Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1046: Procession

Chapter 1046: Procession

’This makes no sense at all…’ That was all that Quinlan thought as he watched the unbelievable scene before his very eyes. A little more than a year ago, Kaede was a weaker combatant than the level 14 Ayame he met on day 2 of his transmigration.

Kaede needed to use poison to defeat her big sister in a duel for the duchy and clan after their father’s demise. But now, she was slipping out of Alastair Greenvale’s grip, who was one of the strongest humans on the continent.

It should simply not be possible, no matter how many enemies Kaede killed in the year and a few months since Ayame last saw her.

The oriental woman did not care for his thoughts, however, for she only added fuel to the fire.

She swung, aiming the arc of her blade straight toward the direction of King Alexios.

Alexios did not move.

The king sat upon his throne with the same unshakable poise as if Kaede’s blade had not been swung in his direction at all. The oppressive aura rolling from her steel crashed harmlessly against him like waves against a cliff.

But while the swing was still in motion, Kaede’s wrist twisted.

“[Shinkai Mon].”

The swing, instead of landing upon flesh or steel, tore through space itself. The air before her blade shimmered, then ripped open in a flawless crescent, as though reality itself had been cleaved.

“Come forth.”

One by one, figures emerged from the portal, each dressed in immaculate ceremonial garb of deep indigo and white, embroidered with silver cranes and swirling waves. The elders of the Fujimori clan. They walked with timeless grace, letting their polished wooden sandals tap softly against the marble as they moved right toward Kaede.

Every head in the hall turned.

Mouths fell open, whispers broke out like sparks along a fuse.

For a long moment, Quinlan could only watch.

There was a very good reason he’d always kept his [Warp Gate] spell hidden.

In Thalorind, portals weren’t merely rare; they were nearly mythical. The ability to simply step through a dimensional doorway and emerge elsewhere was beyond the reach of almost every living being.

The only known exceptions were unique oddities, such as Orianna’s flower bloom method, but even that was a sleight of speed and concealment, not true space-folding.

Kaede’s portal, however…

It was seamless. No swirling storm of unstable magic. No elaborate runes. No bait-and-switch movement technique.

A cut through space, and then… simply walk through.

Eerily similar to his magic.

The nobles’ initial awe turned into something else entirely as their eyes tracked the Fujimori elders’ every step.

Each one of the robed, white-haired figures dragged behind them a bound and shackled body. The heavy chains that bound them scraped against the marble with an ugly, grating rhythm. The captives were not treated as honored prisoners; there was no pretense of dignity.

They were hauled across the floor like sacks of grain.

A wave of recognition rolled through the gathered court. The air filled with sharp intakes of breath and startled whispers as faces from wanted posters—burned into memory after an eternity of warnings—came into view.

The Phantom League.

The very name was a curse in the Fujimori lands, a syndicate on the same level as the Vesper Consortium and the Covenant of Eternity that had infested its trade routes, shadows, and politics for generations.

Yet here they were, the untouchable criminals who had evaded execution for centuries, dragged in chains as if they were common thieves.

At the head of the miserable procession came a gaunt man with wild, unblinking eyes and a mouth stretched into an eerie, permanent grin. Mordecai, the mad scientist and undisputed head of the League’s Drug Department. He was responsible for the twisted narcotics that had poisoned countless villages, as well as the grotesque alchemical abominations whispered about in back alley rumors.

Behind him shuffled his two infamous lieutenants:

Draven “The Titanblade” and Elara “The Heartpiercer.”

Quinlan knew these faces, and not from something as comfortably distant as wanted posters.

These were the same three who had ambushed his group during the Phenom Trials for the Vesper Consortium. He hadn’t even been able to lift a hand back then. It was Vex, Raika, and Orianna who had been the ones to fight them while he and his girls fought against the subordinates. And, well, he got a taste of a certain redheaded teammate’s fire attack.

Judging by the way Vex’s eyes widened now, the shock cut deep even for her. She had fought Elara to a more or less stalemate once. But this wasn’t what made Vex appear shocked.

No, that would have to be due to the fact that the chained parade did not stop at three.

Every single leader of the Phantom League’s departments had been chained, alongside their second-in-command.

Brief flashes of recognition darted through the crowd:

Tia of the Veil, head of Espionage, known for melting into shadows.

Varrek the Ashhand, leader of Arms & Contraband, whose explosives had toppled fortresses.

Mother Syla, matriarch of the Slave Rings, was a grandmotherly face that perfectly masked her ruthless cruelty.

Jorren Blacklung, commander of the Smuggler Fleets, skin stained with coal dust and sea salt.

Kalthis the Whisperer, master of Information & Secrets, who could destroy innumerable lives with a single rumor.

One after another, the League’s infamous heads were revealed with their auras diminished and their power stripped bare in the face of Kaede’s cold, imperial presence.

The court had been expecting political gifts from the dukes. Gold, rare wine, enchanted trinkets. The Fujimori were known for their exotic craftsmanship; therefore, many expected the young and inexperienced girl to try pleasing the king with one such creation. Of course, it would’ve failed. Alexios didn’t care one bit for fancy craftsmanship. It was the exact mistake a new duchess might’ve made.

They had not expected this.

Instead of a shiny samurai armor or a gleaming blade, Kaede’s gift was the end of an era.

…

The procession ended as the last chained Phantom League lieutenant was dragged forward. The Fujimori elders formed a line behind Kaede. Without a word, they stepped in unison and then lowered themselves into deep, formal bows before the throne.

An elderly woman’s voice could be heard. Her spine bent almost double as she pressed her hands together. “We humbly apologize for our absence on this most honored day, Your Majesty. Our arrival should have been sooner.”

King Alexios regarded her for a second with nostalgia. His voice, dry as autumn leaves, carried a thread of mirth.

“Ancient husks like you and I, Chizuru, have suffered through far too many such occasions to find enjoyment in them.”

Then, his eyes shifted toward the figure she held by the chain, Mother Syla, the infamous matron of the Phantom League’s slave rings. She was glaring daggers at him despite her bindings.

“Furthermore… It seems you have been busy.”