Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1744 Slow Realization

Then twitched again, harder, at every fresh compliment rising from the rows she was guarding, while their owner stood with arms crossed and feet planted, working hard to look like a vigilant warrior-smith and failing at the ear level.

Kaelira knew exactly where the Villain had learned joinery.

The man had brought zero enthusiasm to the crafting arts when she met him.

Gear was gear, a means to an end, something to commission and forget, right up until the first time the two of them sweated it out together at her forge, his mana pouring into her work, her hammer setting the rhythm, the heat plastering her clothes to her body deep into the night.

Hers, because Quinlan had refused to wear a top at the forge from day one, declaring clothes a plain waste, and the picture of him working bare beside her, big muscles rolling with every motion while sweat traced lines down his chest, had burned itself somewhere permanent.

Heʼd developed a habit back then of resting his palm flat on her stomach while she explained a technique, claiming that feeling the muscle work helped him concentrate on the lesson, and she had accepted it at face value, because what reason would her crafting partner have to lie?

From her post in his unfinished arena, with the full picture finally available, the smith reviewed that old excuse for the shoddy work it was.

ʼPervert...ʼ Kaelira admonished both him and her gullible past self, bashful heat crawling up her neck. ʼHe just wanted to touch my abs the whole time, didnʼt he...?ʼ

Somehow, the Runeweaver Titan didnʼt have it in her to feel an iota of anger toward him, instead remembering how whenever a piece came out right, she had a habit of her own...

Launching herself into his arms before the quench finished hissing.

His hands caught her every single time, and where they landed never varied either.

The tomboy elfʼs cheeks went pink in the winter air, and she pressed her crossed arms tighter, praying none of the prisoners in her block had looked up at exactly the wrong moment.

From her perch in Quinlanʼs arm, Blossom tracked the ripple of reactions around the tiers, and her blue eyes shone proudly.

A good girl had contributed.

”Hubby.”

Vex arrived with her white hair swaying, planted herself directly in Quinlanʼs eyeline, set her feet, and presented the tail.

It swayed once, left to right, sleek and slow, the little horns catching the light as she tilted her head. ”Well?”

His free hand caught the tail mid-sway and drew it through his palm, base to tip, slow enough to be a verdict, and the Hexwitchʼs pentagram eyes went hazy while her knees forgot their job.

”They suit you perfectly, my beloved witch.” He gave the tip a squeeze. ”All of it does.”

Then his hand slid back down the length of it, closed near the base, and gave the tail one firm tug, testing how much it could take.

Nothing about it was rough, just a man taking stock of what was his with every intention of being thorough about it later, and Vexʼs spine bowed as a small, ecstatic sound escaped through her teeth, toes curling inside her boots.

”And these?” She dipped her chin and presented the little horns, tapping one with a nail, pride pouring off her. ”Arenʼt they cute?”

His hand left the tail, rose to her crown, and closed around one horn, testing the grip until the pressure tilted her whole head back.

”Sturdy. Good size for a hand.” He gave the horn an unhurried turn, zero shame anywhere in his voice. ”I already have the perfect use for these in mind.”

Brutal demon sex.

A strong shudder rolled through the Hexwitch from horns to tail tip, and her pentagram eyes went beyond joyous, somewhere near religious, before she nodded softly at the love of her life.

”Good...”

Then she let go of the Crimson Reservoir.

The glow bled out of her tattoos, the tail dissolved into red wisps, and the little horns sank away beneath white hair as the demon look that was her hubbyʼs Bloodfather gift folded itself shut, until only Vex remained, red-eyed, white-haired, and back in her own skin.

Both hands latched around his free arm and dragged it against her chest, and the most possessive woman in his life entered full bubbly girlfriend mode on the spot, bouncing in little hops with her head bobbing, radiating the happiness of a woman who finally, finally had her man back in her arms.

The tiers kept climbing around them, entirely unbothered by their architect having both arms confiscated.

Two tiers up, Alexios Valorian watched a row of seats grow armrests beneath his daughter, who was dragging Feng toward the front with declarations about having to find the best view.

”A simple circle in the dirt was never an option, was it...” the King of Vraven sighed tiredly.

The list grew by one more entry.

In the elven sections, the situation had moved past gossip into open theological crisis.

Elves stood gripping each otherʼs arms, pointing at stairways, at the warm stone, at the man raising a monument with the same effort other people spent stirring tea while he also kept flirting with two of his lovers.

Isveth had stopped writing.

The Head Shrine Maiden stood with her parchment forgotten, watching the colosseum complete itself, and when she finally spoke, her voice shook.

”A temple. The Holy Son raises a temple for his bladeʼs judgment...” She rounded on her column with blazing eyes. ”Record everything! Every stone, every word! Future generations will make pilgrimage to this place!”

The quills hit speeds that put the parchmentʼs survival in genuine doubt.

From somewhere across the bowl, distant but carrying, came a single furious ”SACRILEGE!” that everyone present elected to ignore.

The arena had one final feature.

Three blocks of ice drifted over the heads of the crowd and came down at the rim of the sunken floor, side by side in the place of honor. Ragnarʼs frozen ruin. Hozumi mid-gurgle. And Chizuru, whose open eyes had been aimed at nothing behind a handʼs width of ice, and which now, by virtue of careful placement, were aimed directly at the duel ground.

Front row.

Kaede looked at her teachers arranged like trophies at the edge of her sacred duel, and whatever calm the healing potion had bought her burned off in a single breath.

”Done.” Quinlan dropped into the wide seat that had grown beneath him at the center of the lowest tier, Blossom settling into his lap and Vex welded against his side, and he draped one arm over the backrest and regarded the two samurai on his arena floor.

The rest of his women never left their posts.

Tens of thousands of captives did not guard themselves, and the watch over the prisoner blocks ran through every trusted sword he had, blue-skinned Elites lining the rows, elven loyalists walking the stairways, beastkin, Greenvale, and Consortium veterans planted at the mouths of the aisles.

Before he settled in fully, one glance left him and crossed the arena.

It found Black Fang at the rim of the duel ground, and it carried a request that needed no words.

As the stats heʼd loaned Ayame had come out of his own body, he would be slower to react. If something down there went wrong, he might arrive late.

Black Fang nodded back at him once.

She was already in position, violet eyes resting on the floor where her little sister stood, and the placement of her feet said everything her mouth wouldnʼt.

Anything that tried to touch Ayame outside the rules of the duel would have to get through her first.

The scariest woman on the continent had assigned herself bodyguard duty in his stead.

”Whenever youʼre ready,” Quinlan called out across the arena.

...

The wind dropped, and the bowl hushed with it.

Two sisters stood on the pale stone with thirty paces between them, and for a long moment neither moved.

”Borrowed strength.” Kaedeʼs voice carried across the floor, low and bitter. ”You drape yourself in a manʼs power and dare call this a sacred duel.”

”Are you serious?” The hypocrisy actually got through Ayameʼs composure.

Kaede scoffed. ”Yes. I mastered this power, made it mine through great effort while you parted your legs for yours.”

Ayame shook her head, disappointed that the sister she once loved were uttering these words. ”You mastered nothing. Iʼll show that fact to you and the whole world.”

Kaede moved first.