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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 · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
354 Chs

David

The first light of dawn filtered weakly through the fabric of the tent, casting everything in a dull, gray hue. Around him, the others were beginning to stir, groaning and grumbling as they too woke up to face another day of forced labor. David didn't want to get up. His body felt like it was made of lead, but worse than the physical exhaustion was the weight in his chest- the suffocating hopelessness that gnawed at his heart.

He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the grime that seemed permanently etched into his skin. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of these men. They were all broken in their own ways, but showing weakness- crying- was a sure way to invite mockery or worse. Instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to push the despair down.

But it was hard. So damn hard.