NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Twenty-four hours crawled by without a single meal or drop of water.

Hunger gnawed at his empty stomach, yet his vitality kept his posture straight.

’Thora and the vanguard must be losing their minds by now,’ Kane mused, shifting his chained wrists against the stone wall.

’I just hope they don’t try anything stupid. A frontal assault right now would ruin my entire negotiation strategy.’

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, sharp and deliberate.

Aeloria stepped into the cell, wrapped in pristine, high-collared noble attire that hid every inch of her skin.

Her face remained a perfect mask of indifference, showing none of the broken, sobbing wreck she had been yesterday.

”You’ve been summoned.”

”To where?”

Kane asked, genuinely curious as he stood up, letting the chains rattle.

”Where else, you barbarian? To the Queen’s chambers.”

Two armored guards flanked him immediately, unlocking the wall mounts and pulling him roughly by the shoulder chains.

Kane didn’t resist, walking calmly past the minister.

As he brushed her shoulder, he deliberately let the back of his hand graze across her chest.

Aeloria flinched, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips before she could stop it.

”Oh, still sensitive,” Kane whispered, a grin spreading across his face.

She refused to look at him, staring straight ahead.

”I won’t fall for your tricks.”

”You already did.”

”Her Majesty might believe your ridiculous lies. I won’t.”

”I never asked you to,” Kane chuckled, matching his stride to the guards.

”Your opinion is meaningless when Sylvara believes me. You are just a glorified messenger pigeon.”

Her carefully constructed composure fractured.

”Talking like some knowledgeable scholar after spending all your time rolling around in the wilds.”

”Yeah, yeah, shut up and lead the way.”

They marched up the winding staircases, leaving the freezing basement behind.

Golden sunlight spilled across the upper terraces, illuminating the hanging gardens and the intricate wooden bridges connecting the royal spires.

Kane ignored the glaring nobles and focused on memorizing the routes of the palace guard.

’Only two guards on the western balcony,’ he noted, his internal map updating seamlessly.

’Security is surprisingly lax near the royal wing. They rely way too much on those kinetic wards.’

Ornate wooden doors carved with sprawling vines swung open.

Sylvara sat behind a sweeping mahogany desk, her fingers steepled together.

Beside her stood a blind woman with striking blonde hair and a pale, serene face.

A small smile tugged at the blind woman’s lips the moment Kane crossed the threshold.

”We meet again,” the Seer said, her voice like chiming glass.

”Yeah,” Kane replied, refusing to bow as the guards forced him to a halt.

”Though last time you were predicting a bountiful harvest, not the end of the world.”

Aeloria took her place by the wall, glaring daggers at his back.

”How do you know about the devils?” the Seer asked, tilting her head as if listening to a frequency no one else could hear.

”Instinct.”

”This fucker...” Aeloria growled, taking half a step forward.

Sylvara didn’t even look at her minister, raising a single finger to demand silence.

The Queen leaned forward, her green eyes piercing into Kane’s relaxed expression.

”Instinct does not predict a global invasion down to the exact day, Warlord. Tell us the truth, or we will refuse this absurd proposal right now. You can rot in that cell until your vanguard starves.”

”Refuse, and you will die,” Kane answered flatly, dropping the playful banter.

”I can at least save my own people. I will pack up Menual, march my army into the northern mountains, and wait it out. But the devils? They will come for you first.”

”Why us?” the Seer asked, still smiling faintly.

”Because you are sitting on the biggest mana battery on the continent. They need the World-Tree to anchor their rifts. They will swarm your beautiful city, burn your hanging bridges, and slaughter and rape every pointy-eared noble who thinks magic barriers can stop hellfire.”

”We have defended this tree for three thousand years.”

”Against mortals. Imagine fighting an Upper Devil alone, without any backup. Do you even know what an Upper Devil does, Sylvara?”

The Queen remained silent.

”It doesn’t fight with swords or basic elemental spells. It corrupts the ambient mana. The moment one steps foot in your forest, your mages won’t be able to cast a single spark. Your kinetic wards will shatter. Your healers will watch their spells rot the flesh they are trying to mend. And that is just one Upper Devil. A Supreme class will rip the sky open and rain fire until the rivers boil.”

”And you claim to know how to kill these creatures?”

”I know how they think. I know their hierarchy, their weaknesses, and how to exploit their arrogance.” Kane took a step closer to the desk, the guards tensing behind him.

”But I can’t do it with a fragmented continent. Milfheim has the raw numbers. You have the aerial superiority and the mana reserves. The northern plains have the cavalry.”

”You want me to hand over command of the Elven forces to a barbarian?” Sylvara finally stood up, her aura flaring.

”To a man who was fucking my minister in a dungeon cell just yesterday?”

”I am offering you survival,” Kane stated, completely unbothered by her rising magic.

”Who I fuck in my free time has nothing to do with my military strategy.”

Aeloria turned bright red, her hands curling into fists.

”Your Majesty, let me cut his tongue out!”

”Try it,” Kane challenged, glancing over his shoulder.

”I’ll make you scream louder than last time.”

”Enough!” Sylvara snapped, her voice cracking like a whip.

The ambient magic in the room vanished, sucked back into the Queen’s core.

She stared at Kane, her chest heaving slightly, before turning to the blind Seer.

”Well?” Sylvara demanded.

”Is he lying?”

The Seer turned her unseeing eyes toward Kane, her smile fading into something far more solemn.

’She’s trying to read my interface,’ Kane realized, feeling a strange, tingling pressure against his temples.

’The system blocks scrying, but she can still feel the void where my fate should be.’

”He speaks the truth, Your Majesty,” the Seer murmured, gripping her wooden staff.

”I cannot see his future, but I can see the ash he speaks of. The stars are screaming. The rift is already forming in the void. One hundred days.”

Sylvara slowly sank back into her chair, the regal mask finally slipping to reveal genuine exhaustion.

”One hundred days to unite five empires that have been at war for centuries.” The Queen rubbed her temples.

”It is an impossible task.”

”Only if you try to do it with diplomacy,” Kane smirked, leaning over her polished desk.

”Diplomacy takes years. Conquest takes weeks. We don’t ask them to join us. We force them.”