Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1593 Fault

Chapter 1593  Fault

Part of him wanted to be furious. The part that remembered clawing at the dirt with fingerless stumps while Rosie’s roots dragged him down. The part that heard Ayame’s voice through the link, steady and apologetic, telling him a lie.

They went against his will. All three of them. The girl he’d raised, the woman he slept beside, and the samurai he trusted with being his second in command.

His fists tightened on the sheets.

But the fury had nowhere clean to land.

Vex. The curse she’d modified, the one that had left her bleeding from her nose and ears and the corners of her eyes on the dirt. She’d carved a piece of herself off and remade it into a shield he hadn’t asked for. She’d decided on her own that his life was worth more than his permission.

How could he fault her for that?

He’d just spent an entire battle proving she was right. A man who took a warhammer to the back of the skull, who lost both arms, who couldn’t cast a [Warp Gate] without his daughter burrowing him underground first. A man who needed three women to conspire behind his back just to keep him breathing. If Quinlan had been in Vex’s position, he wouldn’t have asked either.

In fact, if he had powers like hers, he’d have cast the same curse on all his girls, their consent be damned.

And Rosie…

The dryad had made a calculation that no child should ever have to make. Her father and Blossom, or Black Fang. Two people she loved beyond reason against one she merely liked, having barely interacted at all. The math was ugly and simple. She’d done it in a fraction of a second, roots failing, her father shouting at her to stop.

She chose him. Of course she chose him.

And Ayame.

While he was a raging bull wreaking havoc across the field, too concussed and too furious to count his own people, she’d organized a retreat. Coordinated every girl through the portal. Managed the defensive line, the staggered withdrawal, the timing. She’d done everything a second-in-command was supposed to do when the commander was compromised, and at the end she’d made the hardest call of all.

Leave one behind to save everyone else.

A year ago he might not have understood, but he’d learned enough about this world to know that many decisions didn’t come with clean answers. You made them and you carried them.

All three of them had gone against him, and all three of them had done it because it had to be done.

Because he wasn’t strong enough.

‘Pathetic.’

The word settled into him. The same word from the battlefield, aimed at the same target, and this time it sank deeper. The evidence was sitting right in front of him. Three women who should never have been forced into those positions. Three betrayals that only happened because the man they followed couldn’t make them unnecessary.

After everything. After ten months of grinding, after numerous classes, after Zhenwu, after the primordial trials. Still not enough. Still the man who needed saving.

‘Still pathetic.’

A man who couldn’t protect himself had no business being angry at the people who did it for him.

His hand moved.

Rosie felt it before she understood it. Fingers sliding into her tangled curls, warm and familiar, threading through the wilted leaves with the same gentle motion he’d done a thousand times. Her sobbing hitched. Her whole body went rigid against his chest.

Her face came up.

Green cheeks streaked with tears. Amber gaze enormous, searching his eyes, darting between his left and right as if she was looking for the trap.

She stared at him.

“Thank you, Rosie.”

Her lower lip trembled. For a moment nothing happened. Then her face crumpled and she buried herself back into his neck. The sobs were different. Higher, breathless, shaking.

“Thank you,” he said again, louder, to the room. “All of you.”

Vex broke.

She’d been holding it together since the battlefield. Through the seven hours of watching Seraphiel work on his shattered body, through the wait for him to wake, through his silence when he looked at her with that stare. She’d held it all behind the flat expression, the rigid posture.

Her arms dropped, the hard stare shattered, and the Hexwitch closed the distance in a single lunge and hit him like a battering ram. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her face driving into his shoulder. A sound left her throat that was closer to a wail than anything.

“Hey!” Seraphiel yelped. The blonde elf grabbed Vex by the waist and pulled, healing-tired limbs straining against a woman whose whole existence laughed at the attempt. “His ribs are still fragile, you needy bitc- woman, control yourself and get off of him!”

Vex did not get off of him. She clung tighter, white hair spilling across his torso. Her voice came out muffled and wet and cracking.

“You’re really not angry at me, Hubby? You’re really- you promise you’re not-”

“Oh, I absolutely am angry.”

“!!” Vex’s head snapped up. Her red gaze was flooded, the tears still running, and the plea in it was so raw and so open that it stripped every layer away.

Quinlan’s hand caught the back of her head. He pulled her in, pressed her cheek against his chest, and kissed her hair.

“But I understand.” His voice was quiet against her white strands. “We’ll discuss this later. You and I.”

“…Okay.”

She stayed pressed against him, and the shaking slowed but didn’t stop. Seraphiel gave up the extraction effort with a sigh and settled for adjusting Quinlan’s bandages around the two women attached to him.

Ayame was last.

She’d watched the whole thing from the windowsill. Rosie’s tears, Vex’s collapse, the mild response to their ‘crimes’ she hadn’t expected to witness tonight. Her expression hadn’t changed, but her gaze had softened at the edges.

She stood, walked to the bed, and sat on its edge.

Then her hands found his shoulders and she laid him back down.

Rosie squeaked as the motion pulled her sideways, her grip on Quinlan’s torso tightening instead of releasing. Vex went with him without complaint, her white hair fanning across his chest as gravity resettled them, and a small giggle left her lips that she immediately tried to smother against his shoulder.

Quinlan let it happen. The pillow was gone, replaced by Ayame’s lap, and when his head settled against her thighs his platinum eyes found her beautiful, crystal blue ones looking down at him.

Neither spoke.

The Primordial Villain and his first companion, the first woman he interacted with in this world. The samurai he’d bought from a slave house when she had nothing and no one. A year of fighting together, bleeding together, building something from nothing together.

No words were needed. They adored each other far too much for that.

She reached down and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

He closed his eyes.

Rosie curled tighter against his side. Vex’s weight pressed warm against his ribs. Ayame’s fingers traced slow lines through his hair while Seraphiel’s healing warmth worked beneath it all.

The fury settled. It didn’t leave. It sank deeper, past the surface where it could burn the people he loved, down into the bedrock where it belonged.

And there, in the dark behind his closed eyes, the memory came.

Ragnar’s voice screaming across the battlefield. Aelindra’s cold commands. The Undead Lords of the Covenant, casting dark magic to kill him and his girls.

Black Fang standing alone with thousands closing in.

“Show no mercy.”

His eyes opened.