Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

"Is there anyone who wants to leave?" The masked man asked, he was still parading around with Specter's impaled head on his sword and Blackjack collared to the chains held in his off-hand. Cela and the entire populace of the stronghold had converged at the place they call the Square.

The only reason the woman could still see the anomalous man was do to his towering height, but even then only the top of his mask was visible to her, and only if she tiptoed. Due to the large crowd, visibility was bad. She was really curious and wanted to see him in full, so it irked her a bit, but at least due to his boisterous voice, hearing him was easy.

As for his question, she didn't know what to make of it. Based on the perplexed faces of those around her, the widower knew that she wasn't alone. Leave? Why? Where?

The man repeated. "Is there anyone who wants to leave? Is there anyone amongst you who is here against their own free will? Were you dragged here by the Wraithclaws? Any non-combatant who wants to leave is free to do so. No harm will come your way. I swear it on the Goddess' graces. However, this is your last chance. Once I take this mask off, you are my subject and will do as I say. I will explain everything once those who would rather be the citizens of the Vraven Kingdom and its incompetent royal family leave. Until then, all I can say is that you will be treated well under my rule, you will work, you will have plenty of free time, and you will enjoy my and my competent subordinates' protection. So, last chance. Any non-combatant who wants to leave, do so."

Cela gripped her son's ankles who was still riding on her shoulders. This decision… was a hard one. They knew exactly how their life would be under the feudal system of the Vraven Kingdom, but everything surrounding this man was a mystery. Would he treat them well as he says? What does well mean in the first place?

It was a choice that basically boiled down to assured misery but at least a decent chance at survival, or taking a risk at being the subject of the ambiguous rule this man would create.

"No one?" He asked. None moved.

They came to this place to escape the human domain and the horrible prospects they were offered there in the first place. All of them were intrigued by this enigmatic newcomer, though Cela couldn't help but think that a lot of the female audience stayed due to the overwhelming curiosity they held toward how he would look without the mask. It was no secret that they, the weak women who weren't brave or talented enough to become combatants, were instinctively attracted toward the strong. It was a basic need of theirs to feel safe and protected. This newcomer could very obviously offer that and more.

"Then, from here on out…" He began while reaching for his mask with his left hand, and took it off, "… you're citizens under my sovereign dominion."

Cela understood the meaning of his word usage painfully well. Sovereign meant supreme authority, and dominion meant absolute control. He was saying that he would be their absolute ruler. No one had the right to question his rule.

As for his face, she couldn't see because everyone started tiptoeing to her great frustration.

However, this was not meant to be.

Her new overlord had other ideas.

Numerous gasps and cries of alert erupted from the crowd all around her, including her son who had a much better view than her. "Mommy! He is walking on air!" Her son screamed in a strong mixture of fright and amazement.

Cela didn't believe her son as that sounded just like a fairy tale. This man was nothing but a strong combatant, he was not a divine entity.

It defied everything she understood about the world. No mortal man, no matter how strong or skilled, could walk on air. That was the stuff of myths. Yet the collective gasps of the crowd and the frantic pointing of the people forced her to reconsider. Her heart began beating rapidly as if she was in the middle of sprinting a great distance. She craned her neck and pushed herself higher onto her tiptoes in desperation to see.

She finally did.

She saw.

The previously masked man - their new overlord - was ascending. Not flying like a bird, but outright walking. Each step was slow, deliberate, and full of confidence. It was as though the very air itself bent to his will, forming an invisible staircase beneath his feet. His tall, broad frame radiated a masculine elegance, a terrifying kind of beauty that made her forget to inhale oxygen longer than ever before. The sun of the new dawn shone against his strong, chiseled features. His jawline was sharp enough to cut stone and his cheekbones were high and regal.

Okay, that might've been a bit of an overstatement on her part, but Cela thought him to be the most handsome man she'd ever seen, so a bit of an exaggeration from her should be more than acceptable, she thought.

The mask was nowhere to be seen now as his uncovered face sent ripples of reactions through the crowd. Cela caught fragmented whispers from those around her.

"Handsome…"

"Terrifying…"

"Male Goddess?…"

In Thalorind the idea that gods - as in multiple of them - existed was not a thing. They'd only ever known about the Goddess as the ruler of Thalorind, and they didn't know of the existence of other worlds either. This was why this particular person thought of him as a 'male goddess', and not simply a 'god'.

Cela swallowed hard. He wasn't just handsome. He was outright overwhelming. A perfect balance of raw masculinity and cold authority.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

But it wasn't just his appearance that commanded attention. It was the sheer presence of him. The effortless way he strode upward, higher and higher with the impaled head of Specter still comfortably sitting atop his saber.

The chain rattled violently in his other hand as Blackjack fought for his life. All four of his limbs were wildly struggling to allow himself the luxury of breathing. The once-feared tyrant who made her a widow was now a pitiful sight. His charred body dangled and writhed like a condemned man on the gallows. The chain around his neck dug deep into his flesh, choking him as he struggled desperately to keep himself upright. His legs flailed aimlessly while his scorched hands clawed at the unyielding metal. The man didn't even glance down at him. He was utterly indifferent to Blackjack's gasping and choking.

Cela's stomach felt warm and fuzzy as she watched Blackjack's torment. She couldn't help but watch his desperation with a cruel smile adorning her lips as she basked in the glorious sight of his misery wholeheartedly.

However, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the man who held Blackjack's chains for long. There was something about the man's apathy, about his complete disregard for the suffering of the man who had terrorized them all, that sent a thrill through her.