Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1043: Quinlan’s Promise

The truth was, he wasn’t ready for children. Not now. Rosie was his only offspring, but the leafy girl was no humanoid child.

She had been self-sufficient from the moment she came into being, a far cry from the helplessness of a human newborn. And even then, Rosie wasn’t exactly a planned child he birthed... She had simply happened under circumstances that best remained undisclosed.

If Quinlan were to father a child intentionally, he would want the world to be ready for them. A safe home. A stable future. A life free from the constant threat of enemies at the gates. Right now, their reality was the exact opposite.

Chaos, danger, and instability waited for them at every turn. Furthermore, they were incredibly ambitious people who wished to rise to the very top. To be brutally honest, a child would be in the way of their aspirations.

Bringing a baby into these circumstances would be nothing short of cruel.

Vex let out a weak sigh as the hopeful fire in her eyes dimmed.

But before she could get depressed, Quinlan’s hand rose. His fingers caught her delicate chin.

He tilted her head up, forcing the woman to meet his eyes. His voice, when it came, was low and certain.

"When the time is right, I’ll impregnate you. You’ll carry my child in your womb, and you’ll give birth to a beautiful baby."

Then his gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of every woman present save for Feng.

"The same goes for all of you... Should that be what you desire."

The words hit them harder than any punch could.

That unshakable confidence, that quiet, absolute promise... it stirred something primal in them.

One by one, they trembled, their breaths catching in their throats. Some shifted their positions without thinking, thighs pressing together in a subconscious attempt to contain the heat that had suddenly bloomed inside them.

"So cheesy... How can you say this with a straight face?" Aurora complained, though she was blushing furiously just like the rest of them.

"It comes as naturally as breathing," Quinlan chuckled and made a motion to rise from the bed.

Vex was the first to move, slipping an arm under his to help him sit completely upright. Blossom mirrored her on the other side, steadying his other arm, while Seraphiel knelt in front to brace his legs.

With their combined help, he pushed himself upright. His body trembled with the effort.

The motion made his muscles tense painfully, but he gritted his teeth and bore with it. Slowly, his feet found the ground. His balance wavered enough that the girls’ grip tightened protectively. But within moments, he steadied himself and took a step forward. Then another.

By the time he was halfway to the door, he was walking almost normally.

"They did a terrific job," Quinlan admitted, testing the weight in his stride.

"Yes... " Seraphiel admitted after a reluctant pause. Her eyes narrowed as if she hated to give the credit. "They were very good. Efficient. I was impressed."

They reached the door together, and when it swung open, the light from the corridor spilled inside. Two guards in ornate armor stood on either side, their spears crossed in ceremonial readiness. Beside them, a young maid in pristine uniform bowed so deeply her forehead nearly touched the floor.

"We would like to return to the celebration," Ayame told her plainly.

The maid straightened with a serene expression and stepped aside, her hands clasped neatly in front as she dipped her head again in acknowledgment.

...

Beyond the walls of the resting chamber, the great feast had continued without its most talked-about guest. With Quinlan absent for hours, the event had regained its polished veneer of nobility.

The hall was a vision of grandeur. Rows of tables were adorned with fine silverware, gleaming goblets, and steaming platters of delicacies that perfumed the air. Laughter and polite conversation filled the space, alongside the melodies of the hired musicians. ŘÄ𝐍ο฿Еș

And yet... not all was as it had been before the arena.

Here and there, whispers persisted, soft as the clinking of a wineglass. Guests leaned close to murmur, eyes darting toward the table where Quinlan should have been seated. The afterimage of the spectacle in the arena still lingered in their minds, making it harder for the court to slip fully back into its pretense of perfect composure.

Many sent glances to the empty Vexmore table as well. The count and countess excused themselves for the time being, saying they wished to be with their last living son when he woke up.

It was a rude gesture, considering their king was celebrating his 1000th birthday today, but considering the tragedy that struck their family on this day, no one raised any words of disapproval.

However, the two families were not the only ones missing. Queen Morgana went off on her own, and no one had seen her since. It was a futile effort to try dragging that lunatic back here if she didn’t wish to participate, so no one even tried.

The celebration marched on in this manner.

That was when Quinlan made his entrance.

The heavy double doors at the far end of the hall opened without hurry, yet all conversation began to fade.

The man who stepped through did so with a slow, measured gait. The small limp in his stride betrayed the toll on his body, sustained in the recent battle.

And yet, despite the lingering injury, he carried himself like an apex predator, radiating an oppressive presence that seemed much sharper than before his wounding.

His elegant coat hung open just enough to reveal the outlines of hardened muscle beneath. Shadows clung to his figure as though reluctant to leave him, and his eyes were cold but alight with an intense focus.

A ripple moved through the noblewomen nearest the entrance. In unison, hands darted toward small jeweled hand mirrors, checking the state of their makeup, the shine of their lips, and the shimmer of their hair. Soon, many unamused husbands began plucking the mirrors away with varying degrees of irritation.

Mouths pouted. Fans snapped open with a touch too much force. A few ladies glanced after Quinlan as if their spouses had just stolen something far more precious than a mirror.

And then, with a sudden scrape of her chair, Kaede Fujimori rose to her feet.

Her voice rang out over the music and chatter.

"Your Majesty."