Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1035: Fuck Masks

It felt like the walls were closing in. The sting of failure, of disgrace, pressed against his chest harder than any punch. Rage swirled inside him, buried deep beneath layers of restraint.

He was Black, the quiet lord. The mysterious man who somehow found himself invited to the royal banquet. It was the mask he had to wear.

And yet... his women were humiliated.

Because of him.

Because he was playing a game of masks. Because he wasn’t respected enough by these nobodies. They thought they could get away with hurting what was his!

He gritted his teeth.

’Even after all the trials... all the hardships I overcame... and I still look like a damn fool. I crawled my way out of slaying a fucking god to now being beaten by the sons of a count?’

His body shook. His shoulders slumped.

’What am I even doing?’

He remembered Blossom’s trembling voice and teary eyes. Seraphiel’s red cheeks. Kitsara... No more words were needed.

They believed in him.

And he let them suffer.

’Because I was a coward.’

Because showing too much would compromise everything.

But then his inner voice whispered right into his mind.

’So what?

So what if they find out?

So what if there are consequences?’

His fists clenched.

’What kind of a coward would hold back when his women were attacked before his very eyes?’

’What kind of worthless man needs to be reminded by his women why he fights in the first place?’

The flames that had been licking harmlessly around him suddenly exploded. Not summoned. Not controlled. Just born. From fury. From despair. From shame.

From the desire to correct what was wrong.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, and then he screamed from the bottom of his lungs:

”PATHETIC!”

The world cracked.

A deafening explosion split the air as the arena was painted in fire.

The stage, meant to contain the contestants from harming the spectators, shattered outward like glass under a hammer. Shockwaves screamed from the epicenter, a dome of fire expanding with a rage that tore up stone and steel alike. 𝐑ä𝐍ȫＢËs̩

The protective barrier around the arena flared, trembling under the sheer force of his unleashed wrath.

Three separate pulses of light blinked into being on the barrier’s surface. These were emergency reinforcement seals. The outer defensive mages, caught off guard, scrambled as the first few layers of protection disintegrated.

A wave of heat washed over the spectators, causing them to recoil. Gasps echoed across the coliseum as the explosion bloomed outward in a blinding inferno, flames devouring the center of the arena in seconds.

The Vexmore sons couldn’t escape.

Caught at ground zero, their eyes widened in panic as the shockwave flew toward them. They slammed their weapons into the ground in unison, casting. Three overlapping spell circles sprang to life, forming a rapidly expanding shield dome between them. .

”[Crimson Ward]!” Veyne barked.

”[Aegis of the Iron Veil]!” Daron shouted.

”[Trine Barrier]! Now!” Teral screamed.

The moment their spells linked, a translucent three-layered dome enclosed them barely in time. The flames slammed into it like a tidal wave, lighting the wards ablaze.

The ground shook beneath them. Cracks spiderwebbed along the arena floor. Sweat poured from their brows as they dug in, bodies low, hands trembling under the immense strain.

”Damn it, it’s too much!” Veyne shouted, his voice straining as the barrier buckled.

”This is not normal fire!” Daron growled. ”He’s pouring mana into it like a damned arcane furnace!”

”Wasn’t he a melee combatant?!” Teral cried. ”This output, this pressure... this is a fucking mage no matter how I look at it!!!”

The dome flickered violently as flames licked around its edges, hungrily trying to claw their way in. Their layered barrier groaned and dematerialized instantly just as the explosion moved past them.

At the heart of the inferno, where molten rock hissed and cracked underfoot, a lone figure stood.

Bare-chested. Bloodied.

Flames danced around his shoulders like a living cloak. His eyes burned with unrelenting fury, glowing with the raw, primal heat of something far beyond elemental fire.

A monster.

A devil set loose.

*BOOM!*

A violent explosion erupted beneath Quinlan’s feet as a jet of flame blasted him skyward like a cannonball fired from hell itself. The shockwave sent debris flying in all directions, leaving only scorching wind in his wake.

He soared high into the sky, becoming a streak of blazing red, carving through the air with flames trailing behind him.

The arena held its breath.

Up above, suspended midair, Quinlan’s body twisted smoothly. He rotated his torso as his right fist cocked back.

Fire gathered in his palm.

Not around his hand, but straight into his knuckles. Streams of heat bent unnaturally, as if the laws of physics surrendered to him. His entire arm was honed with a brilliance so intense it painted the sky in reds and oranges.

It was not a spell.

It was annihilation condensed into form.

Below, the Vexmore sons recovered quickly.

They were trained.

They were noble-born, yes, but no strangers to live combat.

All three reached into their pocket rings at once.

Enchanted javelins, tipped with mana-crystal heads, materialized in their hands. They launched them in tight succession, becoming gleaming bolts of destruction hurtling toward the airborne devil.

Dozens.

Quinlan didn’t even blink, seeing the numerous projectiles rushing to impale him.

Instead...

A blast from his heel launched him left, out of a javelin’s path.

*BOOM!*

Another fire burst kicked off his shoulder this time, twisting him right as more spears screamed past.

It was time to descend on his target.

*BOOM—BOOM—BOOM*

The sky exploded.

Every movement came with a thunderous detonation. He zig-zagged through the air as if he were a missile under intelligent control. One after another, he blinked across the sky in fiery afterimages, each movement followed by a detonation so loud it shook the stands.

The Vexmore sons tried to track him.

They couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t flying; he was assaulting the air itself.

Then he vanished from their sight entirely.

A final burst propelled him downward, and all three sons looked up...

Teral’s heart stopped.

He saw eyes.

Cold.

Emotionless.

Death itself had put on a skin of fire.

”Mommy...” he whimpered.

And then...

The fire-wreathed fist came down.