Harem Domain: I Fucked The Goddess of Lust, So What
Chapter 38: QUINN!

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: QUINN!

Azrael wrinkled his nose. "These wouldn’t even cut through a loaf of bread, let alone a monster."

"Then maybe you should go find some more gold, boy."

Azrael sighed, about to turn and leave when he suddenly heard something.

"Hey, you. Where are you going?"

Azrael stiffened. The voice had come from right next to him, but when he turned, no one was there.

He frowned. "What did you say?"

The blacksmith glared at him. "I didn’t say anything. Are you mad or something? If you’re not buying, then get out of my shop!"

Azrael took a step back, confused. But then he heard it again.

"I know your power. I know what is inside of you. I can sense your energy. Pick me, and I will help you."

A strange pull guided him toward a pile of discarded weapons under the table. His eyes locked onto a rusty, dull-looking sword with cracks along the blade. It looked worthless, but something about it called to him.

His fingers wrapped around the hilt, and the moment he touched it, a jolt of energy shot through his arm.

"You can talk?" Azrael whispered.

"Yes, I can talk. And I can do much more than that."

The sword vibrated in his hand, as if alive.

"My name is Quinn."

---

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

[WARNING: Cursed Item Detected!]

[Weapon Identified: Soulbound Blade – Quinn]

[This entity should not exist...]

---

Azrael barely had time to process the message when his system reacted violently.

[QUINN...?! THAT CAN’T BE POSSIBLE. HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? HOW DID YOU SURVIVE?]

Azrael blinked. "Wait. Someone explain to me what the hell is going on."

The system hesitated.

[We used to be... close. But he did something unforgivable, and they sentenced him to eternal death. He should not be here.]

Azrael narrowed his eyes at the blade. "What did you do?"

Quinn chuckled. "Oh, that’s a long story. But for now, let’s just say you and I have a common enemy."

Azrael exhaled, gripping the sword tighter. He turned back to the blacksmith. "How much for this one?"

The man frowned. "That thing? It’s worthless. But if you want it, I’ll take 45 silver coins for it."

Azrael quickly pulled out the coins and handed them over. "Deal."

The moment he walked out of the shop, he felt the weight of Quinn in his hands. It was unlike any weapon he had ever held.

"You won’t regret this, Azrael," Quinn murmured. "Together, we’re going to change everything."

Azrael didn’t know what kind of power he had just picked up.

Azrael darted behind one of the buildings, ensuring that no one was around before finally stopping to catch his breath.

He leaned against the wall, gripping the hilt of the battered sword tightly in his hands. His mind raced with questions, but one voice stood out among them—Jacob’s.

[Quinn! How on earth are you still alive?!] Jacob’s voice echoed in Azrael’s head, filled with shock and disbelief.

The sword let out a deep, almost amused chuckle. "Oh, Jacob... always so dramatic. Calm down, will you? No need to get so worked up."

Azrael furrowed his brows. "Jacob?" he muttered under his breath, confused.

Quinn chuckled again, his voice dripping with amusement. "Ah, I see. So he never even told you his real name?"

Azrael glanced down at the sword in his hands, gripping it tighter. "Wait... what do you mean?"

[Enough with your mind games, Quinn! Do not try to manipulate my host!] Jacob’s voice was sharp, almost panicked.

Quinn sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "Oh, Jacob... always so uptight. You really haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still barking orders and acting all righteous."

Azrael’s head was spinning. He looked between the sword and the empty space where Jacob’s voice originated from. "Will someone explain to me what the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

Quinn sighed again, as if he were dealing with a child. "Alright, alright. I’ll keep it simple, little warrior. Jacob and I... we used to be friends—a long time ago. But then something happened. Let’s just say he didn’t like the choices I made, and as a result, they threw me into ’eternal death’ or whatever fancy punishment they thought I deserved."

[You betrayed us, Quinn. Don’t act like a victim.]

Quinn scoffed. "Betrayal is such a strong word. I prefer to call it... making my own path."

Azrael ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. "So let me get this straight. You two knew each other, but Jacob, you won’t tell me the full story?"

[It’s not a story you need to know. What matters is that Quinn is dangerous. He cannot be trusted.]

"Ah, Jacob, that hurts." Quinn feigned offense. "After all these years, and you still hold such a grudge?"

Azrael groaned, rubbing his temples. "Alright, enough! You both sound like old men bickering. The real question is, can I trust this sword?"

Quinn’s voice softened. "Listen, kid... I won’t lie to you. I have my own past, and I made my own choices. But right now, you need me. You don’t have any real power of your own, do you?"

Azrael stiffened. "That’s none of your business."

Quinn chuckled. "Oh, but it is. I can feel it... that hunger in you. You want to be strong. You need to be strong. And I can give you that strength."

Azrael hesitated. He didn’t trust Quinn, but he couldn’t deny the pull he felt towards the sword. There was something in him that told him this was fate.

Jacob sighed in resignation. [If you’re really going to do this, Azrael, then you have to make the bond official. A weapon like Quinn doesn’t just serve anyone. You need to offer something in return.]

Azrael looked down at the sword. "And what would that be?"

[Your blood.]

Azrael’s eyes widened slightly. "My blood?"

Quinn’s voice turned serious. "A drop of your blood will form a contract between us. I will become your weapon, and in return, you will wield my power. But beware... once the bond is made, there is no turning back."