Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1380  Lord of Farnath

”Yes, Master!”

The roar had not finished echoing when Lord Halveth of Farnath staggered back from the tall window of his keep.

His fingers scraped along the stone sill and missed purchase, grabbing onto nothing. As a result, his voluptuous behind hit the floor hard, releasing a far too loud thud. The sound of it seemed absurdly loud in the chamber. His breath came shallow, uneven, fogging the winter air as he stared back out at the sky.

High above the city, a dark figure hovered.

It did not move like a man. It did not float like a mage either. It simply remained there, fixed in place, as if the sky itself had decided to tolerate its presence. Around it, blue flames poured out, down into the streets and rooftops below, appearing where no unit should have been able to reach.

Then the shoutʼs echo came again, bouncing between towers and alleys.

”Yes, Master!”

”What…” Halvethʼs face had drained of color.

Behind him stood three figures.

Elven slave girls. Tall, pale, dressed in loose robes that clung where they should not and hung open where dignity should have remained. The fabric was thin on purpose, marked with metal rings and cords meant to remind them of their place. Their long hair fell unbound down their backs. None of them reacted to the shout. None of them reacted to his falling. None even reacted to the ominous figure in the sky.

They simply stood.

Their eyes were open, but unfocused. Their posture was straight, but empty. They looked like decorations placed carefully behind their owner, arranged for display rather than presence.

Lord Halveth swallowed.

He had a wife. Still did, somewhere in the west wing, kept comfortable and quiet. She had done her duty years ago. Three children. An heir. That had been enough. Time had done the woman badly, with ugly wrinkles forming where he no longer wished to look.

Elves, on the other hand, stayed young. Buying one young elven girl was akin to purchasing a tool that would serve his family well for many generations. And if, after being bred with an elven male, she got pregnant… a fertile elven girl was essentially a money-printing machine. However, capturing an elven male was extremely difficult, as they never left their homes in Elvardia and were fiercely protected by their far stronger women.

And with Farnath sitting so close to the Elvardian border, acquiring them - both elven women and men - had been more than possible. Elven women came to Farnath of their own volition, pushing into Vraven to invade and take lands. Conducting a high-tier raiding party to grab a few males from the closest little villages wasnʼt too difficult either. This way, Halveth didnʼt even have to pay gold for them, as lords not living on the border had to. In fact, it was Halveth who conducted many of the auctions where elves and dwarves were sold further inward into the country.

However, now, that was no concern of the lord of Farnath.

The blue figures below moved with purpose. Streets that had held defenders moments ago were being erased. Units folded inward, swallowed between undead from the front and those things from behind. The city was coming apart in clean, methodical sections.

And above it all was that figure.

Halveth pushed himself up on one elbow and lifted a shaking hand, pointing through the window.

”W-what is that thing…?” he whispered.

His voice did not carry. ”Hm!” But then, all of a sudden, Lord Halveth collected himself with a deep inhale and lurched upright. His balance wavered for a moment, then held. He spun on the three elves.

”Youʼre standing there?” His voice was sharp and ugly, full of accusation, as if they had done something horribly wrong. ”Thatʼs it? No tears? No trembling?”

He took two steps toward them, finger stabbing the right above their hearts.

”Are you happy?” he snarled. ”After all these centuries, hm? Elvardia finally comes knocking. Bombarding my city. My walls. My streets.”

They did not move.

”The king is nowhere to be seen. The duke either. I canʼt even call them.” He laughed once, high and broken. ”Some suppression magic, some clever trick. I bet the midgets are behind this. And my barrier.” His hand clenched. ”Gone.”

He leaned in close.

”So tell me. Are you not happy?”

Nothing.

Not a flinch. Not a blink.

His lips twitched. His eyes began to dart.

”And now thereʼs that thing in my skies.” He turned back toward the window, then snapped around again, grin stretching too wide. ”Wait. That looks like a man, doesnʼt it?”

A thin laugh slipped out.

”Elven men are weak. Everyone knows that. And heʼs far too tall to be a dwarf.” His laugh grew louder, unsteady. ”So maybe heʼs not with you at all. Maybe youʼre not getting saved.”

His gaze spiraled, unfocused.

”Maybe heʼs with the undead,” he went on, words tumbling faster now. ”Maybe heʼll capture you. Strap you down. Cut you open piece by piece.” His hand gestured wildly. ”Unholy experiments. Living test subjects. How does that sound?”

He stepped back, spreading his arms.

”Suddenly, I donʼt seem so bad, do I? I gave you a home, warmth, healthy meals, and companionship!” His voice rose again. ”Yet you act like I was a cruel monster!”

He searched their faces, desperate for something. A tremor. A tightening of shoulders. Anything.

Halveth felt deathly scared, feeling the end was near. His life as he knew it was likely over. He wanted his women to mirror his deep fears, to not feel alone in this grave moment.

But there was nothing. They showed no emotions.

The silence pressed in.

Then the oldest of them moved.

She lifted her head.

Her eyes, once dull, focused. For the first time in centuries, she looked like a living being. Her mouth curved with intent that had been held down for far too long.

”If becoming a test subject for the undead ensures the fall of men like you, then it would be my honor to be useful.”

Then, with a mocking curtsy of respect, she added, ”Master.”

The words landed hard.

Halvethʼs eyes stretched wide, whites showing. His mouth opened, then snapped shut, then opened again.

”Y-you- how dare you?! You show a sign of life after all this time, only to do this?!” He wanted to call her name, but heʼd forgotten a long time ago. ”Obey me!”

His hand rose, pulled back for a strong punch aimed right at her jaw.

It never connected.

Something shifted behind him.

Not sound. Not pressure. Something deeper, like the air itself, had decided to recoil.

Halveth froze.

Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head.

High above the city, the figure in the sky moved.

Just its head.

The motion was unhurried. Measured. As if time itself had been slowed to allow the gesture its full weight.

Two red orbs burned within the helm.

They locked onto him.

Halvethʼs throat seized.

”Hie!!” he screamed, the sound tearing out of him as his knees buckled beneath the gaze.

The figure vanished.

As far as Halvethʼs senses were concerned, it was simply gone.

The space it had occupied snapped empty, leaving only sky and falling ash.

Halveth sucked in a breath so sharp it burned. His head jerked side to side, eyes skittering across the window, the clouds, the broken skyline.

”W-where?!”

Panic broke what little structure his thoughts still had.

He lunged backward, stumbling into the elves, grabbing at silk and pale wrists with shaking hands. His body pressed in behind the eldest, using her as a shield without hesitation.

”Protect me!” he shrieked. ”All of you! Offer up your lives!”

The words hit instantly. As their master, the owner of their lives due to their slave contracts having utterly zero clauses protecting their rights as living beings, he had the right to order them to slit their own throats should he wish to.

As such, the three elves moved.

They stepped forward in unison, bodies aligning without a word. The eldest took the center, feet braced, shoulders squared. The other two flanked her, half a step back, forming a shallow arc that placed their bodies squarely between Halveth and the open chamber.

Arms lifted. Palms turned outward.

Halveth crouched behind them, fingers digging into the back of the eldestʼs robe, knuckles white.

…

The command of her master wrapped around Vaelithʼs throat.

Her body moved before her thoughts finished forming. Muscles aligned. Weight settled into her heels. Arms lifted, palms open, empty, exposed. The position was wrong. Defensive without tools. Ritual without honor.

Inside, something folded.

Vaelith felt it the way one feels a hand closing around the throat while the lungs still work. Thought continued. Choice did not.

A tear never reached her eye. It slid inward, dissolving before it could become anything he might notice.

She knew.

She had known the moment the sky answered that man.

She had no chance.

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