Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 964: Primordial Arrogance

Armored boots crunched against the ground as the Ascendants moved together, walking toward the swirling portal.

Ayame let out a long, exasperated sigh while she walked beside Quinlan. “Tch… It’s quite bad that Vex got recalled by Orianna. She’s our heaviest hitter… We could really use her for this.”

Quinlan didn’t even pause his stride as he replied, “Trust me, the Goddess herself knows how much I already miss my yandere Hexwitch, even if she just departed minutes ago.”

His elemental eyes shone brightly—four swirling colors roiling like cosmic storms within twin pools of arcane power. Fire, water, earth, and wind—an endless tempest locked behind his gaze.

“When the time comes I’ll have a little conversation with Black Fang about Vex’s situation. I know the two share a profound history. Deep, complicated history, one that makes Vex feel greatly indebted to the woman. And I know Vex isn’t just any Veil Walker. As Black Fang’s lieutenant, she’s more than just a high-ranking soldier. She has a great deal of duties.”

His jaw tightened. “But that doesn’t change the simple fact that I don’t like how my woman gets ordered away from my side. It just doesn’t sit right with me, and I suspect it never will.”

Ayame giggled jovially, releasing a velvety, amused sound. A knowing grin bloomed across her lips. Her blue eyes roamed over him, drinking in every line of the man she called hers. “Hehe! There it is…”

Her lips curved wider. “Ahh… How I missed this… The Primordial Arrogance is finally back in Thalorind and he is once again ready to make more claims that would make any sane person’s brain go, ’Wait, did I hear that right?’”

Quinlan’s head tilted just enough for the glint in his eyes to catch the moonlight. His smile was slower. Heavier. “Call it whatever you like, Ayame. I’m just being honest. Honest about what my heart wants.”

One more step toward the portal.

Normally, his spatial gatework required a location he’d physically visited. A limitation built into the mechanics of spatial magic itself.

But Quinlan Elysiar was no ordinary mage.

Through the unbreakable tether of the slave seal, Amara and Vivienne’s senses were his to borrow. Their eyes, ears, presence. It wasn’t his body that had been here before.

It was his will, represented by his [Subjugated] people.

The moment his senses were expanded by his pair of unwilling spies through [Overlord’s Eyes], the restriction unraveled. Because the world didn’t differentiate between the senses of the Primordial Subjugator and his bound vessels.

With one more step, Quinlan passed through the gateway.

The world flipped inside out for a mere moment. Metallic air, weightless nausea, the pull of reality tearing and stitching back together in a heartbeat.

Then his boots hit the grass. Soft, dew-laden forest ground.

Cicadas. Rustling leaves. And… something else.

Standing there, dead center in the moonlit clearing, were Amara and Vivienne Greenvale.

Dressed in nothing but delicate lace night robes. The silken fabric hugged smooth thighs, sheer enough to outline every curve underneath. Barefoot. Unarmed. And entirely out of place amidst the rugged wilderness.

Vivienne tugged the hem of her robe down with both hands, face flushed crimson. “M-Master Quinlan… can you please hurry? This is beyond humiliating…”

Amara crossed her arms. “We fulfilled our part. Right after the strategy meeting was over, we rushed to the location you told us… It was incredibly hard to leave our rooms without being noticed by the guards.”

For three seconds, Quinlan said nothing.

He just stared and examined the faces of the two women.

The lazy, half-lidded glow in his eyes shifted.

And then…

The ground beneath him trembled. Air collapsed inward. Reality itself seemed to pulse like a heartbeat as his aura ignited, an abyssal flare of soul-warping dominance.

Alongside his outburst, a low hum resonated, as though the universe itself remembered exactly who stood here.

Amara and Vivienne instantly froze.

Their lungs seized.

Every inch of their skin prickled in terror as something ancient, malevolent, and absolute pressed down on them.

The casual complaints, the irritation, and the audacity disintegrated on the spot.

This was the exact moment that the twins realized that for the briefest of seconds, they had forgotten. Their tired and overworked brains simply… forgot.

Forgot the absolute difference between him and them.

Forgot that they weren’t speaking to a mere man.

They were speaking to the Primordial Subjugator. The Devil of Chains. The living embodiment of control.

Their Master.

A predator in human flesh whose mercy wasn’t a right, it was a privilege. One they borrowed only because he chose to let them breathe.

His voice rolled out, smooth.

“…Did I hear that right? Did you just imply that your obedience is a favor?”

Both girls’ knees buckled.

Vivienne immediately dropped to her hands and knees, pressing her forehead to the dirt. “F-Forgive me, Master! I-I… I forgot my place!”

Amara, sharp as she was, crumbled a half second later. Her arms uncrossed in a blur as she knelt beside her sister, forehead pressed so hard to the ground it hurt. “Forgive us… Please…!”

Quinlan didn’t move. He let the oppressive weight linger.

“You seem… confused,” he murmured, as the trees around them cracked from sheer pressure. “I’ve been gone for a few months, and without me around the punishments I sentenced you to, the discipline my mere presence being in the same world you exist in brought… it had to pause. Because only I can rip you out of your homes so that you can serve your sentences.”

Their bodies trembled violently.

“I gave you one order. You obeyed it down to the letter. But then I gave you a second… and suddenly you think… what? That you get to set the terms? I made you skip a break so now you want a pay raise? Tell me.”

Silence.

Absolute.

Not even the crickets dared chirp.

Quinlan’s lips curved into something razor-sharp. “I think… you both have forgotten the truth of your existence. It’s high time we finally resume your punishments.”

And then, like a curtain falling, the suffocating pressure collapsed. Gone. As if it had never been there.

The trees stilled. The air loosened. The suffocating gravity lifted.

But Amara and Vivienne didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

Both were trembling from head to toe.

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