Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

He bared his teeth as soulfire surged through his veins, and he grabbed the creeping rot by its throat.

“You will NOT take me away from her!”

Then Vex. The Hexwitch. His beautiful lunatic. His tatted yandere queen who bled for him with a smile.

She whispered love and curses in the same breath. Madness and meaning entangled in ink across her skin.

There was so much left undiscovered in her. He had only scratched the surface of that precious woman. She was a maze of mystery and romantic devotion, and every twist in her soul sang to something wild in him.

So when the invading force twisted itself into her form, mocking her love, he utterly lost it.

He tore it apart with his bare hands, even using his teeth to rip the wannabe impostor into nothingness. His will raged stronger than ever before.

“SHE’S MINE! Don’t you dare take on her form ever again!”

Iris.

So quiet. So scarred.

She had endured hell. Her smile was broken. But beneath it lay strength, the kind that endured when even the last drop of hope burned away.

But Quinlan had glimpsed the real smile of Iris back when she was but a young child thanks to the simulation in the first primordial trial.

And by all the stars above and below, he would see it shine again. He would get to witness the beautiful sight with his own two eyes!

The void tried to bury him in a coffin of his own soul.

But Quinlan reached deeper.

Into himself.

And as soon as he thought of the next woman, of Serika, it cracked it open from within, with light pouring through every fracture.

The gorgeous tanned warrior beside him. She hadn’t surrendered. She hadn’t fallen for him just yet. He would seduce her, even if it was the last thing he did… not just to his bed, but into a future where they fought side-by-side.

Could he let himself die before he truly made her his?

“Over my dead soul!”

He thrust his hand out, grabbed the root of the corruption and ripped a piece free, pain be damned.

And then… Rosie.

That chaotic little driad girl who inherited his eyes and her many mothers’ insanity. A walking contradiction of innocence and havoc.

She was going to be growing up into a beautiful, brilliant, and terrifying young lady.

And Feng. Complicated, wounded, but his all the same.

His two little flames, whom he cherished just as much as he did his lovers.

Could he let them be extinguished?

Could he leave them behind?

Could he afford to depart before seeing the little flames bloom into world-consuming infernos?

“No…” he whispered.

And then he screamed.

“NO!”

His soul shuddered and exploded with light.

A roar that shook the void erupted from within him, not physical, but will made manifest.

“I’M NOT DONE LIVING!!!”

And the void trembled.

His soul erupted like a dying star being reborn, light pouring from every fracture, illuminating the corrupted darkness with blistering brilliance.

It wasn’t just rage anymore.

It was purpose.

It was love.

It was life.

The corrupted Seeds—those invasive, malignant parasites—writhed in sudden panic. They had dug into his soul, eaten away at his strength, waited for the right moment to bloom and devour what was left.

But now?

Now there was no space left for them to claim.

Because Quinlan’s soul was no longer a confined vessel.

It expanded, surged outward like a universe birthing itself anew. Layer after layer of raw essence formed—colored by fire, water, wind, earth, light, shadow, and something deeper. Something unnamable. Something his.

It was the shape of his story, the echo of his defiance made eternal.

It grew with the memory of every lover he cherished.

It pulsed with the warmth of every daughter he refused to abandon.

And the Seeds?

They were ants caught in a tidal wave.

The two seeds left behind by Venthros tried to claw their way back to the edges of his soul, tried to anchor themselves in whatever filth remained. Their thorns lashed out, desperate, gnashing at his will with curses older than language.

And yet…

Quinlan merely grinned.

A slow, mental smirk etched itself across the fabric of his soul like a brand of victory.

“You lose,” he declared in their shared void.

Thousands of tendrils of soul energy uncoiled from within him, made of pure will. Each one shimmered with elemental traces, shaped by every memory he had forged, every bond he refused to sever.

And with a simple flex of thought, they shot forward.

The Seeds screamed.

They flailed, howled, twisted and were caught.

Tendril after tendril wrapped around them like binding chains, dragging them toward the nexus of his being, the very core of his now-expanded soul.

“You wanted to consume me?” Quinlan growled.

The tendrils constricted.

“You wanted to infect me? To forever separate me from my girls?!”

They were pulled deeper, their resistance crumbling against the tide of uncontainable fury.

“Then you’ll serve me.”

And with a final roar, he yanked them into himself.

The Seeds were absorbed, not purified, not destroyed.

No.

They became part of his soul.

No longer invaders, but fuel. No longer parasites, but limbs. They screamed in a final show of resistance, but were instantly silenced.

Quinlan stood in the heart of his soul, surrounded by raw brilliance, breathing like a god reborn.

And in that moment, the impossible happened.

The world inside him didn’t just stabilize.

It bloomed.

From the ashes of corruption and the fire of defiance, a new dimension unfolded. It was small, raw, imperfect… but real.

A Soul Realm.

His Soul Realm.

Mountains formed from passion. Rivers flowed with purpose. A sky woven from memory stretched above him, stars flickering like the eyes of those he loved. It was crude now, a sketch of something greater, but it was.

And he was its sole ruler.

The ruler of a realm born not from power, but from love, refusal, and sheer fucking will.

He took one long breath, the air tasting like the tender embrace of his women, the adoration in Rosie’s eyes, the quiet comfort of Feng’s arms.

Then he whispered with an emotional voice:

“I’m finally coming home to see you all.”

Then, in the next moment, an all-too familiar sound rang in his mind.

[Ding!]

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