Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1592 New Morning

Chapter 1592  New Morning

The earth sealed above him.

Through the narrowing gap of soil and roots, he saw her. Black Fang stood on the surface with thousands closing from every direction, her katana raised, venom dripping from the edge, the spell she cast burning violet in her veins.

Her purple eyes found his through the closing dark.

Her lips moved.

“Show no mercy.”

The earth closed and he was falling, Rosie’s roots and Blossom’s arms dragging him down, and his fingerless hands clawed at the dirt because she was still up there, she was still fighting, and he couldn’t-

“No!”

Quinlan’s body lurched upright and the word tore out of him before his eyes were open.

Pain hit second. Everything from his arms to his mana channels screamed at once as the sudden motion pulled at wounds that hadn’t finished closing. His vision swam. The room came in blurred shapes, warm light, a ceiling too high to be underground.

Soft fingers traced lines across his bare chest, warm with healing magic.

“Relax, Quin… We’re back home. The battle is over.” Seraphiel’s voice was close and tender. Her palm was warm with healing magic. “You collapsed the moment you came through the portal. Your mana, your stamina, everything was spent. You’d been running on fumes for a long time and your body finally gave out.”

She pressed him gently back down. “You’ve been out for almost seven hours. I’ve been working on repairing you ever since.”

He looked at her. The blonde elf’s blue eyes were ringed with shadows, her skin paler than usual beneath the celestial glow of her healing magic. Seven hours of continuous restoration on a body that had been shattered from the inside out. She smiled at him anyway.

He blinked. His vision sharpened.

A room. Large, furnished, the kind of space that belonged in a lord’s mansion. Soft bed beneath him, moonlight slanting through an open window. His body had been cleaned, his armor removed, and his hands…

His hands were attached.

He raised them. Both arms responded, the fingers curling slowly, stiffly, the joints grinding against each other with a dull ache that ran from the knuckles to the elbows.

Seraphiel’s smile softened. “Blossom collected them on the battlefield. I spent four hours reattaching the nerves and bone structure.” She placed her hand over his wrist. “They’ll function, but the healing is fragile. You need to let them rest for at least-”

Quinlan flexed his right fist. The knuckles popped. The tendons screamed. He did it again, harder, feeling the reconstructed joints protest, then opened the hand and studied the fingers one by one.

Seraphiel sighed.

“At least a day. Which you are clearly going to ignore.”

A high-pitched, sudden sob sounded, full of grief and guilt.

His gaze moved past his gorgeous elven healer.

Three women sat in the room.

Rosie was closest to the bed. The little dryad sat on a cushioned chair with her knees pulled to her chest and her face buried in her arms. Her brown curly hair was a mess, leaves wilting in the tangles, and even from here Quinlan could see the tear tracks running down her green cheeks.

Her voice echoed in his mind.

“Father… This is the first time I won’t listen to you.”

A girl who opposed her father’s will for the first time.

Vex leaned against the far wall with her arms crossed. Her white hair was loose, her crimson tattoos dim, and her red gaze watched him with an expression that wasn’t apologetic. She knew what was coming. She was braced for it the way a woman braces for a storm she’s already decided to walk through.

The image came unbidden. White hair fanned across the dirt, matted with blood that had run from her nose and ears and the corners of her eyes. Her crimson tattoos dark. Her chest rising in shallow, uneven intervals.

A woman who knowingly went against her lover’s will.

Ayame sat on the windowsill with her back to the room, her katana resting against the wall beside her. Moonlight traced the line of her profile. Her face was hard, her eyes fixed on the sky outside.

She’d made the call, and she was ready to answer for it.

The link echoed.

<Everyone’s through, Quin. Focus on yourself.>

<Ayame! Black Fang is still->

<…I’m sorry, Quinlan.>

A woman who lied to the man who trusted her word.

Rosie broke first.

The dryad launched off the chair and collided with his chest before Seraphiel could stop her, small green arms wrapping around him, her face pressing into the crook of his neck. She was shaking. Her whole body was shaking, and the tears came fresh, soaking into his skin.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Father…”

The words tumbled out in a stream that didn’t stop, each apology crashing into the next. She clung to him like he’d vanish if she let go.

“I grabbed you and wouldn’t let go…”

Her voice broke apart. She buried her face harder into his neck and her small body heaved against his.

Quinlan watched, and for once, his hands did not begin petting her hair.

Rosie sobbed harder.

Vex watched from the wall. Her arms were still crossed, and for a long moment she said nothing. Then…

“I should’ve told you about it beforehand. I’m sorry.”

The rest of it, the thing she’d done to herself that had left her bleeding from her eyes on the dirt, she didn’t apologize for. Her red gaze held his and the message was clear.

She’d do it again.

Ayame was last.

The samurai hadn’t moved from the windowsill. She’d sat there through Rosie’s tears and Vex’s apology, her gaze on the moon, giving nothing to the room.

Now she turned.

On the battlefield, when Black Fang had appeared behind the dwarven line and carved through the formation pressing Ayame’s position, the two sisters had exchanged a single glance. In that look, Black Fang had told Ayame everything, and Ayame had understood.

Go.

Ayame had obeyed.

She could have said that. She could have told Quinlan that Black Fang chose to stay, that the lie wasn’t Ayame’s decision alone.

She didn’t.

“You were compromised.” Her voice was level. “Your injuries were critical, your mana was gone, and your judgment was affected. I acted in my capacity as your second when you were not in a position to make important decisions.”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “That does not change the way I went about doing so. I lied to you.”

She said nothing else. Her back straightened and her hands settled in her lap and she waited. Whatever came next, screaming, hatred, punishment, she would take it.

Three women. Three betrayals. All of them braced for his wrath.