Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1506 Worthy of Protecting

Chapter 1506  Worthy of Protecting

<Don’t tank this one, Little Ruin!> Nyxara’s voice erupted in his skull, sharp and urgent, stripped of every trace of her usual playfulness. <Protect yourself or you’re dead! It will erase you!>

Quinlan threw everything he had into defense. Earth and wind compressed into a layered shield before his chest, mana pouring out of him at a rate that made his vision swim.

The beam hit his shield and punched through the first layer like it wasn’t there.

The second layer cracked.

The third buckled.

Then Black Fang was in front of him.

“[Orochi’s Fang]!”

Her katana swept upward in a rising arc that met the beam head-on. Violet fire clashed with golden light, and for a single hideous second the two forces ground against each other in a screaming collision of holy purity and serpentine venom. The spillover blasted in every direction, scouring the stone clean on both sides of the street.

Quinlan braced and fed wind into her back, reinforcing her footing, keeping her anchored against the force that was trying to swallow them both.

Black Fang’s boots slid backward. Her arms shook. The veins in her neck stood out like cords as she held the deflection, forcing the beam to split around her blade and scatter into the buildings on either side.

Then the spell died.

Velara’s arm dropped. Her breathing was heavier now, the staff trembling faintly in her grip. That one had cost her.

The street smoked between them. Black Fang’s robes were scorched along her entire right side. A burn ran from her wrist to her elbow where the golden light had leaked past the deflection. Quinlan’s shield arm hung numb, his earth barriers reduced to dust at his feet. If not for Synchra’s valiant effort to bolster his defenses, he would’ve been in a significantly worse state.

They were worse off than before, that much was for certain.

But they were still standing, and that was all that mattered to the pair.

Quinlan looked at Black Fang.

She looked back.

Her purple eyes were blazing. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and the burn on her arm was already blistering. But the expression on her face was one Quinlan had never seen on her before. Her lips were parted. Her pupils were dilated. There was color in her cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.

She was more alive than he’d ever seen her.

“Thanks,” he said. “I underestimated her.”

Black Fang had already turned back toward Velara and begun circling left, her pace slow, measured, the predator’s walk of a woman who was in no rush because the prey wasn’t going anywhere.

“Almost no one is heretical enough to attack an Arch Priestess, fearing what happens to them in the afterlife. Eternal Damnation is not a future most people want to risk…” she replied, eyes fixed on Velara. “And those who are that far gone tend to be lower level, that’s why there’s almost no data on how they fight at full power.” Her katana drifted to her side, still burning violet. “The Dawn Breaker is the only known reference, and she fights in melee. This one’s a caster. An entirely different discipline. Furthermore, based on my initial assessment, she has the stats of a person in the level 80s while sporting significant boosts to her attributes.”

Quinlan circled right, matching her pace. The two of them moved like the hands of a clock, closing around Velara from opposite sides.

“You’re telling me all this so I don’t blame myself for the underestimation,” he mused. “And you came to my rescue instead of going for the finishing blow while she was open.”

His helmet tilted toward her.

“Black Fang, I barely recognize you.”

“You’ve proven yourself worthy enough to save,” she said without looking at him. “There is a higher chance of victory if you remain in fighting condition. That is all.”

Cold. Practical. The calculus of a woman who measured the world in kill efficiency.

Yet despite the coldness, Quinlan loved it.

It had been almost a year since he arrived in Thalorind. By the time winter ended, he’d have completed his first full year on this continent. Ten months ago, he was a nobody in a hoodie who couldn’t kill level one goblins without nearly dying in the process. Ten months later, the deadliest woman alive had assessed him as strong enough to be worth saving over taking a kill shot.

That was growth. The kind no stat window could capture.

His grin behind the helmet was wide enough to hurt.

“Stop grinning and focus,” Black Fang said.

“How can you tell? You can’t even see my face.”

“It’s obvious.”

<Aww, the romance is blooming. The iceberg is melting. But are you forgetting something, Little Ruin? You’re her semen tap, her one chance for immortality. Of course she has to save you.>

<…> Quinlan’s mood was instantly ruined. Until a thought overwrote everything. <No, she should be aware that I, with the help of Synchra, would’ve at least survived… Most likely… She could’ve gone for the kill and ended the fight, then helped me recover. She chose to help me because she deemed me strong enough to be worth keeping in the fight instead of gambling on a potential killing blow but then continuing the fight 1v1 should it fail.>

<Keke!> The succubus was having the time of her life. <That’s a lot of words but all I hear is ‘I’m Quinlan Elysiar, the King of Delusion.’>

<Someone’s begging for a spanking.>

<Yes, please!>

<…> Quinlan didn’t know what to do with this woman. <You must know something about this Arch Priestess and her spells. Why didn’t you warn me beforehand? I bet you could’ve given me a detailed list of her available spells, strength, weaknesses, and more. Yet you’re just backseating me.>

<I’m here to guide you toward becoming a supreme existence,> Nyxara replied, and the playfulness was gone. <Something even I can’t fully imagine yet. I’m not here to coddle you in every fight, Little Ruin. If I fed you every detail of every enemy you faced, you’d lean on me more and more until that lean became a crutch, and the crutch became a cage, and one day you’d find yourself unable to assess a threat without checking with the demoness in your head first.>

Her presence shifted against his mind. Warmer. Closer.

<You can consider me your bewitchingly sexy demonic lover that you can plow at any point in time and I’ll make any of your fetishes reality. You can come and sleep in my lap and I’ll sing you a beautiful lullaby while slowly stroking your hair. You can come and cry in my bosom and I’ll ensure you feel loved and needed as I whisper ‘It’ll be okay.’>

The warmth vanished.

<But Quinlan Elysiar, do not expect me to fight your fights for you.>

The words landed with a weight that had nothing to do with volume. This was not the teasing succubus. This was the Primordial Demon of Lust who had watched countless chosen champions rise and fall, and who understood with absolute clarity that the ones who rose highest were the ones who bled for their own answers.

<…Noted.>

Velara watched them circle and gripped her staff tighter.

“So you do know this is heresy!” she screamed, her voice cracking for the first time. Her eyes locked on Black Fang with a fury that burned brighter than the golden light behind her. “You just admitted to understanding that what you’re doing is unprecedented! No one has raised a blade against an Arch Priestess in over a thousand years! The Goddess shall smite you down for this blasphemy!”

Quinlan chuckled.

“You mean that hypocrite called Lilyanna? The one who is supposed to represent Purity but I think all she represents is the Concept of Mental Gymnastics.” He rolled his shoulder, loosening the joint. “She already tried, by the way. Yet here I am.”

Velara stared at him.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. The righteous fury on her face flickered and was replaced, briefly, by sheer bewilderment.

“Truly lunatics,” she growled, steadying her staff. “I can’t even begin to understand what you’re talking about.”

“All you need to understand,” Black Fang interjected due to her rather limited patience for talking in such moments, “is that I’m taking your head today.”

“So be it! I’ll end your oppression, you pair of stains on the human race!” The Arch Priestess planted her feet. The cathedral pulsed behind her.

The two lunatics lunged.