Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1475  Reunited

"I am not repressed! And - THE KIDS!!!"

Every single child she'd been chasing had vanished into the crowd like smoke.

She leapt to her feet so fast her glasses nearly flew off. Her head swiveled left, right, left again. Gone. All of them. Every last one of those miniature demons had used her distraction to scatter to the four winds.

"I'll never be able to greet the Goddess at this rate!" Mira wailed, already breaking into a sprint. "She'll ask me, 'Mira, why did you not watch the children?' and I'll have to say, 'I was too busy listening to a fox woman describe her sex life!' I'll be damned! Literally damned!"

Quinlan flicked his fingers.

A dozen startled yelps erupted across three different streets.

Children rose into the air. All of them together in perfect sync, plucked off the ground by invisible currents of wind that wrapped around their torsos with a firm but gentle grip. Legs kicked. Arms flailed. A boy who'd been mid-climb on a stack of crates was lifted clean off them and spun slowly through the air toward the square.

They'd never had a chance. Quinlan had tagged each of them with threads of compressed air the moment they'd sprinted past him. The threads had followed them through every turn, every alley, every clever dodge. He'd let them run because it was funnier that way.

Now he pulled.

The children sailed over rooftops and between buildings, floating on controlled gusts that steered them back toward the main road. A few screamed at first. Then the screaming turned to laughter. A girl with pigtails spread her arms wide, giggling as the wind carried her in a wide arc over the market square.

"THE DARK KNIGHT IS BACK!!!" the boys screamed in unison, fists pumping as they flew.

They landed in Quinlan's arms in clusters of two and three, settling against his chest and shoulders with the ease of leaves drifting to the ground. He caught them without effort, shifting his weight to balance the pile of squirming children now clinging to his armor.

The girls in the group were quieter. A few of them had pink cheeks as they found themselves held against his broad frame, fingers gripping the edges of his chest plate, suddenly very aware of how large he was up close.

Quinlan set them down. His hand came to rest on the nearest boy's head, ruffling his hair.

"Listen to this poor, overworked nun. At this rate, you'll drive her into an early grave."

A girl with blonde hair crossed her arms. She was maybe eight, with a scowl that could curdle milk.

"Hmph!" She looked at Mira. Then, pointedly, at Mira's chest. "Miss Mira has a lot of fat on her body. She should lose some weight!"

"Hmph!" she added, just for emphasis.

Clearly, jealousy was already rampant in the youth of Miri Town.

"HEY?!" Mira yelped, arms crossing over her chest. "That's not - those aren't - I am perfectly healthy, you brat!"

Quinlan chuckled.

Then the chuckle faded.

His head turned, eyes cutting through the crowd toward the far side of the square. A presence, moving toward him through the press of bodies, hidden behind carts, construction frames, and the shoulders of a hundred people who had no idea what was coming.

Then he heard it.

"Quin!"

Jasmine's voice. Distant but clear, carrying over the noise of the square like it had its own frequency. He couldn't see her yet. Too many bodies. Too much chaos between them.

He didn't need to see her.

Quinlan crouched an inch.

Then he jumped.

Air split around his body as he shot upward, clearing the rooftops in a single beat, rising so fast that the crowd below flinched from the pressure wave alone. Dust kicked up in a ring. Children stumbled. A cart rocked onto two wheels.

He hung in the sky, coat snapping in the wind, scanning the sea of heads and tents and half-built structures below. There. Brown hair. Moving toward where he'd been standing. Then the woman was plucked out of the crowds, pulled into the air.

His arm hooked around Jasmine's waist before she even truly realized what was going on. She gasped, then laughed with her body pulled tight against his chest, his arm locked around her, the wind catching her hair and sending it streaming behind them.

The square watched.

Freed slaves paused mid-step. Orphans pointed upward with their mouths open. Nuns clutched their scriptures. Dwarves lowered their hammers. Even the elves stopped complaining long enough to stare at the man carrying a woman into the sky as if it cost him nothing.

Ayame scoffed. "Showoff."

"This brings back memories..." Kitsara grinned, slow and fond. Then her eyes slid sideways to Mira, who was still standing there with her arms over her chest, watching the spectacle like everyone else.

Kitsara leaned in.

"You know," she whispered, close enough that her breath brushed Mira's ear, "Quin took my first time high in the skies at night."

Mira's arms tightened over her chest.

"He did me raw and didn't stop until I couldn't remember my own name." Kitsara's tail curled with the memory. "He dropped me and caught me many times during it... the thrill of falling while being filled is quite extraordinary." Her grin sharpened. "I'm fairly certain I squirted on some poor bystanders below us a few times."

Mira did not move.

Her face had transcended red. It had passed through scarlet, bypassed crimson, and arrived at a shade of magenta that should not have been physiologically possible. Her thighs pressed together. Her fingers dug into her own sleeves. Her glasses had fogged again, and she made no move to clear them.

"Blossom smells many desires," the blonde dogkin declared with the solemnity of a battlefield report.

"N-no..." Mira shook her head rapidly. "Absolutely not. That's - no. I'm a nun. I don't have... those."

Her scent said otherwise. The heat rolling out of her core carried a sweet, musky undercurrent that had nothing to do with the sun, and Blossom's nose twitched twice to confirm it. The foxkin was grinning. The dogkin was reporting findings. The nun was lying to herself and everyone within a five-meter radius.

Kitsara patted her shoulder sympathetically. "It's alright, dear. Repression is a condition, not a character trait."

"I am NOT repressed!"

She was, in fact, extremely repressed.

...

High above the chaos of Miri Town, the noise fell away.