Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 779: Uncovering the Secrets of Necromancy

- PoV: Quinlan -

I stretched out on the fresh mattress, the one weʼd swapped in to replace the old one that was now fully stained with sweat and… other evidence of our hard labor.

Vex lay curled against my left side with her warm purrs vibrating through my chest like a soft engine. My right hand propped my head up, elbow buried in the pillow, while my left arm wrapped around her, palm resting possessively on her sensual butt.

She nuzzled in closer, resting her head on my shoulder, and one hand of hers began drifting down to cup and gently massage my balls. It felt as if it was meant to be a tender apology for the brutal ”duel” sheʼd demanded from my twin jewels. Each careful squeeze made me sigh in pleasure and pure happiness.

I felt greatly fulfilled right now.

Now that I was in great safety, and the afterglow of a most successful and pleasurable day, I allowed my mind to drift back to something of great importance: It was more than fine to lie with my women, but I couldnʼt afford to lose myself in hedonistic pleasure forever. I had to master these new necromantic powers.

Here, there would be no more rushed glimpses in the middle of battle as it was when I desperately searched for ways to slow the Sunfang down back in Lionheart.

It was time to lock in.

I whispered the summoning call under my breath:

”[Necromantic Codex].”

With a slow shimmer, the ancient tome materialized. It hovered inches from my face with its pages fluttering as if caught in an unseen breeze. Perfect. I didnʼt need to free a single finger to read it: the book remained suspended in the air, open to the last page Iʼd studied, ready for me to pore over glyphs of life, death, and everything in between.

Vexʼs purr softened into a murmur against my neck. ”Is this what that strange golden message was about? Mister ʼThe Universeʼs One True Necromancerʼ…”

Her statement ended in her trademark beautiful giggles.

I grinned in return, laying a loving kiss against her temple. ”Indeed, my sexy hex witch. Letʼs see what this is truly about.”

Having said my piece, I willed the Codex to turn back to its beginning.

Its pages fluttered in reverse, turning one after another with quiet rustles that bled into whispers, like voices speaking in hushed tones just outside the realm of understanding. Then it stopped on the very first page. A single phrase was visible, written with letters made of glimmering blue text that mightʼve been soul-light itself.

The soul is not a servant of rot.

True Necromancy is not the puppeteering of husks, nor the desecration of hollow bones.

It is the binding of essence to will, the shaping of that which lingers beyond the grave.

Flesh withers. Bone breaks. But the soul endures.

Seek not the rot that falls apart in your hands, but the light that refuses to fade.

Command not silence, but memory.

Do not raise the forgotten.

Reach for what remembers. Bind what still listens.

I stared at the text in silence. The message felt heavy, overly so. Not just because of its cryptic grandeur, but because some part of it rang true deep inside me. I wasnʼt playing with puppets. True necromancy was learning how to command echoes of will, memory, and power. ṞåＮȎ𐌱Ёṩ

Vex hummed beside me, still gently teasing my jewel sack with those soft, circling strokes of hers. ”I canʼt read a single word from this creepy book,” she revealed, sounding more curious than bothered.

”This text was probably meant to be read by me alone,” I replied before adding dryly, ”Or maybe this is the work of just another one of my ʼprimordial bullshitʼ perks, as my girls like to call them.”

She grinned against my chest, purring louder, but at the same time, her grip on my balls tightened a bit, letting me know she wasnʼt overly satisfied with my answer.

Whether she liked it or not, she had to admit that it made sense, though. My mind could process any language I encountered, so long as it wasnʼt related to the supernatural, such as classes that produced runes or syllables. Kaeliraʼs Runeweaver Titan spells produced runes I couldnʼt read, and so did Vexʼs Hexwitch class, just with hexes replacing the runes.

It was most likely that the Codex spoke directly to my soul, but perhaps it was just written using some ancient text my primordial brain could translate for me. Either way, what mattered in the end was that the knowledge flowed.

The next few pages were straightforward. Four spells etched in clean, deliberate glyphs:

— [March of the Damned]

— [Awaken]

— [Soul Fusion]

— [Necromantic Codex]

They each carried their own diagrams and brief instructions, more meant to remind than to teach. It was clear I was meant to experiment on my own and come to my conclusions, not learn facts from a book.

I flipped to the next section.

A new heading appeared, engraved with solemn gravity:

> Necromantic Tier Ascension

To ascend to Tier II:

Possess 10 Elite Souls of Rank 3 or higher.

”These ranks again…” I murmured, remembering how my elite souls had ranks instead of levels. I had to collect 10 elite souls and upgrade them 2 ranks — if they didnʼt come already ranked high enough to pass the requirement.

Then came the soul archives.

The first was the Lesser Soul Index. A glowing sea of names unfolded beneath it, over a million. All of them scorched to death by the firestorm Iʼd summoned in the heart of Lionheart. So many lives, snuffed out and absorbed. My Soul Reaper saber had claimed them all, and now I could use them as I wished through my magic.

I remembered using a hundred of these lesser souls to lock Sunfang in place, even if only briefly. They were loyal soldiers who didnʼt fear death one bit, rushing into deathʼs embrace as if it meant nothing.

Then I turned the page to the second list.

A smaller title flared:

> Elite Soul Archive – Ascended Souls

— Foxkin Archer (Rank 1)

— Human Warrior (Rank 1)

I knew what would welcome my eyes here, yet I couldnʼt help but blink.

Iʼd killed so many. Multiple were above level 40, higher leveled than me. And yet, only two entries. My brow furrowed.

Why?

What made a soul elite and not lesser? Why were only those two elites?