Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 984: Wrath of the Primordial Villain

“On the bright side, you have no major wounds that are life-threatening, Jas. No wounds that require high-tier healing spells,” Seraphiel decreed after a few spell casts. “But the malnutrition and exhaustion are extreme. Another few days… maybe even just a day… and you would’ve passed quietly in your sleep.”

Jasmine trembled again, not from fear this time, but from hearing it confirmed.

She truly had been that close to fading away.

But Jasmine was the only one who had such a docile reaction to the news.

Quinlan’s gaze darkened to the greatest depths of wrath.

And he was not alone.

Behind him, standing in the edges of the firelight from his palm, the rest of his companions’ faces could be observed.

Lucille. Ayame. Aurora. Kitsara. Blossom. Vex. Serika. Feng.

None of them spoke.

But the expressions they wore were not gentle.

Their eyes glimmered with unfiltered fury. Wrath sharpened into clarity. A collective, bloodthirsty will.

The kind of look one wore when someone needed to be made to suffer.

Jasmine saw them, those demonic-looking women who stood at her man’s back. Her beloved sisters and best friends.

And for the first time in years…

She felt truly safe.

Jasmine’s heartbeat, just moments ago slowing under the care of warmth and healing, suddenly spiked in terror when…

*BREEEEEEE BREEEEEEE BREEEEEE!!!*

The shrill, thunderous blare of alarms erupted.

“One of my restoration spells must’ve triggered a mana-based tripwire.” Seraphiel decreed.

Jasmine’s heart skipped a beat. “They found us! We should run now! The portal is still open!”

She pointed toward the shimmering [Warp Gate] behind the group with panic written all over her face.

But no one moved.

No one looked rushed.

No one even looked remotely surprised.

Instead, the women around her smiled… and reached for their weapons.

And then, at the center, standing tall…

Quinlan summoned his weapon.

The Soul Reaper, a long, elegant saber made of eerie blue soul-light, materialized in his right hand. His eyes shone like twin infernos as he stepped forward, letting his aura slam into the room like an invisible thunderclap.

Behind him, the portal shimmered again.

More silhouettes stepped through.

Sylvaris, Seraphiel’s mother, arrived first, draped in a gown of silver-woven threads. She walked straight to Jasmine and once there, she conjured a radiant crescent-shaped Moon Construct that enveloped the girl like a second skin.

Then she leaned down and patted the girl’s weary shoulder. Her voice, when it came, was warm and full of maternal pride.

“You did well, child. Good job hanging in there.”

Jasmine looked up at her, speechless.

Next came two new arrivals, one regal, the other playful.

Poppy, Blossom’s redheaded sister, grinned as she darted over, nearly tackling Jasmine out of her chair with a hug. “You’re so skinny! Ugh, that’s it! I’m cooking a hearty meal for you tonight!”

Blossom’s mother, Natalie, nodded respectfully to Jasmine as her own blade settled in her palm. “Rest now.”

The noise of steel boots came crashing from the corridor beyond.

Several groups of guards arrived at last, weapons drawn, mana flaring, eyes wide.

“The hell’s going on in here?!” one of them shouted.

“She’s been docile all these months?! Why’s the bitch getting funny with us now?!”

“Everyone has a breaking point…”

That was when their sights settled and they saw ’that.’

Dozens of figures stood shoulder to shoulder in the prison cell. Elite warriors. Assassins. Mages.

And at the front of them all…

Stood one man.

His soulflame-blue saber hummed like a grave’s lullaby.

His black coat fluttered as the air itself trembled around him.

His crimson eyes burned with unadulterated fury.

To the guards, Quinlan didn’t look like a man.

He looked like a force of nature.

A horrible monster stuffed into a human’s skin.

And he was very angry.

“Eeek!”

“Invasion! The prison has been invaded!”

“W-We should call for backup!”

“Move!”

While some shouted their lines, the rest stood frozen. Pale. Shaking.

But whether they stood as statues or moved, it was already too late.

Quinlan exhaled once.

Not a word.

Not a chant.

No hand sign. No incantation.

Only will.

Wind howled to life.

An invisible tempest burst forth from his form, a shockwave so powerful it lifted the front line of soldiers off their feet and hurled them down the corridor, making these mighty Vesper Consortium members appear as if they were dolls thrown in a hurricane.

The rest, those who remained on their feet, didn’t even see him move.

A thunderous crash shook the stone as Quinlan slammed his foot into the ground, raising an earthen wall behind him in an instant. It was a towering bulwark to protect his people from what came next.

Mana surged—no, erupted—from within him.

His skin ignited in flickers of red-gold light.

Fire crackled into existence.

Then…

Combustion.

A blazing inferno exploded outward in a radius of pure devastation.

The heat melted steel, ignited bone, and stripped away all hope. The guards—dozens strong—had no time to even scream.

They turned to ash.

Incinerated.

Consumed in a flash so violent it seared shadows into the stone behind them.

A second passed.

Then the earthen wall behind Quinlan crumbled. Dust poured down. Pebbles clattered. And from behind it… His family stepped forward.

Weapons drawn. Eyes blazing.

The smell of scorched death still hung in the air.

And yet more footsteps echoed from beyond the flame.

More guards.

More enemies.

More victims.

Jasmine, still seated in her moon cocoon, clutched her hands to her heart, eyes wide with awe.

Vex licked her lips.

Ayame’s sword twitched in her hand, emitting a great desire for bloodshed.

Lucille hoisted her axe over her shoulder.

Poppy cracked her knuckles.

And Quinlan, standing there, surrounded by the gory remains of his slain enemies, lowered his hand.

And the ground answered.

Stone buckled. Earth roared. A channel of raw stone twisted and sank beneath his feet as if the prison itself bowed in submission.

Quinlan stepped forward, and the earth swallowed him.

A tunnel opened in his path. He walked calmly, vanishing step by step into the gaping vein of rock.

Not a single word was spoken.

Not a single goodbye uttered.

The Primordial Villain simply disappeared, like a ghost of wrath diving back into the bones of the world.