Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

His voice cut through the air, low and clear:

“Thank you for protecting Feng, Lysandra Vael… Your actions have allowed me to focus on fighting.”

Then came a moment of silence.

He closed his eyes.

Breathed deep.

And then he dove inward.

…

Within him, his primordial brain stirred, more awake than ever before.

Vast. Cold. Perfect in its construction.

It began to hum. Not with mere thought, but with overwhelming clarity. Every synapse, every ancient neural thread woven through time itself, pulsed together in perfect harmony. It silenced distraction. Banished doubt. His thoughts no longer resembled anything human. Anything mortal.

They were thought itself in its rawest form:

Primordial. Eternal. True.

Beneath it, the Still Heart answered.

Its rhythm heightened.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

Until his heart no longer beat like a man’s but like a true weapon of war.

A relentless percussion.

A battlefield drum hammered by the divine themselves.

It thundered within his chest, beating ten, twenty, a hundred times a moment.

Each pulse detonated like a warhead, flooding his body with untamed force.

His veins became conduits of his wrath for the disgusting existence that was God Venthros.

His muscles coiled with the great desire to erase him from existence itself.

Emotion was no longer a flaw, but fuel for his grand arsenal.

His rage toward this corrupted being became his blade.

His sorrow for the many lives that were lost today became the whetstone that honed it.

And his focus, bolstered by both his primordial brain and Still Heart, became the forge that shaped them both.

His soul no longer kept time with mortals.

For just a single moment, he became something else.

Something meant to tear through divinity itself.

Between the two—the brain and the heart—his Avatar Core began to shine brighter than ever before.

It responded to its master’s call like a living sun, not one that floated in a distant sky, but one caged inside the frame of a mere man. It blazed not with mere heat, but with truth; the truth of a being who had walked through fire, drowned in stillness, broken against stone, and soared through wind, and emerged not shattered, but whole.

And now…

That truth refused to be contained.

Quinlan Elysiar’s body trembled from the sheer abundance of power that was flowing through him. His veins throbbed as light flew through them. His skin shimmered with ripples of undiluted power, and suddenly, elemental sigils became visible, branding themselves across his form like declarations of his expanding dominion.

If their master’s interior was far too small to house them, then they would have to expand onto his exterior.

For the first time, the boundaries of his flesh felt insufficient to contain all that he was. His bones groaned. His muscles flexed. His soul roared.

The vessel was too small.

Far, far too small.

Just now, it became clear that this Primordial Entity, the Primordial Villain, the Harbinger of Ruin, was not made to fit in this world. This world was made to witness him.

A being on the cusp of transcendence. A force shaped not by the hands of mere gods… but by resistance to them.

And as the Core within him reached its peak, not even the sky could hold him back.

He called upon everything he was:

The fire of his captivity.

The water of his rebirth.

The stone of his resolve.

The wind of his freedom.

The soul of his desire.

The ruin in his name.

All of it coalesced—drawn by will, forged by truth—into the core of his very existence.

And from there… it flowed into his saber.

…

The world fell still for just a single moment.

And then it shifted.

Everything changed.

Not with tremors or quakes that heralded the arrival of Venthros’s true form, but with a silent, absolute reordering of reality itself that allowed a small glimpse into the true potential of the Primordial Villain.

An exquisitely composed cyclone of energy burst from Quinlan’s form. It radiated harmony so complete that it unraveled the very concept of conflict for a heartbeat.

Noise vanished.

Color drained.

Doubt ceased.

The heavens glowed with an incandescent white, as if they too had been forced to recognize something greater than what should exist in the mortal realm.

And beneath that sky, Quinlan Elysiar stood, transfigured.

Fire no longer raged. It danced, coiling along his arms with reverence.

Water no longer crashed. It flowed, spiraling in serene arcs with every subtle motion.

Stone did not weigh him down. It fortified him, girding his shoulders with the calm patience of mountains.

Wind no longer howled. It sang, swirling gently around his frame like a whispered promise of freedom.

And his weapon…

His saber, which was once a blackened metal akin to an ominous shadow, was now none of that.

It shimmered with colorless heat, a blade forged not by steel but by soul.

Not by flame, but by truth.

Not by any forge, but by the convergence of all that its master was.

A silence fell across the battlefield.

Even Venthros, in all his grandeur…

The Devourer of Leylines.

The Desecrated God of Elements.

The Betrayer of Flame…

Froze.

His divine senses, vast and ancient, trembled.

He felt it.

The end. Death itself was in front of him.

Quinlan opened his eyes. Twin orbs of white shone with the raw essence of a world refined. It was the gaze of a being who had surpassed the constraints of flesh and reached into something far beyond.

And then, he moved.

Just once.

A single, impossible motion.

It was faster than thought.

Deeper than breath.

Older than time.

The saber swept through the air with no resistance.

There was no clash.

No recoil.

Only inevitability.

*CRACK!*

A perfect line opened across the corrupted god’s throat.

A heartbeat passed.

Then two.

And then…

Venthros screamed with a gurgling sound that tore the clouds.

The sky cracked. He made the very world flinch.

“I AM DIVINE! I AM ETERNAL! YOU DARE DEFY ME?!” He roared, summoning all that remained.

A final blast of corrupted power ripped free from his chest, standing as a monument of agony and hatred. He formed a barrier of living ruin, a last defense born of the souls he’d corrupted, the realms he’d razed.

It shrieked like a choir of dying stars.

And yet, Quinlan didn’t pause.

He didn’t speak.

He only advanced.

One move. One swing.

The saber tore through the barrier as if it were mere paper.

Through Venthros’s rising hands.

Through his false divinity.

Through his very being.

Clean. Final. Absolute.

The corrupted god’s head lifted from his shoulders, spinning through the air like a fallen crown.

His divine body collapsed. Not like a dying titan,nor a defeated god, but as a fraud who had finally been judged after all the pain and misery he’d wrought upon the universe.

Black ichor sprayed toward the sky.

And in its wake, only one figure remained still.

Quinlan Elysiar.

The battlefield was silent.

Even the wind had knelt.

And then, he spoke.

“The first soul raider has been vanquished…”

He exhaled, letting a radiant plume of energy slip free from his mouth. Four distinct hues spiraled within it: crimson flame, azure water, emerald wind, and golden stone. The four primal elements. They danced together for a brief, reverent moment… then faded into stardust as he declared:

“A billion more remain.”

His blade hummed with fading resonance.

The white in his eyes dimmed.

But the message was loud and clear:

The golden age of soul raiding had begun to fracture with the arrival of the Primordial Villain.

The Harbinger of Ruin had claimed his first divine skull.

And soon, the gods would tremble at the sound of his mere name.