Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1181: Banzai!

“Banzai! Banzai!”

The shout started from the ramparts, from an exhausted soldier who could barely stand. Then more joined in. Boisterous warriors, prideful mages, cheery healers, sly rangers, sneaky assassins, and cranky engineers, they all cheered together despite their differing usual behaviors.

All were overcome with the celebratory mood.

It soon rolled down the walls, across the fortress, until the entire stronghold was echoing with it.

The sound spread into the homes below. Doors opened. Windows slammed wide. Men, women, and children poured into the streets. Some still carried the smell of smoke on their clothes, others clutched whatever they’d used as weapons.

All of them shouted the same word, again and again, until it filled the air like a tide that refused to stop.

“Banzai!”

Quinlan floated above them, watching in silence at first. He saw faces streaked with soot, clothes torn, arms trembling from fatigue. Yet they were smiling now. Laughing. Alive. Many were running to hug their loved ones, thinking they’d never get to feel their warmth ever again.

Then the first group of soldiers below looked up at him.

They hesitated, unsure whether they were allowed to approach. The same hesitation spread through the crowd. Thousands of eyes were on him, waiting for something -anything – from the man who had just bent death to his will.

Quinlan’s lips twitched into a small, welcoming grin. That was all it took.

The crowd moved.

People rushed toward him. The closest soldiers came first, then the civilians behind them. The air filled with cheers and weeping voices as their hands reached up once he began to slowly lower himself down.

His boots touched the ground.

And then they were on him.

Rough hands clapped his shoulders. Children wrapped their arms around his legs. Old men bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the dirt. Someone shouted that their daughter had survived because of him. Another cried that her husband would return today because of him.

“Thank you, Lord Devil!”

“We’re forever in your debt!”

“Bless you, Lord Devil!”

The words came all at once, forming into a blur of sound and motion that was hard to hear from the sheer number of mouths speaking at once.

Quinlan debated about responding for a moment, but he noticed how the laughter drowned him out. He didn’t mind. He just stood there, watching their faces, feeling the weight of what he had protected.

Then someone grabbed his arm. Another grabbed his other side. And just like that, the crowd lifted him clean off the ground.

“Devil Banzai!”

The chant roared through the city, louder than before. His body was passed above their heads, rising and falling with the motion of the crowd. He could see the whole fortress from there. Banners were waving, people spilling into the streets, and children waving from rooftops.

As he looked down at the sea of faces below, Quinlan felt an emotion bubble inside him. He was surprised to make the realization that it was not pride, but mere satisfaction.

He was happy to receive their gratitude. Truth be told, he had ulterior motives in coming here, namely getting stronger, which he achieved with flying colors.

But it felt good to be celebrated like this, and he received their gratitude with a smile on his face.

“Banzai!”

The word struck the air again and again, echoing through the battered fortress as the man they once feared was carried above them, becoming the hero of all people present.

“Hm?” Suddenly, Quinlan felt a disturbance in the force. His yandere senses were tingling. Feeling something was up, his eyes traveled toward his girls.

And there, he was. A group of men at the edge of the crowd moved forward with greedy smiles and eyes that were eating up the women who stood back and silently watched the people celebrate their man/boss.

It made the women feel warm inside to see Quinlan be celebrated as such, finally treated not as a cruel criminal or monster but as the miracle they all considered him to be.

Some even laughed together at the happy sight, content to only watch.

But alas, it was not meant to remain peaceful for long.

Quinlan did not need to shout. The change in him arrived instantly, unannounced. Muscles tightened. The air around him grew colder. Those watching felt it as pressure on the back of their necks. The opportunists stopped in mid-step. Their hungry smiles went flat.

“I didn’t know so many men wanted to become eunuchs.”

A silence spread like spilled oil. Men who had thought themselves bold found their mouths dry.

One of the braver fools tried a laugh. It sounded thin. The laugh stopped before it fully formed. A woman near the front hissed and stepped forward with a broom in both hands. She had been sweeping the street before the Fujimori arrived, and the broom never left her hands since. She was clutching it to her chest while the enemies bombarded her home.

The same broom came down with more force than expected, leaving the man stumbling and nearly fainting on the spot. “Shame on you!” she screamed.

Quinlan’s extreme bloodlust hit all opportunistic men.

The threat did not need to be spelled out any further. Men who had planned to get a few opportistic grabs of the goddesses they could only ever dream of touching before were now muttering apologies or blaming the drinks.

Quinlan’s girls did not need to be prompted.

They looked more than ready to make good on his promise. All of them were more than happy to let Quinlan grab all the spotlight; they much preferred to watch him be lifted above their heads than join him there.

They especially did not need men to treat them as objects to molest.

Several wives reached for chairs and swung them at the shoulders of any man who dared come too close. A pair of apprentices grabbed a ladle and a tongs and brandished them like tiny spears. The crowd’s mood snapped from adoration to protective ferocity in a single heartbeat.

One of the would-be gropers tried to retreat through a gap, but two women blocked his path with broom and apron flying. He tripped over his own feet and landed in the dirt. Someone poured a bucket of waste over him to stain his pride and his clothes. He scrambled up, sputtering, and made for the far stairs without looking back.

Quinlan watched it all, and as he did, his ferocity receded, and soon, his good mood returned. He did not feel the need to retaliate, as they did not get to do anything in the end. Intent was already bad enough, yes, but Quinlan knew how beyond sexy his girls were, so he decided to give them some slack.

Though he ensured he’d remember each and every one of their faces.