Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1029: The King’s Response

The gasps changed in their tone from one moment to the next.

Because, at long last, the King moved.

Alexios Valorian, The Warrior King. The Unyielding Mountain. The Tyrant.

Slowly... so slowly...

His head tilted a few degrees to the side.

His eyes had long lost their focus, somewhere distant and untouchable.

And then,

A smile.

It spread inch by inch. An unnatural, eerie thing.

It was not monstrous in a sense, just too perfect. Too symmetrical. The kind of grin you only saw carved into statues, except now it was moving. Breathing.

And it didn’t stop.

It kept growing, past what should be human. His lips peeled wider, the corners of his mouth twitching upward with a stiffness that felt like something long-forgotten waking up.

People in the ballroom stopped breathing.

Because for the first time since taking the throne, King Alexios showed emotion, an emotion that wasn’t related to his duties; fury when he was betrayed, honor and discipline when addressing his soldiers deploying for war, pride when introducing his children to the court...

But this was something no one had ever seen, and after seeing it, no one ever wanted to see it again.

It was...

Enjoyment.

Not approval. Not anger. Mere enjoyment.

A man long gone, watching fire spread through dry grass.

He didn’t laugh, just sat there

Grinning that inhuman grin.

And then the King spoke.

"When I invited Lord Black to my birthday celebration, I told myself that perhaps he might make this annual torment slightly more tolerable."

The smile on his face didn’t fade. If anything, it grew more still, more eerie, as if it were painted on, and each added word brushed another layer of madness onto the canvas.

"But to think he’d turn this yearly, dreadful formality into something I’ll remember for the rest of my days... Before the wine has even been poured, before the appetizers have reached a single table... I’m already having fun."

A light chuckle escaped his lips. No one laughed with him.

"I didn’t dare expect that."

The silence that followed was a silence that crushed breath and logic alike.

Dozens of nobles, already standing from disbelief, sat their pampered asses right back down as if the gravity itself demanded it. Shock rippled through them like a lightning bolt. The announcer had claimed this was Felicity’s doing. That she’d brought in the outsider and his so-called "family." řΆΝỖＢËs̈

But now?

The King himself claimed that it was he who had invited him, not Felicity.

Count Hadrien Vexmore’s face turned the color of ash. Every wrinkle and line on his face tightened, pulling toward the hollow of his wide-eyed disbelief. His mouth moved. Nothing came out.

The realization hit like a falling star. He hadn’t just struck a nerve. He had danced atop a landmine.

Then...

A voice came.

Low. Rough. Masculine.

"I don’t share your enthusiasm."

It came from Lord Black.

No titles. No, ’Your Majesty.’ No bow, no genuflection. Just five words.

And they cut.

"I’m anything but entertained."

The King’s smile moved. Not in offense taken, but in pure delight.

A slow, deliberate hand rose in the air. Alexious examined his open palm for a second, studying its visage.

And then clenched.

A fist formed, fingers grinding together with the tension of a man restraining earthquakes from erupting.

"My daughter has already given you everything you need."

He turned his gaze to Felicity.

And for the first time, something warm flickered in those ancient, terrible eyes.

Pride.

The kind of pride a warlord reserves for his heir when they take their first life. The kind of pride a dragon shows when its young finally learns to breathe flame.

Felicity met her father’s gaze. She didn’t falter, not even as the weight of his overwhelming presence pressed against her.

But the hardened expression she wore during her declaration softened, just a bit. The corners of her eyes crinkled, not in fear of the king’s inhumane smile, but in joy. She liked his reaction, understanding that he strongly approved of her decision and felt immense pride as her father.

Then the King turned his attention back to the man of the hour.

"Your women have been assaulted."

That was all he said.

A declaration. No embellishment. No elaboration.

And it was all Quinlan needed.

Something shifted.

Not around him, but within.

His features didn’t explode with rage. They deepened.

A beast giving in to its hunger.

The skin along his jaw tightened. His eyes became still, too still. Heavy, weighted by something bottomless and brutal.

A normal man might seize the chance to demand reparations, land, status, and apologies. One look at Count Vexmore made it clear he’d happily grant him a large sum of wealth if all of this could just go away. If it were a normal man whose women were treated this way, they might just accept such an offer.

After all, his women weren’t beaten black and blue or raped. No, they were slaves whose importance wasn’t made clear before this moment. All of them were standing now, and only the dogkin had teary eyes while trying to stitch the torn dress back together, unsuccessfully.

The other two women didn’t even show a single sign of caring about what’d just happened to them.

But Quinlan didn’t give a damn. He didn’t care if other men would’ve looked the other way in his position. He didn’t care if his lovers felt it was okay to move on.

He simply couldn’t do that. If he had, he’d never be able to look into the mirror and feel proud of who he was.

No. Blood had to be spilled.

Because for him, this wasn’t politics. It wasn’t leverage.

It was personal.

They had touched what was his.

His women.

And that was enough to receive his eternal ire.

"Lord Black, my husband and I wish to apologize to you and your family with a thousand gold coins-" the countess’ words were interrupted.

"I will torture and murder all three of your defects, Countess."