Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 748

Chapter 748: Avatar’s Fire
A pulse. A flicker. A memory of heat.

And then…

Flames.

They surged from my body in all directions, not with rage, but with recognition. The primordial fire essence roared to life, wrapping around us like the breath of a sun, but not a single ember so much as singed Vex’s skin.

It knew her.

It understood.

She was mine. My chaotic storm. My beautiful Hexblade.

So it kissed her skin gently, wrapped her in its warmth. The stone beneath us cracked from the pressure of the overwhelming heat it emanated, but inside the blazing cocoon, we were left untouched.

Safe.

She squeezed me tighter, burying her face into my neck.

“It’s so beautiful…” she muttered, watching the mighty flames dance on our skin.

“We’re only just getting started…” I whispered back.

And then… I raised my hand.

The fire stirred.

But deep down, I already knew:

This wasn’t enough.

The flames I’d wielded so far were powerful, yes—terrifying to most, overwhelming to many. But they were still too tame. Too controlled. Too merciful. I’d been burning with a leash around my soul.

What I needed now… was something purer. Something deeper.

Something… Primal.

I closed my eyes again, focusing. Not on the fire around me, but within me. I reached past the cocoon of safety and trust. Past the primordial essence I had already accepted. Deeper. Farther.

Through the channels of my soul.

Through arcane circuits I didn’t even know existed before today.

Through the layers of elemental truth woven into the architecture of reality.

And then…

I found it.

A sealed door. A forge behind my heart.

A place I had never dared to look.

Until now.

I opened it.

And the world began to burn.

—

The Avatar’s Fire.

Not just flame. Not just heat.

Absolute elemental authority.

The soul of fire in its truest form: wrathful, boundless, and wholly uncaring for what stood in its way. The city quaked around us as the fire exploded outward in the form of a giant, devastating detonation.

Buildings melted like wax. Towers collapsed under their own boiling weight. Stone screamed. Wood vaporized.

And the people?

They didn’t even have time to run.

Not even the time to scream.

The fire recognized no innocence. No guilt. Only fuel.

[You’ve slain Lionkin Civilian (Level 1). You’ve gained 0 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Seamstress (Level 2). You’ve gained 0 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Infant (Level 1). You’ve gained 0 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Cook (Level 5). You’ve gained 1 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Scholar (Level 3). You’ve gained 0 XP.]

Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. The notifications blurred together into a mind-numbing wall of death.

But I didn’t stop.

Because this was my answer.

Their strength was numbers. Their courage came from knowing what they fought for.

Their homes. Their mates. Their frail parents. Their children. Their city.

So I asked the obvious question:

What if none of that was left?

What happens when the gates behind them aren’t a safe haven… but a funeral pyre?

What happens when they realize that while they shed blood on the frontlines, their children scream behind them in a fire that burns their lungs to liquid and melts the flesh off their bones before vaporizing even their skeletal remains?

Would they keep fighting?

Would they stay loyal?

Or would they break?

I don’t remember signing any Geneva Conventions.

I didn’t care about morality or the generally accepted ethics of warfare. If I had to choose between losing a single person I cared about or committing the worst war crime Thalorind had ever seen, well… the choice was obvious.

Let the generals scream in denial. Let the Arch Priests call it sacrilege. Let the historians write that this day was the darkest day in history.

Let them all hiss and rage.

Because by the time they even begin to understand what I’ve done, it’ll all be over.

My mana reserves dropped to critical. The inferno was still raging, screaming across Lionheart, but the cost was immense. I reached into my pouch, pulling out the crystal vial of blue liquid: one of Aurora’s high-tier mana potions.

I downed its contents in a single gulp.

The effects were immediate. The fire surged brighter, faster, hotter, as mana flooded into my veins like a tsunami of pure elemental fuel.

The notifications hadn’t stopped. They kept coming relentlessly.

[You’ve slain Lionkin Alchemist (Level 14). You’ve gained 75 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Archer (Level 23). You’ve gained 4700 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Beast Handler (Level 30). You’ve gained 26000 XP.]

[You’ve slain Lionkin Commander (Level 33). You’ve gained 34000 XP.]

They were starting to resist.

Braver souls were stepping into the fire. Not mindlessly like zombies, but desperately. Not all warriors. Not all trained. But determined. Furious. They tried to reach me. Tried to smother the flames, to strike me down.

Some got close. Close enough to make the fire scream as they resisted it for seconds longer than the rest.

And then…

[You’ve slain Lionkin Exemplar (Level 40). You’ve gained 61000 XP.]

[Ding!] [You’ve reached Level 34.]

…

[Ding!]

[You’ve reached Level 35.]

…

[Ding!]

[You’ve reached Level 36.]

I didn’t hesitate about the allocation of my new stats.

Every attribute point—every single one—was thrown into Magic.

The fire reacted instantly. It roared higher, widened, sharpened. Buildings didn’t just melt now: they collapsed in a pile of ash before they could finish igniting.

I reached for the second mana potion. Its effects would be much less than the first, but I didn’t have an option. I couldn’t afford to stop now.

But I paused.

Not because I suddenly hesitated due to something cliche like guilt, but because Vex’s eyes were sparkling.

Her fingers glided along my chest, tracing the seams of my armor, and she leaned in with a smirk that didn’t fit the chaos around us one bit.

“This spell,” she said softly, purring right into my ears, “was meant to be a curse. One I’d use to drain my enemies dry of their mana. But I can use it in a different manner, should I wish to…”

Her fingers tapped her own chest as glowing crimson glyphs—hexes—etched themselves into her skin.

“If I were to curse myself, you’d get to become the beneficiary instead…”

She winked, then whispered the name: [Hex of Hollowed Vessels].

It triggered with a quiet chime that only we could hear.

I felt it immediately. Her mana, warm, vibrant, and chaotic, just like the woman herself, flowed into me like a river breaking through a dam. I shuddered as I sensed my mana reserves swelling, refilled by the most dangerous woman I’d ever met.

But that wasn’t all.

She inched closer, pushing her sensual body against mine tightly, as much as she physically could. Her breath was hot on my neck, her red pentagram eyes glowing with the sigils of the hex she’d just cast.

Her beautiful smile welcomed my eyes as she leaned toward my face and kissed me.

Not a soft kiss. Not a shy gesture of a bashful maiden who was unsure how to proceed.

This was a woman overwhelmed by her own hunger.

This was affection—pure, unadulterated need.

Our mouths crashed together, lips touching with fiery demand to meet their partner. Her tongue danced in my mouth, greedy, euphoric, drunk off the energy passing between us. She moaned into the kiss as if nothing else in the world existed. As if the inferno was just background noise to our intimate moment.

The fire blazed higher around us, becoming a towering pillar of cataclysm stretching into the sky.

Lionheart screamed in utter agony.

But in that moment, wrapped in fire and Vex’s embrace, I didn’t hear it.

Only her.

Only us.