Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1450 Nyxara's Declaration

Chapter 1450  Nyxara’s Declaration

Her eyes lifted, gleaming. “And during that process, something opened.”

She shifted her weight and tapped the ground beneath them with her toes. “Your soul realm. It allowed me in. It invited me to become an integral part of it.”

Ayame frowned slightly. “Wait, does this mean you can’t manifest outside the realm?”

If she could, that would basically mean the entire continent of Iskaris became solved. With Nyxara helping them, literally nothing could step in their way.

Even among the primordials, Nyxara was considered one of the strongest.

Then what about mortals who were locked to level 74 or below?

It’d be a massacre, the kind history had never recorded before.

“I tried,” Nyxara said, shrugging. “Didn’t work. Maybe I’ll find a way.”

A subtle stillness passed through the group. No one said anything in response. A few gazes dropped.

Nyxara noticed immediately.

She straightened and laughed. “Oh, stop that. There’s no need for pity. Normally, releasing a Shriek of Ruin means losing one’s form forever. I would exist only within my conqueror, never walking on my own again.”

Her smile widened. “This bond lets me keep all of that and more.”

She returned to Quinlan’s side and hooked an arm through his, with her cheek resting lightly against him. “I can guide you from within as it was supposed to happen, and as a boon I’ll be forever happy about, I can still exist here. After all, you still carry my mark. It has just evolved to become more.”

Her voice dipped, pleased. “I can act as your guide yet also hug and kiss you whenever I want.”

She then sent him a truly suspicious gaze before adding, “That is, as long as my cruel Ruin doesn’t silence me and also visits me here.”

Quinlan reached out to pet her head for a second time. “I won’t promise anything. If you don’t behave…”

“So cruel!” Nyxara whined, though her smile betrayed her. She rose onto her toes, brushed a quick kiss against his cheek, and leaned in close enough that only he heard her sultry whisper. “I’ll be a good girl then❤️ Just for you❤️Forget anyone else-”

“Khm!!” A pointed cough cut in.

Vex had her arms crossed.

Nyxara stopped at once. “Okay, okay. Don’t taunt the wives. I remember.” She glanced back at Quinlan, eyes bright with mischief. “See? I can behave!”

She turned and began to walk away, hips swaying with deliberate sensuality. “Come, Ruin. Let me welcome you into your domain properly, as is your right as my conqueror.”

“Welcome me properly?” Quinlan raised an eyebrow but followed anyway. They stopped beneath Mimi’s tree.

The vines wrapped around its trunk reacted as soon as Nyxara flicked her finger. They shifted and uncoiled, moving with purpose. The playful edge in her posture faded. Her back straightened. Her voice lost its teasing tone.

“{The Master Hath Returned}” she spoke with a unique tone, sounding as if she were chanting words from an ancient ritual rather than conversing normally as before.

At Nyxara’s call, the demonic vines hugging Mimi’s tree answered.

Thicker strands peeled away from the trunk first, sliding down. They layered over one another, braiding into rigid supports. Smaller tendrils threaded between them, locking the structure in place. Plates of dark bark folded outward and hardened, forming armrests and a high back that rose just enough to frame whoever sat there.

The seat finished shaping itself last.

It curved inward, shaped to hold in comfort, the surface smoothing where it mattered and remaining rough where it did not. The throne settled with roots driving into the soil beneath it as if claiming permanence.

Nyxara turned to face Quinlan. “This is your seat of power. Will you take it?” Quinlan understood this was no act. The demon was more serious than ever before. This was not the time for snarky remarks. Having already decided he’ll treat this woman well, he stepped forward and sat without comment. Once settled, he watched the demon kneel in silence.

There was no sense of intrusion in his heart, no sense of something being strange.

Instead, a thought deep in him responded with quiet certainty.

‘This feels right.’

His Abyssal Genesis Physique simply accepted the position as correct, as if this was where he was meant to sit.

Nyxara lifted her head to look into his eyes, still kneeling.

“I, Nyxara, Primordial Demon of Lust, swear myself to you.”

“I offer my will, my guidance, my strength, and my existence. I will stand within you and beside you. I will guard your ascent, sharpen your intent, and never act against your dominion.”

“My Shriek of Ruin has bound me to you. But this vow is my choice, made of my free will.”

The demonic markings along his body stirred on impulse. He felt it answer before he even did.

Quinlan did not rush his reply, looking at the kneeling woman for a good few seconds, taking it all in.

‘Is this okay? Is this really what I want?’

Then he scoffed inwardly. ‘What useless thoughts.’

“I, Quinlan Elysiar,” he said at last, voice calm and clear, “Primordial Villain, Harbinger of Ruin, Godslayer, hear and accept your vow.”

The throne beneath him responded by releasing unseen pressure.

“I claim your loyalty, not as a tool, but as a bond. Your place is acknowledged. Your existence is secured.”

Now, it was the marking etching her own body that flared, just once, in perfect synch with the beat of her heart.

Then it faded.

Nyxara’s shoulders shook.

A single tear slipped free and fell to the ground between them.

“What’s wrong?” Quinlan asked.

She laughed softly and wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. “Nothing’s wrong, my love…”

She looked up at him again, eyes clear.

“For a succubus, releasing a Shriek of Ruin is the greatest gamble we could ever take. With the right conqueror, our lives become more satisfying than we could ever imagine. With the wrong one, it becomes endless suffering.”

She swallowed, then smiled.

“I can tell… I got the best one.”

For the first time, Quinlan saw her smile not as the sultry grin of a hungry demon, but as the beautiful smile of a wonderful woman.

Just like this, he kept looking at her without speaking.

The silence stretched. He studied her face as it was now, without provocation or hunger shaping it. Then he let his expression ease and returned the genuine smile she gave him.

He reached forward and patted his own thigh.

“Come,” he said. “Your place is not at my feet.”

Nyxara froze.

“!!!” Then she squealed. Her body scattered into soft pink particles that pulled inward toward Quinlan’s chest. A heartbeat later, the markings along his skin flared, and she reformed in his lap, seated sideways, arms already looped around his neck.

She pressed her forehead against his neck, staying there while dangling her legs joyously.

No teasing. No flirting.

Just contentment.

Quinlan wrapped an arm around her back and another around her legs, holding her properly. Her warmth seeped through him.

The way she leaned into his hold told him more than words ever would. She trusted him. She depended on him.

He accepted that weight.

‘I won’t make her regret taking the vow,’ he decided.

Nyxara stayed where she was, feeling more satisfied than she ever had in her billions of years of life.

With this settled, Quinlan’s focus shifted forward.

There was still some time to spend with the primordials. And then he would return to Thalorind.

A continental war was waiting.

The endgame of Iskaris was about to begin.