Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1301

Capítulo 1301: Their Answer

Just like the rest of Quinlan’s girls, the foxkin did not want to become a trophy wife whose sole existence revolved around welcoming her man back home after a successful campaign, sporting a cheery smile and starry eyes full of relief and joy.

No, she wanted to be there on the campaign, putting in immense effort and, ideally, being the one to make such a big difference that the scales tip in their favor because of her brilliance.

She was a utility-focused combatant; as such, this failure hit her hard, just as losing in a duel would hit Ayame and the rest of the combat-focused girls.

‘I will research these defensive artifacts at length…’

Kitsara decreed inwardly with a fire lit up in her chest. Knowledge was the most important tool for a woman like her, and the main difference maker of what separated her from the ancient foxkin who would’ve slipped through such defenses with ease.

Just getting to nine tails wasn’t enough.

She needed more.

…

The veil around the estate grounds flared, reacting to an unseen attempt at infiltration.

Orianna’s petals withdrew from the shimmering surface.

“They noticed even the plants,” Orianna said with a slow exhale. “Their defenses are fine-tuned. I wonder who made these artifacts… They’re not simple. A master dwarf must be behind them, one whose work I’m unfamiliar with.”

Vex tilted her head sideways with a sly smile. “Is that you making excuses for your failure, big sis?”

Orianna didn’t answer.

She only shot a glare sharp enough to shave ice, then turned away as if Vex didn’t exist.

The Flower Queen then shifted her attention to Raika.

Raika stood idly by, not yet having a target to begin pummeling to death. People called her The Brutalizer for a reason.

Orianna tilted her chin toward the veil.

Raika’s expression barely moved, just a faint tightening around the eyes as if someone had handed her a task, finally. Standing idly by wasn’t this woman’s style.

She stepped forward.

Her heel struck the snow hard enough to bend the earth beneath. No preparation. No stance-setting. She simply drove her fist forward.

The hit landed with a loud bang, muffled by the veil’s surface. The barrier rippled out in concentric rings.

*Bang!*

Raika hit it again.

*Bang!*

And again.

And just like that, the barrage began.

*Bang!* *Bang!* *Bang!* *Bang!*

Her strikes came in quick succession. Nothing elegant. Nothing measured. Each blow drove up her momentum even further as she was getting into her rhythm.

The Brutalizer lived up to her name through simple repetition. Bone against magic. Flesh against constructs.

Yet cracks didn’t form.

The veil didn’t bend.

It only responded with a shimmer each time her fists connected.

This wasn’t something a single fighter could tear through in a couple of hundred punches, not even someone like her. The runes woven inside were meant to handle siege tools, spell bombardment, and long-term assaults.

Yet Raika didn’t slow. The woman was ready to conduct her showdown against the veil until it surrendered or she fainted from exhaustion.

…

Quinlan’s fist slammed into the barrier.

Heat ran up his arm as fire wrapped around his knuckles. Each strike left a smear of orange across the veil before it was swallowed by the magic. The barrier rippled in tight circles that died out almost instantly.

He pulled back and hit again.

And again.

The force behind his punches sent loose frost scattering across the courtyard. The air around him twisted with heat each time his flames burst forward from the impact.

Serika joined in beside him. Her fists burned bright enough to leave trails in the air. She hammered the veil with steady, rhythmic strikes that matched his tempo.

Ayame stepped forward in silence and drew her blade. She swung without flourish. Each cut struck the same patch of barrier. Her sword bounced off the veil with a hard metallic ring. She adjusted her footing and continued her steady work.

On the snowy ground behind them, Sylvaris created broad constructs of silver light. Each one resembled a siege tool made from condensed moonlight. Their impact rang loud in their ears.

The barrier held.

Minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then twenty.

Thin fractures began to form inside the veil. The damage was progressing, but it was slow. At this rate, the barrier would last hours if not days.

He noticed that this barrier, and the ones Raika and Black Fang were facing, were not on the level of what the Consortium had deployed on their important stronghold, where they met the invading Fujimori forces.

But it didn’t have to be. He and his allies did not have a large quantity of siege engines at their disposal, making their firepower less effective in a sustained barrage.

Instead, it seemed that whoever decided to sell these barriers to these nobles on such short notice prioritized medium defense but quick deployment.

Quinlan got serious. Heat bled out from his skin, the snow melting in uneven patches around his boots. The air warped in front of his hand as a swell of fire churned into shape, dense enough to bend his fingers back from the pressure alone.

He ascended into the skies so his allies wouldn’t be hit, then he let it detonate.

The blast tore outward in a rough sphere, hurling snow and dirt into the air.

The barrier shimmered once, hard, with the surface tightening against the impact.

Then it drank in the explosion.

Every scrap of fire collapsed into the veil, pulled inward, and smothered. The light rippled across its surface in a muted pulse before settling back into stillness.

He would need to keep blasting away for hours while also constantly recharging his mana.

Quinlan exhaled at the realization and let his gaze drift across the snow-covered estate grounds behind the veil.

Kaede had not appeared.

She didn’t portal over to defend her home, and neither did the Fujimori greet him with a retinue of guards sent to fight the invaders.

The household itself stayed silent. Not a single defender sallied out. There was no clash of weapons, no spells thrown their way, no clever ambushes. They just watched.

They were content to let him stand here and pound on a wall.

He struck the veil again and felt the heat roll down his spine.

“How annoying…” he muttered under his breath.

He watched Sylvaris’s latest construct slam into it hard enough to send a wave through the snow, yet the barrier still held. It flickered around the edges but stayed firm.

They were burning time.

He could tell.

No reinforcements arrived to challenge him.

Why was that bad?

Quinlan’s primary goal was to rapidly gather levels to hit level 50, enter the primordial trials, and come back stronger than ever.

As such, if they had sent even a modest number of fighters, he would at least be harvesting souls. He would be gaining experience points.

Even if he didn’t get to [Subjugate] a new noble house, he would be making progress.

But instead, he was punching a wall that needed a siege warfare and several hours of focused pressure.

‘They want me wasting my time,’ he realized.

Whether the Fujimori clan monitored the barrier or not didn’t matter.

This… this was their answer.

Delay him.

Keep him outside.

Let him slam into defenses meant for armies. Let him grind away his time and patience. Maybe reinforcements would arrive later, before the barrier fell. Maybe not. Maybe they would let the count die.

It did not matter.

The outcome was the same: wasting Quinlan’s time.

“Enough.”

Quinlan pulled his fist back and let the flames die out. There was no point to this, especially because even if they committed to sieging one county down, the enemies would have more than enough time to put together a death squad that would roll over them all.

“Let’s change targets.”

The group vanished.

The snowy estate vanished with them.

The world snapped into the Central Region.

A different manor rose before them, sprawling and proud, its outer grounds wrapped in a curtain of magic. Not identical to Frostglaive’s defenses, but the story was the same. Runes crawled along the surface like coiled serpents, reacting to their arrival.

A flare of warning light shot up from the estate tower.

A second veil snapped into place above the first.

Then nothing.

No soldiers rushing out.

No war mages.

No defenders.

Just another estate content to watch him smash his fists against their walls.

“Next.”