Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1176: Aura Farming

Quinlan watched the battle unfold beneath the walls. Four hundred and fifty were now locked against the Fujimori’s first wave, clashing in close quarters. From above, it looked less like a chaotic melee and more like a deliberate push because each squad moved with machine-like rhythm.

The Fujimori front had entered a brief state of disarray due to the emergence of so many summons. They thought they were about to win the siege. But even worse, the people they were now forced to fight were the perfect images of their slain comrades.

Many cried out, begging them to return to their senses.

But such a thing would not happen.

Quinlan’s eyes shifted toward the elites.

He studied them carefully. Going from rank three to rank four hadn’t made them stronger in the raw sense.

Their presence didn’t crush the air around them, and their movements weren’t faster than before. In truth, they still felt like people in the mid-fifties range. What changed was the way they thought.

Their eyes moved differently. They analyzed. They planned. They waited for openings instead of charging in blindly.

It became clear then: intelligence was the real upgrade. They could now think, adapt, and most importantly, learn.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he ordered them to train. Would they improve on their own? In theory, they could spar, review their fights, and build coordination. Was that possible now?

Based on the intelligence Scar displayed, it should be more than feasible.

That made them more valuable than mindless summons; they were proper soldiers who could grow.

However, this also meant a bit of a nerf for one person: Scar.

Her level in life had been sixty-eight. Now, as a rank four soul, she didn’t hit as hard as she once did. But the trade was obvious.

She had lost part of her mortal strength, but gained something else entirely.

Scar wasn’t afraid anymore.

She moved with the sharp calm of someone who knew pain couldn’t stop her. Death was no longer the end - merely a minor annoyance. As long as her master lived and he held the Soul Reaper, her essence remained his to recall.

It applied to all of them. Each elite soul understood that their existence was now tied to him, not to their bodies. So they fought without fear. But, of course, that did not mean they were running into death with open arms. They still fought to their best, just with utmost efficiency.

They were liberated from mortality.

That single fact made them far more dangerous than they ever were in life.

But still, the Fujimori were a disciplined army. Generals began shouting orders, and they collected themselves. Those who were too distraught due to seeing family members fighting in Quinlan’s soul army were told to retreat. Others took their places.

And just like that, the Fujimori line adapted. Discipline reasserted itself like muscle memory. Officers barked commands, banners shifted, and the army’s shape hardened once more. Shields locked. Spears leveled. Arrows found new targets among Quinlan’s soldiers.

The souls fought without hesitation, but numbers began to show their weight. A single Fujimori warrior might die taking down one of Quinlan’s soldiers, sometimes two, but there were always more behind him. Step by step, they reclaimed the ground they had lost.

Especially their strongest generals, those above level 60... They were thriving, destroying his soldiers one after the other. There was no one in Quinlan’s army who could pose a grave threat to them, especially with Scar wreaking havoc in the backline.

The clash filled the fields below the ramparts with a roar of metal and breath. The dead piled up in rows. Both sides were bleeding heavily.

Scar carved her way deep into their backline. She struck through tents, cutting down healers, mages, and unsuspecting siege engineers alike, utterly devoid of mercy. Her movements quick and precise.

Her daggers found throats and hearts with the same rhythm, each swing ending another life that had once been on the same side as her.

Then she met Elder Chizuru.

The old woman appeared without sound. Her blade was already cutting. The first strike sheared through Scar’s right arm before she even registered it. The second took her leg. The third split her chest.

Scar tried to move, but Chizuru’s follow-up came faster than the soul could recover. A final downward cut dispersed her into fading wisps of blue light.

On the walls, Rynne exhaled and lowered her bow. "It was a valiant effort," she said quietly. "You bought us a whole minute. Maelstrom is only nine minutes away now."

Her voice carried gratitude, but her eyes couldn’t hide disappointment. A minute was not enough for them to survive the siege unscathed. It would mean her own soldiers had to bleed for the cause now.

Still, she bowed her head. "Thank you, Devil."

Quinlan didn’t reply right away, merely choosing to observe the woman. Then, his expression sharpened, after which it curved into a grin.

He lifted the Soul Reaper. The weapon pulsed once, drawing in the remnants of battle below.

"[Eternal Damnation]."

The souls of the Fujimori slain by his army tore free from their bodies. Pale wisps drifted upward, screaming without sound, before being swallowed by the black edge of his saber.

The weapon grew heavier in his hand. Quinlan raised it higher.

"[Awaken]."

Eleven distinct shapes formed in front of him, the ranks of his Elite Souls having been bolstered by just one.

Scar appeared first with her body whole again. She blinked once, then glanced at the others. None of them spoke, but Quinlan could sense that a discussion was going on through their link. They were reviewing the fight, analyzing what went wrong, adjusting for the next.

They hated wasting their master’s mana due to their lack of efficiency.

He smiled with utmost satisfaction. This upgrade of his Necromancy was bearing immense fruits.

His hand moved again. "[March of the Damned]."

The world dimmed for a breath as mana poured out of him. Then the ramparts shuddered.

Another five hundred soul soldiers formed beneath the walls.

Gasps rippled through the defenders. Several dropped to their knees, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what they were seeing. Even Rynne, normally composed, took a step back.

Behind him, members of the Consortium rushed forward, setting down a large chest beside him with a heavy thud. Coins spilled from the top, glinting under the light.

At once, Jasmine’s expression brightened. "The fuel has arrived."

She raised both hands. Circles of golden light appearing before her.

"[Gilded Legion]!"

A line of armored soldiers took shape. They were well-armed and organized, but their presence felt lighter than Quinlan’s undead. After all, these were simple level 40 mercenary summons.

Then she paused. Her eyes flicked to something new in her systemic interface. Slowly, her lips curved upward. "Oh... Finally!"

She read it silently, then announced with a pleased tone, "Passive skill unlocked. My legion now summons a general with them. He’ll handle formations and commands. I won’t have to control them directly anymore."

Her voice dropped to a teasing lilt as she leaned close to Quinlan, flirtatiously whispering into his ear. "That means I don’t have to be present at the front anymore. Unlike the other girls, I’m a weak and fragile woman, after all. The front is not for me, I’d rather manage our finances back home while sending you my armies when you need it, my love."

She leaned in even closer and gave him a loving kiss.

Vex, standing nearby, gave a sharp look and crossed her arms. "Tch."

Quinlan glanced between them amusedly, but said nothing.

It was time to test out his new Necromancy unlock.