Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1358

Capítulo 1358: Stroll Through Greyhaven

They moved without hurry.

Boots crossed, shattered stone and ash at an even rhythm, the taller figure in black armor walking beside the shorter woman with the sheathed katana. Smoke slid past their legs in low sheets. Somewhere ahead, metal scraped. A shout began to form.

It never finished.

Black Fang’s hand moved once. The blade left its sheath just far enough. Steel flashed. A head rolled. She never broke stride.

Quinlan did not look at the body. His fingers flicked instead. Wind compressed into a thin line and snapped forward. Two shapes at the end of the street folded against a wall, armor crushed inward, breath driven out of them in a single dry sound.

They kept walking.

No coordination was discussed. When movement stirred too close, she cut it down before it registered danger. When threats lingered farther out, his elements reached them first.

A black-armored man and a silent blade, side by side, erasing resistance at a measured pace.

Then Quinlan spoke.

“You know,” he said, tone casual, eyes forward, “I’ve been thinking.”

Black Fang did not respond. Her presence did not shift.

“You don’t want to age, which is perfectly reasonable, especially for a woman. You ladies, don’t age as gracefully as men tend to.”

That earned him quite the nasty side eye from the silent beauty.

But Quinlan only smirked and continued. “You found an answer in my [Blessed Seed]. A few months and the problem will be handled. But before meeting me, you spent over a century searching for a solution, according to my bewitching hexwitch’s words.”

A group rounded a corner ahead. Black Fang’s blade traced a clean line. Three bodies dropped. She slid the katana back in with a soft click.

Quinlan went on, unbothered, even going as far as to regenerate mana while this was going on. “Which makes me wonder why you never chose the obvious path. The Ritual of Immortality. Undead don’t age. It would’ve solved the problem, no?”

Black Fang’s head turned. Her face showed nothing, besides flat attention. Eyes on him, fully aware of the implication behind his words. Fully aware of what he believed would happen in the coming months, and how exactly his [Blessed Seed] would help her with her problem.

It was a lot more sensual than what she had in mind.

She did not believe in his ability to make her feel love. When the little girl climbed out of the serpent’s belly more than four centuries ago, something fundamental broke in her little heart. She’d become a trueborn terror, its incarnation.

While during more laid-back moments in life, Black Fang could feel faint emotions; she could smile, laugh, and even joke.

But love? That was such a strong emotion that the woman believed herself incapable of feeling it. The closest she would ever get was what she felt for her disciples, which was protectiveness.

When she spoke, answering his question, her voice was even.

“I am not afraid of death. I resent decay. Watching what I built be taken piece by piece. The body losing muscles. The mind losing sharpness. Skill dulling despite centuries of discipline. All of it stolen by time, not by failure.”

Another enemy moved. Quinlan’s heel stamped once. Rock surged up and launched the man high into the skies, where Black Fang finished it without looking, just a rapid katana strike separating head from body.

“Undeath preserves nothing I value,” she explained. “It freezes. It hollows. It replaces sensation with absence and calls it eternity. That is not what I seek, for that is nothing but stagnation. A curse I’ve been trying to escape for a very long time.”

Quinlan nodded. The Heavenly Restriction, as it was called. Black Fang was level 74, making it impossible for her to level up further. Any kill, even ones that should’ve given a million XP, gave only 1 XP.

Kills of people or monsters much weaker than her gave nothing. Black Fang simply didn’t have enough targets on the entire continent to level up, making her stagnate.

Not only with her levels, but also with her age.

When a mortal concluded their rank-up mission, their body’s aging slowed.

The first such instance was when they reached level 10. Most of those people could be expected to reach age 80 consistently, while many lived for longer than a hundred years.

Then, as the levels increased, the spike in age expectancy spiked exponentially. When one reached level 20, instead of adding 20-40 years of life expectancy as it happened at level 10, they added over 50.

The last rank-up mission, available at level 50, made it so humans could live for 1,000 years, while elves could live for a whole 10,000 years.

Interestingly, it had nothing to do with the Vitality stat. Quinlan’s logic dictated that those with high Vitality should live longer, but that was not the case.

He didn’t quite know why, but age expectancy only seemed to depend on one’s race and level.

Black Fang glanced ahead again.

“I do not seek to endure forever. I seek to remain intact until I decide I’m done.”

Quinlan responded with a small nod paired with a thin smile.

“Understandable. Letting something as abstract as time decide when you’re finished is a cruel thing to accept.”

His gaze slid, briefly, to the places where her perfect skin showed beneath the blood and grime. Even there, even now, it remained unmarked. Untouched.

The grin that followed carried a different edge.

“But Black Fang… I’ve heard plenty of stories about you. Long days submerged in poison baths. Carefully brewed toxins. Repeated exposure. A very dedicated skincare routine, if the rumors are to be believed.”

Her steps slowed by a fraction.

She turned her head just enough for him to see her eyes narrow.

“You are not listening,” she said flatly. “That was to extend my prime years.”

Quinlan shook his head, amused, unfazed by the warning threaded through her tone.

“Is that so? I don’t believe you. From what I can tell, Miss Terror, you are not being honest with me, probably not even with yourself.”

They passed another intersection. Movement flickered at the edge of sight. Quinlan didn’t even look. A pulse of compressed air folded the shapes into the ground.

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Black Fang decreed.

Quinlan wasn’t having that. “Nope. You went out of your way not to train your muscles to retain them for as long as possible, but to ensure your flawless skin remained free of flaws. Isn’t that right? If you wanted to remain in your physical peak for as long as possible, isn’t rigorous muscle training better than staying in poison baths for days?”

Black Fang stopped.

It was abrupt enough that Quinlan took one more step before halting beside her.

She turned fully this time. The narrowing of her eyes sharpened into something hotter, focused squarely on his face and the irritating curve of his mouth.

“All of what you said may be true,” Quinlan said, grin widening instead of receding. “But deep down, you resent the thought of seeing that pristine skin, that delicate face, turn into that of an old woman. Isn’t that right?”

For a breath, the street felt tighter.

Then she scoffed, sharp and dismissive, and turned away again, resuming her pace without waiting for him.

“I am going to have a conversation with Vex,” she said. “A very thorough one.”

Quinlan reached out.

His hand closed around her shoulder, firm enough to stop her, light enough that it carried no force. Black Fang halted and looked back at him, brows drawn together in a questioning line.

“Be lenient on my beloved wife. Vex is an amazing girl.”

Her lips parted.

“When I took her in as a disciple, secrecy was-”

She stopped.

The sensation came first.