Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1505  Fighting an Arch Priestess

Black Fang was thrilled.

The signs were subtle if you didnʼt know her, but Quinlan had spent enough time around the woman to read them. The slight widening of her stance. The way her fingers adjusted on the katanaʼs grip, the relaxation of someone preparing for sustained violence rather than a quick kill. A real fight. She could smell it.

Quinlan was less enthused.

He was focused, because an Arch Priestess standing on the steps of her cathedral was a very different opponent than the soldiers heʼd been cutting through until now.

The Arch Priest class was the Goddessʼs highest mortal appointment. Her chosen heralds, handpicked from the ranks of the Healer class for their devotion and elevated into something far more powerful. Where Healers channeled the Goddessʼs mercy - or as Quinlan now knew, her Purity - to mend wounds and cure disease, Arch Priests channeled her authority at a much higher level. Holy boons that could fortify, shield, purify, and smite with a potency that made standard healing magic look like a parlor trick.

The Healer class itself was already selective. The Goddess chose who received it, and she chose based on virtue. It was the reason sheʼd refused to grant the class to Quinlan. It was also the reason Seraphiel had received it, because beneath the cheeky act and shameless flirting, Quinlanʼs elven lover was one of the kindest souls heʼd ever met.

The Goddess had good taste in that regard.

Many considered the Arch Priest class to be the Healerʼs superior evolution. Quinlan disagreed. To him, it was a cage dressed in gold.

The price of that power was freedom. Arch Priests derived their strength from a direct connection to the Goddess, and that connection required proximity to consecrated ground. A cathedral. A temple. A shrine of sufficient sanctity. Step too far from the Goddessʼs domain and the boons faded, the power drained, and the Arch Priest became an ordinary person in expensive robes.

Healers could walk the world. They could travel, fight, explore, live as they pleased. The Goddessʼs gift to them was unconditional.

Arch Priests were leashed.

However, there was an exception to the rule. Elisabeth Valorian, the Dawn Breaker, Second Princess of the Vraven Kingdom, had somehow maintained her connection to the Goddess even at vast distances from any cathedral. But Elisabeth was an outlier so extreme that scholars had written entire treatises trying to explain how she managed it.

The rest were bound. Stationed at their cathedrals for life, deriving immense power in exchange for never leaving. Revered by the public. Honored by kingdoms. Treated as living saints.

Slaves, in Quinlanʼs eyes. Doing a womanʼs bidding in exchange for a gilded cell.

He knew that opinion was extreme. To virtually anyone else on the continent, being chosen as an Arch Priest was the highest honor imaginable. A lifetime of privilege and respect. The faithful wept when they were selected.

Quinlan looked at the golden light pouring from the cathedral and saw a very powerful woman who could never leave her front door, unless she was willing to lose her powers.

Which was exactly what made her dangerous right now.

She wasnʼt away from her source. She wasnʼt weakened by distance or cut off from her patron. She was standing on the doorstep of her Goddessʼs seat of power, fully connected, fully charged, drawing on faith and devotion funneled through walls built for exactly this purpose.

An Arch Priestess at the heart of her domain.

For Black Fang, that meant a challenge worth getting excited about.

For Quinlan, it meant this was the first real fight since the barrier.

Black Fang moved first.

Her hand found the katanaʼs grip and drew it in a single fluid motion.

”[Orochiʼs Howl].”

The air rippled. A serpentʼs head, colossal and spectral, manifested above her. Its form was dark smoke except for the head, which was sharp, defined, and alive. The phantom serpent lowered and its enormous forked tongue licked her blade, releasing a howl that shook the stained-glass windows in their frames.

The katana ignited. Violet fire condensed along the edge, searing and bright, while a poisonous miasma bled from the steel and trailed behind every movement like smoke from a torch. Her veins darkened beneath her skin, pulsing violet as the serpentʼs essence threaded into her body.

The spectral head dissolved into motes of light.

Black Fang was already moving.