Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1267: The Jig Is Up

Quinlan stepped out of the portal and onto firm ground again. The air here carried the scent of pine and moss, as it was a very idyllic, quiet clearing tucked between steep ridges. A breeze rolled past him, brushing the edge of his armor as the swirling vortex light of the portal faded behind him.

Two figures waited ahead.

Quinlan did not have a [Warp Gate] access to every single possible estate in the duchy; as such, to reach some of their targets, the ladies had to run.

Using [Overlord’s Eyes], he could then open a portal to their location using the unique and frankly very cheat-like synergy between the two spells.

Ayame stood with her arms crossed, posture rigid. Black Fang somehow managed to look even more rigid than the rigid samurai, such was the nature of this aloof woman.

They looked like a pair sculpted to intimidate, but Quinlan had known them long enough to notice the small tells of their thoughts: Ayame’s foot tapping once when she thought he wasn’t looking, signaling her irritation, and Black Fang’s calm, observant eyes as she measured him - yet again.

It seemed as though Black Fang could never get enough of studying, even the perfectly mundane parts of Quinlan, things that were not a result of anything anomalous.

Why was she even here, one might ask.

Black Fang had agreed to this plan. Part of it was that she enjoyed the process of what they were doing, or so Quinlan suspected.

Part of it was because the results would benefit her as well.

But more than anything, she was here due to the deal between them: for one year, she would help him with whatever he asked unless she judged the request to be too idiotic, suicidal, etc.

’So really, not much had changed at all... She can just reject whatever I ask by citing that I’m a dumbass.’

Quinlan held back a grin as that thought crossed his mind.

Black Fang’s eyebrow moved upward, catching the movement in his expression.

Her gaze sharpened for a second, silent and assessing, before her face slid back into its usual calm state. Cold beauty, unreadable as ever.

He gave her a playful wink before turning to both women.

”So,” he asked, ”how’s the sisterly bonding going?”

Ayame’s stare flattened instantly. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but there was a tightness in her jaw that told the full story.

Quinlan had paired them up, hoping it might help his samurai get over the dejection she was feeling in her heart after hearing Black Fang’s story.

But, evidently, the girl did not appreciate his kind decision as much as Quinlan would’ve hoped.

It was not that she hated Black Fang or felt anything negative toward the woman, but more so that interacting with her was simply a nightmare.

As for Black Fang’s response to his question.... Well, she didn’t bother offering any expression at all. She allowed the question to drift past her without reaction, as though he had commented on the weather.

Quinlan couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly as he shelved the attempt as a total failure. It wasn’t a big shock, though... Even he had difficulty interacting with the ancient woman, and she was fascinated with him.

As for her thoughts about Ayame, well... They weren’t much.

Black Fang had known that she had sisters ever since Ayame’s birth was announced to the world by her father, Raijin, yet she made no attempt to get to know the girl.

So why would she start caring about the fact that Ayame shared some of her blood?

As such, Quinlan had to admit defeat and move on.

Quinlan rolled his shoulders once, then summoned his visor. Metal folded over his eyes and locked into place with a quiet click. His tone sharpened the moment it settled.

”Let’s move.”

They started walking.

The clearing gave way to a narrow trail that cut between rocky walls.

Ayame eased her thumb against her katana’s guard. Black Fang showed utterly no signs of being in any sort of alarmed or cautious state.

When they reached the edge of the estate’s outer town, a handful of boys chasing each other across a dirt path stopped upon coming across the trio. One pointed. Another gasped. A third began crying.

”I suggest you don’t rush home now,” Quinlan said and walked past them without a glance.

Inside the town proper, the first wave of fighters scrambled out of side alleys and behind carts. Their armor bore the gray crest of House Reddholm, a noble line known more for taxes than martial talent.

Ayame moved first.

Wind gathered along her blade as she stepped in, cutting down the closest line of shields. Steel rang against stone, and bodies dropped before the soldiers understood who they were facing. She pivoted, spun once, and the entire flank folded as the Skysplitter tore through their formation.

Black Fang didn’t bother with technique. She advanced straight ahead, each step calm, each strike clean. A full regiment tried to halt her approach.

A single slice.

That was all it took.

For the whole regimen.

Men and women stumbled in her wake, collapsing without so much as a cry. To her, they might as well have been stray weeds on a path she was tired of walking.

Quinlan let out a quiet, helpless laugh as he followed behind them.

”This is just unfair,” he muttered, watching another squad fold under Black Fang’s casual pace.

’But hey, she really went through a lot to get here.’

He shrugged, accepting reality, and moved on.

They regrouped at the courtyard outside Reddholm’s central keep. The guards stationed at the walls were already shouting orders, scrambling to position themselves, but their voices trembled. They recognized the trio.

The front line charged. Quinlan stepped in and joined the women. The clash was brief. Ayame swept aside spears with a smooth upward motion, then cut down their wielders.

Quinlan didn’t even bother calling upon the Soul Reaper. He formed two fists with his hands and massacred them all with his elemental martial arts skills.

Black Fang... Well, she just killed, killed, and killed some more, living up to her class of Venomborne Terror.

When the last defender fell, Ayame exhaled and wiped the side of her blade with a cloth.

”It seems they didn’t send their elites out this time,” she said.

Quinlan checked the tower windows, scanning for signs of anyone coming to confront them.

None.

He nodded. ”It’s a pattern. They’re catching on. At the start, they sent their elites outside to avoid a siege. But after realizing who was attacking, they started hiding behind their walls and begging for reinforcements.”

He let out a sigh. ”The jig is up.”

Then his tone cooled, and his expression hardened.

”We finish it anyway.”

They stepped up to the main gate. Reinforced steel plates covered thick timber, fitted tightly and bolted in layers. Quinlan rolled his wrists, letting mana pool through his arms. Stone formed around his knuckles, and he combined it with fire to deliver heavy, fiery punches.

He slammed his fist into the gate.

It buckled but held.

Another punch. The plates dented deeper and almost shattered the support beams behind it.

On the third strike, the hinges snapped inward and the gate sagged. Quinlan pushed it aside and stepped through-

And paused.

Black Fang was already inside.