Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1486 Arriving to the Frontlines

Chapter 1486  Arriving to the Frontlines

The ridge overlooking Whisperfield was quiet.

Serelis, the elven captain who met Quinlan right after he overtook the undead vehicle and proposed joining the Elvaridan invasion, crouched at its edge with her bare feet pressed into the moss, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath her toes. Below, the settlement sat against a wall of dark stone, its gates shut, its battlements lined with the glint of armor moving in organized patterns. Smoke rose from chimneys. Ballista emplacements tracked the tree line.

Dwarven siege engines were being assembled in the southern forest. Covenant tunnel activity had been confirmed beneath the merchant quarter. The pieces were in place. They were waiting for the signal.

Behind Serelis, her elite squad waited in loose formation among the trees. Twelve rangers, handpicked, each one capable of dropping a running target from four hundred meters in crosswind.

“Commander,” one of them spoke up, younger than the rest. “How long until the assault begins?”

“When Captain Thorga decides her breakfast has settled,” Serelis replied without turning around.

A few quiet laughs came.

Then the scoffs.

“I heard the dwarves ate an entire boar this morning,” another ranger muttered. “One boar. Shared between four.”

“Shared is generous. I watched one of them eat a leg by herself. His or her beard was full of grease.”

“Disgusting.”

“How can those smelly midgets fit so much slop in their bodies?”

“Just thinking about the stench of the roasted meat makes me feel sick.”

Indeed. The dwarves were still not favored by the elven ladies.

Then every ear on the ridge twitched at once.

Serelis straightened. Her rangers did the same, twelve heads turning east in perfect unison. Elven hearing did not lie, and what they heard was fast. Very fast. A displacement of air at high altitude, approaching from the direction of the Elvardian border at a speed that ruled out birds.

Serelis squinted.

A shape cut through the sky above the cloud line. No wings. No platform. No mount. Just a man, arms at his sides, body angled forward as an arrow loosed from a bow, tearing through the air with a speed that left a faint ripple of displaced mana in his wake.

Behind him, others followed in the same current. More than a dozen figures carried by the same force, pulled along in formation. One of the younger ones had her eyes closed.

Serelis noted that.

However, they weren’t bracing, weren’t afraid.

They trusted the man at the front to carry them. It was likely just that the visual stimulus of moving at their speed was too taxing on her brain.

Serelis had seen blind faith before. Soldiers who followed great commanders into hopeless battles. She had never seen it in children flying thousands of feet above the ground at the speed of a launched projectile.

“That’s him,” one of her rangers whispered. “The Primordial Villain.”

“His eye color is different.”

“But it’s still undeniably him…”

The formation slowed as it neared the ridge. The man at the front banked, descended, and came to a stop in the air above the clearing as casually as someone pausing mid-step.

A woman quickly jumped into his arms. Serelis knew exactly who that was.

Cradled against his chest, one arm hooked around his neck, blonde hair spilling over his shoulder.

Seraphiel Vaelorith.

The young heir of the lesser Vaelorith clan, blessed with the Healer class before her coming of age ceremony. A prodigy. A future pillar of elven society.

Then the war happened.

Seraphiel had been drafted into the invasion force the moment she came of age. Standard conscription. Low-ranking clan, no political leverage to defer. Her unit was among the first to fall when Ravenshade crushed the previous Elvardian offensive.

She was enslaved.

Reports surfaced later that a human man had purchased her contract. The Vaelorith matriarch, Sylvaris, had gone after her daughter and been captured as well. The clan’s line was considered functionally dead.

And yet here she was.

Alive. Healthy. Smiling. Pressing herself into the Primordial Villain’s chest with the urgency of a woman who did not want to be put down.

Serelis watched the blonde elf nuzzle closer, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. Her eyes were bright and warm, looking up at him with an expression that had no business appearing on a battlefield.

Serelis wondered if she was being extra needy because they were returning to the front. The same lands where she’d been captured and enslaved. The same duchy that had nearly ruined her life before it could even properly begin.

That would make anyone cling tighter.

She shook her head. Not the time.

The man descended the final distance and landed on the ridge, boots touching moss without a sound. The rest of his group touched down behind him in a loose cluster.

Serelis stepped forward.

“You were quick,” she said. “I thought you would be absent for much longer.”

Quinlan Elysiar looked at her and smiled.

“I promised your queen I’d hurry.”

The blonde elf hopped out of his arms, landing next to him. Then, she grinned up at him slyly. It was the kind that preceded trouble.

“You actually broke your promise, Quin.”

He looked down at her.

“You said you’d be back in a ‘blink of an eye or two.'” Seraphiel’s tone was light and teasing. “I asked her to keep her eyes open a bit longer for me.”

Seraphiel giggled at that. “And you think she kept them peeled open for three whole hours because you asked nicely?”

Quinlan’s hand, which had been resting on her lower back, slid down and gripped firmly onto her butt.

“What kind of woman brings her husband’s words into question during business hours?”

Seraphiel did not flinch. Did not blush. Did not pull away.

“Sorry, Master!” She giggled instead. Then, without missing a beat, she added, “You’re right… Your exact words about the length of your departure were: ‘An indefinite time, though hopefully only the blink of an eye or two.'”

Shameless.

Serelis stared.

Her rangers stared.

Twelve elite elven soldiers, veterans of border conflicts and covert operations, stood in silence as they watched a noble daughter of the Vaelorith line, raised by the renowned Lady Sylvaris, a house known for its grace, poise, and quiet dignity, beam with visible delight while having her ass gripped in public and calling someone her Master.

The worst of it was the tone with which she called him that… It was as if calling a man her Master was endearing to her…

To the elves, having a long history of suffering terrible fates of sexual exploitation when enslaved due to their natural beauty, this was an impossible scene.

Serelis glanced at her nearest companion, the young ranger from before.

The companion glanced back.

No words were exchanged. None were needed.

‘This girl is extraordinarily kinky!’ they both decreed silently.

The Vaelorith line was suffering an identity crisis.

Quinlan’s grip tightened. “So you knew it all along…”

“Kya!” Seraphiel yelped. Short, high, and utterly delighted. Her cheeks flushed, but her smile only grew wider. She made zero effort to remove his hand. If anything, she shifted her weight to give him better access.

“Khm!”