Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1133: The Devil Makes His Move

But before she could do that, from the center of the moonlit ridge, a man walked forward.

Tall. Broad shoulders. His bare arms were carved muscle wrapped in blackened steel. He raised one hand and gestured, looking as if pulling on invisible strings.

And, to Rynne’s great shock, the earth beneath him answered instantly as it groaned and then rolled. The hill shifted backward, dragging its siege engines with it as though they were part of its flesh.

Fujimori squads rushed to pursue whatever this strange, magical creation was.

The man standing on top of it might’ve controlled it to move away from the Fujimori line, but he didn’t retreat in panic. He moved with intent.

While controlling the entire snake-looking hill to move back, he raised a second hand and aimed at the incoming enemies. The ground rippled as chunks of soil and rock rose to form walls while streams of conjured water flooded the entire plain. What had been solid terrain became sucking mud and shifting pits. The Fujimori vanguard slowed, then staggered momentarily as their charge was broken, thanks to them being busy sinking knee-deep into the mire.

Rynne’s lips parted. That kind of elemental control... no, it was more than control. It was a command.

Authority.

At the same time, however, the Fujimori mages unleashed their bombardment. Fireballs, spears of ice, boulders wrapped in wind, and many more converged on the hill.

That was when the man spread his arms wide as if inviting the barrage. Theatrics, pure and confident.

The hill obeyed his demand. Great hollow mouths opened in its surface, just before the spells landed. The projectiles vanished inside with a roar and erupted harmlessly far behind, detonating against empty earth and sky. The moving hill rumbled, intact.

Rynne’s soldiers gawked while shouting among themselves.

”Isn’t that Devil?”

”But he’s just a rookie!”

”He should be a low-level mage!”

”I saw him at the Phenom Trials only a few months ago, and he was nothing like this! I swear this has to be someone different!”

”Who, his dad?”

”Shut up, retards! I know it’s unlikely, but who else do you know who might be able to do this...?!”

”His dad?”

”I’ll kill you.”

”The rumors were true then...? Was Devil really the one who devastated the city of Lionheart back then?”

”I don’t know about that, but I mean, don’t the facts speak for themselves?”

The murmurs grew louder as doubt and awe weaved together to form a speculative chatter that was growing by the second.

Rynne would’ve already been busy berating her soldiers normally, but she herself couldn’t take her eyes off him either.

And then, as if to punctuate their words, Devil snapped his fingers. A massive orb of fire exploded from his palm, hurling forward to meet a barrage of blazing Fujimori spells. The collision tore the sky open in a storm of fire and wind, the shockwave of which rattled even the stones under Rynne’s boots.

The Veil Walker woman barely had time to blink before the ridge rolled and turned to dodge a mighty barrage.

And there, now that it was turned sideways, stood a woman. Her hair was silver like moonlight. She held a moonlit staff, and her eyes were closed in concentration. Around her, the dozens of silvery constructs shivered and hummed, obedient to her will.

”Is that...?” someone breathed.

”That man is truly Devil!” another replied, awe and certainty tangled together. ”I heard he had a companion like this in the beastkin mission; she helped them besiege fortifications!”

”She’s so gorgeous... What the hell...” a third muttered, and the chatter that had been building seconds ago blossomed into startled excitement.

For a moment, it looked like those murmurs might drown the battle. The moon mage’s staff rose and fell in slow, practiced motions, weaving control through the floating engines.

But even Devil’s artifice had limits.

The mud and shifting walls bought time, but they could not hold back hardened veterans forever. The strongest among the Fujimori shoved through earth and muck as if it didn’t even exist; iron bodies and iron wills did not drown in quicksand for long. The distance shrank. Rynne watched the front compress and felt the chill of inevitability crawl up her spine.

As a general, she’d seen many wannabe heroes and understood that she was about to watch the tragic end of another promising youth—the most promising of them all.

Then a shape detached from the charging line and burst forward with terrifying speed.

He wore no finesse in his movement, only raw hunger and a grin that promised carnage. He hefted a huge glaive and sprinted with the reckless joy of a berserker. Rynne knew that face. She knew the sound of that laughter. He was a legend among the Fujimori vanguard.

”General Ryunosuke Fujimori,” she spat through gritted teeth. ”Level seventy-two, the Glaive of Carnage.”

The soldiers around her went quiet at the sight.

Devil did not hesitate for a single second.

He turned on his heels and began sprinting backward.

The glaive descended with the force of an avalanche. ”Die!” Ryunosuke launched himself with a roar.

Then Devil moved in a way no one expected. He scooped the moon mage up as if she weighed nothing, held her close, and with a single, calm motion, he stepped through a thin, shimmering doorway that blinked into being right before him. The doorway swallowed them both, and the moon mage’s constructs dissolved.

Ryunosuke’s glaive struck empty air with a sound like a cliff collapsing.

”Hah?” He spun, face twisting, eyes wide in disbelief.

Around him, the veterans faltered. Rynne felt the same shock ripple through her chest. The speed, the nerve, the impossible vanish left her breathless.

Before she could fully process what had happened, the earth answered again.

The moonlit ridge that had been pushed back shivered and then, like puppets on threads, many more hills erupted across the Fujimori backline. Each rose a safe mile from their closest soldiers, each sporting the same silver constructs on top of them as before.

From every new hill, the moonlit engines resumed their barrage. The bombardment that had been forced to focus toward the incoming soldiers now hammered the enemy’s supply lines and siege crews once again, free to cause untold devastation. Projectiles rained into the exposed rear, sending tents and wagons up in fire and torn canvas.

Rynne stared at the smoke and the sudden, terrible accuracy of the strike. The uproar of battle shifted from a single point of pressure to a rain of chaos across the enemy’s logistics.

”Umm...” A soft sound at her shoulder made her turn. A gorgeous woman with blonde dogkin features had stood beside her as if she had always been there. Her eyes glittered like a hawk’s. She held herself like someone who had run a long way to bring news.

”Are you the captain, pretty human lady? Ghosty’s nose tells her that you are... Anyhow! Master sent Ghosty to ask the captain of this place to sally out! Master needs your help! He says, and Ghosty quotes, ”let us butcher our enemies together.””

Rynne met the courier’s eager stare and, for the first time that night, felt something like a plan forming where before there had been only reaction. The battle was changing faster than anyone had expected. She straightened and took a deep breath.