Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1037: Melting Ice

"I want to study him..."

At first, it was soft. Delicate. Barely audible over the hum of magic that still resonated in the air.

Then it twisted.

"I want to study him!"

Laughter spilled from her throat. Her spine arched as she clutched her cheeks with trembling hands, nails digging into skin as her eyes widened, dilated, and shook while swirling.

No longer detached. No longer regal.

"I want to study him! I want to study him!! I NEED to study him!!!"

She was glowing.

Her cheeks bloomed with crimson. Her chest rose and fell like a woman possessed. The staff trembled in her other hand, her mana fluctuating wildly as frost bloomed on the balcony floor.

She snapped her gaze to the king.

"You saw it too. That casting was so clean, so instinctive, it wasn’t human. That wasn’t the result of training for centuries and achieving true mastery. No... That wasn’t mere talent."

"That was an immortal finally dropping the act of pretending to be a mortal."

She laughed again. This time louder.

Alexios stiffened at her display.

"Why are you so sure he’s immortal?" he asked. "You just said mortals can enter that state in extreme moments. You said so yourself that he did it back at the banquet when he realized what happened to his women. He tapped into that same instinct. And now, he’s taking revenge. It’s what he wanted to do back then, but he was stopped. So why can’t it just be mortal emotion being at play again?"

Morgana didn’t answer at first.

Her breathing slowed.

Her back straightened.

Her fingers stopped twitching.

A cold, serene calm returned to her pale features, so sudden it was almost worse than the mania.

"I’ve never heard of any mortal entering this state twice in a row, even if their moment was interrupted at first, as it happened with this man... Be that as it may, you are correct. I can’t claim with absolute certainty that I’m right. I only have a feeling." Ř𝒶ΝÓ𝐁Ěș

But then her head tilted.

And her smile spread too wide.

Her eyes swirled again.

"But..."

"If you’re right and he’s a mortal..."

"Then I have to study him even more."

"Do you know what that would mean?! He’s changing right before us! His mind, his soul, it’s peeling away from mortality! Piece by piece! He’s the first man in recorded history to enter the flow twice using a single moment!"

"He’s transcending!!!"

Mana erupted off her skin in undulating waves. Her black dress fluttered violently as if caught in a storm.

Her children each took many steps away from the woman, save for Felicity, who was far too invested in the scene playing below to even notice her mother going full psycho mode a few steps behind her.

It was only Alexios who was aware yet stayed close. After all, he’d seen this look before.

He remembered it too well.

When Morgana lost to the Elf Queen.

When she’d gone quiet for five entire decades, locking herself in her towers, cooking up plans to take revenge. She just came out of her seclusion a few decades ago.

And yet, already...

She was past the point of obsession once again.

She was outright spiraling.

"Goddess help me..." he sighed.

"I want to dissect his soul."

Morgana whispered it like a lover’s confession.

"I want to pick apart his brain... Thread by glowing thread... I want to take it apart while it’s..."

A smile bloomed on her face that did not belong to a sane person.

And it didn’t fade.

...

Daron and Veyne grit their teeth. The sight before them locked their jaws tight with rage.

Their brother was barely recognizable.

He lay crumpled where the blast had pummeled him into the ground beneath, becoming a blackened husk, a puddle of human gore. His skin was scorched to a crisp, his armor twisted and molten in places, his once-proud frame reduced to a pile of twitching, smoldering ruin.

It didn’t seem like he was alive anymore.

"We couldn’t get to him in time..." Veyne growled.

Daron didn’t look away. His eyes stayed locked on Teral’s ruin.

"He made a mistake..." he said grimly. "He didn’t protect himself in time."

A heartbeat passed.

Then both men reached for their belts in sync, unclipping crystal vials etched with flame symbols. Fire resistance potions. They uncorked them and downed the contents in quick gulps.

The last drop slid down their throats just as the crackling of embers drew their attention.

Their enemy was turning in their direction.

Bruised, bloodied, and scorched, but standing taller than ever before.

And as he stepped forward, something about him had changed. His movements no longer carried the weight of exhaustion. There was no stagger, no limp. The injuries on his body remained, but they no longer made him seem fragile.

His eyes found the two remaining brothers.

And he grinned.

A wide, wolfish grin that cut across his face.

He saw the empty vials still dripping in their hands. And he let them finish.

Didn’t even rush them.

Just calmly walked toward them.

No words were exchanged.

None were needed.

The brothers planted their feet firmly. Their eyes blazed with determination.

They moved in tandem, even their breath syncing as they shouted in unison:

"Let’s do this!!"

Their enemy kept walking toward them.

No stance. No chants. No theatrics.

The wind began to move around his form.

It started as a low whine. Then it built, swirling around his boots, tugging at the edges of his body. Strands of his dark hair lifted. Dust and ash were scattered from his path as pressure began to build.

A heatless gale spiraled tighter and tighter around his frame, compressing space around him. The air shimmered. This time, however, it did not do so from the presence of extreme heat, but from the sudden absence.

A clear, soundless corridor formed in front of him, the very air swept clean by magic so fine it sliced everything apart.

His foot lifted.

The wind collapsed.

And in that instant.

He disappeared.

No flash. No blur. Just a snap of displacement, as if reality had skipped a frame.

By the time the brothers realized it, it was too late.

Their enemy stood behind them now.