Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1045: Kaede’s Grand Surprise

That same banner had flown above her head when she was conscripted and dragged from her home to be forced into the Elvardian army. It was under that crest she had fought battles not her own, until the day she was captured and enslaved.

Her life should have been destroyed beyond repair as a result. Any other master could have reduced her to nothing but a degraded fuckdoll as she had not a single clause protecting her in her slave contract... but Quinlan had torn apart the contract’s chains and rebuilt her life instead to become so much better than before her eyes first found the cursed image of the banner.

She didn’t even notice her breath had quickened until a warm hand clasped hers. Blossom’s. A moment later, Serika’s hand slid around her other palm. Somehow, both women had felt her tension spike.

she whispered across their bond.

They didn’t answer, only tightened their grips. The silent reassurance was louder than words.

Seraphiel’s lips curved into a happy little smile. Whatever pain the banner dredged up, it was softened, or rather, completely outshone, by the simple truth that she was no longer in that miserable position. She was part of the most incredible family in the world.

Harland of Thornhollow followed Tharion.

His duchy, famed for its endless orchards and fertile valleys, was no stranger to gifting delicacies and luxuries. But this year, Harland had brought something rarer than any harvest.

From a carved oak chest lined with frost charms, he withdrew a crystal decanter of moonwine. It was a drink fermented for over three hundred years beneath the light of every full moon, distilled from a variety of silver grapes that bloomed only once in a generation.

”A drink for a ruler who has outlasted centuries, and will no doubt outlast centuries more.”

The king nodded regally, accepting all three gifts. As always, he showed no emotional reaction. The three dukes each had a wry, disappointed expression. It was clear they deeply wanted to impress their liege. But alas, it just wasn’t meant to be. They could only curse Alexios’s immense reach and stoic, minimalist lifestyle. He was a true warrior at heart, and he already had the best tools for combat.

Not many items from other areas of life could impress him.

Alastair of Greenvale looked positively smug as the other dukes stepped back. Their offerings were accepted, yet left no spark in the king’s eyes.

The smirk upturn of his lips told the whole story; he was certain his own gift would break through that wall of royal composure.

He stepped forward with practiced poise, chin held high.

”Your Majesty-”

*Clack!*

The sharp sound of high heels on polished marble cut through his voice.

Kaede Fujimori moved past him without so much as a glance.

Each click of her heels echoed in the high-vaulted hall, growing louder, more domineering, until they seemed to drown out every other sound.

That was when her presence shifted. It was no longer the cold, professional duchess offering polite congratulations.

”What?!” Alastair gasped.

Kaede’s aura exploded outward like an icy tide, each step pressing down on the hall with an invisible weight. Nobles stiffened in their seats. Soldiers shifted uneasily. Even the candle flames seemed to hesitate. ȓà₦Ò𝔟Еṣ

And then, steel sang.

In her hand, with no clear motion of drawing or unsheathing, a katana materialized.

The blade’s mirrored steel gleamed as though it had been quenched in moonlight itself. The hilt was wrapped in deep violet silk, and a single snow-white tassel swayed from the pommel. But it wasn’t the weapon’s beauty that froze the air. It was the aura.

Many had seen legendary swords before. They were the most privileged humans, after all.

But this was... more.

It felt as if the weapon itself had a heartbeat, and each pulse of it pressed against their chests, daring them to draw closer. Conversations died instantly. Nobles began feeling as if their very existence were in danger.

On the royal dais, Caelum—the king’s second son—stiffened. His eyes widened in primal recognition. His body began trembling violently. A choked gasp escaped him. The memories—the bloody prison cell, the suffocating killing intent, the sight of torture tools coming slowly for him with him having no method of defense—rushed back all at once.

His caretaker darted to his side, murmuring urgent incantations of calming spells. Soon, a soft light enveloped him, attempting to push back the waves of panic that had seized his body.

”Just what in the Goddess’s name do you think you’re doing?!” Alastair snapped. ”Drawing your blade in front of the king? Walking toward him? His Majesty decreed that no weapons were allowed!”

He reached for her shoulder, intent on dragging this misbehaving woman back by force. She was clearly out of her element if she thought this behavior was acceptable for a duchess.

But his hand closed on nothing.

Kaede’s movement was so subtle, so efficient, that it seemed she hadn’t moved at all. Yet somehow, the space where she had been a heartbeat earlier was empty, her shoulder slipping from his grasp as though his fingers had simply passed through thin air.

The Greenvale duke blinked, stunned to his very core. Kaede was just a 19-year-old woman, meaning even if she was the greatest genius in the whole universe and had been killing strong enemies for XP since being a baby, she should be only around level 20.

Compared to that, Alastair was a warrior of over eight centuries, with reflexes honed in battle, and yet...

Kaede’s cold, expressionless gaze never wavered.

Another step forward. Her heels struck the marble once more, and she raised her katana high above her head, with both hands gripping its hilt.

The air thickened instantly, pressing against lungs and ribs. That already-crushing aura became outright suffocating. Now, even seasoned knights found their breathing shallow, their hands unconsciously moving toward their own weapons.

She swung, aiming the arc of her blade straight toward the direction of King Alexios.