Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Soon, the dogkin elites began whispering among themselves, strategizing how best to eliminate the enemies without letting them raise alarm. Some pointed toward the nearby foliage for cover, while others debated a simultaneous strike from multiple angles.

I let them plan for a few moments before speaking up.

“Lord Darius, would you allow my allies to deal with them?”

The first prince turned toward me, his eyes narrowing. “But… They’re higher level than you people. If you can’t kill them instantly, they’ll cry out in alarm and alert the others.”

I tilted my head to the side. “I know, but… levels aren’t everything, are they? Furthermore, from what I gather, you people are all warriors, selected by Vargis to overwhelm opponents in direct combat, not to bring much utility to the party.”

I turned my gaze toward Ayame. Her blue eyes glinted with a mix of pride and mischief as she smirked.

“Indeed,” she agreed. “I believe we’re more than capable of taking them down. At least, I can take one.”

“Ghosty another!” Blossom chirped, her tail wagging behind her with excitement. She wanted to show off in front of me in exchange for a heap of praise she knew would surely come her way as a result.

The two of them exuded confidence, completely unshaken by the thought of fighting enemies way above their level. My triumph over the level 40 Veyrin was an incredible upset for a level 30 combatant. While my ladies had the element of surprise on their side in this ambush, one shotting such strong enemies was practically unheard of for this level gap.

Be that as it may, a third volunteer was missing.

For a moment, there was silence, until Ayame’s gaze slid toward her eternal rival. Her smirk widened visibly under her mask as she addressed Iris. Her tone was laced with mockery.

“What, you didn’t gain any useful ability that would let you ambush your foes? Should’ve known… Without getting punched in the guts, you’re basically useless.”

Iris, who had been calmly observing until now, suddenly stiffened. Her posture tensed, and her hand slowly gripped the hilt of her black sword. I could feel the temperature drop as her gaze turned toward me.

With a cold voice, she commanded, “Throw me at them.”

Amusement rushed through me at her reaction. The competition between these two had been relentless ever since their first duel, back when Iris had almost beheaded me.

“Alrighty,” I chuckled, cracking my knuckles playfully as I prepared to launch her.

Of course, I wasn’t going to use my arms. I wasn’t a barbarian but a sophisticated gentleman. With a raise of my finger, Iris’ feet left the ground, hovering in the air thanks to my wind manipulation. I twirled her around as if she were dancing, earning myself a strong cursing spree through [Master’s Link], which I pretended not to hear, of course.

“On your mark, ladies,” I said to Ayame and Blossom.

“I think you should throw this black-haired potato sack first, Devil…” Ayame purred. “No offense, but we’re faster than the speed with which you can toss this heavy lunatic at them.”

“… Is that so? If you manage to fail after all this talk, you’re going to look like an incompetent jester, my dearest samurai.”

Only soft chuckling left her lips, letting me know she was serious.

I nodded. “Fine by me. Have a good flight, Miss Wrath.”

I raised my arm in the sky, collected my grasp over the wind element for a single second, and then swung downward, launching Iris forward with a giant burst of air. She barreled toward her destination like a silent cannonball.

Even though I’d flung her with all my might, she wasn’t helpless: her body twisted midair as dark energy began crackling around her, a sign she was about to cast an ominous spell.

Ayame smirked as she watched, then grabbed onto her katana’s hilt still resting in its scabbard. “[Thunderflash].”

Lightning burst forth from her form, wrapping around her body like a storm. In the next instant, she was gone. A bolt of violet light streaked forward, covering the distance in a fraction of a second.

Blossom, at the same time, cast her own spell. “[Umbral Step].” One moment, she was crouched low, and the next, she flickered out of existence before reappearing directly behind her unsuspecting prey.

The lionkin had no time to react.

Iris, still airborne, raised her sword high, activating her spell. “[Wrathborn]!”

A sickening, ominous pulse of pitch black energy spread from her core right into her two hands that were gripping onto her sword. Her strength had skyrocketed.

The lionkin in front of her didn’t even have the time to turn his head before Iris’s blade slammed into his skull in a downward arc with monstrous force. The impact was so brutal that the ground beneath him fractured, sending a visible shockwave outward. His skull crumpled alongside his helmet, and his neck broke immediately as if crushed by a giant’s fist.

Iris was still all about overwhelming might instead of graceful execution, it seemed.

At the same time, Blossom struck.

A sliver of darkness gleamed in her hand. It was her clawed gauntlets that were wreathed in an inky black aura.

“[Null Rend].”

Her hands moved in a blur as her claws phased through the gaps in the lionkin’s armor as if the metal weren’t even there. Flesh and tendon parted effortlessly beneath her touch.

There was no sound save for a soft gush as blood sprayed outward. The lionkin’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening to scream, but nothing came. His voice had been stolen—his throat sliced open from the inside out.

Then there was Ayame.

She appeared in a flash of lightning directly in front of her target, katana already mid-swing.

“[Sundering Cleave]!”

A crackling arc of electricity buzzed along her blade as she swung upward. The force of her strike intended to break through tough defenses met the lionkin’s starforged armor head-on. Sparks erupted as the metal split apart, the enchanted steel warping and shattering under the sheer force of her attack. His chest plate peeled open, leaving him exposed.

Ayame’s reversed her grip.

“[Thunderfall]!”

A mere moment later, her blade came crashing down.

The lionkin barely had time to register his doom before the electrified edge split into his unarmored flesh. His chest split open like a butcher’s slab, organs spilling forth in a gruesome display of blood and carnage.

His knees buckled for a second before he lifelessly dropped forward, sprawling on the ground.

The battlefield fell silent once more, save for the hopeless gurgling of Blossom’s victim. He was clinging to life with the blonde dogkin looking down on him from above, observing his suffering with the sadistic eyes of a cruel predator.

What a sexy sight that one was…

Feeling multiple disbelieving gazes travel in my direction as a result of this display, I couldn’t help but chuckle proudly. “Aren’t my girls amazing?”

“Haaah… Stop showing off already…” Kitsara muttered with a sly smile as she stepped forward. She glanced back over her shoulder at Seraphiel. “Can you heal the one who is busy bleeding out thanks to Ghosty cutting his throat? I have some questions…”

After saying her piece, her three tails flicked excitedly behind her butt, telling me she was ready to show off, despite her earlier words calling me out on doing exactly that. This absolute hypocrite’s form shimmered as two of her tails detached.

What she did next shocked all of us.