Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1416  Xar'Zal

Lilyanna met his gaze for a long moment.

The irritation on her cosmic face he had grown used to receded. She drew in a breath through her nose, then released it slowly.

"So be it."

Light shifted around Quinlan's body. The lattice beneath him adjusted, lifting him just enough that the strain vanished entirely from his spine. Warmth pressed inward again, deeper this time, threading through nerves and muscle with deliberate pressure.

"You released the corruption seed," Lilyanna began untangling his long question as she worked. "You pushed it outward, letting it ravage your body in exchange for a chance to strike a divine being. The gamble was immensely risky, and, to put it plainly, dumb as well."

"Thanks," Quinlan smiled.

"…" Her fingers traced lines along his chest, sealing internal scarring left by recoil. Each pass left him steadier than before.

"Your dumb gamble worked because I am a Goddess of Purity. Corruption is my natural weakness, the force that opposes my existence. That horrible seed resonated directly with a structural weakness in my authority. Had you used power of the same tier aligned differently, I would have been irritated at best."

Quinlan absorbed that in silence.

The warmth shifted, moving away from his chest.

"Turn around."

He did so without complaint, rolling carefully until his back faced her. The construct reshaped again, supporting him flat and level.

"As an aside," Quinlan said, grinning, "you could take a few masseuse lessons from Serika. She's very good with pressure control."

Lilyanna's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Stop comparing me to others, Evil Boy, or I'll have even more reasons to apologize to your mothers. And if it wasn't clear, I'm healing you because you almost killed yourself on a dumb gamble, not massaging you."

Then she scoffed and began grumbling under her breath with a tone Quinlan could hear effortlessly, "Take masseuse lessons, he says… The Primordial Villain? More like Primordial Arrogance. His power scales with the size of his ego. No wonder he's rising so rapidly."

"I can hear you."

"Yes."

"… You do know I'm not as young as the primordials believe, right? I'm not a boy…" "Is that so?"

"I'm still a child to you, huh."

Finally, her narrowed eyes and strict expression receded as she replied, "What else would you be? I heard you're even drinking the milk of your mothers."

'Fuck, they told her?!' Quinlan cried inwardly. 'Those mothers of mine can't stop yapping nonsense…'

Lilyanna suddenly looked incredibly smug. "It only happened once. I got carried away."

"So you're never going to drink their milk again?"

"…"

"You're going to make your poor mothers cry, Evil Boy."

"Let's change topic."

"It's you who keeps interjecting with your arrogant nonsense. I was explaining a very serious topic to you."

"…" Quinlan didn't like how this bratty goddess was quite good with words. She had the advantage of information because his mothers were akin to professional spies leaking everything secret that happened in the primordial realm while Lilyanna could - and did - outright spy on him while he was in Thalorind.

Compared to that, Quinlan had little information on this woman. She had a locked and loaded gun in her arms, while all Quinlan had to fight back with was a shabby pitchfork.

"… Please, resume."

The Goddess smiled and her hands settled against his back, resuming the healing session.

"The gods of corruption are not part of the central pantheons. They are a faction of exiles, the Withered Pantheon."

Her grip adjusted, thumbs pressing near his spine as she repaired damage left by the seed's backlash.

"They are gods who abandoned restraint, who allowed temptation to reshape their authority until their domains became warped reflections of what they once governed."

"That's how Sel'Ashra introduced herself to me…" Quinlan murmured in response. "Founder of the Withered Pantheon. Does that mean she leads a band of outcasts, all twisted by her influence?"

Lilyanna's hands stopped.

Not completely. The healing did not cease, but her fingers tightened against his skin, pressure sharp enough that he felt it even through the radiance.

"She is the founder," Lilyanna whispered ominously. "Not the leader."

Her grip loosened again and then resumed her slow work, pressure steady, methodical.

"Furthermore," Lilyanna continued, voice low, "they were not twisted by Sel'Ashra's influence. That is a comforting lie even some gods prefer to tell themselves. She simply… manages them. Coordinates them. Acts as their visible hand."

Quinlan's brow furrowed. "So she's only the acting leader."

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them, thick enough that Quinlan felt it settle in his chest. Considering that the Goddess didn't seem keen on speaking up unprompted, he took it upon himself.

"Which means someone else calls the shots," he murmured as understanding took shape.

Lilyanna did not answer immediately.

Her fingers slowed, then stopped altogether. When she spoke again, the sound carried strain she had not shown before.

"Yes."

The word came out carefully, as if shaped to avoid drawing attention.

Her hand tightened against his back again, and Quinlan felt a faint tremble on his skin.

"Xar'Zal, The Unmaking."

The name slid into the space between them like a blade laid flat across skin.

Quinlan, despite not knowing who that name belonged to, felt his breath catch. A shudder ran the length of his spine, sharp and involuntary. Inside his soul realm, the corruption seed reacted for the first time since it had gone numb. It flared, brief and violent, a flash of predatory light that vanished as quickly as it came.

His jaw clenched.

"Xar'Zal…" he repeated. "The true authority behind the corrupted gods."

Lilyanna inclined her head once.

"Yes. But do not think of him as a King with Sel'Ashra as his Duchess. Their connection does not follow hierarchy as you understand it. He does not rule them. He defines the direction they collapse toward."

Quinlan swallowed. "Explain."

Her fingers resumed their motion, though slower now, as if her focus had split.

"Are you certain you want this?" Lilyanna asked. "This knowledge will not be beneficial to you. You'll never be able to do anything about that entity. Instead, this knowledge may poison the path you are walking. I have seen mortals and primordials alike lose the fight within themselves after learning too much, too early. And this, Quinlan, is the true definiton of too much, too early."

Quinlan did not hesitate.

"Goddess Lilyanna. I need to understand the scale of what I am brushing against."

She studied him from behind, gaze heavy.

"Technically," she said at last, "you are not facing Xar'Zal. He is not interested in you. The ones who took offense are Sel'Ashra and the Withered Pantheon, after you've slain God Venthros, the Corrupted Element."

Her fingers pressed harder along his back, enough to make his shoulders tense.

"If Xar'Zal had turned his attention toward you… This conversation would not be happening."

"Goddess," Quinlan said, voice firm. "Stop circling it. I want to know."

Her grip tightened once more, then eased. She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself.

"So be it," Lilyanna sighed, resigned.

Her hands settled flat against his back as the light around them deepened, and she prepared to speak of the thing even gods preferred to leave unnamed.

"He has many titles. The Unmaking. Devourer of Worlds. The One Who Corrupts Law. The End of Cycles. The Erosion Beneath Eternity."

Each name landed with immense weight. "But titles are concessions," she continued. "Attempts to give shape to something that does not fit cleanly into language."

Her fingers pressed between his shoulders, warmth sinking deeper than muscle.

"What I call him," Lilyanna whispered quietly, "is Corruption Itself."

Quinlan felt a chill work its way up his spine for the second time despite the healing light.