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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
444 Chs

Mordecai

Abudha made a quick prayer motion, followed by his Heralds. "I don't like their numbers, though."

Iris drew her blade and coldly stated; "quality over quantity."

Just like that, our formation was established and we began rushing in the direction where Blossom smelt the least opposition.

It only took us a second or so to see them; over a dozen soldiers stood in our way. I call them soldiers despite likely being criminals because they are wearing uniform armor, making them seem like a professional army. However, three stood out from the rest.

The first person was a towering figure whose armor was dulled and scarred, likely from countless battles. He gripped the hilt of his massive sword with both hands while looking like a knight at prayer.

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