Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1331  The Brutality of Dwarven Engineering

Ayame watched the barrier buckle with her eyes fixed on the lines of light tearing themselves apart under sustained fire. Blossom had finally stopped shaking, pressed close to Quinlan, enjoying his hand resting steady in her hair. Ayame stepped closer and set a firm hand on the dogkin's shoulder for good measure, because the oriental beauty understood what her friend was going through.

Blossom might've played a bit into it to get the proper pampering she wanted, but her pain was very real. Dwarven siege technology was simply brutal.

"This is unbelievable," Ayame muttered under her breath. "It dwarfs my clan's firepower. And I used to be so proud of what we had."

A few heads turned.

Vex blinked once. Aurora glanced between Ayame and the dwarven batteries thundering next to them. There was a pause, wondering if she intended to make a pun, then a collective decision not to comment. Ayame's stare remained fixed on the walls; her expression was that of full focus. If the wordplay had been intentional, she would have displayed her trademark cheeky expression. She did not.

Black Fang spoke up suddenly, a unique moment where she added to the topic at hand. "I've seen Elvardia's might, but never on this scale. They're going all out with this invasion."

"Keep it up!" The next command rolled down the line, shouted by the dwarf in far too heavy armor for his size.

Cannons answered in a perfect sequence. Rows of barrels flared and recoiled, not in chaos but in measured rhythm. Engineers moved between them with grease-darkened hands, checking seals, swapping cores, and clearing vents. Ammunition fed forward without pause. The sequence never broke. Pressure stayed constant. The barrier's surface folded inward in wide sheets, sections dimming as others flared, the spell dragged thin and forced to hold.

But not all was good.

Seraphiel's hands clenched at her sides. Sylvaris stood beside her with her shoulders drawn tight and gaze sharp.

"When they sent me to invade Ravenshade," Seraphiel hissed with anger, "we had nothing like this. Not even a tenth of this firepower."

Seeing the might of dwarven engineering displayed before the elf, she made a truly painful realization, and it clenched her heart.

Sylvaris did not answer at first. Her fingers curled, then stilled. The truth sat plain between them. That earlier force, the one the moon elf's one and only beloved daughter was conscripted into, right after turning into an adult, had been nothing but a probe. A measured expense. A way to study human defenses without committing real strength, scoping out what they were dealing with.

A way to spend expendable lives cheaply.

Quinlan's arm tightened around Blossom without him noticing the motion. He felt the same fury Sylvaris felt grow in his heart. Furthermore, it wasn't only Seraphiel who was thought of as expendable. Kaelira and Rosie's five caretaker elves were part of the same invading force as well. All sent with limited backing, expected to deal with whatever came. Quinlan understood that he was dealing with nation-level politics - and 'nations' here meant giant amalgamations of normal countries with many millions of people - where the decision makers saw their citizens as numbers on parchment and that sometimes hard decisions had to be made, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Even if sacrificing that force meant a higher chance of success once the real invasion came…

Quinlan's gaze stayed forward, fixed on the barrier's uneven glow as another cycle of fire landed. The sound rolled through his armor and bones. Something inside him remained locked, cold, and unmoving.

Then fingers slipped into his hand.

He glanced down, surprised.

Seraphiel had stepped close, close enough that the thunder of the cannons felt distant for a moment. She held his large hand between both of hers.

The serene elf's grip was firm despite how gentle her touch usually was. Without hesitation, she lifted it and pressed his palm against her chest, right over her heart. He could feel the quick rhythm beneath the light armor she wore.

The blonde elf looked up at him. Her playful spark was gone. Her eyes were clear and resolute.

"Please focus on the present, my love… We already knew those in power use people. They always have." Her fingers tightened just a little. "Life on Thalorind is cruel like that."

Another volley hit. Light rippled across the barrier's surface.

"Only our family can be trusted," Seraphiel continued. "Only our family looks at one another and thinks of protection first, not value, not cost." She inhaled and leaned down to leave the tenderest of kisses on his hand, which she held tightly. Then, once she looked up, nothing but clear resolution could be seen in her eyes. "Do not let your rage distract you. Do not waste the opportunity we created for ourselves."

Her thumb brushed the back of his hand once.

"We take what this moment gives us. We grow strong enough that no one can use any of us ever again. So channel your rage, my love. Use it to fuel your growth and reach a state of existence these puny mortals can't even conceive, let alone contend with."

For a second, nothing changed. His face remained set, eyes dark and unreadable as he studied her. Then the tension eased. Just enough. He exhaled through his nose and shook his head once.

"You're one hell of a woman."

Seraphiel blinked.

Then her lips sported the most beautiful smile known to mankind. "I know, right?"

She rose on her toes and kissed him before dropping back down and giving his backside an unapologetic smack.

"Now go," she said, already grinning. "Show these people the might of the Primordial Villain."

Quinlan huffed a breath that might have been a laugh and turned back toward the battlefield.

The barrier screamed again.

This time, he was ready.

Quinlan did not look back when he spoke.

"Aurora."

That was all it took.

His plump alchemist was already moving, wand sliding into her palm as she stepped forward. There was no panic in her motions, only raw professionalism. She gave him a single nod, then raised the wand and traced a slow, deliberate circle through the air.

Threads of pale light followed the tip. The Essenceweaver's magic gathered, layered, and folded in on itself. It did not form separate barriers around each of them as she liked to do. Instead, it swelled outward as one cohesive mass.

A single shield enveloped them all.

It was not elegant. It was not thin. But what it was is dense, erected so that it could potentially withstand being shot by a heavy defensive artifact.

The surface rippled once as it settled, then hardened. The light began further deepening as Aurora pressed more essence into it. The shield thickened again, reinforcing itself from the inside out until it felt less like a wall and more like a dome of solidified force.

Only then did she lower her wand.

She did this because if she erected so many personal barriers - as there were many of them present now - it would take too much mana. This, with them huddled together behind one large barrier, was the most efficient protective measure she could think of.

Satisfied with her creation, Quinlan raised his hand.

Wind answered.