Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 844: Serika’s Sincere Apology [Bonus]

The words echoed through the trees. Her voice didn’t waver, but her fists, clenched at her sides, trembled with strong emotions.

Quinlan blinked. Once. Twice.

Feng’s mouth had fallen wide open. ”What the hell...?!”

Serika remained bowed.

Long seconds passed in silence, broken only by the distant rustle of wind through leaves and the soft hiss of qi.

Feng finally found her voice again. ”Wait... so you’re not here to recapture us?”

Still facing the ground, Serika shook her head sharply.

”No. I am here only to earn your forgiveness. Or, if that is impossible... then I offer myself to punishment. But let that punishment fall upon me and not Vulkaris. My people do not deserve to be dragged into disgrace for their Sovereign’s greed. They are good people who don’t deserve the Avatar’s animosity.”

’So rumors of our heist even reached her nation...’ Feng thought inwardly.

Serika’s voice caught slightly at the end of her statement, but she pressed on. Her arms moved, still in her deep bow. From beneath her crimson cloak, she pulled free two weapons, presenting them with both hands extended forward, palms open, head bowed low like an ancient ritual.

One was Quinlan’s Soul Reaper. The other was a slim but elegantly long blue sword, unmistakably Feng’s.

Quinlan didn’t move right away. He studied the woman before him—really studied her. Her voice, her bearing, the tremble in her fists, the defiance in her chin despite her prostration. Her words had the structure of a diplomat but the soul of a soldier.

She was brash. Sincere. Recklessly sincere.

Quinlan’s mind turned over her actions, her admission, the sheer absurdity of it all. She was powerful beyond reason. She didn’t have to do this. But she had.

Then, in the theater of his mind, another figure appeared: Blossom.

His adorable dog-girl.

That bright-eyed little lunatic who could turn any battlefield into a playground... who laughed while cleaving through enemies... whose heart was the purest he’d ever seen, even if her brain sometimes worked on alien wavelengths.

Serika radiated that same vibe.

Neither of them was stupid. No. Just wired differently. Earnest. Brutal. Overflowing with conviction and sincerity.

Quinlan nodded to himself.

He stepped forward, accepting the Soul Reaper from her outstretched hands. The blade felt like an extension of himself. Familiar. Hungry.

Slowly, he drew it from its sheath. The obsidian blade rang low like a whispering bell.

He placed it gently, firmly, against Serika’s neck.

Feng’s breath caught audibly. ”Quinlan?!”

Serika didn’t flinch. Her eyes closed, her jaw set. Not a drop of fear. Only resolve to see what she’d started through to the very end.

Quinlan raised the blade high.

Feng shouted and rushed toward him. ”WAIT!”

But she was too slow. The blade came down...

And stopped a hair’s breadth from her skin.

The air between steel and flesh practically sizzled.

Then, Quinlan spoke.

”If you truly want to repent, then you’ll start by telling us everything about the old man. Who he is, why he betrayed me, and why you decided to arrest me on the spot. No riddles. No politics. Just the truth.” ṚᴀŊΟ𝖇Èṡ

He lowered the blade.

”And after that, you’ll become my teacher.”

Serika blinked, stunned.

”You will help me advance,” Quinlan continued. ”With everything you know, with everything you are. You’re going to guide me on the martial path. You’re going to earn my forgiveness by making me stronger than the one who betrayed me.”

A long silence followed.

Then Serika straightened her spine slowly. Her eyes met his.

A single tear slid down her cheek.

And she smiled. A brilliant, bright smile.

”As you command... my first student.”

Serika then turned with her crimson hair swaying thanks to the motion, and looked directly at Feng.

”And you?” she asked gently. ”Will you also forgive me?”

Feng blinked, startled. ”Me?”

She gestured to herself, wide-eyed with disbelief. ”Why are you asking me? I’m just... I’m nobody. I was just someone who, by pure luck, happened to travel with the Avatar. This is between you and him.”

Serika shook her head slowly, her expression soft but unwavering. ”No. I wronged you just as much as I did him, or perhaps even more. You’re a young child who was collateral to my greed. Your scared cries of protest still ring in my ears... I... I traumatized an innocent girl with my brash decision. That’s not something a Sovereign—or a human being—should ever do. You mattered then, and you matter now.”

Feng stared at her.

The words sank deep, deeper than she’d expected. And unexpectedly, her heart gave a little lurch.

She looked at Quinlan beside her, the way he held that blade, calm and grounded. She looked back at Serika, her green, fierce eyes now filled with sorrow and guilt. She looked like a woman who deeply regretted her actions, and not just because Quinlan later turned out to be the Avatar of legend.

A long breath escaped Feng Jiai’s lips.

And then, like a light switching on, she grinned. Her voice came out in a cheerful burst.

”Okay! I’ll forgive you!”

Serika’s eyes widened.

Feng placed her fists on her hips and nodded with authority, like a princess delivering her decree. ”But only if you teach this arrogant guy to the absolute best of your ability! No holding back, no secrets, and no weird training that involves punching rocks for five days straight unless it’s actually necessary. Deal?”

Serika gave a breath of laughter. It was soft, grateful.

”I promise,” she said, bowing again, this time to Feng. ”With all my heart. I will teach him with everything I have.”

Then, the three of them sat in a triangle.

Quinlan sheathed his Soul Reaper, setting it across his knees. Feng leaned forward slightly, curious but wary, while Serika knelt with her back straight, legs folded beneath her in the warrior’s resting pose.

A strange peace hung in the air. Tense, but no longer hostile.

Quinlan nodded once, signaling her to begin.

Serika inhaled deeply. ”The person you refer to as ’old man,’” she began slowly, ”is none other than Rykar Vael.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands for the briefest of moments, then lifted again with renewed resolve.

”The Crimson Hammer of Vulkaris. My master... and my beloved father.”