Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem
Chapter 947: What About Us?

Chapter 947: What About Us?

"It’s not a straightforward class. No clear path. No simple playbook. It’s like Kitsara’s Nine-Tailed Sorceress class. Full of trickery, schemes, bait-and-switch tactics. It demands cunning, improvisation, and sharp instincts. The kind of power that thrives on unpredictability... and experience."

"To use that class fully, she’ll need to know people. Their fears, their hopes, the little cracks in their armor. She’ll need to understand how the world works, how people think, how they react. And for that..." He exhaled. "She needs life experience. The kind no amount of books or simple battles can give."

"That’s why I spoke to her openly. Not just to do my duties of being straightforward with her as she deserved, but also because it might help. She needed to hear the truth. She needed to feel it and decide for herself what to do with it. Because that’s how we grow, isn’t it? When it’s real. When it matters."

He let his gaze trail back toward the courtyard’s edge.

"She’s an amazing girl. And she’s going to surpass every expectation placed on her. Of that, I have no doubt. But... she needed a gentle push first. Not to be cradled. Not to be coddled. Just reminded of who she is, and who she can become."

And then, more quietly, with a great deal of affection threading through his voice, he added:

"The last thing she needs now is to be protected from the harshness of the world. No. She needs to see and experience all of its cruelty and wonders for herself. After all, despite my earlier words, she’s not just a random child. She’s Feng Jiai. The future Gremlord of Chaos... and a damn terrifying creature."

A quiet pause followed. The wind whispered through the leaves of the forest, and for a moment, the only sound was the distant chatter of the stronghold slowly returning to life after battle.

Then, slowly, Quinlan turned.

His gaze shifted to Serika, the warmth in his elemental eyes tempering, cooling, becoming more focused, deliberate.

"Seeing her like that... it reminded me of something."

Serika raised a brow in question.

"It reminded me that life keeps moving. That people change. That timing matters. And that some things... should no longer be left unsaid."

His voice dropped a degree lower.

"Serika Vael."

The warrioress instinctively straightened at the sound of her full name, eyes narrowing, unsure where this was headed.

"We find ourselves in privacy," Quinlan declared now that he was close enough for his elemental presence to brush hers, making it feel like fire curling near flame. "So let’s talk about us."

"...Us?" Serika repeated.

She was many things—undaunted in battle, ruthless in command, and more than a little proud when she shattered boulders with her kicks and punches—but even she wasn’t immune to the implication behind that word. Her lips quirked upward in curiosity.

"This isn’t about your mothers’ questionable romantic guidance, is it?" she questioned dryly, folding her arms behind her back with a cocked brow.

Quinlan laughed. "No. Of course not. They’re amazing women, there’s no doubt about that. But tell me, what kind of a son follows the advice of their mothers down to the very letter? This has nothing to do with their... imaginative matchmaking."

His expression shifted again, bold now. Confident. A grin curved his lips, and when he spoke next, it wasn’t tentative in the slightest.

"It’s about how, ever since the first moment I laid eyes on you—sitting on that throne of yours, bronze abs gleaming back at me, eyes full of fury and fire—I knew you were the kind of woman I’d move mountains for."

Serika’s brows rose slightly.

"And since then... every sparring session, every smirk you threw my way, every shared bath and massage session soaked in heat and oil, every training montage where I unapologetically stared at your sexy legs while you beat painful lessons into me..." he tilted his head, grin deepening, "... every single moment just kept confirming it."

"You are, without a doubt, the perfect woman."

Serika opened her mouth to retort, but he didn’t let her.

"And a perfect woman," he continued, smugness laced with genuine admiration, "deserves nothing short of the best."

"Which, by extraordinary coincidence... just so happens to be me."

His grin flashed into a confident, daring smirk. "I want you to call me your man, Serika. Not just your battle partner."

A beat passed. He held her gaze with open challenge and promise.

"Say yes, and I’ll show you what it means to have a man who respects your strength, adores your fire... and knows exactly how to make you melt."

Serika’s posture shifted. Her brow furrowed, not in anger or resistance, just honest uncertainty.

"I don’t know how I feel..." she admitted, glancing away for the first time since he started speaking. Her fists clenched behind her back. "I never really thought about romance. I was always chasing strength. More power. More challenges. I didn’t have time or energy for anything else."

Quinlan smiled. "I know. And I respect the hell out of you for that. Your desire for strength, for mastery... It’s incredible. But let’s try and untangle your confusion a little. You say you don’t know how you feel... but we’ve kissed. Twice."

Serika’s lips parted for a rebuttal, but Quinlan beat her to it.

"And both times, you initiated it. Not me."

She frowned. "Those were... situations. High-pressure, emotional moments after intense battles. That doesn’t mean-"

"Yeah, yeah. ’Just the heat of the moment.’ Isn’t that right?"

Then he tilted his head. "But let me ask you this, Serika. How many other epic battles have you had in your life?"

"... I don’t even know. Hundreds."

"And how many comrades in arms have you deep kissed after surviving one?"

Her cheeks darkened, and her heartbeat quickened once her brain registered his words.

This time, Quinlan didn’t have a smug, victorious grin on his lips. Instead, he straightened his spine and examined the woman standing before him.

"What exactly is a relationship to you? Tell me. What’s a marriage supposed to look like in your head? Help me paint the picture."