Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 884: Disbelief [Bonus]

But Rykar—still proud, even in defeat—thrust his stumps forward.

He caught her.

Held her like he had when she was a child, ignoring all the pain his ruined body’s many receptors were sending to his brain.

”Don’t!” he exclaimed, his voice suddenly turning sharp and authoritative. “Don’t lose your focus, daughter.”

”But-!” she began before she got interrupted once again.

”I’m no longer a fighter. That assassination… crushed my cultivation more than I let on,” he said bitterly. “My limbs were just a mask to hide the real truth; I’ve been running on fumes ever since. If I don’t meditate for at least eighteen hours a day, my body will shut down forever… I’m nothing but a dead man who’s still breathing.”

His gaze locked with hers, stern and unflinching.

”You can still hurt him, unlike me. The Avatar can fly much better than I; he doesn’t need me. So… let me be your chariot, daughter… Focus your strength on putting this beast down and leave the rest to me.”

Serika bit her lip. Emotion flared behind her eyes. Her fingers trembled. But after a heartbeat, she nodded.

Alright. Just don’t die on me.”

Instead of replying, he only grinned with blood seeping through his teeth, and his flames flared around his body, forming a makeshift cradle of propulsion beneath him. Rykar, the legendary Crimson Hammer of Vulkaris, now reduced to little more than an engine of vengeance… still roared forward with his daughter held aloft with his stumps of arms.

…

Above them, God Venthros nursed his wound.

Black blood hissed from the slash Quinlan had carved into his side. Corrupted qi pulsed wildly, trying to stitch him back together, but the wound resisted healing, filled with harmonized elemental residue that interfered with even his regeneration. It was extremely pure, making his bile essence struggle to fight back.

”Unbelievable,” he spat with a voice that was a mix of rage and disbelief. “A damned primordial upstart… and a flock of mortals

He clutched the back of his head, the injury from Serika’s guillotine still pulsing beneath his touch.

How could they land such a wound upon me?!”

Just then, he froze.

From below, beneath the floating battlefield, ripples rose.

Droplets shimmered in the light. Bursts of condensed mist exploded in short rhythmic intervals as someone flew upward in spirals of pressurized water. It was slow, much more inefficient than what the burst of qi fire cultivators used to thrust themselves in the air, clearly not suited for aerial combat, but it was the best a water cultivator could do to reach the skies.

Nalai.

Venthros narrowed his eyes, his voice turning slick with anticipation. “Ah… It’s good you’re here. Handle your sister and crippled father while I flay the Avatar.”

Nalai rose gracefully, landing upon his broad shoulder. A film of water enveloped her form, resisting the corrupted flames hissing all around her.

She nodded silently. “Yes, my lord. But before, please allow me to say something

Venthros narrowed his eyes.

The corrupted fire seethed around him, licking at Nalai’s watery veil. He studied her for a moment with a gaze that was tight and suspicious, but not alarmed. She had obeyed him for weeks. Plotted beside him. Wounded fought against her own blood. ꞦÃNŐᛒƐ𝓢

Say it, then.”

She stepped closer.

Closer still.

Until her mouth was by his ear, and her breath whispered like the tides. “I think that

And then…

”You should just die.”

Without a sound, she moved.

Her heel twisted, body pivoting with the grace of a crashing wave.

*WHAM!*

Her foot slammed into the side of Venthros’s skull with the weight of an ocean compressed into one brutal moment.

The god’s head snapped sideways.

His balance wavered, with his corrupted aura flickering, sputtering under the shock.

”Gkk!”

He staggered in the air with his hands flailing for traction against the sky to stabilize himself. One eye twitched violently, his whole expression locked in stunned outrage.

”You dare?!” he hissed.

Her eyes were calm. Colder than before. And yet…

Smug.

Infuriatingly smug.

She jumped off his shoulder and hovered just a few paces above him with her veil of mist coiling tighter to her form. “I already switched sides once, didn’t I? What makes you think a spineless bitch like me wouldn’t do it again?” she purred with a honeyed tone.

His fury built.

But she leaned in again with her chin tilted high.

”And one more thing. My name is Lysandra. Not Nalai.”

The battlefield trembled.

Serika’s eyes widened.

Her breath hitched, and then her expression twisted into disbelief. Rage still churned in her chest, but a shard of confusion slipped through.

Rykar, meanwhile, squinted. Battle-hardened as he was, he recognized the truth in her voice. The girl he had once failed had returned. And a father’s love… was hard to erase. Even by betrayal.

”Lysandra he whispered.

But the god was not in a sentimental mood.

Venthros roared.

The skies cracked. His mouth stretched open as three corrupted elements rushed through his body—fire, wind, and earth—mixing into a fusion of devastating force. Black flame gushed from his spine. Rock plates erupted across his arms. Cyclones howled around him like a god’s fury incarnate.

”You traitorous nobody!” he bellowed. “I burned worlds into smithereens for less!”

With a wave of his hand, the storm came for her.

A lance of flame sheathed in compressed wind and spiky stone blasted forth in the form of a god’s fury.

Lysandra didn’t dodge fast enough.

The impact tore through her shield of mist and smashed into her.

She screamed as her body was flung across the skies like a ragdoll, tumbling downward, bones, flesh, and internal organs rupturing and breaking under the force. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she, too, fell to the ground beneath.

”No!” Rykar shouted, torn between duty to his very world and his fatherly love. Thankfully, he hadn’t needed to make a choice, for Serika had long since vanished from his hold, bursting toward the god who was imbalanced. She called upon her flames one final time, smashing into Venthros with all her might to further ruin his stance.

What the twins had done was more than enough.

Quinlan moved to strike.