Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1559  Destroying Queen Morgana

His fist connected.

Seven elements hit Morgana Ravenshade at once, and the world around them turned white.

The fire reached her first. It punched through the mana field cycling around her and burned the outer layer of her mana channels away in the time it took her pupils to contract. Behind the fire came lightning that arced into the breach and seized every nerve cluster in her torso. Her muscles locked. Her hands, still half-formed around [Winds of Crestfall], spasmed open and the spell died unfinished.

Then the rest hit.

Wind compressed the air around the point of impact into a vacuum that pulled her into the fist instead of away from it, and ice crystallized along her ribs where the fire had scorched the skin, the thermal shock cracking bone beneath the frost. Water surged through the ice in pressurized threads that forced the cracks wider, and earth reinforced the fist itself, turning Quinlan’s knuckles into a battering ram that ground through her shattered ribcage while magma boiled between the elements and melted everything it touched.

The Abyssal Genesis Physique held all of it together. Seven elements converged into a single sustained detonation that lasted less than a second but felt like it lasted forever.

“AAAGHHH!” Morgana screamed. The sound ripped out of her chest raw and animal, a wail so loud it cut through the roar of the battlefield and turned heads on both sides of the field.

The fire chased her mana pathways inward the way flame chased a fuse, and every element Quinlan poured into the hit found a different part of her to destroy. Her scream climbed higher, cracked, and then her left lung collapsed and the sound died in her throat. Her mouth stayed open. Nothing came out.

Her sternum cracked down the middle. The skin across her chest split open in a line of scorched and frozen tissue that wept blood and steam in equal measure, and the internal damage was worse than what showed on the surface. Lightning had locked her diaphragm. Ice had shattered her ribs. Magma had eaten the cartilage connecting them, and the earth-reinforced impact had driven the fragments inward.

The strongest mage on the continent had taken every element she had mastered, delivered simultaneously, by a man she had treated as a curious specimen to capture and study.

Her body folded around his fist.

Quinlan drove her upward. The momentum of the punch carried them both skyward, and Morgana’s eyes rolled as the second shockwave rippled into her organs. Blood left her mouth in a spray that the wind scattered, and her hands clawed weakly at his forearm as elemental residue continued ravaging her from the inside.

She was trying to cast. Even now, even broken and folding and falling, Morgana Ravenshade’s fingers were moving and the mana in her shattered channels was reaching for something. Fire gathered in her right palm, thin and guttering. Her mind refused to stop.

Quinlan’s free hand opened. Down in the crater where the decoy had dissolved, [Soul Reaper] and [Synchra] answered and launched toward him. The saber screamed upward and his free arm was already in motion, swinging into a cutting arc aimed at Morgana’s neck while his other fist was still buried in her chest and pouring elements into her body.

He felt the mana signature a fraction of a second before the blade arrived. Dense, heavy, and closing from his right at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible.

A golden blade severed his punching arm at the elbow.

The cut was so clean and so fast that Quinlan didn’t feel it for a full heartbeat. His arm, still crackling with residual elemental energy, separated from his body and tumbled through the air with his fist still clenched, and Morgana dropped like a ragdoll, plummeting toward the earth below.

Quinlan’s eyes snapped sideways.

A man was already there. He came from below and to the right, launched from the battlefield on legs that had crossed the vertical distance in the time it took Quinlan’s severed arm to signal pain, and the longsword in his two-handed grip was still following through from the cut.

He was old. Long grey beard, weathered features carved by centuries of war and rule. Full plate armor the color of old bronze covered a frame that was broad and powerful despite the age written into every line of his face. His eyes were bright beneath heavy brows, alive with a sharpness that had no business belonging to a man his age, and the grin splitting his beard was the grin of a warrior who had finally left his throne and remembered how much he’d missed this.

King Alexios Valorian, the Warrior King of the Vraven Kingdom, had stepped onto the battlefield for the first time since the war began. For the first time since Quinlan had arrived in the world of Thalorind.

And he was smiling.

“I knew it,” he said. “Underestimating you is a mistake I will never repeat in my life.”

The sword rotated in his grip.

“[Golden Divide]!”

Blood poured from the stump where Quinlan’s arm had been. The pain was arriving now, roaring up his shoulder in a wave that turned his vision white at the edges, and the man standing across from him had cut through seven layers of elemental reinforcement, past the residual mana of the Abyssal Genesis Physique still coating his skin, past everything, and the arm had come off like he’d sliced paper.

Quinlan’s remaining hand was already closing around [Soul Reaper]’s hilt as the saber screamed toward him, its ghostly pale flames flaring bright to close the distance. [Synchra] hit his feet a heartbeat later, crimson fire blazing from the armor as she raced up his legs and began reshaping around his torso.

Alexios didn’t pause. The follow-through from the first cut carried his body into a rotation and the king twisted mid-air, contorting his entire frame to convert the momentum into a second swing aimed at Quinlan’s chest. The longsword came around in a horizontal arc that compressed the air ahead of it.

[Soul Reaper] met it. Quinlan got the saber between his body and the blade in the same instant [Synchra]’s plating sealed around his ribs, still incomplete, still spreading, her shape not yet fully formed.

The impact was worse than anything Morgana had thrown at him. Alexios’s swing drove through [Soul Reaper]’s guard and the bones in Quinlan’s arm shattered under the transmitted force. [Synchra]’s half-formed [Anima Ward] flared crimson and the armor screamed, dumping everything she had into keeping the blade from reaching his chest.

The sword carved through his arm above the elbow instead.

[Soul Reaper] tumbled from fingers that no longer existed.

Quinlan hung above the battlefield with no arms. Blood streamed from two stumps, one at the elbow, one above it, and [Synchra] was already sealing both, crimson veins flaring as the armor diverted every resource she had into keeping him alive.

Alexios brought his sword up for the stroke that would take his head.

Light struck him like a falling star.

A beam of concentrated radiance descended from above and hit the space between them, so bright that it bleached the color from the smoke and turned the blood misting around them to white vapor.

Alexios was forced to abandon the killing stroke and bring his sword across his body. Golden radiance erupted along the blade as he roared, “[Cleaver’s Edge]!” and the longsword met the beam of light head-on.

The collision detonated.