The Reaper's Harem: My Monster Mates のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

"Target lost."High above the shattered remnants of the city, the angelic strike force hovers in the smog-choked sky. I watch them from the shadows of a half-collapsed storefront, keeping my body perfectly still."Apologies, Commander Raphael," a winged student reports, his voice echoing faintly down to the ruined streets. "The Zerg swarm masked his scent entirely. We cannot find any trace of the Fallen Werewolf."I know the plot of this world. That werewolf they are hunting was once a top-tier predator in the Black City. However, a year ago, the corruption of the "Fallen" began to rot his mind. He broke out of maximum-security containment just yesterday. Bringing him in shouldn't be this difficult for a squad of elite Awakeners, but the sudden Zerg invasion has thrown the entire city into absolute chaos.The leader angel of the squad, Raphael, remains perfectly impassive."Issue a bounty," Raphael orders, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight of authority. "Set up a perime

The stench of Zerg ichor hangs heavy in the air. I wipe a splatter of green slime off my cheek, my chest heaving slightly from the exertion."Most Awakeners handle the risk of Falling by engaging in physical intimacy," Arlo says, his voice trembling slightly as he watches me drag the massive, unconscious body of the Werewolf across the pavement. "It's the most efficient way to stabilize their mental state."I grunt, shoving a heavy, furry leg into the backseat of the SUV. The Alpha is dead weight—solid muscle and dense bone."Right. Sex saves the world. Got it," I mutter. "What a convenient plot device.""However," Arlo continues, keeping a safe distance from the beast's razor-sharp claws, "some Awakened species have...different standards. Angels and Elves, for example, are obsessed with being clean. They naturally repel physical touch. Werewolves, on the other hand..."He pauses as I accidentally bang the Werewolf's head against the door frame. The beast lets out a low, unconscious g

"This behavior cannot be encouraged," Raphael says, his voice cool, detached, and utterly lacking in empathy. "Crashing through the gates sets a chaotic precedent. It disrespects the Order."Dean Nox smirks, adjusting her thin, silver-rimmed glasses. "That's why they made a promise, Raphael. If they fail to Awaken, they go straight to federal prison. High risk, high reward. These two children are quite confident. Would you like to stay and watch?""No," the Angel replies, smoothing down his pristine white gloves as if our very presence has soiled the air around him. "I have matters to attend to."He turns to leave, brushing past me without a second glance. As he moves, a subtle breeze follows him. I pause, inhaling instinctively. It is a scent that screams 'untouchable.' It's the smell of authority, of absolute righteousness.I watch his retreating back—the perfect posture, the hidden wings—and shrug. Smells expensive, I think. Like money I haven't earned yet.---Dean Nox leads us aw

Ares is the God of War, slaughter, and unbridled chaos. Naturally, his Awakeners are not known for their even tempers.In the squad room on the top floor of the elite dorms, Bore stares at his phone screen. His crimson hair is literally sparking with aggressive divine energy. He reads his direct messages. Then, with a roar, he kicks a heavy mahogany chair straight through the reinforced glass wall.CRASH."What the fuck is this?!" Bore bellows, his voice echoing like a cannon."Who stepped on our War God's precious ego?" a lazy, melodic voice drawls.Philo—the Poseidon Awakener—leans over from the adjacent sofa. His vibrant blue hair catches the light as he tilts his head, catching a glimpse of Bore's screen. A permanent, arrogant smirk plays on his lips. Then, he bursts into a fit of ringing laughter."Oh, my gods. Are you serious? She didn't just ask for a sparring fee, she practically demanded your entire inheritance! She isn't too scared to fight you, Bore. She's just trying to le

"You know, Darling," I say, pointing my silver steak knife at his sad, grey square of nutrient paste. "You need to eat well to have the strength to train. That sludge isn't going to build a God of Medicine."Arlo frowns, staring at the sizzling, gloriously bleeding cut of premium Wagyu on my plate. He swallows hard. "How much did that cost? Three Academy Points?"I chew a perfectly tender, garlic-buttered piece of meat, swallow, and casually hold up five fingers.Five points. For a single meal.Arlo looks physically pained by the price, but he knows I'm right. High-grade divine energy requires high-grade fuel.He abruptly grabs his tray and returns with a mountain of roasted chicken and a massive protein shake.The problem? He has the stomach of a bird. Watching him desperately force-feed himself dry meat is so tragic I almost tell him to stop—mostly to ensure he doesn't throw up on my expensive shoes."Hey!"