Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1506  Worthy of Protecting

Nyxaraʼs voice erupted in his skull, sharp and urgent, stripped of every trace of her usual playfulness.

Quinlan threw everything he had into defense. Earth and wind compressed into a layered shield before his chest, mana pouring out of him at a rate that made his vision swim.

The beam hit his shield and punched through the first layer like it wasnʼt there.

The second layer cracked.

The third buckled.

Then Black Fang was in front of him.

”[Orochiʼs Fang]!”

Her katana swept upward in a rising arc that met the beam head-on. Violet fire clashed with golden light, and for a single hideous second the two forces ground against each other in a screaming collision of holy purity and serpentine venom. The spillover blasted in every direction, scouring the stone clean on both sides of the street.

Quinlan braced and fed wind into her back, reinforcing her footing, keeping her anchored against the force that was trying to swallow them both.

Black Fangʼs boots slid backward. Her arms shook. The veins in her neck stood out like cords as she held the deflection, forcing the beam to split around her blade and scatter into the buildings on either side.

Then the spell died.

Velaraʼs arm dropped. Her breathing was heavier now, the staff trembling faintly in her grip. That one had cost her.

The street smoked between them. Black Fangʼs robes were scorched along her entire right side. A burn ran from her wrist to her elbow where the golden light had leaked past the deflection. Quinlanʼs shield arm hung numb, his earth barriers reduced to dust at his feet. If not for Synchraʼs valiant effort to bolster his defenses, he wouldʼve been in a significantly worse state.

They were worse off than before, that much was for certain.

But they were still standing, and that was all that mattered to the pair.

Quinlan looked at Black Fang.

She looked back.

Her purple eyes were blazing. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and the burn on her arm was already blistering. But the expression on her face was one Quinlan had never seen on her before. Her lips were parted. Her pupils were dilated. There was color in her cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.

She was more alive than heʼd ever seen her.

”Thanks,” he said. ”I underestimated her.”

Black Fang had already turned back toward Velara and begun circling left, her pace slow, measured, the predatorʼs walk of a woman who was in no rush because the prey wasnʼt going anywhere.

”Almost no one is heretical enough to attack an Arch Priestess, fearing what happens to them in the afterlife. Eternal Damnation is not a future most people want to risk…” she replied, eyes fixed on Velara. ”And those who are that far gone tend to be lower level, thatʼs why thereʼs almost no data on how they fight at full power.” Her katana drifted to her side, still burning violet. ”The Dawn Breaker is the only known reference, and she fights in melee. This oneʼs a caster. An entirely different discipline. Furthermore, based on my initial assessment, she has the stats of a person in the level 80s while sporting significant boosts to her attributes.”

Quinlan circled right, matching her pace. The two of them moved like the hands of a clock, closing around Velara from opposite sides.

”Youʼre telling me all this so I donʼt blame myself for the underestimation,” he mused. ”And you came to my rescue instead of going for the finishing blow while she was open.”

His helmet tilted toward her.

”Black Fang, I barely recognize you.”

”Youʼve proven yourself worthy enough to save,” she said without looking at him. ”There is a higher chance of victory if you remain in fighting condition. That is all.”

Cold. Practical. The calculus of a woman who measured the world in kill efficiency.

Yet despite the coldness, Quinlan loved it.

It had been almost a year since he arrived in Thalorind. By the time winter ended, heʼd have completed his first full year on this continent. Ten months ago, he was a nobody in a hoodie who couldnʼt kill level one goblins without nearly dying in the process. Ten months later, the deadliest woman alive had assessed him as strong enough to be worth saving over taking a kill shot.

That was growth. The kind no stat window could capture.

His grin behind the helmet was wide enough to hurt.

”Stop grinning and focus,” Black Fang said.

”How can you tell? You canʼt even see my face.”

”Itʼs obvious.”

Quinlanʼs mood was instantly ruined. Until a thought overwrote everything.

The succubus was having the time of her life.

Quinlan didnʼt know what to do with this woman.

Nyxara replied, and the playfulness was gone.

Her presence shifted against his mind. Warmer. Closer.

The warmth vanished.

The words landed with a weight that had nothing to do with volume. This was not the teasing succubus. This was the Primordial Demon of Lust who had watched countless chosen champions rise and fall, and who understood with absolute clarity that the ones who rose highest were the ones who bled for their own answers.

Velara watched them circle and gripped her staff tighter.

”So you do know this is heresy!” she screamed, her voice cracking for the first time. Her eyes locked on Black Fang with a fury that burned brighter than the golden light behind her. ”You just admitted to understanding that what youʼre doing is unprecedented! No one has raised a blade against an Arch Priestess in over a thousand years! The Goddess shall smite you down for this blasphemy!”

Quinlan chuckled.

”You mean that hypocrite called Lilyanna? The one who is supposed to represent Purity but I think all she represents is the Concept of Mental Gymnastics.” He rolled his shoulder, loosening the joint. ”She already tried, by the way. Yet here I am.”

Velara stared at him.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. The righteous fury on her face flickered and was replaced, briefly, by sheer bewilderment.

”Truly lunatics,” she growled, steadying her staff. ”I canʼt even begin to understand what youʼre talking about.”

”All you need to understand,” Black Fang interjected due to her rather limited patience for talking in such moments, ”is that Iʼm taking your head today.”

”So be it! Iʼll end your oppression, you pair of stains on the human race!” The Arch Priestess planted her feet. The cathedral pulsed behind her.

The two lunatics lunged.