Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1278: Insulting Kaelira
Chapter 1278: Insulting Kaelira
It didn’t want to be touched.
It didn’t want to be disturbed.
It had buried itself to withstand the collapse.
Quinlan did not reach out immediately.
He lingered near it first, letting it feel his presence without pressure or expectation. He waited until it stopped shrinking away. Only then did he extend the faintest thread of intent, lighter than a breath, toward that knot of warmth.
No push.
No pull.
Just a quiet touch, offered and easy to avoid if she chose to.
Kaelira’s presence trembled.
But it didn’t retreat.
However, now that he had found her, Quinlan faced a new dilemma.
He didn’t know what to do next.
Once again, he wasn’t a soul healer. He had no technique to pull her back. No method to repair what was strained. If he pushed the wrong way, he might crush the little she had left.
So he did the only thing he could.
He formed a thought.
Then another.
And let them drift toward her.
His intent brushed against that knot of presence.
“If you keep snoozing like a pretty elven princess,” he projected, the words shaped through will rather than sound, “the stocky bastards are going to get ahead of you.”
A small stir moved through the knot. A faint twitch. The quiet shifted, offended on instinct.
Seeing he got a reaction, a grin formed on his lips, and he pressed more, firmer this time.
“They’ll keep hammering out new masterworks, crafting new legacies. There’ll be no one left to challenge them, letting the whole world think dwarves are the undisputed best crafters to have ever existed. All the while, you will lie here, surrounded by your worried allies, doing nothing.”
This time, the presence tightened, bristling, almost growling.
“Those dwarves will leave you in the dust, Kaelira. They’ll look at this little elf with all her big dreams and say she couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t take the heat.”
Another reaction. Sharper now. The quiet around that knot flickered, as if something inside her clenched its teeth.
He went in for the final jab.
“They’ll tell you: ’step out of the smithy, woman. Go munch on leaves and sniff feet somewhere far away. Leave the real work to us.’”
The presence flared in the form of a raw push. A sudden, stubborn surge that shoved back at him, weak but full of bite.
Her buried consciousness jolted awake in a spark of refusal, pride, and sheer annoyance.
It wasn’t a recovery.
But the dormant piece of her began to climb upward, pulling itself out of the pocket of stillness. A slow, gradual rise, like someone forcing their hand through thick water.
He seized the moment, clamping down on that spark.
Not forcefully.
Not harshly.
Just enough to keep the piece of her from slipping back into the dark pocket it had crawled out of. His will wrapped around it.
“Good,” he murmured under his breath, eyes still shut. “Stay awake, you stubborn woman…”
But holding her steady wasn’t enough.
He needed something more.
Someone more.
“Rosie.”
Leaves rustled outside the home.
A second later, a small weight perched on his shoulder, then hopped down onto the bed’s edge. Rosie appeared with her leafy hair shimmering, her small, bare feet tapping on the frame as she leaned in.
“Yes, Daddy?” she chimed, voice light, knowing, already wearing a smirk that softened into something warm when she saw Kaelira’s state.
There wasn’t a trace of confusion in her eyes.
She had been listening.
She knew exactly why he called.
Quinlan extended a hand.
“Let’s do it together.”
Her grin widened in a way that belonged only to a child who adored him without restraint. She floated off the bed, drifting like a petal caught in a warm draft, and positioned herself at Kaelira’s other side.
Over the woman’s chest, their hands remained clasped together.
Roots of faint golden-green essence unfurled from her palms, but they didn’t touch Kaelira, despite her being the one in need of aid.
They sank into Quinlan.
Because after two months of training beneath Mimi’s tree, of breaking and rebuilding himself, of learning how to mend through resonance rather than force, he finally understood how to take Rosie’s output and convert it.
He could now guide her raw potency without burning the receiver alive.
So Rosie fed him her essence.
And Quinlan channeled it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Through Kaelira’s soul instead of her flesh.
The process stretched for even more hours.
His breathing grew harsher. Sweat slid along his jaw. Rosie’s little fingers trembled from the effort, and she took a small break by leaning on his arm before pushing more power again.
Through it all, Quinlan never stopped talking to the fragment of Kaelira’s mind he held.
But he did not do so kindly. He’d long since been aware of how ambitious a woman Kaelira was. Telling her she was beloved, cherished, they needed her, etc, would’ve had less effect than…
Well-aimed arrows dipped in pure provocation.
“Wake up, lazy woman, or everything you worked for and all your aspirations become nothing but a bad joke.”
The presence bristled.
“If you stay asleep, those dwarves you can’t stand? They win. They’ll say the little elf who bragged about surpassing them became comatose thanks to not being able to handle her own creation. You’ll become the ’elf who didn’t know her place.’”
The presence shoved back at him.
“They’ll brag about it too. Loudly. Probably with beer running down their bushy beards. Can you imagine the stench of wet hair mixing with their horrid breath? And they’ll be singing, boisterously. A hundred verses will be crafted about the stupid female elf who thought she was better than a dwarf.”
Her soul flared again, sharper than ever.
Her body responded, breathing steadier, color returning to her cheeks.
Rosie giggled between labored breaths. “Daddy, she’s mad at you…”
“Good,” he muttered.
He leaned in, pushing again.
“Is that what you will amount to, Kaelira? A mockery sung at their parties, celebrating their undisputed supremacy in the smithy?”
Her consciousness surged.
Her fingers twitched.
Her brows knit.
Her lips parted on a faint, hoarse exhale that wasn’t the shallow panting from before.
Another hour passed.
Rosie sagged against Quinlan’s arm, exhausted but smiling.
Then Kaelira’s presence, after clawing upward inch by stubborn inch, finally broke the surface.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Once.
Twice.
Then she woke.
Her gaze found Quinlan instantly, and the first thing she did was glare with vivid, wobbly, deeply injured offense.
He blinked, confused.
Her eyes narrowed further.
He could practically hear her silent scream of, ’How dare you?’
She pushed herself up on trembling elbows, reached out with both hands, and curled her fingers around his neck, gripping him with equal parts outrage and… something softer.
“You spent the last who knows how long insulting me to my very core…” she grumbled. But she did not wait for him to respond.
Her voice came out frayed.
“Forgive me…”
“Hmm? What for?” Quinlan asked.
“For not knowing my place…”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Kaelira pulled Quinlan down and kissed him.
Her lips pressed to his with all the pent-up defiance she had been drowning under for many hours now, and every ounce of fury he had provoked to pull her back.
The room fell silent.
Rosie stared with wide, sparkling eyes, utterly joyous, “Daddy’s getting kissed…”
Then she gasped with great theatrics, “Which means Rosie is getting a new Mommy?!”
