Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

The Yoruha and Quinlan before them dissolved into mist.

The true Yoruha, standing perfectly calm beside a newly visible Quinlan, licked the back of her paw with infuriating leisure. Her voice purred, dripping mockery into the air as the illusion collapsed around her foes.

Moonveil Cataclysm…

The words themselves carried magic. A rush of mythical energies erupted from her tails, weaving a dome of warped light around her enemies. In that instant, Morgana and Lilith felt their senses fracture as the room, the walls, even Quinlan's figure splintered into countless mirrored phantoms.

Both witch and spellblade understood: this wasn't a fight against raw strength. This was a battle against something worse.

An immortal trickster who had turned something as innocent-sounding as 'illusions' into one of the strongest forms of combat magic on the whole Iskaris continent.

However, even if they missed their intended targets, two incredibly powerful attacks have already been let loose.

The instant Morgana's [Aethernova] and Lilith's [Rift Cleaver] passed through Yoruha's illusion, reality snapped back.

Both attacks detonated at once.

The storm spell collapsed in on itself before erupting outward, a blinding corona of lightning and raw magic tearing apart the beautiful garden's serene surroundings. Lilith's spatial cut expanded, its fractured edge widening, slicing pillars and trees alike.

The combined explosion slammed into the group of girls.

They were ready for combat, but simply found themselves out of their element. This was a legendary battle on a scale none of them had ever experienced.

Vex raised her sword and braced her feet, dragging furrows into the earth before she was hurled back anyway.

Serika's instincts fired. She shoved Feng behind her back, shielding the girl from the blast. The blast ripped the breath from her lungs, skin bruising black-and-blue in an instant. Blossom and Luville both went tumbling, skirts whipping violently in the shockwave. Even Aurora's protective barriers cracked and dissolved under the immense pressure, not being strong enough to withstand the assault.

Not one of them escaped without injury.

Quinlan moved instantly. His hand snapped up, and wind surged, layers of compressed air catching each girl before the stone walls could. The force slowed their flight, reducing what would have been broken bones to bruises.

Then his gaze lifted, so much so that his neck angled back.

Yoruha, standing tall, wasn't even glancing at them. Her lazy violet eyes peered down at him with a quiet amusement playing in their depths. She had shielded only him. To her, making a clean escape with her chosen "primordial pillow" was enough. Whether the others lived or died mattered little to the foxkin.

"If you think I'll let you curl up on my head, or sprawl across my lap again, while leaving them behind…" his teeth clenched. "… you better forget it."

That made her lazy eyes sharpen. She raised an eyebrow.

For the first time since her reveal, Yoruha's expression convulsed. She didn't say anything just yet, but Quinlan understood what she was thinking. Whether he allowed her to rest on him or not didn't matter all that much. If she so desired, Yoruha could force him to be her personal bed whether he liked it or not.

"I'll resist you with everything I've got."

The fox stared down at him for a long moment, her violet eyes flickering with irritation… then resignation. She sighed with reluctance.

"…A willing pillow is much better, I suppose."

Quinlan received a nasty side-eye glance when Yoruha turned her head to glare back at him. It was the kind of look only women who've been truly annoyed could produce. "

Now I know where that little green devil got her evil nature from. She inherited it."

Then the immortal foxkin's paw-turned-claw struck the floor as she stepped forward. The chamber groaned under her weight, the purple light across her tails burning brighter with each sway.

Morgana and Lilith now stood side by side. The air around them was charged and suffocating.

Lilith gave her blade a slow twirl, letting the steel sing as it left sparks in the air. Her grin became amplified even further. Hungry, fearless, and wild. Then she began a measured walk forward, each step ringing against the ruined garden's floor.

Beside her, Morgana raised her staff. The tip bled radiance as raw mana condensed, torrents of differing elements drawn into a sphere of burning pressure. Her dark hair whipped violently in the currents of her own spell.

Together, they faced Yoruha. Two predators, coiled to kill.

Lilith lunged first. A blur of steel and shadow, her blade carving arcs that warped the space it touched. Sparks shrieked as Yoruha's tails met her weapon, nine streaks of violet flame deflecting the strikes like whips.

Morgana's spell followed an instant later. Cataclysm Spiral. A cyclone of fire and wind energies twisted into a vortex that howled as if it wanted to herald the end of the world. The ground groaned and lifted under the force.

Yoruha's form blurred. For a heartbeat, she was smoke, shadow, and laughter. The cyclone devoured nothing but illusions.

"If you two weren't utterly insane, you'd be a cute pair of young ladies," the fox's voice teased from the garden's far edge. Her figure coalesced there, stretching lazily like she hadn't just evaded two apex predators.

Lilith's laugh rang out in response, blade lifted once more. "You truly are one annoying enemy to face…" She darted in again, reckless, fearless, chasing the fox's taunting shadow. Morgana advanced alongside, staff glowing with condensed power, each breath a spell on the edge of erupting.

The ruined garden became a war zone of illusions and detonations. Phantom foxes slashed through the storm, tails breaking Lilith's rhythm, making her parry ghosts that faded just before impact. Morgana's spells lit the world alight in a festival of disasters as flame, frost, and thunder were unleashed without restraint, carving trenches into stone, uprooting plants, and shattering the garden.

And through it all, Yoruha weaved. Not once did her pace shift from 'comfortably lazy.' She truly represented the threat of age perfectly well: an immortal trickster who couldn't be entirely serious even in the face of death. She ducked, vanished, reappeared, always just out of reach.

Quinlan stood apart. For a moment, he wanted to join in. Even if he wasn't on the level, he itched to test himself against Morgana. Elemental mage against elemental mage. He had control over the elements, so perhaps he could interfere with her spells.