Harem Domain: I Fucked The Goddess of Lust, So What
Chapter 39: I’ve Looked For That Sword For Years

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: I’ve Looked For That Sword For Years

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."

Azrael stared at the sword, his heart pounding. Could he really trust Quinn? Could he take that risk? But deep inside, he already knew his answer. He had come this far. There was no backing down now.

Taking a deep breath, he drew a small cut on his palm with the sword’s dull edge. A single drop of blood trickled down and landed on the blade.

The moment it made contact, a powerful force erupted from the sword.

BOOM!

A deafening bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, striking Azrael with incredible force. The impact was so powerful that it collapsed the entire building behind him. The world around him went black.

Azrael groaned as his senses slowly returned. His body ached, and he felt the weight of rubble pressing down on him. He was buried beneath the fallen debris of the collapsed building.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

He struggled to move, pushing against the heavy stone and wood that covered him. That was when he saw it.

Quinn had changed.

The battered, rusted blade was gone. In its place was a massive sword, glowing with an ethereal blue light. Its edges were so sharp they looked like they could slice through the fabric of reality itself. The energy radiating from it sent chills down Azrael’s spine.

Azrael reached out, wrapping his fingers around the hilt. The moment he touched it, the rubble around him began to shift and lift, as if repelled by an unseen force. With one final push, he emerged from the debris, breathing heavily.

Then he noticed something else.

His clothes had changed.

Gone were the simple, worn-out garments he had been wearing. Now, he stood clad in an intricate set of armor, unlike anything he had ever seen.

His chest was protected by dark, metallic plates woven with glowing blue veins of energy.

His arms were covered in gauntlets that pulsed with the same light as Quinn. A flowing cape, lined with faint runes, draped over his shoulders, shifting with an unseen wind.

But what stood out most was the emblem on his chest—a sigil that had never been there before. A swirling, glowing insignia, pulsating with raw energy.

Azrael’s breath hitched. He looked down at himself in awe. "What... is this?"

Quinn’s voice rang out, calmer than before. "This, my friend, is what it means to be me."

Azrael clenched his fist, feeling the immense power coursing through him. The weight of his body felt different—lighter, stronger. He felt like he could take on the world.

Jacob was silent for a moment before finally speaking. [Azrael... this is only the beginning.]

Azrael smirked, gripping Quinn tightly. "Then let’s see what this power can really do."

Azrael’s body trembled as he gripped Quinn tightly in his hand. The energy that had surged through him moments ago still crackled faintly in the air, and his breathing was heavy.

The destruction around him was undeniable, the collapsed building, the scorched ground where the lightning had struck, and the eerie silence that followed. For a brief moment, he simply stood there, taking it all in.

Then, the shouting began.

People emerged from their hiding places, their eyes filled with fear and suspicion. Some pointed at him, whispering among themselves.

Others looked at the still-glowing sword in his hand, their expressions a mix of awe and terror. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second.

"Who is he?" one man murmured.

"He came from the weapon shop—maybe he stole something cursed!" another said.

"Did you see that lightning? That wasn’t normal. He brought it down!"

Azrael’s heart pounded as more and more people gathered. He took a step back, gripping Quinn tighter. This wasn’t good. If they turned on him, he wasn’t sure how he would explain himself.

[Azrael, we need to leave. Now.] Jacob’s voice rang in his mind, urgent.

Before he could move, armored guards arrived, pushing through the crowd. They wore dark green tunics with silver plating, a local town militia, not professional soldiers, but enough to be a problem.

The man leading them, a burly officer with a scar running across his jaw, glared at Azrael.

"You! Step forward," he ordered, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Azrael hesitated, his mind racing for an excuse. "Listen, I—"

"Now!" the guard barked. "We saw what you did. People are saying you called down lightning from the sky. What exactly are you?"

Azrael clenched his teeth. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The guard scoffed. "Oh really? So the collapsed building just fell over on its own? The sword in your hand wasn’t glowing like that before."

Azrael glanced down at Quinn, whose edges still pulsed with a deep blue glow. The weapon radiated power, like a living thing ready to be unleashed again.

[Do you want me to kill them?] Quinn’s voice echoed in his mind, cold and emotionless.

Azrael tensed. No, he thought. Not unless I have to.

But before the guard could step closer, the air shifted. A chill ran through the crowd. The murmurs turned to gasps. Azrael felt it too—a presence, dark and overwhelming, moving toward them.

Then, from the shadows of an alley, a low growl rumbled.

The people screamed as a monstrous figure emerged.

A Condemned Appears

The creature was tall, its body twisted and malformed. Its skin was a sickly gray, its eyes black pits of hunger.

Fangs jutted from its mouth, dripping with saliva, and its elongated fingers ended in razor-sharp claws. It was a Condemned—a vampire that had succumbed to bloodlust so completely that it had lost all reason.

The guards froze. The officer’s face paled. "A Condemned...? Here?!"

The creature lunged.

The nearest man barely had time to scream before the Condemned tore into him, blood spraying onto the cobblestone streets.

Panic erupted. People ran in all directions, trampling over one another to escape. The guards scrambled to form a line, drawing their weapons, but their hands trembled. It was clear they weren’t trained for something like this.

Azrael, however, didn’t hesitate. His body moved instinctively.

With Quinn in hand, he sprinted forward.

The Condemned turned its empty eyes toward him and snarled, lunging again. But Azrael was ready.

He ducked under its sweeping claws, pivoting to the side. His grip tightened on Quinn, and with a single motion, he slashed across the creature’s torso.

A burst of blue energy erupted from the blade, cutting deep. The Condemned screeched and stumbled back, black blood oozing from the wound.

[You’re fast, but not fast enough.] Quinn’s voice rang in his mind.

"I have looked for that sword for years! It is the only thing that can revive me to my normal self, and I must get it!" The creature said

The creature recovered almost immediately, launching itself at him again. Azrael barely had time to raise Quinn in defense before the Condemned slammed into him, sending him skidding back across the dirt.

"Dammit," he grunted, forcing himself to his feet. The monster was strong. Stronger than he expected.

[Use me properly, and this fight will be over in an instant.]

Azrael wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "And how exactly do I do that?"

[Let me guide you.]

For a split second, Azrael hesitated. Then, he took a deep breath and surrendered himself to the sword’s power.

A Glimpse into the Past

The moment he did, the world around him shifted.

He was no longer in the town. Instead, he stood in a vast battlefield. Warriors clashed with monstrous creatures. Flames and lightning raged across the sky. And at the center of it all, a man wielding Quinn.

The man looked eerily familiar. His armor bore strange markings, and his eyes glowed with the same blue energy that now pulsed through Quinn.

"You will decide our fate," a voice whispered.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the vision vanished.

Azrael gasped, snapping back to reality. The Condemned was still there, lunging for another attack. But now, something inside him had changed.

His movements became sharper, his reaction time faster. As the creature swiped at him again, he sidestepped effortlessly.

With a single, fluid motion, he brought Quinn down.

The sword cut through the Condemned like butter, splitting it in half. The creature let out one last, guttural scream before disintegrating into ash.

The battle was over.

Silence fell. The people who had survived the attack stared in disbelief. Even the guards were speechless.

Azrael stood in the center of it all, breathing heavily. He looked down at Quinn, whose glow had dimmed slightly but still pulsed with life.

[You’re starting to understand now, aren’t you?]

Azrael didn’t respond.

Instead, he turned his gaze toward the rooftops.

A figure stood there, cloaked in shadows, watching.

When they noticed Azrael looking, they chuckled softly before disappearing into the night.

A shiver ran down Azrael’s spine.

"Who... was that?" he muttered.