Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

I let go of my saber, the weapon clattering unceremoniously to the ground as I drop onto my behind, utterly exhausted. My entire body feels like it's been put through the wringer, every muscle aching from the relentless sparring. Despite the bruises and the fatigue, a sigh of contentment escapes my lips.

"This day was a lot of fun," I admit, looking up at Ayame with a tired smile.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my reaction. "Fun? I thought you'd be beyond furious with me after all that."

I shake my head, still expending great effort to catch my breath. "I did kind of know that your retribution was coming after those comments I made earlier, but you definitely surprised me with that ridiculously condescending bandage get-up. That was… a bit much, even for you."

A faint hint of embarrassment crosses her face as she looks away for a moment. "I might have gotten ever so slightly carried away," she admits, though her tone remains guarded. "But hearing you confidently state that you'd surpass me as a swordsman flared up my competitive spirit more than I would like to acknowledge."

I wave off her concern, though the movement is more of a tired gesture than anything regal. "No need to apologize-"

She scoffs, cutting me off with a sharp glance. "Apologize? Don't get ahead of yourself, Quinlan. I'm not apologizing for anything."

I ignore her indignant tone, pushing myself up slightly to look her in the eye. "Fine, don't apologize, then. But don't think for a second that everything's good and forgiven. I took a manly oath today, Ayame. I promised that I would punish you for your offenses with a severe guidance session, and I will make that oath into a reality even if it's the last damned thing I do."

Ayame's lips curl into an amused smile, her eyes twinkling with a strong combination of superiority and confidence. "Is that so? Well, I look forward to seeing you try, Master~," she purrs, her tone encouraging in a way that only highlights how little she believes I'll ever actually succeed.

It's not that she's dismissing me outright, but rather that her faith in her own abilities far surpasses any concern she might have about me catching up to her. She knows how good she is, and that smirk of hers shows just how unshakable her confidence is, and much to my chagrin I did very little to make her question whether such self-belief is well placed or not.

"I would be a horrible teacher if after all I've done to you today I didn't provide some feedback, so let it be known that you really do have a scary talent and thirst for improvement. I've noticed it when you wielded the spear too, but with your new saber it's a lot more evident. I believe this weapon fits you much better.

I felt you become better, more acclimated to the blade with each of our exchanges. Furthermore, your resilience to physical pain is extremely potent. A lesser warrior would've given up a few minutes into our exchange, yet you gritted your teeth and fought for the whole day. Keep it up, Quinlan, and you will be one amazing swordsman."

"Thanks… I really do heavily prefer this saber over the spear as well."

"Great. But you will still not catch up to me, primordial genius or not, otherworlder or not, blessed by the Goddess or not. The blade is my specialty, and you will never surpass me in my own field of expertise." She states with absolute confidence evident in her tone.

I feel a surge of exhilaration at the thought of one day wiping that smug expression off her beautiful face. The fire in my chest burns brighter, fueled by the challenge she represents, but I also know my limits. I'm not there yet- I can't make good on my promise today. So, for now, I might as well enjoy the sight in front of me.

My eyes trace the curves of her body, taking in every detail. She really does have an incredible figure- feminine, strong, and undeniably alluring. Her skin glows in the soft light, and the sweat she worked up from beating me up for hours on end makes her skin glisten tantalizingly. The way the bandages barely cover her most intimate parts only adds to the boner-popping effect she has on me.

It's simply impossible not to appreciate how stunning she is, every inch of her practically radiating an extremely potent blend of power and sensuality.

I'm once again reinforced in my belief that strong, dangerous women are the hottest of their kind.

I absolutely love them.

Ayame notices my gaze and smirks, clearly amused by my open admiration of her physical form. She doesn't say anything at first, letting the silence linger as I continue to drink in the sight of her.

Then, with a teasing lilt in her voice, she says, "you should attempt to burn this view into your memory, Quinlan, because you'll never see this much of my skin displayed ever again." After stating such an arrogantly impossible claim, she turns around with a deliberate, sensual sway in her hips and begins to walk away, leaving me with nothing but the lingering sight of her retreating form.

I watch her go with a combination of frustration and competitiveness churning in my chest. One day, I'll make her eat those words, but for now all I can do is commit every minute detail of her transgressions committed against me on this day into my memory so that I can use them as fuel to drive me forward towards the inevitable moment I fulfill my vengeance and begin meting out her just punishment.

…

After wrapping up our affairs and thanking Broderick for the generous use of his training room, Ayame and I begin the walk back to the inn we rented. The day has stretched long, and as we exit their hidden pathway that leads to the outside world, the two of us are greeted with a sky that is a canvas of deep purples and blues, signaling the arrival of night.

We've clearly been at it for many hours, perhaps best evidenced by the battered state of my body. Even my bones hurt…