Extra's Harem: Invincibility Starts with Marriage and lots of Children

At the very heart of the capital city stood the grand central palace of the Azure Flame Kingdom, flanked by four smaller palaces that shimmered like gems beneath the fading sun.

While the main palace usually basked in the spotlight, today, all eyes had shifted—to the estate of Prince Orion.

He had thrown a lavish banquet, summoning nobles from every corner of the kingdom.

Just a day prior, the mighty Exorcism Sect had been wiped out, and Orion's open support for their downfall had stirred waves across the nobility.

His bold stance sent shockwaves through the court. Many aristocrats who had once stood beside him now hesitated, unsure whether to remain loyal or quietly step back.

After all, in the ruthless race for the throne, sheer strength meant little.

What truly mattered were political alliances, influence, and the power of one's backers.

A lone genius might shine brightly—but briefly. Without a solid foundation of support, no one could claim the title of Crown Prince—or Princess.

Naturally, not every noble pledged allegiance to a single faction. Many floated between power blocs, biding their time, watching from the shadows.

This banquet was a golden opportunity—to forge new alliances or fortify the old ones.

The wine, the delicacies, the splendor—they were distractions. The true currency of the night lay in whispered deals, veiled marriage proposals, and future trade.

Some had even skipped the royal wedding of Princess Aleriana Vandreat not long ago. Why? Because no significant power had graced the occasion. No one worth investing in.

In cultivation and politics, what mattered were resources—pills, alchemy, elite guards, and transportation—not rituals.

Now, far from the central palace, Prince Orion's estate glowed under hundreds of lanterns.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, shadows stretched across the stone pathways. One by one, ornate carriages arrived, their wheels clicking softly against the flagstones.

Inside a richly decorated drawing hall, a group of noblemen gathered, draped in embroidered robes, their voices low, thick with suspicion.

"Did you hear?" one noble whispered, swirling the wine in his glass. "Orion's boasting like he crushed the Exorcism Sect with his own hands."

"Bold," another murmured, adjusting his collar. "But boldness isn't always wisdom. That sect was a counterbalance. He might've shifted the scales too early."

"...But I heard he summoned every other heir too," said a minister, glancing around, reading the crowd—not the ranks, but the novelty. Most newcomers weren't rushing to flatter the high-borns, wary of disturbing potential deals they had with lesser nobles. Only those with leverage, something to lose, dared to take initiative in such conversations.

"It doesn't matter. No one's going to show up."

The voice drew all attention.

Noble heads turned as the heir of the Duke Crutrian family stepped into their midst, interrupting the circle of powerful men. Her eyes were sharp, gleaming with intrigue—unlike other noblewomen, she wasn't here to sip tea and gossip. She had come to play the game.

"Oh—Lady Ruvina. A pleasure to have your presence," a nobleman greeted her quickly, his tone respectful. Though she wasn't the official head yet, everyone knew she would soon inherit the Crutrian seat.

Duke Arcutus and Duke Crutrian—rivals. One, the sword. The other, the spear. Everyone knew the history.

"Hmm. Funny," Ruvina said, withdrawing a fan and covering the lower half of her face, her black pupils glinting under the lantern light. "I heard Kyle Arcutus has some... connection with the Blooddemoness. Anyone else hear that?"

She had deliberately approached this group of men—because they knew things. Not like the idle women who chatted only of beauty and meaningless court routines.

Ruvina drank without hesitation. In theory, this world treated men and women equally—she herself was set to become the head of her house. But the truth was, in many corners, women were still seen as accessories.

Groomed to be good wives, sheltered in comfort, used as tokens in political games.

Most of them didn't fight it.

Didn't even speak. Let things continue as they were. And that made them dangerous—not because of their silence, but because they offered nothing of value in return. Their presence was often a burden—too obsessed with skin cream and shallow chatter.

Men, however, were no better. Stupid in their own way—thinking women had brains in their knees while their own resided between their legs.

Which made them easier to manipulate than any woman.

"Lady Ruvina, I doubt that rumor," came a gruff voice from behind.

An old man stepped forward, his fox-like eyes glinting, fingers brushing through a well-kept white beard. "That demoness may be siding with another heir. And perhaps the aim is to frame Princess Aleriana. We all know she lacks the ability to command someone like the Blooddemoness."

He spoke aloud what many higher nobles were already whispering among themselves. Unlike the servants and followers who only saw what was shown, the real players read between the lines.

'That's what I thought too.'

Behind her fan, Ruvina's gaze sharpened. She was already considering it. Someone like Kyle Arcutus—a weak second-layer cultivator with no support and who has even been thrown out of his family—were he to become the future husband, someone could easily use his name to target the Princess, especially since accusing the Princess directly would make little sense.

To have him as someone's husband was a weakness, especially if they were fighting for the throne.

And either way, everyone knew one thing:

Princess Aleriana was silent. Careful. She didn't play openly on the board like the other heirs.

No, she moved in shadows. Slowly. Safely.

So it made perfect sense—for someone else to wear her mask, while the real game unfolded behind it.

"That… that's not one of Prince Orion's carriages, is it?"

"Wait, that crest—no, that's not even marked—"

"Is that… from the main palace?"

"No heir was supposed to arrive yet. Right?"

The murmur began like ripples on still water, as everyone's eyes were naturally pulled in that direction.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the grand courtyard, black as ink with silver-lined wheels that glinted under the lantern light—silent, too smooth, too perfect.

There were no guards. No runners announcing a name. Nothing.

Then, the door opened.

A foot in a polished red heel touched the stone, followed by a figure draped in layered royal silks darker than blood.

A woman emerged—slowly, deliberately.

Her eyes were blood red.

Not irritated. Not sleepless.

Red like blood, unlike rubies, they don't have reflection. Added on pale skin, she appeared like a ghost, framed by lashes long enough to flutter shadows—she was a beautiful ghost.

Her lips were the color of spilt wine, full and composed, and her expression sharp—like she'd kill a man just for blinking too loud.

Her very presence screamed nobility.

But no one knew her.

"I've never seen her at court," a noblewoman whispered behind her fan.

"She looks like the type who drink blood…. "

The confusion swirled louder than the music. Whispers jumped from balcony to garden path.

And just as the tension peaked—

Another figure stepped out behind her.

A man.

He wasn't dressed to impress—plain black robes, high collar, loose sleeves. His hair, pitch black, messy. But his eyes—

They caught the light.

Not black. Not brown.

Crimson and gold streaked across his pupils, twisting like galaxies trapped in glass. One glance, and it felt like he saw through people.

The nobles froze.

No one said anything, but a silent understanding passed between them.

Some had paled. Others straightened like they'd just been drafted into war. Even Ruvina lowered her fan just a little.

The silence stretched for too long.

Until—

"…Does anyone know who that idiot is who brought a black cat to the noble banquet?!"