Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Julia isn't done yet. Desperation fuels her voice as she commands Marla, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and fear. "Marla, get the wine bottle from that stupid retard!" she yells, gesturing wildly in my direction. "Kill them!"

Marla obeys with the same hollow compliance, her movements almost puppet-like. She picks up the item, her gaze empty and unfocused as she turns toward our intruders.

"Allow me," the taller man says, stepping forward. His voice carries a calm authority, and the smaller figure, whose gender remains a mystery, nods and steps back. He positions himself between Marla and his ally, his stance relaxed yet ready.

Marla charges, bottle in hand, her once-great potential now reduced to a mindless act of aggression. Her level 9 status as a warrior should mean something. She's not top-tier, but she's far from weak. Yet without gear or spirit, she's just a golem made of flesh, and the disparity is evident in their clash.

The man moves with fluid precision, catching her wrist in one hand. With a swift motion, he places his leg behind hers, sending her sprawling to the ground. He follows her down, pinning her with a knee on her stomach. The maneuver is so quick, so decisive, it almost seems comical.

He wrenches the bottle from her grip and, with an almost dismissive flick, hurls it at Julia. The unexpected action takes her by surprise as she lets out a shriek and attempts to dodge, but she's too slow. The bottle hits her square in the face, the glass shattering with a rather satisfying crunch.

Julia cries out, both in surprise and pain, staggering back with wine and glass shards coating her skin. I can't help but find a dark humor in the scene- a fitting retribution for the biggest whore of the world.

The man turns his attention back to Marla who is not even trying to fight back anymore, as far as she is concerned she did her best and lost, thus fulfilling her contractual duty. "I know the answer just from looking at you, but I will ask it anyways. You seek death, correct?" he asks, his voice carrying a strange mixture of menace and kindness.

"...Yes..." Marla's voice is barely a whisper, raspy and weak. It's the first time I've heard her speak in months, and it stirs something uncomfortable in me.

The man raises his dagger, its blade gleaming wickedly in the dim light. He brings it down with merciless precision, piercing Marla's heart in one swift motion. She doesn't flinch, doesn't resist. Instead, as the blade sinks into her flesh, a twisted grin spreads across her face. She's experiencing ecstasy, happiness, joy. It's a chilling sight, and even my cold heart feels a twinge of guilt.

"Thank you...!" Marla breathes her final words, and then she goes limp, the life draining from her eyes. Blood flows from her wound like a river, pooling on the floor beneath her.

The man stands and steps over her body. He approaches Julia, who is now shivering like a rabbit in front of a wolf, with her previous attitude nowhere to be seen.

With deliberate slowness, he wipes the blade clean on Julia's previously pristine shoulder, each movement painfully unhurried. He draws out the moment, savoring the fear he instills. The cold steel drags across her skin, leaving smears of Marla's and the other guard's blood, resulting in a chilling contrast against her pale flesh.

Julia is completely paralyzed with terror, her bravado utterly shattered. Her eyes are wide with pupils dilated with fear as she stares up at the man towering over her. She trembles uncontrollably, her body reacting to the primal fear that grips her heart. Her earlier confidence is gone, replaced by a raw, vulnerable terror that renders her speechless.

I have to admit that the man's presence is utterly terrifying, and I've seen a lot of scary shit throughout my miserable existence. He looms over her, resembling death itself, with an aura of calm menace. He isn't just a promise of our certain doom, no. I can tell from a mere glance that he won't let us go to the Goddess's side easily.

We will be made to suffer.

The dim light casts shadows across his masked face, giving him an inhuman appearance, like a grim reaper who came to collect his due. Perhaps that analogy is rather close to the truth. His complete silence is oppressive, more frightening than any words he might utter.

Just from a glance, I can tell that every instinct in Julia screams for her to flee, to escape this nightmare, but she's rooted to the spot, trapped by the weight of her fear. The mocking leer she wore earlier has vanished, replaced by a mask of sheer horror. She'd finally realized that she's at his complete mercy.

"What is your name?" He inquires with absolute coldness evident in his tone. He is not at all shaken by having murdered two people and who knows how many others before he got to my bedroom. I hope my butler didn't meet such a fate, or at least was sent to the other side painlessly... Just now I realize that he might've been my closest friend.

I was treating him like trash but he always assisted my house to the best of his abilities. Damn... I should've set him free decades ago. Such thoughts are too little, too late, though.

"Emily..."

"Julia, there's no point in lying. We can only pray to the Goddess that we are allowed to live."

The man snickers, "hahaha! Even now, you are lying, woman?! You really have no shame, I might just have to start admiring you." Judging by his tone he is just jesting. To be honest, I understand him.

I must admit that he and his short partner interrupted us at a rather unfortunate time, we were both naked with our sex partners exhausted from servicing us for hours on end while we were loudly yelling profanities at each other. It didn't allow us to make the best first impression...