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Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Quinlan, a simple office worker finds himself transmigrated to an extremely dangerous fantasy land as a level 1 Commoner with nothing to his name but his wits- and a unique gift that accompanied his teleportation. No one in Thalorind could have predicted that this unassuming arrival would one day rise to the top, redefining the very meaning of the term 'power'... And that he may have achieved said result by joining a criminal organization and clawing his way through its ranks as well as establishing his own business empire that may or may not have relied on slave labor. In the beginning Quinlan was painfully weak and alone, but thanks to his severe trust issues, joining a team was... hard. However, he soon noticed that a lot of people have collars around their necks in this world... People that couldn't exactly betray him. "Oh, so you are a warrior who is looking for a master that strives to become the strongest? You found him." "Wait, you are an assassin with an amazing, rare class who has a cruel master? Let me help you have a change of ownership..." "I know that you might not be a slave, but one of my classes is 'Slave Master', which would make you stronger should you become one... So how about it?" Follow Quinlan's journey as he grows in strength, amasses wealth, fights to the death, and meets lovely ladies.

NecroBin · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
404 Chs

Intruders 2

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.