Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1367  It Was You!

The thunder stopped first.

Shoulder-mounted cannons fell silent one by one as dwarves climbed down from the walls with the smoke still curling from the barrels hoisted under their arms. The last echoes rolled through Greyhavenʼs streets and faded, leaving behind a city that no longer fought back.

Elves moved where sound had died.

They flowed through alleys and rooftops in small, disciplined units, bows lowered only after every corner was checked. Doors were kicked in by the dwarves who rushed in wearing their high-tier, heavy armors. All the while, elves slipped in through windows and narrow slits, using their lithe bodies to their advantage.

Just like this, resistance was dragged out and ended quickly. By the time the sun climbed high enough to cast full light over the district, Greyhaven was done.

What remained was cleanup.

The gates stood open. Banners were torn down. Signal fires were extinguished. This was no longer a human stronghold. It was an asset seized by foreign powers here to conduct a proper invasion.

Elvardia would use this location to their advantage, ensuring it could be used against the humans should they mount a counterattack.

Alexios would now have to break down the walls of his own countryʼs strongholds if he wanted to regain the ground humanity had already lost in the brief but decisive time the invasion lasted.

Of course, Elvardia was only getting started. After the order returned to Greyhaven and it was properly set up as a fortress of Elvardian interests, the army would move on.

Quinlan walked through the main avenue with his group at an unhurried pace. Debris littered the road, crushed stone and broken wood were already being hauled aside by dwarven crews. Elves watched from above, eyes sharp, bows loose in hand.

Ahead, near the old administrative plaza, the command had been set up.

A wide circle of trampled debris marked where officers gathered. At its center stood the commander dwarf in his heavy armor that had its plates overlapping like a fortress built to walk. His beard was braided short for battle, his voice carrying without effort as he issued orders.

”Perimeter goes up first. Elves take the outer ring and begin scouting the region, leading further into Ravenshade. If anything breathes wrong outside the walls, I want to know before it finishes inhaling.”

Serelis stood at attention. She nodded once.

”Good.” The dwarf turned toward Thorga. ”Dwarves start rebuilding immediately. Walls, towers, choke points. I want this city harder to crack than it was yesterday.”

Thorga crossed her arms over her chest. ”Weʼll have the outer defenses reinforced before morning. Inner districts soon after.”

”Get to work.”

Both women acknowledged him without ceremony.

Serelis stepped away first, already signaling to her units. Thorga followed, barking orders in a rough, efficient cadence as dwarves moved to claim the streets with steel.

The command circle thinned.

That was when the armored dwarf finally turned his attention toward Quinlan.

His gaze lingered for a moment, measuring.

Then the dwarf spoke.

”You were right. Youʼre not a deadweight we must tolerate in this undertaking.”

Quinlan remained still, aware that the man had more to say.

”You breaking that barrier spared us a mountain of resources, and detonating the largest cluster of defenders once you were inside saved Elvardian lives. A lot of them. Iʼll make sure King Ragnar and Queen Myrasyn are informed of your serious contribution to our war effort.”

Quinlan dipped his head once. ”Iʼm not here for praise from Elvardian royalty, but I appreciate the gesture.”

The dwarfʼs mouth tugged upward, forming a short, knowing smirk.

”I know.” He glanced past Quinlan, toward the ruined districts and the steady flow of troops claiming them. ”You have your own motives for being here. The Vesper Consortium will finally get the breather theyʼve been choking for once the humans learn what happened here…” He let out a low chuckle. ”I wonder what King Alexiosʼ face will look like when he hears he is being invaded just when the Consortium conflict seemed to be coming to a close.”

He looked back at Quinlan, the smile turning darker.

”And yes. I know. Thatʼs not all.”

The armored dwarf looked nothing like the stalwart commander he had been before as he asked, ”Tell me, just how much XP did you pull in over the span of a few measly hours, lad? Let this old man hear it.”

It was Quinlanʼs turn to smile. At first, he returned the cruel, sadistic grin of the commander as both men were on the exact same wavelength.

Then, as if it were a mere illusion, his smile receded, turning polite and proper.

”Iʼm not sure. I wasnʼt counting.”

Of course, Quinlan wasnʼt going to share such details with the high-ranking commander of a nation that could turn against him at a momentʼs notice.

Behind him, reactions rippled.

Seraphielʼs lips curved faintly as her eyes became sharp with satisfaction. Kitsaraʼs tail flicked once, and Ayameʼs grin sharpened. The commander took them in one by one.

”You really are a handful for a group of upstarts.” His eyes returned to Quinlan. ”If you can even be called that.”

”You could call us that, I suppose,” Quinlan shrugged.

It was true. After all, he technically wasnʼt even a year old as of yet. It was winter, and he arrived in Thalorind at the start of spring. There were a few more weeks until he became a year old. Biologically speaking, that is. His mind was a lot older than that, already in the 40s, thanks to the Iris simulation and the time spent in the Primordial Rank-Up Missions.

They were no longer at the strength level to be called upstarts, as it implied them being at the start of their ascent. That time had passed.

But the amount of time said ascent from start to current state took far too little. His criminal persona, Devil, wasnʼt even known far and wide until a couple of months ago.

And now, here he was, killing high-level 60 enemies, breaking down barriers, massacring armies with his AoE magic, and more. So much more.

The dwarven commander straightened after chuckling a bit at his nonchalant responses.

”I see, I see… Well, thatʼs exactly why Iʼll be informing my rulers of your actions, whether you want it or not. Better they learn early that itʼs wiser to build friendly ties with you than have to deal with you being an enemy. I donʼt envy Alexios, that much is certain.”

Before Quinlan could respond, the air twisted.

A scraping sound cut through the plaza. Mana curdled. Several dwarves stiffened as a figure strode into the command circle with no regard for rank or protocol.

An undead lich.

Its robes were dark mage garb, reinforced but plainly worn, lacking the ceremonial sigils and excess ornamentation of high command. The fabric clung to a frame that should not have been moving. Dead skin hung tight over bone. Its face was a ruin, jaw exposed, eye sockets hollow pits that leaked a thin, gray haze.

It rasped.

”The slave quarters have been obliterated!”

The sound tore through the air, raw and grating, carrying the unmistakable rasp of undeath. Nearby soldiers recoiled despite themselves. These beings were the antithesis of life, making all who saw them feel an extreme urge to end their cursed existence.

”And many civilian homes are empty as well! No corpses! No remains! Nothing!”

Its skull snapped toward Quinlan.

”Someone took them.”

A clawed finger rose, shaking with fury as it pointed straight at him.

”It was you, wasnʼt it?!”

Its voice rose higher, fraying at the edges as it looked at the dwarven commander.

”The Covenant of Eternity warned you! Trusting this blackmailing, opportunistic rodent was a mistake! He used this siege to rob us and Elvardia of our rightful bounty!”

The plaza went still.

Quinlan turned.

Slowly.

The motion drew every eye. His gaze settled on the lich without hurry, without tension. He did not recognize it as one of the Covenantʼs leaders. It was neither the Drowned King nor the Blind Grave Oracle. From the lack of ornamentation and the utilitarian cut of its robes, it was clear this one stood below the true decision-makers.

A functionary. An enforcer. A Corpse Animator who suffered heavy losses and was frothing at the mouth.

The dwarven commander glanced between them.

”The slave quarters are empty?” he asked, voice level.

”Not empty, but obliterated! Destroyed, pulverized, annihilated!” the lich hissed, spinning toward him. ”The Covenant suffered losses of our hordes to conduct this assault. Without those bodies, we cannot replenish our numbers, let alone expand the horde!”