill him. It just made him shiny and screaming.

”Laugh for me,” Lux said—and laughed first.

Sira threw Lama into a wall—twice.

Karzon lunged toward Lux with one last roar, eyes wild, hammer glowing with internal suicide.

Lux dodged, spun, and touched his chest.

Gold shot outward like a virus. The hammer shattered in his hand—crumbling from the inside out like it was filled with sand and spite.

Lux didn’t pause.

He stepped in close, eyes glowing, voice smooth as poisoned velvet.

And then—stab.

Dagger, straight into Karzon’s throat.

”You’re overdue,” he said, twisting the blade like he was filing a report in the spine.

Karzon gargled something between a scream and a curse. His body jerked violently. Steam hissed from his mouth as the gold surged faster—encasing his core like a greedy mold snapping shut around its prize.

[You have defeated Karzon the Unbound.]

Karzon’s scream choked off into silence, and the world trembled. His body cracked like old pottery, fire leaking through the seams. Then—

BOOM.

He exploded in a burst of demonic power.

Ash. Flame. Silence.

And in the aftermath, where his soul should’ve gone—

A black-and-gold object hovered in the air, pulsing like a freshly forged artifact.

[Item Acquired: ”Infernal Furnace Heart – Karzon’s Remnant”]

[Grade: Legendary]

[Effect: +80 Strength, +10% Fire Resistance, Passive Skill Unlocked – Molten Impact (Strikes cause bonus fire damage and stagger effect).]

Lux caught it mid-air with a snap of his hand. His smile curved. ”First dividend.”

[Level Up: +1]

[+5 Skills Points Gained]

But he didn’t have time to celebrate.

Because Dravik had seen it.

And he snapped.

The bloated necromancer bellowed, his mouth still half-gold, flinging out a blood-soaked spell from his gut. It hit the ground like a necrotic bomb—corpses rising in every direction, stitched together in haste, rage, and rot.

”Malris—NOW!” Lux yelled.

Officer Malris Korr didn’t even blink.

She’d already moved.

Crimson blur. A flash of heels. And her glaive—yes, because of course she had a crimson glaive—spun like a silk dancer on a guillotine.

Her soldiers collided with the warlords’ army. Infernal riot units versus berserkers, undead, and mimic knights. It was a brawl from hell—literal factions clashing midair, through shattered buildings and scorched asphalt.

Malris herself cut through the chaos like she was the law.

Her glaive cleaved one undead in half, bisected another, then spun as she flipped over a berserker and impaled him clean through the neck. Her eyes glowed with layered spells and bureaucratic fury. Each kill she made was logged. Tagged. Stamped. Official.

”Officer Korr,” Sira called, kicking a mimic knight into a fire pit, ”you look amazing right now.”

”I know,” Malris said, twisting her glaive through another ribcage.

Dravik stumbled backward—terrified now. Lux landed in front of him, blades coated in blood and black gold.

”You know,” Lux said thoughtfully, ”I think we’re past the audit phase.”

Dravik howled, ripping his own heart out. A last-ditch ritual. The blood caught fire mid-air.

Lux’s smile was cold.

”Hellfire Rain.”

The sky cracked open—and from it, spears of burning mana rained.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

Each one targeting a single point: Dravik.

The first slammed through his leg. The second through his shoulder. The third impaled his stomach and lit his rotting insides aflame. The rest followed, like divine paperwork delivered all at once.

He collapsed.

Lux landed lightly beside him, crouched down, and touched his cheek.

”Midas Touch.”

The gold rushed through him like it had been waiting.

It poured out from Lux’s hand in a hungry surge, veins of shimmering metal spreading over Dravik’s chest, his arms, his neck. It wasn’t a thin coat this time—this was possession. Greed itself claiming a debt.