Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1097: Slap!

But she never got to finish her sentence, because the noble moved faster than her mind could process.

*SLAP!*

The sound shot through the air like a whip, echoing off the walls. Her head snapped sideways so violently it felt as if her neck had been borrowed by a professional executioner. A single, startled squeak escaped her lips, which was far more pitiful than dignified, before her eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Her knees buckled. Her body pitched forward in slow, graceless collapse.

She hit the ground face-first with all the majesty of a sack of wet laundry.

The Countess of Vexmore, jewel of aristocracy, paragon of etiquette and noble bearing, was unconscious from a single slap.

But just before her head hit the ground to receive the second slap of her life, the cruel chime of a notification rang in the Countess’s fading awareness:

[You have been defeated by the Primordial Subjugator.]

[Your fate now belongs to him. All you ever were, all you ever will be, is his to command.]

And then... nothing.

Or that’s what should’ve awaited her mind. Endless darkness.

But alas, she hasn’t received the permission of her owner to rest.

"Wake up."

The words weren’t just spoken; they were carved into her mind. Just as Cassandra had experienced not long ago, the Countess’s consciousness was forcibly dragged from the abyss. Her eyelids snapped open, yanked by invisible chains. Her body wanted to sink back into merciful darkness, but something stronger kept her upright. She couldn’t fall asleep. She wasn’t allowed to.

Beside her, Teral staggered as well, gasping sharply as his own will was seized. For the first time, he felt the choke-chain of his new master tighten. Panic broke loose in both of them, voices colliding as they began to babble over one another.

"W-what is this?!"

"Mother, what’s happening?!"

"Silence."

The single word carried the weight of an entire world. Their voices cut off instantly. The Countess froze, her lips parted but unable to release a sound, trembling in shock. She had never in her life been commanded like this, not by her father, not by her husband, not even by the king himself.

Quinlan didn’t even look at her. His eyes were on Iris.

"I promised I would help you get your revenge. The day we became strong enough to begin making good on my promises has come."

Iris didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Her stare was locked on the Countess. Her lips were pressed thin, and her breathing was very faintly unsteady. She didn’t show it outwardly—she did her best not to—but Quinlan could tell. Under that frozen mask of hers, the girl was grateful. Iris had been waiting for decades to begin her quest for revenge, but doing so was easier said than done on her lonesome. ṚΑŊＯ₿Ę𝙨

Now, however...

’I’m not alone...’ the words she’d realized long ago rang in her mind, and she was forced to once again acknowledge just how true they were.

Quinlan’s mouth quirked upwards. Gods, she was adorable. That little stiffness in her shoulders, the way she refused to meet his eyes because she was afraid her gratitude might slip through, because if it did her awkward brain wouldn’t know what to do... that was more endearing than any smile.

Feeling his gaze on her body, Iris stepped forward and reached down, letting her fingers sink into the Countess’s hair, and yanked her up without effort.

"Tell me," she growled as the previous awkward embarrassment from a moment ago disappeared instantly as soon as her eyes began blazing in the unhinged way Quinlan always found so endearing, "what do you know about the Ravenclaw family, and its downfall?"

The Countess’s eyes bulged in horror.

Of course, she knew. Everyone in the Duchy of Ravenshade had known of the fate that befallen them, but she, a Countess, knew far more than the public. Their territories had neighbored each other. She and her husband had vacationed in Ravenclaw villas. She had seen that family alive and thriving, and she had seen the rumors of their end spread like wildfire.

But her lips stayed sealed.

Then Quinlan’s voice crashed into her skull again, absolute:

"You will answer every question Iris Ravenclaw asks. You will not hold back. You will not attempt to twist words. You will not omit a single detail. You will not lie. From this moment forward, truth is your only language when she speaks to you."

The Countess’s scalp burned as Iris lifted her higher into the air. She felt her fragile neck bending under the pressure. Pain lanced through her skull as each nerve screamed.

’Iris Ravenclaw?!’ she screamed inwardly, but as soon as her gaze met the swirling pools of mania that were Iris’s eyes, her thoughts ceased flowing. For the first time in her pampered life, the Countess realized what existential dread truly meant.

"Answer," Iris demanded in a low tone, and her lips instantly trembled open. A downpour of words came right afterward.

Quinlan leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching the spectacle with a wide smirk.

"Goddess... You truly outdid yourself with this one," he chuckled under his breath.

Then, casually, he added,

"By the way, Iris, once you’re done, make sure to ask about the Vexmore treasury. We’ll need funds. My lover’s suddenly become a very expensive girl to keep."

Jasmine’s class, which burned coin on mercenaries, flashed across his mind, and his grin tugged wider.

Expensive? Yes. But she was worth every piece of gold. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Furthermore, the girl would make a big enough fortune so that both her class and his funds could thrive together. For now, he wanted to give her a large amount of starting funds so she could begin making worthwhile investments.

But Iris didn’t react to his words. She was far too deep in her quest for revenge.

Quinlan sighed. "Fine. I’ll ask once you’re done, then."

Right after he said that, his gaze slid toward Teral.

The warmth, the curl of humor that had softened his face seconds ago, evaporated in an instant, burned away as if it had never existed.

What replaced it was a void. A deep, all-consuming abyss.

Quinlan’s eyes locked onto the kneeling man, and every hair on Teral’s body stood on end. His lungs seized as if invisible claws had wrapped around them. His shoulders shook. His arms quivered. A bead of sweat slithered down his forehead, but he didn’t dare move to wipe it.

It felt as though he was staring into the maw of something primal. Something that existed only to erase.

"Now..." Quinlan’s voice came at him as if it were a blade he dragged across stone, "onto our resident tail-tugger. With your mother in my clutches, I’m afraid your stock value has crashed, Teral Vexmore. I no longer place significant value on letting you retain your sanity."

Teral’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His body wanted to collapse fully to the floor, to melt into the marble and vanish, but he was paralyzed by the abyss eating through him with every second of Quinlan’s stare. His breath rattled in short, panicked bursts, and pupils shrank until his eyes were nothing but whites rimmed with terror.

And then...

A flicker.