Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 756

Chapter 756: Fang of the Dying Moon
He was one step too slow.

A single, fluid backward flip was Black Fang’s answer to his overwhelming, mighty attack, forced to get out of its way. But in that same motion, the tip of her katana reached Leohtar’s collarbone. The first injury of the duel had been dealt.

It was nothing but a faint scratch. A whisper of contact.

Yet Leohtar froze.

His eyes went wide.

His fiery veins darkened in real time.

He gasped at first, coughed next, and then staggered.

The poison had taken root. And it was ravaging through his body, his monstrous constitution failing to properly resist the venom imbuement on Black Fang’s katana.

But Leohtar didn’t panic.

He slammed both hands against his chest, summoning every ounce of strength he could muster. “[Solar Pulse: Cleanse-”

He never finished. He wasn’t allowed to, for Black Fang was already in motion.

Before the final word had left his lips, she was there, pressing the advantage.

She used her free hand to make a casting gesture, manifesting a large, purple moon sigil into the space between them.

And then, in a serene voice, she whispered:

“[Fang of the Dying Moon].”

The words were soft. Intimate. As if she were telling a secret to the stars.

And then she vanished.

No flash. No sound. Not even a blur.

She crossed the distance between them in a single moment.

Her blade passed clean through his body, going from side to side, from shoulder to hip, facing no visible resistance.

Leohtar froze in place.

“Urgh!”

He spat a mouthful of blood his eyes lost their shine. “Impossible…” were his final words before his body fell apart, landing onto the ground in two cleanly separated parts. A single moment later, a dark explosion occurred from within his lifeless body, making blood spill all over the battlefield.

As soon as he breathed his last, his monstrous body could no longer mount a proper resistance against Black Fang’s poison coursing through his veins, which resulted in the immediate destruction of what remained of him.

Black Fang stood idly by as this was happening, eyes entirely void of emotion. She didn’t even attempt to dodge the gory explosion of her slain enemy’s innards, but they weren’t allowed to paint her red: before they could smear her elegant clothes and body, they were repelled by what I could only assume to be the work of an artifact.

The battlefield went still for just a second.

One breath. One heartbeat.

Then the serpents hissed and coiled forward again, and Black Fang stepped coldly over the bloody pool that was once the lion king, moving without pause as if she hadn’t just ended a living legend.

The lionkin generals and elite warriors didn’t share the same nonchalant tone. In fact, they looked utterly shaken, staggered by disbelief and gripped by a fear that clawed down to the very marrow of their bones.

“Sunfang…?”

“Sunfang!”

“My Lord!”

“No way this is real!!”

“It must be a bad dream! Leohtar Sunfang never loses!”

“The Sunfang has fallen!”

“Noooo!!”

Sadly for them, their disbelief and shock didn’t matter in the slightest to their enemies.

Black Fang and Orianna wasted no time whatsoever. While the poison mistress swept through the elite remnants like a shadow with fangs, slashing throats and spreading venom like an artist smearing ink across a canvas, Orianna raised massive vines and brutal blossoms from the bloodied soil to drag lionkin into a tangle of thorns and teeth. Her magic wasn’t clean or elegant anymore. She was raw, brutal, bleeding mana to maintain her barrage, but she kept going with a terrifying grin twisting her flowery features.

And then, with a deep howl in the distance, reinforcements arrived.

A detachment of dogkin elites descended on the battlefield. Leading them was a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a familiar scowl beneath a trimmed black beard.

Fenrik, Second Prince of the Dogkin.

He gave the battlefield a quick glance, taking in the corpses, the slithering giant serpents, the living garden of death Orianna had summoned, and the whimpering, desperate lionkin warriors trying and failing to crawl away from the true monster of the battlefield: Black Fang.

He didn’t even unsheathe his weapon.

Instead, he strode straight toward the two of us and crouched.

“Father sent us ahead, knowing it had to be you who caused the giant fire. Seems he was right. But… you don’t look so well, brother-in-law.”

I gave him a wry smile, panting from the residual burn of mana fatigue. “Drank one too many mana potions. But she is doing much worse than I.”

Vex stirred in my lap. Her eyes were unfocused, and her cheeks were pale from the blood loss. She still managed a weak, girlish giggle as she nuzzled against my chest like an affectionate kitten.

“Mmmh… As long as I’m in my hubby’s hands… I’m going to be all right…”

Fenrik blinked, processing the tone of the infamous Red-Eyed Demon who’d been terrorizing the lionkin for the past two centuries, etching herself into many bards’ tales in the beastkin lands.

We watched her dryly for a moment longer, then I stood up with a wince and gently lifted her into my arms in a princess carry. She cooed faintly with her arms weakly wrapping around my neck.

“I’m finding a healer,” I said.

Fenrik nodded. “Go. We’ll clean up here.”

I accepted his words and turned, but I didn’t dare open a portal. My mana was unstable: boiling, erratic, volatile. The backlash was still running through me like static in my veins, and I feared that if I tried to teleport or fly in this state, I might rip myself and Vex apart.

So I walked.

Through fire and bone.

Lionheart was no longer a city. It was a graveyard painted in ember and ash. The blaze I’d summoned earlier had devoured entire blocks, leaving behind charred outlines of homes and nothing more than some skeletons scorched into their last moments.

The streets reeked of smoke and scorched fur and flesh, while the ruined cobblestone cracked beneath my boots with each step.

The outer gates had been torn open from both sides. Wolfkin warbands streamed in, howling victoriously as they cut down the last lionkin defenders. The dogkin were close behind them, striking like streaks of death, leaving no soldier standing.

Some lionkin had tried to form defensive lines near homes, desperately guarding their families whom I’d already killed with my fire.

Whether they knew it and were only hoping they somehow lived, or they managed to trick themselves into delusion, I didn’t know. But what mattered is that they all failed in protecting their loved ones. It was all over for them.

I stepped over another charred helmet, feeling Vex shift in my arms, clinging to me even tighter.

And then..

“You’re here!”

I looked up.

Seraphiel.

She ran toward me from a clearing down the ruined boulevard. Her attire was tattered, stained with both her blood and others’, but her beautiful eyes sparkled the moment she saw me. Relief. Joy. Fierce, undeniable affection.

Behind her came the rest of them.

Lucille stood with her axe resting on her shoulder, drenched from head to toe in crimson.

Aurora, by contrast, looked rather clean but utterly exhausted. Her usually flawless strands of hair were matted with sweat, and the dark circles under her eyes looked painted on. But she still grinned when she spotted me, waving weakly with a spark of joy.

Ayame was covered in light wounds, her armor destroyed in many places. She was cleaning her blade with a bloodied cloth, preparing for the next battle already, but the bright sparkles in her eyes told me all I needed to know: she was overjoyed to learn that I was alive.

Kitsara had scratches across her cheek and forehead, her robes tattered, but she was perched casually on the remains of a ruined fountain, scouting the surroundings. The second she saw me, her ears perked, and a giant smile curved onto her delicate lips.

Blossom didn’t wish to give me the chance to observe her features, for she descended on me from the shadows, hugging me from behind as my front was occupied by Miss Hexblade.

“Please heal her,” I said softly to Seraphiel as she reached me.

Sera’s expression instantly shifted to concern. She summoned her staff and said, “Can you sit her down? I’d like to see the wounds to know what spells to cast.”

“N-No…!” Vex whined, pulling herself further into my chest, burying her face in my collarbone as if worried Seraphiel was about to hurt her. “Heal me like this… I don’t wanna leave!”

I blinked, half stunned at the plea, half amused.

“Since when have you decided you’d become so damned adorable, hmm?” I asked with a grin.

She didn’t answer, just let out a little whimper and curled her fingers into the fabric over my heart.

Seraphiel giggled for a second before raising her staff toward the injured woman. “As you wish, Lady Vex… I’ll just cast a few spells and see if they help…”

Holy light bathed Vex’s body, pouring into her like a tide of warmth and life. Her breathing slowed. Her wounds stopped bleeding. Color returned to her cheeks in full.

The others gathered around, forming a protective ring, aware that not all of the enemies had been slain just yet.

It didn’t even take more than a minute before two figures emerged from the smoke of the ruined buildings, unhurried. Unbothered.

Black Fang and Orianna.

Neither said a word.

They walked straight toward us with emotionless faces as if they were out on a casual stroll, ignoring the chaos unraveling all around them.