Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 654

Chapter 654: Haggling
Another tired sigh sounded from the dogkin chieftain’s lips, but then he collected himself. “I’d discussed the details with Devil… He has my blessings as long as he treats my daughter with respect and protects her as a man should protect his wives.”

“Now that’s something you won’t have to worry about,” Vex said coyly. “He’s quite the romantic man and very possessive as well… He’d rather die than let his women be insulted or killed. Though, injuries are part of combat.”

Vargis nodded with resolute eyes. “Naturally, I don’t expect him to baby my daughter as if she was made of brittle glass… She won’t grow as a combatant that way.”

“Good,” Vex replied before her eyes shone with a sly glint. “You know, as a father who has been freed of her parental duties due to Devil taking your daughter off of your hands, you should give him a parting gift… Such as a chest full of gold.”

Vargis nearly choked on his saliva once his brain registered the woman’s shameless words. But as the old and experienced leader he was, he quickly gathered his bearings. “I don’t know how you hairless monkeys conduct yourselves in your corrupt lands, but here, it’s the husband who should gift his bride’s parents as a token of appreciation for all the effort and money they invested into her upbringing, creating a great woman out of their little girl who will ensure the husband’s children’s proper fostering. As my daughter is a royal princess, I should be expecting mountains of gold and artifacts from Devil, not the other way around.”

Vex shook her head while chuckling. “Come on now, you gave your daughter to a rookie criminal. Do you think Devil would be a member of our syndicate if he came from an affluent background? We’re not exactly highly regarded sons and daughters of duke families if it wasn’t obvious… I spent a lot of time in Devil’s presence, yet he never mentioned his parents to me.” She then equipped droopy eyes while looking at Vargis, “I’m afraid they no longer exist…”

Multiple veins popped on the dogkin chieftain’s head, it was clear to him that the Red-Eyed Demon was doing her utmost to rob him blind by forcing him to pay up or lose face. Based on the silence of the other beastkin leaders, they were keenly paying attention to their conversation. Only Kitsara’s yelps and the Berserker’s excited giggles broke the silence.

“Why are you even having this conversation? Once my son beats him up, she’ll be mine!” Silver hissed with fury. “Raelor is already in his level twenties by the age of 27, and alongside his Rare-rarity racial class, he has plenty of combat experience to boot!”

“Pfft!” Vex exhaled a sharp breath of air as she did her utmost to keep a burst of loud laughter from erupting. Well, she failed: “Ahahahaha!”

This eccentric woman wasn’t exactly known for conducting herself in a diplomatic manner.

“I recommend you make a deal with Devil about this duel not lasting until the final drop of blood but until your son-er, I mean one side surrenders…” Vargis muttered with mixed emotions while remembering back to the incomprehensible wind current that caught him and kept him in place while they conducted their conversation. On one hand, he was proud of his son-in-law’s prowess, but on the other…

His powers crept him the fuck out.

Silver had heard enough. He slammed his fist against his seat’s armrest and shouted with boiling fury, “You damned sons of bitches! Stop looking down on us!”

Instead of offering a rebuttal, the pair ignored him as they resumed their conversation. “So, I believe 10,000 gold would be a fine amount to gift to your son-in-law. He’s a good man who’d just started out on his journeys, such an amount would certainly come in handy.”

Vargis thought he’d gone deaf for a moment due to the complete bullcrap he was hearing. “!! T-ten thousand gold?! Woman, you’d gone insane. Well, we already knew that, but you’re even more unhinged than my reports describing your persona suggested. My people have been at war with the two nations since long before I was born while we are now also forced to battle the freaking yellow kittens, you think my treasuries are filled to the brim?! I pay my warriors so much I might as well go broke in a few months. Think of me as nothing but a beggar.”

“Where did your pride as warrior king of the dogkin people vanish to?”

“I left it on the battlefield… Now I’m but a humble administrator working overtime without proper compensation…”

Many dogkin coughed embarrassedly at their leader’s shameless words while the others looked at them with condescension. The sheepkin entourage merely rolled their eyes, they were well aware of Vargis’ coin-pinching personality and they couldn’t care less about something useless like pride and honor. If others looked down on them, so be it. It didn’t affect them in the slightest.

“Esteemed spectators! The contestants are ready!” the magically bolstered voice of a pretty dogkin woman sounded, she was one of the staff members tasked with conducting the duel.

“We’ll continue this conversation later…” Vex stated, earning herself a strong scoff of refusal from Vargis.

In the next moment, Raelor strode out onto the arena grounds like a man born to rule the battlefield. His every step carried a strong air of confidence. His twin daggers gleamed at his sides while his richly embroidered lightweight armor accentuated the fighting style of a lithe assassin.

His amber eyes swept over the gathered crowd, locking onto the various leaders and their entourage. Every fiber of his being declared what was already known—he was the foxkin prince, the pride of his people, and the natural-born victor of this duel.

But…

The bastard wasn’t even here yet.

A hush fell over the crowd as the realization sank in. The opposing entrance remained lacking of a warrior, there were no signs of movement from within. Irritation crossed Raelor’s face before he schooled his features back into a mask of confidence.

Was the fool too afraid to show up? Did he piss his pants and run with his tail between his legs?

Silver was about to open his mouth to unleash a barrage of insults when…

*Thud.*

The sound was faint, but the arena’s silence amplified it. Someone moved behind the gate.

And then, with no grand theatrics, no triumphant entrance, a man walked in.

Devil stepped into view, but he was no longer clad in his signature black armor.

Gone was the medium-weight plating that had once shielded him from damage. In its place, he wore a battle monk’s robe… though even that seemed to be nothing more than an afterthought due to its upper half hanging freely behind him. He wasn’t using even that fragile piece of cloth to cover his upper body.

Gasps rippled through the stands, particularly from the ladies, as the illumination of the arena lights accentuated every chiseled muscle of his: his firm chest, sculpted arms, and the defined ridges of his back were laid bare for all to witness.

The only piece of attire that remained from his original getup was his mask that obscured his face.

His feet were bare against the earth and he moved with weightless motions, it was as if the wind itself had assisted in subtly carrying his large, masculine frame. There was no rush in his stride, no need to proclaim his power with arrogant displays of strength or competence. He simply was.

A beat of silence reigned over the audience. Then, numerous murmurs began sounding from all directions.

Silver shot to his feet, he was livid beyond words. “What in the Goddess’s name is this disrespect?! You dare show up looking like this?!”

Despite the foxkin leader being a man who didn’t care for personal insults, as a representative of his people, he couldn’t allow such disrespect to fly. To enter a duel without armor and weapon, without even the dignity of a proper uniform—this was nothing less than a grave insult against him, his son, and their people as a whole.

The masked man did not react. Not to the murmurs, not to Silver’s outburst, not to the weight of dozens of eyes scrutinizing his every move. He simply strode to his designated position with an air of utter indifference.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he lifted his right arm. His palm faced the sky as if presenting his opponent with a gift.

A heartbeat passed.

His fingers curled inward in beckoning motions.

No words were spoken for none were needed. The gesture was effortless, lazy even—yet it transmitted his message better than any words could ever hope to.

Come.

Do your best.

Little fox.