Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 872

Chapter 872: Blood No Longer
Serika’s knees buckled.

“Our… father…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible now. “No…”

The words fell from her like broken glass.

She stared at Nalai—her twin, her other half—and saw a stranger.

Not the girl she’d grown up beside.

Not the protector of the Water Nation.

But something colder. Something hollowed and twisted.

It all clicked at once.

The assassination attempt. The big explosion in Rykar’s smithy.

Serika clutched her chest.

The truth clawed its way out of her mouth.

“It was you…”

Her voice trembled.

“You’re the one who sent the assassins… to kill Father.”

Nalai’s smile crept upward.

Slowly. Twisting.

Into something that was no longer soft and royal like before, but cruel, unhinged, and jagged like a broken mask.

“Yes,” she said, voice trembling with venomous clarity. “I sent them.”

Her eyes glistened—not with sorrow, but hatred.

“I detested that man for abandoning me. For pretending like I didn’t exist while he raised you like his beloved little warrior princess.” Her tone sharpened. “I waited, Serika. I waited for him to come for me. To explain. To tell me it wasn’t what it looked like.”

She took a step forward.

“But he never did. Even after I became a Sovereign. Even when I had all the authority to silence people should they raise concerns about my relationship with a famed fire cultivator family. So yes, I sent the assassins. And I hoped all this time that he died screaming. But then… You brought me such horrible news. The Father I thought I’d killed all that time ago was still clutching to his life in his miserable, crippled body. It took all I had to pretend I was overjoyed at the news…”

Serika’s legs gave out for a moment under the weight of those venomous words that came from her beloved sister’s mouth, of that truth she was spewing. Her hands trembled at her sides.

But then…

Something changed. Something snapped in the Fire Sovereign’s heart.

Her knees stopped shaking.

Her spine straightened.

The tears in her eyes outright evaporated.

The soft, aching expression vanished like steam off a blade.

All that remained was fire.

Controlled.

Focused.

Deadly.

“I see,” she said simply.

And then she launched herself forward, the air erupting with heat as her flames roared to life.

Nalai staggered back a half-step in surprise, barely dodging the first blazing arc that carved a trench into the marble at her feet.

“Are you mad?!” she hissed, throwing up a wall of seething blue water. “The battle’s over, Serika! Rongtai’s about to be executed! Your pitiful squad is getting torn apart! Quinlan will be overwhelmed within seconds!”

The force of the waters surged forward, trying to douse her sister’s fury.

But Serika held firm, her stance wide, her breath even, her flames burning hotter than ever.

“Then I’ll go down in a blaze of flames.”

Nalai’s eyes widened.

“I refuse to sell out my comrades! I refuse to hand over our home to this creepy monster! And more than anything, I refuse to let him put his claws on Quinlan!”

Her voice rang like steel.

“And you? You’re no sister of mine, you cold, spineless, traitor!” she spat with fiery venom.

The words struck Nalai like a fierce slap.

Her playful cruelty vanished, replaced by a quiet, cold resolve.

Her lips flattened. Her hands clenched.

“…So be it,” she whispered.

And then they collided.

Flame met wave, red and blue crashing like twin typhoons. The heat boiled the water, and the water hissed and coiled around the fire. Two Sovereigns—two sisters—tore into each other in a spiral of wrath and heartbreak, shaking the palace to its very foundations.

Meanwhile, Rongtai grimaced as he watched his monks—his disciples, his sons in all but blood—fall under the whirlwind slaughter of the dark wind cultivator who joined forces with Nalai’s army. Blood stained the monastery’s sacred colors. Screams echoed through the shattered arena.

But his composure returned in a heartbeat.

This was not the first time he had witnessed despair.

He had made hard choices, even sacrificial ones, his entire life.

He parried a brutal palm strike from God Venthros, the force of which was enough to crack the ground beneath him, and he shouted with all his might, his voice booming across the ruined battlefield like a war drum.

“Avatar! Take the Fire Sovereign and run! We may fall here today, but so long as a single Sovereign Shard and the Avatar live, hope yet remains for Zhenwu!”

Quinlan wasn’t listening.

But just then, a streak of crimson blazed across the sky like a second sun.

A comet of fire, roaring through the clouds of smoke and ash.

And it slammed into God Venthros’ head with a thunderous *BOOM!* releasing a blazing explosion that cracked the sky with its fury.

The God recoiled.

Stone shattered. Wind screamed. The flames curled away to reveal a figure landing atop the crater his attack had left behind.

Rykar Vael had arrived.

His four prosthetic limbs hissed and clanked as he straightened his back, each joint letting out that familiar, rhythmic creak. Quinlan recognized the sound instantly.

The same sound that marked every step, every motion during his training.

Rykar’s eyes didn’t glow. They burned with fury, with sorrow, with an agony that only a father could know.

He glanced behind him at the two daughters of his who were locked in war, before his gaze lingered on her in particular.

Lysandra Vael.

The daughter who had tried to end his life.

His lips barely moved as he whispered, but she heard it all the same.

“So the truth’s out at long last… after all these years…”

Grief twisted the old warrior’s face, a grief that was so vast and silent it felt like it might pull the heavens down with it.

A face that had always been stoic, unshakable… now lined with overwhelming devastation.

Nalai felt his presence the moment he arrived.

She spun away from Serika mid-clash, retreating in a streak of sapphire mist, landing right beside the God she now called an ally. Her features darkened the moment she laid her eyes on him.

Hate. Pure and murderous.

Her voice was cold as the deepest trench.

“So you did survive after all, old bastard.”

Serika landed opposite her with teeth clenched, breath ragged, fire leaking from every pore. She was so enraged at her own blood that she didn’t even have the mental capacity to rejoice at meeting her beloved father again.

She only saw red.

With this, the factions had formed.

Three versus three.

Rongtai. Rykar. Serika.

Versus:

God Venthros. Nalai. And the Wind Butcher.

The air trembled. The battlefield froze.

*VROOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*

A sound. Deep. Elemental. Transcendent.

A thunderous shriek exploded behind them.

All six fighters twisted their heads toward the source.

Floating just above the cracked platform, untouched by the carnage, sat a lone figure with his legs crossed in meditation, his body glowing with strain.

Quinlan Elysiar.

His form hovered in midair, untouched, guarded by swirling currents of fire, water, earth, and wind, all four elemental forces coalescing around him like a protective storm. Nalai’s soldiers tried to approach, but were flung back, their bodies repelled by the sheer pressure of elemental harmony.

He had begun the forcible breakthrough into the Spirit Tempering Realm.

A move that could kill him, as his body was not ready.

But the look on his face… was calm.

Focused. Absolute.

He knew the risk.

He accepted it.

Because it was the only way to even hope to stand against the god who had come to destroy this world he swore to protect, not to mention the red-haired woman he’d come to love and the cheeky kid he’d come to appreciate as a little sister.

As the entire battlefield watched in stunned silence, Serika whispered in awe.

“…He’s doing it.”

Rongtai’s eyes narrowed.

Rykar nodded at the student he once betrayed with eyes containing many emotions.

Nalai’s expression faltered.

And even God Venthros, for the first time, tilted his head in curiosity.

“So the cub bares his fangs…”

A world-shaking storm was brewing.

And in its eye…

The Avatar would rise.