Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 976: Finale

Vex lunged from the side with a black flame curse swirling around her blade.

Kitsara struck next, illusions flooding the space around Sareth, each one moving with the perfect fluidity of a graceful fox. “Back in business…”

Blossom reappeared from the shadow of Sareth’s own movement, claws drenched in void essence, fangs bared in pure predator instinct.

And Feng, sweet chaotic Feng, unleashed her most ridiculous spell yet.

“[Invocation: Unstable Chaos Cannon!]”

A technicolor beam of shrieking, glitchy magic screamed across the space, so utterly unnatural it almost disrupted the others’ attacks. But it was timed just well enough not to ruin the whole plan.

The four of them slammed into Sareth.

But Sareth…

…held.

She spun her halberd as if it were a living barrier, every movement a masterstroke of martial precision. One parry flowed into a riposte. One dodge became a counter. She took hits, her blood flowed freely, but nothing vital had been hit. Her stance remained steady. Her killing intent, cold and unwavering.

Even wounded, even pressured…

She was still the Warden of the Severed Chain.

And now, she was mad.

“Enough!” she breathed, aura swelling once more.

Quinlan sprinted forward without hesitation, eyes burning with searing focus as Sareth’s halberd began to vibrate. Spectral green chains whipped into the air. But he wasn’t going to let her regain control, not again.

He raised his saber hand and swept it through the air with a sharp twist of his wrist. Flames burst into life, rushing through the newly forming chains, softening the spectral steel until it hissed and cracked. Before they could regenerate, he stomped his foot, and a wall of earth erupted beneath the links, locking them in place.

Sareth snarled, wrenching at the halberd to tear them free, but that single delay was all he needed.

Quinlan’s body shifted mid-charge. His stance melted from razor-swift [Gale] into the seamless, flowing form of [Tide]. His steps were fluid. His grip adapted. His blade became a river.

He struck.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Endless arcs of steel and water battered Sareth’s defenses as she spun to meet him. The clash was a hurricane of motion. Sparks. Magic. Blood. And in the midst of that…

“I’m ready!” Feng shouted from afar, magic crackling around her as she forced her unsteady cannon to behave.

“Understood!” Kitsara shouted.

The foxkin’s hands blurred as she weaved a pattern of false images around Sareth. Two Blossoms now danced through the chaos, with two Quinlans flanking her, two Vexes whispering curses under their breath.

Vex chanted low and sharp, her voice layered in malice. “[Crux of Damnation: Nerve Rot.]” A needle of hex slammed into Sareth’s spine, making her falter just a hair.

<Blossom strikes now!> the dogkin announced into their minds.

And she did.

Descending like a specter of vengeance, claws brimming with lethal magic, she drove her entire weight down toward the Warden’s exposed back.

Quinlan, eyes flashing, lifted his arm.

Fire, wind, and stone exploded from his palm, a storm barrage designed not to damage, but to pin. Bolts of compressed elemental pressure screamed around Sareth, forcing her to cover her front and sides. Her options shrank with every second.

Then came the light.

The Unstable Chaos Cannon roared from Feng’s position.

A kaleidoscope of violent, unpredictable energy exploded from the oversized gremlin cannon. A sphere of technicolor madness bloomed at the tip before it blasted forward in a howling column of glitch-touched death. The recoil slammed Feng off her feet.

And the cannon straight-up crumbled to dust. Sparks, metal, and mana fizzled out like they had never existed at all.

But the beam hit.

Directly.

Sareth’s entire upper body was engulfed in the cascading spectrum of ruin. The green of her armor vanished behind pure chaos. The entire corridor lit up in a storm.

No one waited to see the result.

Vex charged in.

Quinlan dashed beside her.

Kitsara sent her two tails and herself with poison daggers in hand.

Blossom was already there, her claws swinging.

They didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t.

Not when the moment was finally here.

The four of them slammed into the smoking epicenter where Sareth still stood with her knees buckled, armor melted, face scorched.

*Slice!*

Quinlan’s saber tore through her side.

*CRACK!*

Vex’s blade opened her ribcage with a horizontal slash.

*SHNK!*

Kitsara’s mirrored dagger stabbed deep beneath her arm, into the softened joint.

And then Blossom.

A void-claw hammer blow directly to Sareth’s throat, breaking her stance, staggering her backward.

Blood sprayed.

Chunks of armor fell to the ground.

Muscle tore.

Sareth collapsed backward in a grotesque dance of agony and defiance. A large trail of crimson smeared the prison floor behind her.

They stood over her now.

A mighty warrior had fallen.

The Warden of the Severed Chain… broken.

Her halberd lay at her side, useless. Her limbs, unmoving. Her eyes dimming, yet… still open.

Still breathing.

Still watching.

Still… alive.

She should’ve been dead.

She should’ve.

But her spine refused to yield. Her will, forged through centuries of unrelenting war and impossible training regimens, clung to life with the grip of a dying world.

She tilted her head, slowly… painfully… her gaze locking onto him.

Quinlan stood amidst the wreckage, breath steaming, body bloodied and battered. One arm gone, elemental energy still crackling in the air around him.

Sareth’s scorched lips parted. Her voice was weak, but clear.

“…What… are you?”

Her eyes flicked toward the others: Vex’s bloodied blade, Kitsara’s poisoned daggers, Blossom’s void-drenched claws, Feng groaning somewhere in the distance.

Then back to him.

“To call you a monster… would be unfair.”

A breath left her lungs.

A bitter smile formed on her lips.

“You’re not a monster. You’re an anomaly.”

But then… her smile disappeared.

Her ruined face twitched with realization, no, remembrance, as she looked around the ruined prison hall.

And then she said something that made the blood in Quinlan’s veins run cold.

“You are late… There are no prisoners here.”

Silence.

“The Duke decided to… auction them off at the king’s birthday party…”