Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

“Quinlan Elysiar… Our cherished child… Do you truly understand what it means that you possess a soul realm?”

Luminara followed, her voice equally low. “And that within it, you nurture divine seeds?”

The air stilled. Even the flickering candelabras seemed to quiet in anticipation.

Quinlan blinked once.

Then twice.

“…It means…” he struggled to get the words out.

“That I’m… on the path to having the elemental and corruption concepts unlocked once I get strong enough…?”

It was more a question than an answer. His voice carried the wariness of someone who suspected the answer might be more complicated than he was ready for.

Mearie’s lips curved, just faintly this time, her gaze warm but solemn.

“You’ve got good instincts. But to give you a proper explanation, let’s dial it back a bit.”

She straightened in her seat as she asked, “What is a concept, Quinlan? And what is a seed?”

Seeing his rather confused look, Luminara stepped in, her soft, musical voice taking on a rare clarity. “A concept is the foundation of existence. One layer beneath the skin of reality itself. Think of it like a melody that governs how the universe moves and breathes. Fire, Water, Death, Time, Emotion, Corruption, Creation… all of these are concepts. Laws not written in ink, but etched into the bones of creation.”

“A seed,” Mearie continued in the elven primordial’s stead, “is a fragment of that melody. A divine imprint—raw, unrefined potential—that anchors a concept to your soul. It doesn’t give you mastery or even any powers. Not yet. But it makes you a resonator. The seed grows with you. It opens paths. It listens when you speak. And one day… if it blooms fully, the world might listen too.”

Luminara nodded, taking the thread of conversation back from her co-mother. “And those who fully resonate with a concept become its representative. They stop being just users of a concept; they become its expression. That’s what a god is, Quinlan. Not a race. Not some divine bloodline.”

Her blue eyes met his. “A god is simply a being whom reality no longer dares to ignore.”

Luminara’s smile returned, though softer now. “But most gods… are weak. They wield concepts with only minimal attunement. They can call fire, but they are not fire. They grasp at the edges of their concept and call themselves divine, but their power is borrowed. That’s why we call them lesser gods. Many billions of them exist across the realms.”

Mearie tilted her head with a sigh, looking at her wine glass with a troubled expression. “But then there are the rare ones. The High Gods. The singular beings whose resonance with a Concept has reached the level of cosmic Law itself. When they speak, fire answers because fire believes it is their will. They do not ask the universe. They are the universe, in that one, terrifying aspect.”

Quinlan swallowed slowly. He was finally getting some real truths about how the universe worked.

“But don’t worry about this just yet, my son. You don’t need to know these details for now…” Mearie added with a wink, easing the tension before it could become too high. “You’re still young. Still rough around the edges. Instead of focusing on the peak…”

Luminara sipped her wine and leaned back, the crystal catching the candlelight. “What’s more relevant to you now is this: gods are not born. They ascend. They aren’t a race. They’re titles. Mortals can become gods if their strength, will, and insight outgrow their mortal frame. If they prove their resonance with a concept is undeniable.”

She pointed her glass toward him in a silent toast. “You, Quinlan Elysiar, the Primordial Villain, The Harbinger of Ruin, the God Slayer, are now one of many seed bearers. A soul with divine potential.”

Quinlan’s breath left him slowly.

“… What about you guys, the rest of the primordials? I can’t be the only one, right?”

“Of course not,” Mearie nodded. “There are many with seeds. Almost all primordials have at least a few dormant within them. Over our millions of years of growth and combat, it was inevitable for us to develop the strength and mastery needed to have at least the beginning of a little seed growing within us.”

Luminara gestured with a swirl of her glass. “In fact, a strong primordial—like Malakar—could defeat a lesser god with ease. Even without being technically divine himself. Talent, experience, and ferocity can overcome a weak concept wielder any day of the week.”

Mearie chuckled. “And if a primordial did awaken and grow their seeds to full bloom… they’d be dangerous. Maybe even unstoppable.”

At that, their eyes landed on Quinlan again.

This time, with meaning.

And a hint of fearsome pride.

Quinlan remained quiet for a long while, swirling the dark wine in his glass without drinking. The room felt distant, blurred at the edges, his thoughts spinning behind his calm expression.

But it wasn’t the soul realm, or the seeds, or even the nature of gods that stuck with him most.

It was something else. Something smaller.

He looked up, sharp eyes narrowing.

“…How can Malakar be stronger than many gods… if he’s not one? He’s ‘just’ a primordial, only a so-called demigod.”

Mearie and Luminara exchanged a knowing glance.

It was Mearie who answered first. “Because bearing a concept isn’t the only path to power.”

Luminara nodded. “There are others. And Malakar walks one of the most fearsome.”

Mearie set her wine aside as she leaned forward. “His unique class is called Primordial Genesis.”

Quinlan blinked. “…Sounds dramatic.”

“It is dramatic,” Luminara said, lips twitching. “Spellblades who combine weapon and spell have been romanticized since the beginning of mana, but they rarely manifest into something worthwhile. Usually, it’s best to just focus on one path… but he is one such person who has refined the dueling arts to perfection. Malakar has honed that class endlessly, through war, training, and conquest. He’s mastered every spell, unlocked its ultimate traits, and evolved the class far beyond what mortals can comprehend. That’s why he can fight gods and even beat them.”

“He isn’t alone, either,” Mearie added. “Elder dragons, ancient vampires, abyssal demons… many powerful races have their own unique classes and ancient paths. They don’t need concepts to become nightmares. Their bloodlines, instincts, and evolution make them threats in their own right.”

Luminara swirled her glass again, her voice light. “But they’re still just that… threats. It’s the High Gods who can truly overcome them. They don’t fight with tricks. They are their concepts.”

That was when, just like the human mother, the elven mother leaned forward as well, her eyes sharpening as she observed her son.

“Are you starting to see the problem?”

Quinlan slowly stroked his chin, brow furrowing again. His voice was thoughtful. “If Malakar’s fought countless battles… mastered an apex class… pushed himself past mortal limits… shouldn’t he have formed a concept by now? More than a mere seed?”

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