Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1356
Capítulo 1356: Wait…
The last group pressed through the gate in a tight knot.
Two nuns first, one limping, the other keeping an arm wrapped around her waist. Behind them came the children with their small hands clutching cloth sleeves and each other as the pale light swallowed them one by one.
Mira counted under her breath until the final figure vanished.
The gate folded in on itself and went out.
Silence returned to the ruined rooftop.
Mira let out a breath she had been holding too long and turned, already talking with a chirpy attitude. “This is the final orphanage done!! I’m so happy! See? We really are making a great team. You’re the muscle, and I’m the brains and-”
Her forehead met something solid.
She stumbled back half a step, blinking, nose stinging.
“Huh?” She tilted her head up, confused. “What’s going on?”
Quinlan had not moved. He was facing her now.
“We’re done here. Greyhaven has fallen. You are to rejoin your colleagues on the other side.”
The words landed heavier than she expected.
Mira opened her mouth, then closed it. Her hands curled at her sides. She glanced once toward the city, where smoke drifted low between broken rooftops.
“Can nothing be done?” she asked. “So many more innocents reside inside the walls of their home…”
“This is war. Innocents die helplessly due to the decisions of others.” Quinlan replied.
She looked back at him wryly with her lips trembling. Then Mira sighed, “I know…” And straightened her back before bowing slightly, hands folded in front of her in habit.
“Thank you for saving me. And an even bigger thank you for letting me play a role in saving the sisters and the children. We owe you our gratitude.”
She hesitated, then lifted her head again. “May I know your name?”
For a moment, the only sound was the wind brushing past ruined stone.
“Quinlan Elysiar,” he said.
Mira nodded. “Quinlan… Why do I get the feeling that you don’t plan to follow me through this doorway?”
“Because I don’t.”
“… Do you think these short answers make you a macho badass, or what?! Speak normally!”
“Wait…” While hissing and pouting, Mira suddenly narrowed her eyes.
Something tugged at her thoughts, faint at first, then sharp enough to make her breath hitch.
“Quinlan Elysiar…”
Her gaze unfocused.
A memory surfaced. A stuffy meeting room. The tea gone cold. One of the younger sisters leaned far too close, voice lowered and excited as she whispered about a new wanted poster circulating through the kingdom. A bounty so high it no longer had a monetary value attached but the king saying, ‘just catch him and whatever you want is yours.’
‘I’d sin if it was with him…’ the sister had said, grinning without shame.
Mira’s spine stiffened.
Her eyes snapped back to him, wide.
“Th-that’s!! You’re!!” Words tangled in her throat. She took a step back, then another. “No, no, that can’t be right. You’re a mass murderer. A monster. The churches issued warnings. They said-”
Quinlan stepped forward. “My relationship with the Goddess is rocky at best. Now you understand why I had so much fun messing with one of her believers.”
Mira squeaked and tried to retreat, but his hand closed around her upper arm, firm without bruising. Before she could gather breath for another protest, he lifted her clean off the ground.
“W-wait! Don’t you dare! I’m not done with you just yet!”
He walked the last step to the gate and set her down on the other side, steadying her on her feet as if placing a crate exactly where it belonged.
Her mouth opened.
The gate folded shut.
The sound cut her off mid-screech.
The light collapsed inward and vanished, leaving only stone, smoke, and open sky.
Quinlan stood alone on the rooftop.
He exhaled through his nose, shoulders easing a fraction.
“Finally. Some peace and quiet.”
Then he turned around.
…
On the other side of the gate, the air felt different.
Clean.
Mira stumbled half a step as her boots touched earth that was warm from the sun. Around her stretched a city untouched by siege.
The building walls stood proudly. Roofs were whole. A river cut through the center in a calm line, water clear enough to see the stones beneath. Beyond the outer roads, forest rolled outward in deep green bands, dense and quiet.
Mira saw none of it.
She stood frozen, eyes fixed on the place where the gate had been.
Gone.
Her chest felt tight. Slowly, she lifted a hand, then let it fall.
“… The Primordial Villain,” she murmured. “I was with him this whole time.”
While Quinlan’s bounty poster was spread far and wide, and his reputation even further, that did not mean that all citizens would recognize him. Mira and the other sisters, for example, were too busy leading their own lives to study the wanted poster of a criminal from another duchy.
Well, the sisters who did not have sinful thoughts about him, that is.
Mira’s mouth pulled into a small, shaky line. “That explains everything. The rudeness. The way he spoke about the Goddess. He really is a charlatan…” Her voice dipped. “He deceived me…”
The ground beneath her feet trembled.
Mira stiffened and looked down just as the stone split. From the break, roots pushed upward, thick and pale at first, then darkening as they grew. A tree rose in seconds, bark smooth and alive, leaves unfurling as if waking from sleep.
A small figure stepped out from the trunk.
She had green skin, the color of new leaves, and hair that hung in loose curls like vines. Bare feet rested on a root that continued to grow, lifting her higher and higher until she stood above Mira’s head.
The girl leaned down and placed a small hand on Mira’s hair.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
Mira made a strangled sound. “W-w-w-what?!” She looked up, eyes wide. “Who are you?! Why are you- why are you petting me?!”
The girl smiled, open and bright.
“Thank you for helping Father do something good,” she said. Her voice was light, almost playful. “I can tell he feels better because of you.”
The patting continued. “Good girl.”
Like father, like daughter.
Mira stood there, hands half-raised, mind blank. She stared at the girl’s face. There was no guile there. No edge. Just a simple happiness that pressed in on her chest harder than the words before.
Slowly, her shoulders eased.
“He is a rude man, no doubt, but… He didn’t need to save us,” she said quietly. “He could have left and not taken on extra risk.”
Her gaze softened. “Maybe he isn’t beyond redemption. I’ll pray for him tonight. Maybe the merciful Goddess will look at him in a better light if he repents.”
She looked up again. “What’s your name, young lady?”
The girl straightened, clearly pleased.
“Rosie!” she said, thrusting out a tiny hand.
Mira smiled despite herself and reached up to shake it.
“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” she said. “I’m Mira.”
“Good. But, sister, you should know something. My father will never repent for his actions, so you should stop wasting your time on utter nonsense.”
“What?” Mira gasped. Now that she thought about it, why was this creature calling herself his daughter, anyhow?”
But then, she heard the sound of distant crying. “Ah. The kids are distressed. I’ll go help the sisters.”
“Good girl,” Rosie repeated, patting Mira’s head a few more times for good measure.
“…”
…
Quinlan turned toward a sound he picked up on all of a sudden.
It carried through the broken streets in uneven bursts. Steel striking armor. Shouts cut short. The dull thud of bodies hitting stone. He stepped to the edge of the roof and crouched, then pushed off.
He landed on the peak of a taller building a few streets away, boots settling without a sound. From there, he had a clear view of the avenue below.
Black Fang moved through it like a blade through butter.
She did not slow. She did not pause to reset her footing. Her katana traced short paths, clean and precise, each cut placed where armor failed, or joints opened. Soldiers tried to raise shields. Some managed half a turn. None finished it.
She crossed the distance in blinks. One moment, she was at the front line. The next, behind it. Men fell before they realized she had passed them. The line collapsed inward on itself as bodies piled where they stood.
Blood marked her path in wide arcs. It sprayed her sleeves. It darkened her hands. It streaked along her cheek and soaked into her hair. Her skin showed it clearly, pale beneath the red, untouched by fear or hesitation.
There was no waste in her movement. No flourish meant to impress. Only motion that ended lives.
A murder machine of the highest caliber.
Quinlan rested one arm on his knee and watched.
“Ah,” he said quietly. “She’s still so mesmerizing. What a breathtaking woman.”
Black Fang vaulted over a fallen cart, blade flashing once as she passed. Three heads dropped together, armor clattering as the bodies followed. She landed, pivoted, and drove forward again without breaking pace.
Grace and menace moved together in her. Each step measured. Each strike final.
Quinlan’s gaze followed her as she cut through another cluster, blood painting her from shoulder to waist.
Danger suited her.
Black Fang was a true beauty, an extremely gorgeous woman.
She was also an incredible badass, a cold mass murderer.
For him, that combination never failed. A woman who could turn a battlefield into silence while standing calm at its center. Beauty sharpened by lethality.
A true femme fatale.