Chapter 1001: The Greatest Weapon
Chapter 999 of "Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem" starts with unexpected events: The rest of the week until the birthday party passed swiftly.Preparations were constant, chaotic, andâthanks... Find out more!
The rest of the week until the birthday party passed swiftly.
Preparations were constant, chaotic, andâthanks to Rosieâoccasionally adorable. The tiny strategist wielded her childlike innocence like the greatest tactical weapon to have ever existed, and her main target was none other than the reclusive Fox Auntie, Yoruha.
The ancient illusionist had no intention of helping with party preparations. None whatsoever. In fact, her plan was to sleep for an entire century and pretend the outside world didnât exist.
According to her, sheâd barely survived the last three months during Quinlanâs absence. With most of his lovers off hunting monsters for XP, there had only been one person left in the house who refused to be ignored. The green dryad girl. Rosie.
Yoruhaâs voice dropped an octave when she spoke the name. Her eye twitched. Her tails, usually pristine and flowing, now hung limp like bedraggled mops.
"I have dueled Black Fang in the Dead Gardens. I have once faced down a whole Wyvern court with two broken limbs and 10% mana to my name. But that child..." She stared off into the distance, looking visibly haunted like a soldier who returned from war. "That child made me play house. For days."
The ladies who listened to the tragic tale were concerned until they stepped closer and actually saw the woman. Truly saw.
The glamorous nine-tailed illusionistânormally the embodiment of sultry fox-like perfectionâlooked like she had gone twelve rounds with a divine prankster. Her silk kimono was technically clean, but half the sashes were misaligned, and the intricate purple embroidery was wrinkled in places that betrayed violent cuddling.
Her lustrous hair, which was always the definition of perfection, was tied in a crooked ponytail. Her fur tails had the frayed edges of one too many naps rudely interrupted.
For a woman who could clean and glamor herself in a second just by thinking about it, the disheveled state was telling.
She didnât look like a seductive immortal anymore. She looked like a real auntie. An exhausted, soul-wrung auntie whoâd been chased through the halls for weeks by a hyperactive dryad yelling "Story time, auntie! You promised!!!" every ten minutes.
"Let alone my body, my very essence is dry," Yoruha whispered hoarsely. "Dry. Not even my illusions want to respond to me properly anymore. Do you know what that means, children?"
None in the audience of this generational whining session could answer. They were too busy trying not to laugh.
But Rosie wasnât about to let her favorite auntie off the hook that easily. She was a daughter on a mission entrusted by her father and mothers, after allâand Rosie took her assignments very seriously. Especially when they came from her father. Mothers could be... ignored, should the situation demand it. She refused to do the same for Quinlan.
Thus, Rosie activated Childlike Innocence Turbo Modeâ˘.
The moment Yoruha tried to escape, Rosie struck like an assassin who specialized in preying on emotions.
She toddled up with impossibly wide eyes, with her lower lip trembling as if sheâd been tragically abandoned in the woods by uncaring parents and left to raise herself among squirrels. Her little hands clutched the edge of Yoruhaâs kimono sleeve with just enough pressure to be adorable but not overly pushy. It was an art form at this point.
"Please, Auntie..." she whispered in the most heartbreakingly soft voice imaginable. "Rosie really needs your help... Sheâs worried for her Daddy and Mommies..."
Yoruha visibly froze.
Then turned her head slowly. Her bones sounded as if they were a door creaking open in a horror movie. Her eyes, once mystical pools of ancient knowledge and wisdom, now looked like they belonged to a fox whoâd been emotionally mugged.
"No! Your parents are back, bother them instead! Iâm sure Mister Primordial will find a way without me," she growled, but her voice, instead of sounding hostile, was that of a woman on her knees, pleading desperately. "I have nothing left to give. I have stared into the abyss, and it asked me to play house." She twitched. "I was the flower girl. For two days straight!"
Rosie leaned her head on Yoruhaâs leg, rubbing her cheeks into the cloth. "Rosie knows Auntie loved every second of it..."
"Hah?" Yoruha snapped. "The dolls all had names. You named one of them Quinlan. He kept falling over. I laughed. You cried. Then made me apologize to him."
"... Hehe!"
"I did. I apologized to a doll," Yoruha muttered to herself, rubbing her temples.
Rosieâs eyes began to shimmer with extra tears, seeing that an extra push was needed this time around. Her lip wobbled harder.
Yoruha groaned with all nine tails of hers twitching violently. "No! No, donât you do that. I know that face. Iâm not falling for it this time."
"Rosieâs scared..." the tiny girl sobbed into the foxâs thigh that the dryad girl refused to let go of. "If Rosieâs parents go to the party and the bad guys see Mommy Ayame or Mommy Lucille or even Papa without good disguises, they might get hurt... and Rosie canât protect everyone as she is locked to her tree for now..."
Yoruha closed her eyes. A long, slow inhale. Then came a shaky exhale, the sound of a woman who had finally lost the will to fight.
"This is emotional terrorism."
Rosie looked up at her with the purest, most innocent smile in the universe.
"Pretty please?"
"Ugh... Fine..." Yoruha muttered like someone surrendering to divine punishment. "Iâll do it. But if anyone but Celeste disturbs me..."
She turned, dragging herself toward her lab sheâd set up in the Elysiar familyâs home like a war veteran returning to the frontlines. Her tails trailed behind her like wilted flower petals.
As she disappeared into her sanctum, Rosie gave a bright smile to her mothers and decreed triumphantly, "Mission complete! Will Daddy praise Rosie? She wonders."
By the time the week was over and it was time to depart for the kingâs 1000th birthday, the courtyard was buzzing with arrivals.
The last to walk in was Jasmine.
She arrived with a strut of someone who was on a warpath; hips swaying with a great deal of confidence that was a new air for the woman to have, and golden jewelry catching the sunlight with every step of hers. Jasmineâs presence screamed danger and luxury in equal measure.
"Iâve never felt more alive!" she decreed as soon as she stepped out of Quinlanâs portal. A giant, satisfied grin adorned her lips.
Behind her trailed the rest of her contingent.
Lyra arrived looking like she hadnât slept the whole week. Behind her, Shallan, the Tempest Empress, was muttering under her breath, face completely blank from exhaustion. Even Liora, who never looked anything less than celestial, had her staff slung sideways as if sheâd been dragged across realms.
"Why do your companions look as if they were undead, my love?" Quinlan inquired of Jasmine with a wry smile.
"Hmm? I have no idea whatever you could mean, husband~"
Turns out, Jasmineâs week-long escapade into the capital had come with a price, and the others were the ones paying it. Sheâd used her experience, her resources, and her classâs loopholes to do her bidding... which included âutilizingâ her bodyguards for nearly every deal, transaction, and auction she raced through over the week.
And that wasnât all.