Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1169: Dual Meditation

Black Fang did not seem to mind sitting in his lap.

She shifted slightly, adjusting her posture until she was settled in a meditative pose, looking utterly calm and composed despite her ruinous appearance.

It was not that unusual for her. She seemed to lack some of the conventional boundaries most women carried, and she had no reason to push him away, Quinlan reasoned.

Truth be told, before she lost consciousness in his arms and before she had announced her return to wakefulness, she had already been paying close attention. She found no trace of lecherous touching, no signs of him trying to take advantage of her state.

He was not that kind of man, and because she knew this, she had nothing to worry about.

The moment her eyes closed, her presence seemed to undergo a drastic change.

A faint but undeniable aura pressed outward from her body. It was not anything mystical in the sense of casting a spell, but rather a quiet intensity.

Quinlan studied her in silence. It was not the same as his own regeneration, where he actively cycled mana and rebuilt himself through force of will.

Hers was different, subtle. She appeared to lean into her body’s natural attempts to recover and simply guided it along. She was aiding what was already there, rather than creating something new.

A thoughtful expression crossed his face, and then he decided to follow her example. He eased himself into his own meditative stance, letting his body still and his breathing level.

"It’s no wonder... that the fox is drawn to the atmosphere you radiate..." she murmured under her breath, and it was in this moment that Quinlan realized that Black Fang wasn’t simply meditating in his hold because she couldn’t stand up, but because she thought of this as an opportunity to study him.

Knowing how Yoruha liked to sleep on top of his head or in his lap, she must’ve wondered if there was a specific explanation or the ancient fox was just a quirky granny as always.

As soon as she closed her eyes and focused, she realized how his presence seemed to guide her attempts. He emitted a steady, calming aura in a way that anchored rather than smothered.

"I wonder if this is the natural quality of primordials... or if it’s something that belongs only to him. There is so much to study."

Quinlan’s lips curved into a dry, amused smirk. Without opening his eyes, he ordered, "Scar. You are to answer the questions of my women."

The command settled over the masked, blue-skinned woman standing nearby, and with that, Quinlan returned his focus inward, sinking into his meditation but also listening to the conversation.

Ayame didn’t need to be prompted twice. "Quinlan will need a few more minutes of regeneration, so we don’t have much time. Be thorough but brief."

"I understand."

"Start from the beginning."

Scar inclined her head. She wasted no time.

Her voice was steady, void of feeling, carrying only the plain weight of truth. "I was born the daughter of peasants. My father was a drunkard, and my mother was frail. We worked the fields, planting crops, never able to grow enough to eat well. When my mother stopped resisting his blows and sexual assaults, he grew bored with her. That was when he turned to me."

She raised a hand and unfastened the mask. The women stared as her face came into view. Her cheeks had been torn open, her lips split and twisted upward, leaving her with a permanent mockery of a grin. It looked like a cruel carving rather than a scar of survival.

"The first beating came when I was nine. By eleven, I was raped. My mother hanged herself not long after. Unlike my mother, I never gave up. I fought back, refusing to smile at him, no matter how strongly he demanded I do so while raping me. That is why I am disfigured. He forced a smile onto my face."

The words were delivered without tremor, without sorrow. The lack of emotion made the story cut even deeper into the hearts of the women.

They didn’t expect such a brutal tale to come from the Soul summon’s lips.

Suddenly, they were aware that this woman might’ve been their enemy, might’ve tried to kill them, but she was still a human.

Seraphiel, always the healer, was the one to break the silence. "Why did you never have it healed? An old wound cannot be restored as it is, but if a healer who knew their worth - one you should’ve been more than capable of hiring, you could’ve had it fixed."

Scar gave a single nod. "I am aware. If I had let someone cut me again, it could have been repaired. But I chose not to. These scars remind me of who I am... Or was while I was alive. They gave me strength, becoming a large part of the reason I fought. I wanted to ensure that no other child would live through what I endured."

The air grew heavy. The women exchanged somber looks, and for a long moment none of them spoke.

Iris was the one who took it the worst. She had been silent the entire time, not speaking up once, ever since Quinlan returned with Black Fang. She was busy replaying the battle in her head, analyzing what she could’ve done better.

Now, however, her features softened into something painfully human. Her eyes lowered, and a tremor ran through her spine.

The tale had reminded her of her own tragic childhood; the similarities were painfully high in their number.

Lucille, ever the empathetic social butterfly, noticed at once. She leaned over and placed a firm hand on the troubled girl’s shoulder.

Iris’s lips parted at last. Her voice was unsteady.

"How did it end?"

There was no hesitation in Scar’s answer.

"One day, when I was around 14 years old, Lilith and Void - though the latter of whom back then went by the name Aurelia - were nothing more than bronze-rank adventurers. They came to my village on a slime extermination request, a usual quest for novice adventurers who want to level up against some of the weakest monsters."

Scar’s gaze turned distant, as if replaying the moment in her mind.

"They spent the night in our village before heading out. Their hearing was sharp, sharper than my father expected. That night, they overheard my muffled protests."

"Lilith kicked the door down and beat my father bloody before I could even understand what was happening. Then... she cut his cock off and made him eat it. He choked on his own blood. Then she went house by house, demanding to know if anyone was aware of what was going on in our house. She ended up killing four more of my father’s friends for not reporting the abuse to the authorities."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Scar did not pause for long. Hearing there were no questions, she continued her tale as instructed. "Knowing I was an orphan, Lilith didn’t leave me behind. She took me with them. That’s how I joined the team that would later become known as the Scarlet Lilies."

"... Quin, I can no longer think of these souls as mere summons if they’re like this..." Aurora whispered with a pale face. She needed to sit down. "They are people."

"... I am painfully aware," Quinlan responded. He found the situation grim as well.

He knew he had to reevaluate how he looked at his summons.

"There’s no need to feel negative emotions," Scar spoke up without being explicitly prompted. "I am honored to be part of master’s Soul Army."

That did not convince anyone present to think otherwise. After all, they knew how she must’ve been influenced after Quinlan was slain and claimed her.

Quinlan, however, knew compassion wasn’t on the table, at least not for now. It’s not like he could release her in the way she might find preferable; even if he wanted to, she would forever remain his soul soldier.

The only thing he could perhaps do is release her soul from his dominion, but that would mean the Goddess would get her hands on her soul and rip it into shreds so that the soul may return to the soul economy that kept Thalorind alive.

For now, he needed her help.

"Scar, please tell us what the deal Lilith and Kaede struck, to what end have they formed an alliance of sorts?"

"And what’s going on with Kaede!" Ayame hurriedly added.