Chapter 1024: Fury
In Chapter 1022 of "Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem": Chapter 1024: Fury*Shiiink!*The soft whisper of a katana being drawn was the only sound she... Discover the next events!
Chapter 1024: Fury
*Shiiink!*
The soft whisper of a katana being drawn was the only sound she emitted.
In an instant, a sharp crack of displaced air followed. Before anyone could register what had happened, Ayame was already crouched in front of Blossom, katana held sideways like a mirror, deflecting the saliva.
The spit sizzled as it slid down the steelâs edge and fell harmlessly to the marble floor.
She didnât speak at first. She didnât need to.
Ayame didnât blink. Her crystal-blue eyes locked onto the noble who dared raise a handâor mouthâagainst her sister. She turned her head and gently placed her hand on Blossomâs back.
âAre you hurt?â
Blossomâs ears twitched. She trembled as she looked up.
âGoldie is okayâŚâ Her voice cracked. She tried to smile, but tears welled at the edges of her eyes. She lowered her gaze. âBut the cute dress Master and her sisters carefully picked for her⌠Itâs ruinedâŚâ
Ayame didnât answer with words.
Instead, she pulled a neatly folded silk robe from her storage ring and draped it gently around Blossomâs shoulders. Her fingers brushed through the dogkinâs soft hair as she spoke in a calm, measured tone, one that masked fury barely restrained beneath the surface.
âWeâll get another,â she said softly.
And then she stood.
When she did, she was silent. When she turned to face the noble again, there was no restraint in her expression. No diplomacy. No noble courtesy.
Only rage.
The air in the banquet hall grew deathly still.
Gone was the idle murmur of gossip and clinking glasses. Every noble, every servant, every hidden knight pretending to be a bystanderâevery single soul turned toward the unfolding scene.
The Kingâs banquet had stopped.
Ayame stood between the noble and Blossom.
Iris had already marched beside her. Her voice, loud and furious, rang out across the stunned room.
âI asked, what gives?! Answer me before I break the law before the whole royal familyâs very eyes!â
The noble, who was still infuriatingly smug, though with a bead of sweat now gathered at his temple, met her and Ayameâs glare.
âMerely a mistake. Your⌠pet wasnât watching where she was going.â
His words were met with complete silence.
Not one of the nobles spoke. Not one laughed.
Because now, even they could tell:
This was no longer a social misstep.
This was a declaration.
Blossom shifted under the robe Ayame had draped over her, still on the ground, her eyes trembling as she tried to make herself smaller. Her voice was barely a whisper, meant for no one in particular.
But she knew why.
She hadnât been careless.
No. She had been focused.
Her attention had been fixed across the banquet hall, far from where she walked, to track the elusive whispers from the Ravenshade family. Sheâd already been shifting her senses to notice even the tiniest flickers of breath and tone, trying to catch somethingâanythingâuseful for Iris.
Normally, that wouldnât be a problem, but this room⌠it was overwhelming.
The sheer weight of perfume, scented oils, and exotic spices layered the air like smoke. It dulled her nose, made her head spin. Normally, she could read footsteps by sound and scent alone, but here? She had to strain just to separate perfume from poison.
So when the noble placed his feet forward, he did so just under her awareness.
And the trap had been sprung.
Blossom barely had time to process it before another jolt ran through the room.
A sharp yelp sounded to the side. It was Kitsaraâs.
Her tail had been yanked, hard, by a noble. She spun with a snarl, barely keeping herself from immediately lashing out. The man who did it simply smiled, slow and slimy, as if amused by a childâs tantrum.
Then, as if that wasnât enoughâŚ
*Slap!*
A slap rang out. Not a sound of applause, not a toast, but a palm across skin.
Seraphiel staggered from the blow, her golden hair becoming disheveled as her head snapped sideways. Behind her, a third noble stood, arm still raised and smirking widely after hitting her face from behind.
The three men shared the same expression.
Mocking. Superior. Pleased.
This wasnât a coincidence.
It was coordinated.
A planned humiliation, executed in full view of every noble in the hall.
Serikaâs chair scraped violently as she stood. âWhat do you think youâre doing!?â she barked with rising fury, her voice echoing through the hall with the sharpness of a woman whoâd been tempering her fire for two centuries.
Feng rose right beside her, eyes flaring with cold light. None of her usual cheekiness was present. âWho do you think youâre laying your disgusting hands on, you scum?â
But the nobles didnât even seem to care as they responded.
âSlaves,â the one whoâd yanked Kitsaraâs tail said with a dismissive shrug, gesturing with his drink as if stating a weather report. âYou brought slaves to the sacred halls of the royal palaceâs inner court.â
âYou should know very well theyâre not protected by the lawâŚâ the second, the noble who slapped Seraphielâs face from behind, added with a cocky smile. âSo we did nothing wrong. I donât even understand why youâre acting as if youâd been wronged to the very core.â
The third, Blossomâs assailant, chuckled. âThatâs not entirely correct, Brother⌠They are protected. Technically.â
He smirked and pulled a small golden chest from his pocket ring.
The lid popped open.
Gold coins glinted inside.
âIf a man injures another manâs slave, he is to pay adequate compensation. Healer costs, lost labor, all that.â
He reached in, took a handful of coins, and began tossing them.
One hit the floor under Ayameâs feet.
Another clinked and rolled to Lucille, who kicked it aside with her feet.
A third nearly struck Iris, but was caught by her hand. She crushed it in her palm.
More coins flew toward Serika. Feng. Aurora. Vex. Jasmine.
The nobles laughed.
âSee? No harm done. You even get to make a bit of profit thanks to us feeling magnanimous.â
A final coin flew out.
A particularly large, ceremonial one. It was inscribed with the royal crest, magically polished, crafted to represent dignity. It was worth a hundred of the traditional, common gold coins.
It spun through the air as it headed straight toward Quinlan.
It never made it.
The moment it entered the radius of his presence, reality itself distorted.
A wave of pressure burst outward that didnât feel like a gust of wind or a blast of force. No, it was wrong, as though the very rules of the world were recoiling from something that should not be.
The coin froze in the air.
Wobbled.
ThenâŚ
*CLANG!*
It was flung sideways, slamming into a marble pillar, and shattered into glittering fragments.
Silence.
All heads turned.
And now⌠now they felt it.
A presence that did not belong to this plane. It was not just anger, not mere wrath.
No, it was something older. Something fundamental.
It was rage distilled by trials forged in the soul of creation itself.
It was the fury of the Primordial Villain.
Quinlan still hadnât stood.
He hadnât even said a single word since three of his women had been assaulted.
But the room had already begun to suffocate beneath the weight of his immense soul and its primordial rage.
And somewhere, deep within that gathering stormâŚ
Something cracked.
Something old and sealed within him⌠just began to wake up.