Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 746

Chapter 746: Realization
Lyra was still standing on my back, still screaming like a damn hero with her sigils gleaming as they deflected round after round of enchanted artillery aimed at me. Her shield flickered, showing signs of wear and tear violently with every impact. The [Sacrifice of the Willing] spell wasn’t just working: it had already saved my life a hundred times over. But I could feel it in her breath, in the way her body swayed with each hit.

She was fading.

Sooner or later—sooner—she was going to collapse.

What then?

Panic.

Cold and venomous panic began assaulting my mind.

My Magic stat wasn’t high enough to tear through these monsters in armor fast enough. Not at this scale. Furthermore, the moment I slowed down, I’d get swarmed, and worse, Lyra would die for it.

I looked down.

More screams.

The dogkin were collapsing.

The wolfkin were falling.

They were being massacred.

I couldn’t save them.

I couldn’t save anyone.

Then…

I made the mistake of looking back.

Toward the rear.

Toward the line where the Covenant clashed with the Consortium.

And I saw it.

I now knew what true hell was.

The sky was choked with corrupted clouds of necrotic magic. Monstrosities the size of siege towers lumbered through the battlefield. Not skeletons, but abominations. Flesh titans stitched together from hundreds of corpses, with arcane sigils pulsing across their limbs, holding it all together through some cursed magical means. Some flew. Some slithered. Some swallowed entire squads whole.

And the necromancers weren’t even alone. The Covenant of Eternity was much more than a collection of Necromancer-classed individuals.

Shadowbinders. Painwrights. Fleshweavers.

Other dark mages had joined the fray, casting spells that showed me a side of magic I’d never known existed.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the undead didn’t number in the thousands. They numbered in the millions.

My breath caught.

My heart stuttered.

My mind spiraled.

What are we even doing here?

What’s the point?

We can’t win this.

We can’t win any of this.

We’d already been beaten.

Maybe it was time to abandon the field, to save what little we could, to make as good of an organized retreat as possible under these circumstances.

My hands trembled just as Lyra spat a large amount of blood onto my back.

I didn’t even know when I panicked this badly.

Maybe the war troll fight. Back when I met Blossom. Back when I was nothing but a low-level newbie swinging around a simple Common-rarity iron spear.

Sure, I’ve had plenty of close calls since that fight where my life was hanging by a thread more times than I could count, but in those moments, I always saw the light at the end of the tunnel. A way out. A thread of hope. A chance for victory. Or Vex.

Gods… Vex.

The deranged, brilliant lunatic who’d become the eye of my storm. I just now realized how much I’d relied on her. Her mere presence was enough to calm me. Together, we’d faced so many troublesome events on this mission, especially when considering it’s only been a few days since we even set out.

But now?

I didn’t even know where she was.

Somewhere out there. Hidden behind a mountain of corpses, clashing armies, and chaos so thick even my senses struggled to pierce it. I couldn’t feel her presence through this whirlwind of death and misery.

Was she even still alive?

I had no clue.

… Was this it?

Was this how it ends?

What can I do?!

And then—

Clarity.

Cold. Sharp. Sudden.

Like ice water poured down my spine. Like a blade being drawn in muted silence.

I saw it. I saw everything that has been wrong since the siege began.

Back in Emberfang, we overcame immense odds! It was a 50 vs ~2000 fight!

So why were we losing right now?!

… Because I’d been reacting. Patching holes in a collapsing wall. Bandaging a broken neck. Scrambling like a cornered animal. No, scrambling like prey.

Defending, when I was here to conquer. When I was born to Conquer!

This wasn’t working because I let them control the pace. The rhythm. The flow of the war. Back in Emberfang, our enemies were left to guess just what on earth was going on. They had no clue how to counter our unique classes.

But now?

I let these shitty-ass lionkin think they had a chance. That they could match me. That I was some mere elemental caster, dancing through the skies like a magical court jester here to entertain them.

But I wasn’t.

I was a goddamn primordial.

And these mortals—these yowling, flea-bitten mongrels—these insufferable feline bastards that called themselves warriors?

They dared… they dared to make me feel fear?!

They dared to make me think of retreat?!

They pushed me to the edge, and they thought I would break?!

No.

No.

NO!

I don’t break.

I adapt.

I overcome.

I grind mountains into sand and carve my name into the bones of my fallen enemies!

The fury within me rose like a sun about to devour the sky.

Overwhelming. Blinding. Merciless.

Not born of fear.

But born of sheer insult.

They didn’t deserve my respect.

They didn’t deserve my restraint.

They didn’t deserve my fear.

The only thing they’d earn from me…

Was the mana I’d use to burn their existence into cinders.

I wasn’t some wizard boy throwing party tricks.

I wasn’t a stat sheet. I wasn’t a title. I wasn’t some masked phantom.

I was Quinlan Elysiar.

The Primordial Villain.

The Devil in the flesh.

The one who would one day drown gods in their own golden ichor.

And I had just remembered who the fuck I was.

These pathetic, delusional mortals? They should’ve fled the moment I stepped onto the battlefield. No! The moment I entered their miserable nation. They should’ve wept, begged, prostrated themselves before me, clawing at the dirt and whispering prayers for mercy!

But instead?

They raised blades at my wives.

They launched spells at me.

They made me doubt myself.

Unforgivable.

My jaw clenched.

My vision blurred.

Then… Sharpened.

Ragged breaths slowed.

Trembling hands stilled.

And my mind… focused.

My aura ignited, no longer restrained by fear or doubt.

My mana screamed from me like a supernova.

My primordial wrath surged into the heavens, turning the very air into a furnace.

They wanted the Devil?

Then so be it.

I’ll give them a front-row seat to Armageddon.