Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

A dozen arrows rained down, each coated in that unnatural foxfire of his. The movements of these projectiles were erratic, unpredictable. They twisted and curved as if possessed, denying any straightforward means of dodging. But what made them truly dangerous was the deception woven into them—half of them weren't real.

Phantoms.

Traps meant to mislead the eye.

Devil swung his black saber, slicing through one of the incoming arrows, but it passed right through. A fake. Another whistled toward his chest. He barely managed to shift in time, but even then, the searing heat grazed his ribs.

A burning sensation flared up from his shoulder as another arrow found its mark, embedding itself deep enough to tear flesh. The foxfire spread unnaturally, creeping across his arm like living embers. His magic flickered—the elements struggled to answer his call.

The foxkin prince landed gracefully atop the boulder of stone Devil summoned beforehand, already drawing another arrow. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement, watching his flames crawl across Devil's body like serpents coiling around their prey.

"Troublesome, isn't it? If you regret running around in that ridiculous robe of yours you donned for mere fanfare like a clown, you can walk back to the changing room and equip your real armor… I'll wait for you here."

Devil didn't answer the taunt thrown his way. Instead, he remained focused, exhaling a breath as he struggled to fight back against the damage he'd taken.

- PoV: Quinlan -

This damned foxfire was crawling across my skin, biting into my flesh. If that wasn't bad enough already, heat alone wasn't the issue… my body had endured worse. This fire refused to be tamed. I tried to suppress it, to snuff it out with my fire manipulation abilities.

Doing so resulted in nothing but failure. If it was normal fire, a simple intent of mine would've been enough to make his foxfire useless.

But as things stood, not only did I struggle to call forth my magic abilities, but this fire was no normal element: it had been altered to something I didn't quite understand due to its supernatural magical properties.

Since outright manipulation was not possible, I had no choice but to expel the foxfire from my system. To do so, I willed fire magic to surge through my veins. My own fire clashed against the flames of the foxfire.

*Hissss!*

Like oil against water, the foxfire slipped through my magic. The moment my flames tried to devour it, they dispersed, dissipating into nothing.

… This wasn't a type of fire I could simply overwrite with raw power.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Another arrow.

Then another.

And another.

Veyrin had let loose a barrage of projectiles at me. The moment I tried to recover, he was already pressing the attack. It was clear this foxkin was not one who would let me strategize in the middle of the duel. He just wanted to finish me off efficiently.

Now I fully understood why he was already level 40 at his age. Sneak-attacking his prey with projectiles that disrupted their magic, combined with his ruthless hunter mindset and class that allowed him to relocate swiftly in case of emergencies, this guy was made to farm XP.

I twisted my body, letting the first arrow fly by me. The next, I barely managed to deflect with my saber. A third came for my chest—I sidestepped just in time, feeling the wind of its passing against my neck.

Veyrin clicked his tongue, already nocking another arrow.

"Tch… To think you could still move this well while burning, just what kind of resistance training did you go through?" he muttered with annoyance.

Resistance training? Heh… That nightmare of a decade I spent in the Iris simulation could only be called pain tolerance training. Nonetheless, I ignored him, focusing on something else.

The mana disruption was real—calling my spells forth felt like trudging through a swamp with weights strapped to my body. But even with this interference, my body refused to falter completely. The process was sluggish, far harder than usual, but not outright impossible.

I just needed time.

So I bought it the only way I could: dodge and deflect the arrows while enduring the pain caused by those I failed to avoid.

Once my preparations were complete, I slammed my left palm onto the arena floor.

The earth rumbled.

It started as a tremor beneath my fingertips. Then, with sheer force of will, I pulled from deep within myself, gathering enough strength to alter the whole battlefield.

*Crack!*

Stone split open. The once-flat arena turned into a chaotic maze of walls and towering formations. Pillars of rock shot up, and crumbling debris rained down as the uneven terrain enveloped the battlefield.

Veyrin leaped backward, landing lightly on one of the new stone formations. He frowned with his fox ears twitching.

"What in the-? You shouldn't even be able to cast!"

So that's how it was. Perhaps it was my primordial body that came in clutch, allowing me to continue casting with difficulty instead of being outright unable to do so. My body, the very essence of my being, refused to be bound by such limits.

Veyrin exhaled, steadying his heart. "No matter."

He pushed off of the stone pillar, launching himself into the air.

As he reached his peak, he drew upon his power.

"[Foxfire Ascent]."

The blue flames did not consume but supported him, letting the foxkin hover in the air.

Suspended in the sky like a phantom, he nocked three arrows all at once.

I sprinted across the uneven arena, weaving between the stone formations I'd created. Each arrow that struck the landscape next to me burst into foxfire, igniting whatever surface it touched. The battlefield was beginning to look less like an arena and more like a war-torn hellscape.

I looked behind for just a moment to send blades of wind soaring at him. Then, I threw a ball of flame. I even gathered water and lashed out with pressurized water, slicing through the air like whips.

Nothing landed.

Veyrin moved like a ghost, slipping between my attacks without missing a beat. Too fast. Too precise.

The inevitable happened.

*Thwack!*

A sharp, searing pain exploded in my back.

I staggered forward. The arrow had hit deep this time around.

My girls' voices rang through my mind in an instant.

<Master!> Blossom's worried voice sounded in my mind.

<Throw in the towel! There's no shame in surrendering to a level 40 enemy who enjoyed the privileges of a prince since birth!> Aurora cried, begging me to give up.

Her fright was more than understandable: unlike how it was in the arena of the Phenom Trials, here, the injured were not being teleported to safety after a critical hit. That was the result of a high-tier artifact, it couldn't be replicated everywhere.

As such, my life was in real danger.

<You're gravely injured, Quin!> Sera said with a voice that told me she was grimacing strongly.

But then, a firm voice eclipsed all the worried ones.

<It's not over just yet. Show these ignorant people what real power looks like!> Ayame decreed resolutely. She knew I would refuse to surrender, especially since I had some tricks up my sleeve even still.

I could feel their hesitation, their reluctance, but none of them argued further.

Now, I needed to think. Fast.

Veyrin had me on the defensive. The bastard wasn't giving me a chance to breathe. But there was something I'd noticed.

His attacks weren't destructive.

They crippled, they disrupted, but in terms of raw brute force, he wasn't overwhelmingly strong.

And that was something I could exploit.

I slammed both of my hands together.

The earth obeyed.

Massive slabs of stone erupted around me, closing in like the walls of a fortress. Thick layers of rock interlocked, forming an enclosed bunker that swallowed me whole. The moment the last stone sealed shut, I exhaled with relief while watching the flickering flames of foxfire cast eerie shadows against the walls.

For now, I had earned myself a bit of time. Knowing Veyrin's lack of sheer destructive capabilities, I knew it would take him a bit to get through my bunker, allowing me to think, recover, and plan.

I wiped the blood from my mouth and noticed that an instinctive smirk was tugging at my lips.

Just how awesome was my opponent?

A level 40 foxkin prince who had the strange powers of foxfire… Veyrin had surpassed my expectations. But at the same time, I couldn't help but have a tugging voice whisper in the back of my head, telling me I could win, I could overcome the 10-level gap and many decades of combat experience that separated the two of us.

It was time for me to make history, and to do so, I had to start with a spell of mine I hadn't cast ever since I got it: [Overlord's Sacrifice].