Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

“I know logic isn’t enough,” he said after a pause, his tone dipping even lower, roughened with gentle empathy. “I know your heart screams otherwise. That you should’ve been there sooner. That you failed them.”

His fingers tightened slightly, just firm enough so she couldn’t escape his words. So she couldn’t retreat into self-hate.

“But Serika,” he continued, voice threading between the cracks of her breaking composure, “your father… he needs space right now. He’s not ready. When you touched his shoulder, when you stood near him, he didn’t reach out. He locked himself away, in grief, in contemplation.”

His grip steadied further with one thumb brushing lightly across the side of her trembling wrist. It was a small, grounding gesture amidst the chaos of her contorting heart.

“Pushing yourself on him won’t help. But standing strong… giving him the space he needs… will. And it will also honor Lysandra’s memory better than tearing yourself apart.”

Another sob escaped her lips. It was small, fragile, but freeing.

She collapsed forward, no longer struggling, her forehead resting softly against his neck.

And Quinlan held her there. not as a lover, not as a man seeking her affection, but as an unyielding support for the woman he knew. For the flame that had burned so bright, now flickering in the wind of grief.

And for a long moment…

Neither of them said anything at all.

Serika remained nestled against his chest, trembling faintly under the crushing weight of it all, until Quinlan’s voice stirred again. It came quieter now, but carrying a note of calm, unshakable intent.

“You’re coming home with me.”

She blinked.

Then, she gasped, releasing an adorably startled sound that was entirely uncharacteristic of the fiery woman. “Wh-What?!”

She jerked back just enough to look up at him, sniffling as her fingers hurried to wipe at her damp cheeks. “I can’t just leave! My people need me now more than ever! And besides, where exactly is this so-called ‘home’ of yours?!”

A deep, warm chuckle rumbled from his chest. He reached up, brushing a thumb beneath one of her tear-stained eyes.

“Your home is where I am. My home is where you are… isn’t that right, Serika Vael?”

Her breath caught for a moment at the gentle certainty in his words and his unfairly handsome visage, combined with his overly confident, shining elemental eyes… Serika couldn’t help but feel that life wasn’t fair when it came to this man. He was cheating.

But then her eyes narrowed in fiery protest. “They do need me!”

“They don’t,” Quinlan denied her notion with amusement flickering across his lips.

“They do!” she insisted, her tone flaring back to life, a spark of her old stubbornness returning. “Vulkaris is in shambles! The whole world is in chaos, we need to rebuild order!”

“You told me yourself,” Quinlan cut in smoothly, voice tinged with knowing warmth. “You were a terrible ruler.”

Her mouth opened… then closed.

“You said—and I quote—’I’m a hammer, not a throne.’ You were a wartime leader, Serika. What your people need now is a governor. Someone who can rebuild, who can guide them into this new age of Zhenwu.”

His gaze gentled. “Now that the nations aren’t at war with each other, and that the invader threat has been dealt with, no matter how much it might sting to hear… you’re no longer the ideal ruler for what comes next.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping, conspiratorial and warm. “Come with me instead. Be what you are: an unstoppable force of nature on the battlefield. I want to see you burn brighter than ever before, Serika Vael. Sitting behind stacks of administrative papers doesn’t fit you one bit, am I wrong?”

Serika bit her lip. Her cheeks puffed slightly, the beginnings of a pout forming, but her heart was already wavering.

Quinlan’s grin widened. “Besides… God Venthros was only the beginning. There are whole pantheons still out there. Furthermore, the gods are only the final bosses. Before them are many amazing enemies to fell or perhaps befriend. Demons. Vampires. Giants. All sorts of creatures are out there, waiting for us to discover them. Doesn’t your blood boil at the mere thought of it all?”

His voice took on that familiar edge: bold, teasing, electric. “I need my sexy, sun-kissed inferno incarnate right by my side when we take them on. When we burn through the heavens and triumph above them all.”

Serika blinked rapidly, her breath hitching at his shameless words.

Her cheeks bloomed a very obvious pink, and she whipped her head to the side with an indignant scoff, though her lips twitched dangerously close to a smile.

“Hmph… idiot,” she muttered, voice quieter now, tinged with a softness she couldn’t quite mask. “Talking like that… making it sound so… Fine. Maybe it does sound a little exciting.”

Another soft huff escaped her lips, followed by a renewed, adorable pout.

Quinlan only smiled. “Now,” he continued smoothly, elemental eyes gleaming up at her as if they could read her like an open book, “what’s your next excuse not to come with me?”

Serika narrowed her eyes warily, chin lifted in defiance.

“My father!” she declared at once, voice sharp with conviction, as if daring him to argue this time. “He needs me now more than ever. I’ll help him mourn Lysandra-“

“He’s coming with us.”

She froze mid-rant. “What?”

Quinlan’s grip on her hands relaxed at long last, knowing she was no longer trying to hurt herself. After letting go, his pair of hands inevitably found their way down her hips once again, casual and unhurried, as if her arguments barely registered as obstacles before him.

“The old man desperately needs a change of pace,” he explained himself calmly. “He’s been living in a shack for who knows how long. If he truly cared for the world, why not build something for himself, even in his exile? Instead, he chose a barren life of meditation… And from what I gather, his body is held together by sheer will alone. He needs constant meditation just to keep breathing. That’s no way to live. What are you gonna do if you stay here with him? Meditate next to him for the rest of your life?”

He leaned in, voice lowering, becoming more intimate as he hammered even more of his points into her brain. “If he comes with us, my sexy elven healer can try to help him recover. And more importantly… His wife, gone. Daughter, gone. Other daughter… well,” he gave her a meaningful look, before he fully closed in the distance that separated him and her right ear, before he whispered in a deep, masculine tone, “about to vanish into my arms…”

Serika’s cheeks darkened. “But Lysandra! She needs to be placed to rest-“

He cut her off with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t. Lysandra hated being a Sovereign. She was nothing but a miserable pretender. You know it. You, of all people, should know it.”

Her lip trembled. “Still…”

Quinlan’s voice grew softer then, with the weight of sincerity. “Of course, the choice is yours and Rykar’s to make, Serika. But I believe Lysandra wouldn’t want to be buried in some grand, empty ceremony, among cold stones and forgotten titles of past Water Sovereigns. If you let me take her with us… We can lay her to rest beneath my daughter’s roots. She’s an adorable and extremely tender little tree creature girl, you’ll not find a cuter young lady in all of the universe. She’ll take the best care of Lysandra, that much I promise you. “

Her breath hitched. “Daughter? What daughter? What-what roots? Tree creature? What?”

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