Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1082: Underground

The three of them, Primordial Villain, the unhinged witch, and the cheeky blade, formed a silent trinity. There was no warmth in their eyes.

Together, in perfect synchrony, their voices rang over Cassandra.

“Tell us everything.”

…

In the capital, silence followed as Blossom’s [Veil of the Hollow] spell slowly evaporated.

The royal guards looked around as soon as their senses returned, and they saw what their blind firing had wrought.

Scorch marks blackened cobblestones. Collapsed masonry lay strewn, littering the plaza. Where arrows and magic had flown wild, allies bled from gashes, some clutching wounds inflicted not by enemy but by friend.

One guard turned on his comrade with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. His eyes burned with accusation as they locked on a female knight. Her saber dripped crimson.

“You at least hit something, Julia. Excellent job,” the man said dryly as he dangled his left hand in front of her eyes, where one finger was missing.

Julia ignored him. She was not listening, not caring about his sarcastic whining. Such a small wound for a royal guard meant nothing. Instead, her gaze swept beyond the chaos, beyond her own comrades’ wounds. And then she saw them.

A collapsed building. From beneath its rubble, the pale limbs of a man and woman stuck out. Their forms were twisted grotesquely under the crushing debris.

In front of them, two children—no more than eight or nine—wailed. A boy beat his fists against the unyielding stone, while his sister clutched at her mother’s limp hand protruding from the ruin, sobbing for her to wake. Their cries carried through the damaged square.

But Julia’s gaze did not linger on the sight. Her duty was not to weep for the collateral. They were soldiers, not saints. She was looking for one person.

“Captain Cassandra…” she whispered. Her eyes scanned frantically across the devastation. No trace of golden armor. No trace of her squad leader.

The wounded royal guard with the missing finger gave a weary chuckle, though his eyes stayed grim. “That intruder had a strange class. Felt like my senses were being twisted. I’d bet my pay she’s one of those who fight from the shadows. Trick the mind, distort what you see. Some of those classes come with displacement skills.”

The woman gave a single, tight nod. “I agree. The captain should have artifacts that resist displacement, but… Stranger things have happened. She must have been pulled with the intruder.”

“Exactly.” Another guard stepped forward. “Lady Cassandra was holding the intruder’s limb throughout the ordeal. If they were displaced, they did so together. She should be back with the subjugated intruder in hand at any moment.”

Such was the rarity of a dimensional doorway spell, namely a teleportation gate, that the idea of their captain being thousands of miles away, bloodied and beaten after she got ganged up on, didn’t even occur in their heads.

“Right,” the man, missing a finger, grinned. “I can’t wait to see what lies beneath the robe of that woman. Her voice sounded amazing. Veil of the Hollow! She shouted that spell with such a badass tone. I bet she’s a feisty redhead.”

“A black-haired cold beauty!” The other man made his bet.

“Disgusting.” Julia instantly turned on her heels with a strong scoff and began walking away to look for her squad leader.

But then…

*Shuffle.*

The sound of numerous armored boots came. It was a ripple that grew into a roar.

The entire plaza froze as a formation of soldiers rounded the corner, steel flashing beneath the sun. Shields locked, spears bristling, banners snapping in the wind. However, there was no backup.

No… It wasn’t the polished drill of the queen’s army. This was raw, hostile, alien. Their formation was perfect, their killing intent clear and aimed right at them.

“How…?!” one of the guards gasped, disbelief curdling into terror. “How did they appear in the capital’s heart with no one noticing?!”

The man missing a finger reached for his blade. “Inform Her Majesty! Call for reinforcements! Something’s wrong, something’s very wrong!”

Steel clashed against stone as the phantom army bore down on the heart of the capital.

…

A short while ago.

Deep beneath Valorian’s radiant streets, where no light could reach, the earth had been carved hollow by a single man’s will. Quinlan Elysiar’s earth magic had sculpted a cavern wide enough to house a small settlement.

Its walls were still raw with claw-like grooves of freshly moved stone. The air reeked of damp soil and crushed minerals, sharp and heavy in the lungs.

The only light came from the eyes of his women. Bright, burning, defiant, each a star in the suffocating dark. It was less a hideout, more an underworld council. A mafia den built beneath the capital itself, and none above had the faintest clue.

Quinlan stood in the center, head lowered for a moment right before he lifted it, elemental eyes igniting in the gloom. Their glow was sharper, fiercer than anyone else’s. Red fire, deep ocean, raging storm, and whispering stone all flicker in his irises. In the pitch-black cavern, the sight of the Elysiar family was outright otherworldly.

Dominating.

A king’s gaze, surrounded by his harem of mighty women, each of whom played critical roles to support their man’s ascension. No, not just supported. They were there with him at all times, accompanying him through thick and thin.

A family of conquerors.

Quinlan’s attention swept across each woman in turn. They met his gaze without flinching. Each accepted his weight without fear.

Finally, his eyes reached the woman at his side. Jasmine.

Her hand was entwined with his. Delicate, feminine fingers gripped his battle-hardened hand.

“We got all the information we needed to succeed here from our newest friend,” Quinlan said at last. “Now all we need to do is execute the plan.”

His cold, confident voice rolled through the chamber. Together with the eerie and charged atmosphere, it sounded like the words of a crime boss laying out the hit.

“It’s time to act before they secure your mother.”

Jasmine looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshakable devotion. Her grip tightened around his hand, and her expression became soft but steeled at the same time.

“Thank you…” she whispered. Her gaze slid across all the women, her sisters-in-arms. “Not just you, Quin… but all of you. You risked everything for me. I’ll never forget it.”

The women didn’t reply. Not in words.

Instead, one by one, their lips curved into grins. Wolfish, fearless, daring. They didn’t need to say it aloud; the message was clear enough. ’Go all out, Jasmine. This is your moment. Shine.’