Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1250: New Order

Many of the girls looked at her supportively, genuinely happy that their friend’s first time had gone so well.

Even Vex, ever the jealous girl who had even cried in front of their door while Jasmine’s virginity was being taken, couldn’t feel the need to feel jealous now. She got over it. Somehow.

Jasmine was her sister-wife, and all her sisters deserved only the best treatment. But... that did not mean the witch would never have any other yandere outbursts, of course. (She was quite the emotional lady, after all.)

Then, Serika spoke up with her strong arms crossed. ”I wouldn’t say it normally, but considering you will see it sooner or later in our... Upcoming communal bedroom events, I might as well spill the beans.”

She took a steadying breath. ”I let Quin do my butt...”

The tanned warrioress instantly went red as she said it, a stark contrast to her usual unbreakable confidence. Many of the women looked at her, shocked; the Solar Fist was not one to show embarrassment like this. Their eyes then naturally traveled to Quinlan Junior, who, even in his current state, was very large.

Seeing their wry expressions and knowing glances, Serika grew even more embarrassedly honest, adding with a surprisingly girly expression, ”Yeah, it was a monumental battle... but I’m glad I was brave enough to try it. It was... an unforgettable experience.”

”Hmm... Maybe I should try it too...” Aurora mused under her breath.

”Yeah, if Serika looks like such a maiden in love, then it must’ve been beyond awesome,” Lucille nodded.

”I’m down! Let’s train our butts together! Isn’t that what family is all about? Solidarity and teamwork!” Kitsara chirped. ”I bet Quin would happily cheer us on from the sidelines!”

”... Why can you not keep your foul mouth shut even if your life depends on it?” Aurora growled.

”I’m innocent!! It was you who started it!!”

As the girls hissed at each other - with sisterly love, of course - uttering some truly unladylike sentences, Jasmine looked at Ayame.

The petite samurai was uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, she would’ve been thriving in such a conversation, but now, she was content, gently caressing Quinlan’s hair with an absent yet immensely tender expression on her delicate face.

”Ayame, are you okay? Is there any way I can help you?” The Tyrant of Commerce asked with the softest of voices.

The samurai didn’t answer right away. Her fingers kept tracing slow lines through Quinlan’s hair, and the firelight caught the small tremble in her hands.

Finally, she exhaled, releasing a long and tired sound that carried more weight than words. ”I don’t know what to think... For now, I’m just happy to be here. In the vivid yet calming presence of my family.”

Her voice wavered on the last word. She didn’t look up, but the glassiness in her eyes betrayed how close she was to breaking.

Her small frame seemed even smaller then, as if she was trying to disappear into Quinlan’s warmth and pretend the world outside didn’t exist.

The others watched her in silence. They all knew what caused her to become so fragile; the revelation from Black Fang... The truth about her father, Raijin, had broken something deep inside her. The image she’d carried all her life didn’t match the one described by the ancient woman.

And yet, instead of lashing out, Ayame sat there quietly, holding onto the man she loved and the friends she trusted. Her composure, even through the hurt, drew a different kind of respect.

’She’s the youngest among us,’ Seraphiel thought, watching the girl stroke Quinlan’s hair with such fragile gentleness. ’And yet she carries pain so well... What a strong woman.”

For a moment, none of them spoke. The fire popped softly, and the night pressed close around the windows. Then Ayame leaned down to kiss Quinlan.

”I’ll think about everything later,” she whispered, mostly to herself. ”Right now, I just want to stay like this a little longer.”

And no one had the heart to interrupt her.

Save for one person, Lucille. The harem head understood Ayame very well. She knew that the oriental woman would not get over such a dramatic reveal anytime soon. But the caramel-haired beauty knew that if there was one thing that could get Ayame’s focus, that would be...

”Miss Second in Command, what do you think will happen when he wakes? Will things continue as they are?”

Hearing the question aimed at her, Ayame instantly froze.

The hand that had been stroking Quinlan’s hair stopped mid-motion.

Slowly, she lifted her head, and her gaze swept across the other eight women in the room. The faint tremor in her shoulders faded as something colder, sharper, replaced it. The softness drained from her eyes, leaving behind a hard, focused glint.

”Continue as they are...?” A dangerous smirk appeared on her delicate lips. ”No, Lucille, that won’t be the case.”

She spoke with the conviction of a seer who has already seen the future.

”When the Primordial Villain wakes, all hell will break loose on the continent of Iskaris.”

Her words carried an immense edge to them.

”The order as we know it will cease to exist. Kings... Nobles... Criminals... All are in for a rude awakening,” Ayame continued, her tone gaining strength with each word.

Then, her gaze dropped back down to the sleeping man whose head still rested on her lap.

”A new force, far too powerful, far too versatile... Far too alien for mortals to understand - let alone contend with - will take the reins all for himself. Such is the greed of our arrogant primordial lover. And who can really fault him? He is better, purer, simply... Supreme to all other men.”

For a moment, no one breathed. The fire crackled in the background, reflecting in Ayame’s hardened eyes.

”And it is our duty as his women to ensure that whatever he decides will become the only possible reality for the future of the Vraven Kingdom, the continent of Iskaris, the world of Thalorind, and...”

The oriental samurai looked at the eight of them.

They understood.

Their lips parted together.

”””The universe itself.”””

All nine women said together in perfect unison, with a reverent conviction shining in their tone.