Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Chapter 668 - 668: Decision

… I could only sigh at this development. My goal in battling Silver's sons was to gain the recognition of the beastkin leaders not only as a diplomat but as fierce youth worthy of their respect. In my eagerness, I overshot the goal, scaring them instead. What a blunder.

Rajah and Skarn were more than right to fear me. Not only did I have brighter future prospects than any mortal did, but I also harbored the goal of conquering this continent. If I signed a non-aggression pact with them, I couldn't follow my goals.

Well, at least not for the next thousand years. The strongest non-elves lived for about a thousand years, hence the duration these two demanded. They basically demanded I not attack them in my entire life. This told me that in their eyes, I was a mortal, even if they didn't understand exactly what I was.

One might wonder why I would not just sign a treaty as Devil and then drop the alias when the time came, letting me conquer them as Quinlan, Black the noble, or with another name I give myself. I doubted they were dumb enough to accept the word of a masked man. But just to make sure, I asked for clarification, "How exactly would you like me to sign this pact if I were to agree?"

Skarn didn't hesitate for a single moment when he replied, "I don't care about any promises you make on the Goddess' graces, neither do I trust binding artifacts or magic to hold a creature like you restrained for long. I'm a simple man who has survived all this while by trusting his instincts. Remove your mask and swear a blood oath on the well-being of everyone you hold dear while staring us right in the eye. If I feel a shred of deception, I'll attack."

"Swear it, Devil. Take the damned oath." It was none other than Maelstrom who ordered me to do so.

He didn't understand why they were so scared of my potential, but what he knew was that me making such a promise was a given. If I failed to do so, any possible relationship between the Consortium and the Beastman Confederation would be ruined.

If he had to offer me up to them on a silver platter as a hostage to ensure the deal was signed, he would be happy to do so. I was just a disposable pawn to him. Perhaps if I was his Phenom he would care more, but as I was sponsored by Black Fang, he couldn't care less about my well-being.

I asked wryly, wracking my brain for a way to weasel my way out of this situation. I didn't consider myself a good enough liar to promise such a thing without these mighty beings getting a sense of deception being at play.

Even my earlier lie about Veyrin's soul being safe was not wholly believed by them, I could tell by their scrutinizing eyes. They just couldn't refute my claim as they knew nothing of the soul. However, in this case, they didn't need to think hard. If they felt I was lying, they didn't need to prove I was lying. They would just attack, as simple as that.

Ayame sighed with defeat.

Lucille chided in her loving motherly tone, gently telling me I would be a dumbass not to accept their demands.

Seraphiel purred in my mind, doing her utmost to make me see logic.

Kitsara didn't favor my bombshell of an elven healer's words.

Seraphiel was outraged, offended to her very core.

My dog-girl replied, aiming her claws at Silver's expected trajectory.

Iris also voiced her thoughts. I didn't know if the soul ecosystem included animals, probably not, but the gorgeous black-haired woman was more than successful in communicating her stance on the matter.

… Haah…

I had to give it to them.

Aurora giggled while grabbing her staff and casting a shield to protect me, finding the tense situation amusing. This innocent soul was scared of entering combat a few months ago, trembling like a little kitten at the mere thought, yet here she was, laughing death in the face. Although I was just cruelly and unjustly called out by her, I felt incredibly proud of my plump princess' progress as a valuable combatant.

All my girls were amazing.

But…

A thousand years…

The number felt outright suffocating. Even if we were to count the years I spent in the Iris simulation and the year mastering the elements on the dying world of Drakwyn, I was a forty years old man. A whole millennia sounded like eternity to me. By the time the non-aggression pact expired, the strongest warriors of this era would be dust, most of their names lost to time.

But so what? I would still be here. I would still remember this moment with perfect clarity.

A single shred of hesitation, the faintest flicker of doubt, and my lovers would come into harm's way.

Skarn and Rajah weren't bluffing.

They were seasoned predators, killers who had honed their instincts through countless battles. If they sensed even the idea of deception in my heart, they would pounce, consequences be damned. No amount of power or ambition was worth the lives of my girls or the wonderful life I was carving out for myself in this amazing world.

I inhaled, steadying my pulse, willing my mind into serene stillness.

This was not defeat but adaptation, the specialty of my race.

Ruling the beastkin wasn't an immediate necessity. The world was vast—Thalorind would be mine regardless.

My mind sharpened. The rage, the resentment, the insatiable hunger for dominance—or primordial arrogance as my Ayame liked to dub it—none of it faded, but I locked them away, sealing them in the depths of my being where none could reach.

When I spoke, there would be no hesitation.

No doubt.

No weakness.

Because in the end, it wasn't them who had bound me.

It was I who had chosen to wait, to explore other opportunities.

Without any further ado, I stepped forward, moving away from the protection of my allies as I stood in front of the desk I sat at beforehand.

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