Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Your skill, your bravery, your spirit- they shine brightly without the need for you to be scarred by such unnecessary cruelty."

I pause, making sure she understands the gravity of my words. "I want you to be a warrior who can fight with every fiber of her existence on the line, not one who is weighed down by ever-lingering mental trauma. Your path to becoming the greatest swordmaster should be paved with the principles you hold dear, not the darkness of this world."

She listens to my monologue intently, and once I finish she stares at me for a few seconds before flashing me a brilliant smile. She then returns my hug with a warm embrace of her own and I find her head nuzzling itself into my chest. "I've really made the best choice when I chose you back then…"

"Hehe, of course you did. I'm simply the best master, aren't I? Handsome, generous, compassionate, soon maybe even rich."

"One that forced his noble samurai slave to agree to engage in illicit actions or otherwise he would refuse to take her… Don't stretch it, Quinlan… Compassionate? Only to beautiful women you want to seduce. Soon to be rich? We can spend all the income we get from those wares on a single high-quality magical artifact easily. Generous?

You've treated me well so far that is for sure, but what if I was a hairy, muscular man or a 'useless' old and wrinkled woman? Would you still be as thoughtful towards me in such a scenario?"

"Ouch! Why are you so cruel to me, Ayame? You shouldn't say such painful things to your treasured teammate so easily. You could've hurt my feelings… Damn, we met less than 24 hours ago and you already know me so well…" I can't help but whimper.

She ignores me while whispering in a barely audible tone, "as for the handsome part of your outrageous statement… Sadly I can't refute that one…"

My eyes brighten up with excitement, "oh? Ayame, don't tell me that my gentlemanly charms are finally beginning to take their effect? I knew we were meant to be as soon as I laid my eyes on you."

She snickers, "of course you knew. After all, all good looking ladies are meant to be in your so-called future harem, right?"

Why is she so cruel today…?

I gingerly shake my head, "no, not at all… What kind of horny pig do you take me for? They also have to be strong."

Ayame giggles, "ah, yes, I forgot about your weird tastes. Apologies, master."

I can only smile wryly at her antics, but I'm happy to see how much closer we've grown to each other in this short span of time. The recent battle to the death strengthened our bonds significantly. I feel confident enough now to say that even if there was no contract between us she wouldn't betray me.

"No, but seriously, I won't go after every single woman that fits my tastes. There has to be something more, a spark of interest so to say. I've only been here for a short while but I've seen a few women that met my criteria with flying colors, but I only felt true attraction towards you and Blossom." I clarify before she really thinks of me as a lust-driven pervert.

"That's good to hear. I don't want you to spend the coins we earn through our sweat and blood on whores and gold diggers when you inevitably realize that I won't fall for you in a thousand years and become depressed."

Look at this cheeky girl.

"I always welcome a good challenge." I state confidently to which she laughs in reply.

We soon disengage from our embrace. "It was nice to lighten up the mood but we are in a monster cave and we have to hide the loot we wish to take before Blossom brings others here."

She nods, "you are right. I will check the treasury then. Good luck with your task and thank you for your compassion."

"Don't mind it, Ayame."

We do as discussed, and I approach the last chamber of the cavern. As I draw nearer, faint sounds reach my ears- cries, wails, and desperate sobs echoing off the cold stone walls. The sorrow and anguish in those voices are almost palpable and I'm already glad that I've sent Ayame away.

She already suffers from PTSD thanks to her own sister's betrayal and year-long captivity, she really doesn't need to be present for this right now.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and ready myself mentally for the sight that I know will welcome me. I step inside.

The scene before me is a nightmare made manifest. I count ten women who are chained to large iron spikes that are hammered into the stone wall to make any possibility of escape disappear. Each woman tells a story of suffering and despair through their lifeless eyes and mutilated bodies.

One woman, perhaps once a village beauty, now sits slumped against the wall, her face bruised and swollen, a vacant expression in her once bright eyes. Another, her belly grotesquely swollen with an unwanted pregnancy, clutches her stomach, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. Her wrists are rubbed raw from the shackles, and she murmurs to herself, cursing her unborn child to eternal damnation.