Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 845: Their Story

Serika inhaled deeply. "The person you refer to as ’old man,’" she began slowly, "is none other than Rykar Vael."

Her eyes dropped to her hands for the briefest of moments, then lifted again with renewed resolve.

"The Crimson Hammer of Vulkaris. My master... and my beloved father."

A heavy silence fell.

Even the wind stilled. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Quinlan didn’t move, but his fingers subtly curled around the hilt of his weapon again, almost reflexively. His gaze didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes. That name—Vael. Of course. It should have been obvious.

Feng blinked twice. "Wait... That bastard who betrayed us was your dad?!"

Serika’s expression trembled. It was easy to tell for Quinlan that she didn’t appreciate the way in which Feng talked about the old man, but at the same time, the Fire Sovereign wished to retain their current goodwill. "... I don’t know what went down between you three. But, yes, I strongly believe that we’re talking about the same person."

She looked at Quinlan again, softer now.

Strangely vulnerable for who she was.

"I’m ready to tell you everything. As I should’ve done from the beginning, instead of ordering your arrest."

Serika’s gaze lingered on the ground for a long moment before she finally began.

"Master Rykar Vael was once the greatest martial craftsman in all of Vulkaris. He was a titan among men, revered across nations for his blazing temper, his unmatched talent, and his famed style: a fusion of fire-forged martial arts and spiritual tempering."

She paused, letting the weight of the words settle.

"His fists could bend metal. His very soul could breathe life into weapons. He could strike a blade and grant it purpose. He taught warriors and shaped the martial world from his forge."

Feng’s mouth parted slightly, awe flickering in her gaze. "I know that name! But-"

She was interrupted by Quinlan’s "Let the lady finish first, impatient brat." Which elicited a giant pout from the oriental teen.

"But for all his strength," Serika continued, ignoring the drama, "he refused to sit on the throne. Even when the seat of Vulkaris was offered to him—twice—he turned it down. ’I am no ruler,’ he always said. ’The fire in my heart belongs to the forge, not to the court.’"

Her expression darkened.

"So I rose. Slowly. As his daughter and one of his disciples, I fought, earned respect, and eventually overthrew the previous Sovereign. I built Vulkaris in his image... or so I believed."

Then her hands tightened slightly on her thighs.

"But then everything changed in a single night."

Her voice grew cold.

"His forge... it burned down. It wasn’t the gentle breath of fire he lived with but a raging inferno. An explosion that rocked half the capital. By the time we got there, the entire structure had collapsed in flames. Once the fire died, we found bodies."

She closed her eyes briefly.

"Not just charred bodies... Fighters. Martial artists. Corpses burned beyond recognition. But we could tell... they fought. The forge wasn’t consumed by accident. It was a battlefield."

Quinlan leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"And Rykar?"

"Gone... Never to be seen again. And neither was his other disciple. An orphan boy. He’d grown up by our side, trained in Rykar’s shadow, fought with me on campaign. My right hand. My brother in all but blood."

Feng’s brow creased. "So you thought they both..."

"Died in the fire," Serika finished for her. "I mourned them. More than I can describe with words."

She looked back at Quinlan again, her green eyes searching his face. A self-mocking chuckle left her lips.

"So imagine my shock when you appeared before me, all those years later... wielding the base of his Crimson Hammer style. The Blazing Tyrant Fist."

Mist stirred at the edges of the forest as Quinlan sat in silence, absorbing it all.

After a bit, he frowned.

"But it still doesn’t make sense... Why would someone assassinate Rykar? He wasn’t political. He didn’t care for the throne. If there was a target... it should’ve been you. Or your generals. Not him."

Serika nodded slowly, her jaw tightening.

"I’ve wondered that every day since it happened. And I still don’t have the answer."

She looked up again. And this time, her eyes were sharp—not just with memory, but with purpose.

"But you might be the key to it. That’s why I wanted to keep you in my palace. Somehow, you inherited the fists of a ghost. If he came back from the ashes... maybe the truth can too. Maybe I can finally meet him again, hold him in my arms."

The mist rolled in deeper around them.

The more information Quinlan learned, the more questions he had. "... This is all too strange. Was he a weird loner before? If he survived an assassination attempt on his life, why is he hiding from you? He probably chose me as the sacrificial lamb whom the Blazing Tyrant Fist could be taught because he could tell my great affinity for fire, or something along those lines. Then he told me to register for that festival of yours while he watched your reaction from the shadows. Or so I presume... But why is he hiding from you in the first place?"

Serika’s lips trembled. She exhaled slowly, the breath ghosting in the cooling air.

"I don’t know... I wish I did. If he’s alive... and hiding... I have no idea why he wouldn’t come to me."

The silence that followed was thick with thought, filled only by the soft rustle of wind in the trees.

Then, with a renewed heaviness, Serika said, "There’s something else. News I haven’t yet shared. It’s... not good."

Quinlan gestured for her to continue with a raise of his hand.

"Aerynthia, the Nation of Wind... Has fallen."

Feng gasped audibly. "What...?"

Quinlan’s eyes narrowed as a bad premonition crept into his heart.

Serika nodded grimly. "It happened suddenly. Without warning. All communication from their capital ceased two days ago. By the time my scouts arrived, it was over. Entire battalions were gone without a trace. Wind barriers torn to ribbons. Sovereign Zephyra... defeated. Killed."

A sharp, sick chill ran down Quinlan’s spine.

"A Sovereign was defeated this quickly...?" he murmured.

"There was no battle anyone could respond to," Serika said. "She was defeated before her generals could even rally. That kind of speed... that kind of overwhelming force... it could only be him. The Invader."

Feng paled. "He’s already here..."

"And he now has the Wind Sovereign Shard," Serika added.

The group fell silent once more, each struggling to process the scale of what had just been revealed.

Feng was the one to break it.