My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 150 - No. All I Need Is Time

Zeus’ gaze returned to me.

"Demon brat, quite a mess you made~" His tone carried a faint mockery, light enough to be deniable, sharp enough to sting. "For a prince to fall this much... stripped of his powers, reduced to this state—yet still clinging to the thieves who carry what was once yours. How nostalgic."

His eyes flicked deliberately.

Zeraphira—Wrath—stood rigid, infernal fire restrained to a disciplined simmer.

Ravvy—Gluttony—clutched my coat tighter, black hair hiding most of her face, aura trembling like a frightened animal unsure whether to bare its fangs or run.

Valeria—Lust—had gone uncharacteristically quiet, pink hair fluttering faintly as her smile faded into something sharper, more dangerous.

Ezravia—Envy—watched Zeus with narrowed purple eyes, envy mana coiled inward like a serpent ready to strike if permitted.

The implication was clear.

And intentional.

I forced air into my lungs. It hurt. Everything hurt. But pain was familiar. Mockery from gods was not new either—only the speaker had changed.

"...You talk a lot for someone who arrived after the city was almost flattened," I rasped.

Zeraphira’s head snapped toward me. "Dominic—"

Zeus’ brow rose slightly.

Not in anger.

In interest.

"Oh?" he said mildly. "Still sharp. I was beginning to think Ares had knocked that out of you."

Ares snorted. "I hit harder than that."

Artemis didn’t look at either of them. Her posture was still, bow lowered but not dismissed, shoulders tight with restraint.

Zeus’ gaze drifted back to me, stripping again—layer by layer. I could feel it. Not power probing, but history. Bloodlines. Oaths. Old contracts etched into bone and soul.

Exposure.

I hated that feeling.

"You wear the name Morningstar," Zeus continued calmly, "yet your aura is... hollow. Not broken. Emptied. Deliberately."

My jaw tightened.

He knew.

Not the how.

But the what?

"You are not ignorant of what was taken from you," Zeus said. "Nor of who carries it now."

Ezravia stiffened.

Valeria’s fingers twitched.

Ravvy whimpered softly.

Zeraphira took half a step forward, halberd angling just enough to be noticed. "Lord Zeus," she said carefully, "with respect—"

Zeus raised one finger.

The halberd stopped moving.

Not forced.

Commanded.

"Wrath," Zeus said, not looking at her. "You are disciplined. I appreciate that. But this matter predates your oath."

Zeraphira froze, eyes widening a fraction.

He knew her sin.

Of course he did.

Zeus’ attention returned to me. "Tell me, Dominic Nocturne von Morningstar. What do you believe you are owed?"

The question landed heavier than any threat.

The Curtain hummed faintly, as if listening.

Ares’ grin sharpened. Artemis’ jaw tightened. Everyone waited.

I laughed.

It came out rough, broken by blood and pain, but it was real.

"Owed?" I repeated. "By who?"

Zeus’ eyes narrowed slightly. "By Olympus. By Hell. By fate."

I shook my head slowly. "Then you’re asking the wrong question."

That got Ares’ attention.

Zeus tilted his head. "Enlighten me."

"I don’t believe I’m owed anything," I said. "What was taken from me was taken legally—by Hell’s standards. Contracts. Rituals. Seven Satans. All men, all cowards, all very thorough."

A ripple passed through the group at that.

Zeraphira’s grip tightened. Selene sucked in a sharp breath. Gabriel clasped her hands together nervously, eyes wide and confused.

"I was a child," I continued hoarsely. "They stripped me because they were afraid of what I might become. Not because I did anything wrong."

My gaze met Zeus’.

"And I survived."

Silence followed.

Not judgmental.

Evaluative.

Zeus studied me for a long moment.

"...You do not ask for recompense," he said.

"No," I replied. "I ask for time."

Ares barked a laugh. "Time? You hear that, Father? The brat wants a timeout."

Zeus didn’t react.

"What would you do with it?" he asked.

I glanced down.

"What did you do when Cronos had your siblings in my stomach? How you survived the same fate—"

Zeus’ gaze sharpened—not in offence, not in anger, but in something far older.

Recognition.

The thunder above the Curtain rolled once, slow and contemplative, like the shifting of a massive weight settling more comfortably into place.

I lifted my head despite the pain. My vision swam at the edges, but I forced focus. On him. On the king of gods who had once been a hunted child himself.

"What did you do," I continued hoarsely, "when Cronos swallowed your siblings whole? When prophecy said you would be devoured too?"

The Curtain hummed softly, reality attentive.

"You hid," I said. "You were smuggled away. Raised in a cave. Fed by a goat. Protected by nymphs and lies."

Zeus’ expression did not change.

But something behind his eyes did.

"You waited," I said. "You grew. You learned restraint before power. You learned patience before vengeance."

Ares’ grin faltered—just a hair.

Artemis’ shoulders eased a fraction, tension bleeding into something closer to wary respect.

I swallowed blood again and forced the next words out.

"I would do the same."

Silence.

Deep.

Total.

Not a courtroom pause.

A mythic one.

Zeus studied me for a long time. Longer than comfort allowed. Longer than arrogance tolerated. His gaze stripped past appearances—past my injuries, past my current weakness—and searched for something deeper.

Intent.

Not ambition.

Not resentment.

Direction.

"...You compare yourself to me," Zeus said at last.

"I compare circumstances," I replied. "Not outcomes."

That earned a soft exhale from him. Almost a laugh.

Ares scoffed openly. "Careful, Father. He’s charming you."

Zeus ignored him.

"You were wronged," Zeus said to me calmly. "Stripped, sealed, forgotten. Your lineage diminished. Your potential harvested and distributed."

His eyes flicked again—to Ravvy, to Ezravia, to Valeria, to Zeraphira.

"They orbit you still," Zeus observed. "Despite carrying what was once yours."

Valeria’s lips parted, eyes flashing. "Orbit?" she echoed sharply. "We—"

Ezravia lifted one hand slightly, stopping her. Purple eyes never left Zeus.

Zeraphira said nothing, but the infernal fire around her halberd pulsed once in quiet agitation.

"They are not bound," Zeus continued. "Not by compulsion. Not by contract. Not anymore."

Artemis’ gaze snapped to him.

"You noticed that too," she said quietly.

Zeus nodded once. "It is... unusual."

Ares snorted. "Or stupid."

Ravvy whimpered, clutching my coat tighter. I could feel her gluttonous aura trembling, uncertain, frightened—but loyal.

Zeus’ gaze lingered on her a moment longer than the others.

"Gluttony," he murmured. "Still clinging."

Ravvy shrank slightly, hiding her face.

My jaw tightened.

"Enough," I said.

The word came out sharper than intended.

Zeraphira inhaled sharply. Selene froze mid-breath. Gabriel gasped softly.

Ares’ eyebrows rose in surprise. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Zeus’ gaze snapped back to me.

Not offended.

Interested.

"They are not tools," I continued, forcing myself upright another inch despite the pain screaming through my ribs. "Not trophies. Not evidence. Whatever they carry, whatever they are now—that’s their burden, not my leash."

A pause.

Then—

"...Good," Zeus said quietly.

Ares turned his head sharply. "Good?"

Zeus ignored him again.

"You do not demand," Zeus said. "You do not beg. You do not posture. You acknowledge loss without surrendering to it."

He stepped closer.

The pressure shifted—not heavier, but more focused.

"You ask for time," Zeus repeated. "Not power. Not restoration. Not judgment."

"Yes," I said. "Time to grow into whatever I’m meant to become. Without gods deciding it for me."

Ares laughed derisively. "You hear that? He wants a training arc."

Selene, despite everything, let out a small, strangled giggle. She clapped her hands over her mouth immediately. "S–Sorry."

Zeus’ lips twitched.

Just slightly.

"You are audacious," Zeus said to me. "To speak this way in my presence."

"I learned that from your family," I replied.

That—

That actually earned a low chuckle from him.

Artemis stared.

Ares blinked.

Even the thunder seemed... amused.

Zeus straightened, clasping his hands behind his back, posture formal once more.

"Very well," he said. "Let us address the matter that brought us here."

His gaze shifted to Ares.

"Ares, son of mine. Your claim stands. A fragment of your divinity was consumed."

Ares’ grin returned. "Finally."

"However," Zeus continued, unperturbed, "said fragment does not constitute core essence. Nor was its consumption intentional theft."

Ares’ smile thinned.

"It was a byproduct," Zeus said. "Of avatar destruction under contested circumstances."

Artemis inclined her head slightly.

"I will not grant execution," Zeus continued. "Nor equivalent divinity. Nor arbitration."

Ares’ eyes widened. "You can’t—"

"I can," Zeus said calmly. "And I have."

The thunder rolled once, decisive.

"The Old Accords recognize discretion," Zeus continued. "And I am that discretion."

Ares’ war-mist churned violently, offended, compressed rage clawing at its restraints.

"So what?" Ares snarled. "I get nothing?"

Zeus looked at him evenly.

"You get warning," he said. "And precedent."

Ares’ teeth clenched.

"You will not pursue recompense against Dominic Nocturne von Morningstar," Zeus said. "Nor any under his immediate protection. Not directly. Not indirectly. Not through proxies."

Artemis’ breath eased out slowly.

Ares laughed sharply. "You’re shielding him."

"No," Zeus replied. "I am postponing you."

That... hit harder.

Ares’ grin returned—slow, dangerous. "For how long?"

Zeus’ gaze slid back to me.

"That depends," he said. "On him."

The Curtain hummed again.

"Dominic Nocturne von Morningstar," Zeus intoned. "You are hereby granted a provisional reprieve under Olympian observation."

Observation.

Not protection.

"Your existence will not be erased," Zeus continued. "Nor accelerated. Nor interfered with—so long as you do not provoke divine escalation."

Ares scoffed. "And if he does?"

Zeus’ eyes flicked back to him. "Then you may finish what you started."

That shut Ares up.

Completely.

Zeus turned back to Artemis.

"Daughter," he said. "Your violation stands."

Artemis straightened, shoulders squared. "I accept the consequences."

"You will be censured," Zeus said. "Restricted from unilateral intervention under the Old Accords for a time."

Ares’ grin sharpened again.

"But," Zeus added, "your actions prevented mass casualty violation."

Artemis’ eyes flickered.

"Your punishment will reflect that," Zeus continued. "You are confined to boundary jurisdictions. Thresholds. Hunt, patrol, observe."

A pause.

"You will not leave the mortal-adjacent realms until further notice."

Artemis exhaled slowly.

"...Understood."

Ares clicked his tongue. "Always so lenient."

Zeus finally looked at him fully.

"And you," Zeus said. "Will stand down."

Ares’ war-mist churned.

Then—

It receded.

Not gone.

Disciplined.

"...Fine," Ares muttered. "I’ll wait."

His gaze slid back to me, sharp and eager.

"But don’t mistake this for mercy, brat."

I met his eyes steadily.

"I won’t," I said. "And I won’t waste it."

Ares grinned. "Good."

Zeus turned away from him.

The thunder softened.

"The Curtain will dissolve," Zeus announced. "Memory alteration will follow. Mortals will remember nothing beyond an anomalous event."

Selene perked up. "Ooo, free cover-up patch."

Gabriel nodded frantically. "T–Thank goodness...!"

Zeraphira finally allowed herself a slow exhale, infernal fire dimming.

Zeus’ gaze returned to me one last time.

"You walk a narrow path," he said. "Between Hell and Olympus. Between past and potential."

"I know," I replied.

"Then walk carefully," Zeus said. "Eyes forward. Mouth closed."

A beat.

"...You have your grandfather’s stubbornness."

My heart skipped.

He knew.

Not everything.

But enough.

Zeus stepped back.

The sealed sky began to unfold, the Curtain thinning, reality reasserting itself with gentle inevitability.

Thunder rolled—not as a threat.

In conclusion.

As the world slid back into place, Artemis remained still, watching me from across the battlefield.

Our eyes met.

She said nothing.

But the look she gave me—

...full of longing, loneliness, and love.

Tti-ring!

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Stone me, I can take it!

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