Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion

Chapter 705: Chapter 705 - A Princess Eligible to Be Queen

Latina moved.

From the grass. She reached behind her— to the pile of clothes, the scattered items, the debris of a life that had been interrupted by sex and healing and revelation. Her hand found something. A scroll. Small. Rolled. Tied with a black ribbon. She pulled it out. She held it.

She tossed it.

The scroll arced through the air. Raven caught it. One hand. Without looking. His black eyes stayed on the princess.

He held the scroll out.

"So," he said. His voice was quiet. Conversational. The voice of a man who is about to offer something that cannot be refused. "You need to sign on that."

The princess trembled.

"What?" she whispered. Her green eyes went from his face to the scroll. The black ribbon. The mana seal— a blue glow, faint, pulsing, the sign of a binding document. A mana contract. The kind that could not be broken. The kind that bound the signer in magic and in law.

"What— what is it?" she said. Her voice was shaking. The tears were still falling. Her hands were in her lap— gripping her torn dress, the silk bunched in her fists.

He leaned.

Close. His face near hers. His mouth near her ear. She could feel his breath— warm, steady, the exhale of a man who is never rushed. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. She shivered.

"You do not trust men," he said. His voice was a murmur. A whisper. The words traveled down her ear, through her skull, into her brain. "But you trust contracts. Right?"

She pulled back.

She looked at him. At his face. At the black eyes. At the calm. At the smile— small, thin, warm.

She took the scroll.

Her fingers were trembling. She fumbled with the ribbon. The black silk came undone. The scroll unrolled. The parchment was old. Thick. The edges were worn. The mana seal was at the top— a circle, blue, glowing, the sigil of a binding contract.

She read.

Her green eyes moved across the parchment. The words were written in ink— dark, precise, the hand of a scribe. The language was formal. Legal. The language of contracts.

MANA BINDING CONTRACT

Party A: RAVEN

Party B: [_____]

Terms:

1. Party A shall install Party B as the Queen of the Doria Kingdom by any means necessary.

2. Upon ascension to the throne, Party B shall pledge complete and loyal service to Party A.

3. Party B shall surrender herself— body, mind, and will— to Party A as a vassal serves a lord.

4. Party A retains the right to claim payment in advance at any time prior to the fulfillment of Term 1.

5. This contract is binding under mana law. Violation by either party shall result in mana collision, paralysis, and potential death.

She blinked.

"What?" she said. Her voice was barely audible. The word was a breath. A whisper. "What— I— what?"

She read it again. The words did not change. The terms did not change. The meaning did not change.

He would make her queen.

He would make her the Queen of the Doria Kingdom. The kingdom of her father. The kingdom that had killed her mother. The kingdom that had sold her. He would put her on the throne. He would give her the crown.

And in return—

She would serve him.

Completely. Loyal. Body, mind, will. Surrendered. To him. To the man with the black eyes. To the man who had fucked Latina on the grass. To the man who had killed a bear with a thought. To the man who had healed a missing leg with a wave of his hand.

She looked up.

He was standing. His black eyes were on her. The smile was there. Small. Thin. The smile of a man who knows the answer before the question is asked.

"Don’t you want it?" he said. His voice was warm. Gentle. The voice of a man who is offering a gift. "The kingdom for yourself? To take revenge on those neighboring kingdoms yourself? To take revenge on the king himself?"

Her mouth opened.

The king. Her father. The man who had given her mother to three men. The man who had watched while she was strangled. The man who had placed his hand on her head and said "your mother provided me with massive gains" and "I will send you to the barbarian king as a concubine."

Revenge.

The word was a fire. It started in her chest— in the place where the grief lived, where the memory lived, where the screaming lived. It spread. Through her stomach. Through her arms. Through her fingers. Through her legs. Through her brain. The fire consumed everything— the grief, the fear, the confusion, the helplessness. It burned it all. And what remained— what was left after the fire— was clean. Sharp. Clear.

Revenge.

"What—?" she whispered. "I—"

She bit her lips. Her teeth sank into the flesh. Her green eyes were darting— from the contract to his face to the contract. From the words to the man to the words. She was confused. Overwhelmed. The tears were still falling but the fire was drying them.

Raven snapped his finger.

The ground responded.

The grass trembled. The earth beneath it shifted. The soil— dark, rich, the soil of the forest— rose. It came up. Not like a mound. Not like a hill. Shaped. Carved. Formed. The earth moved as if invisible hands were sculpting it. The shape was clear. The back was high. The seat was wide. The arms were thick. The legs were carved— clawed, the feet of a beast. The surface hardened— the soil becoming stone, the color shifting from brown to black to gold.

A throne.

A throne of earth and stone. Rising from the ground of a forest. In a clearing beside a pond. On the grass where a woman had been fucked and a leg had been healed and a bear had been killed.

It was large.

Larger than a normal chair. The seat was wide enough for two. The back was high enough to tower over a standing man. The arms were broad enough to rest on. The surface was smooth— polished, the stone gleaming, the gold veins running through the black like lightning in a dark sky.

It was a king’s throne.

"You can take your seat there as a queen," Raven said. His voice was quiet. The voice of a man who has just built a throne with a thought and who is offering it to a girl in a torn dress. "Let me say— it is not easy to become the queen of a kingdom. How can you?"

She was confused.

The princess was overwhelmed. Her brain was processing— the contract, the throne, the revenge, the words, the fire, the grief, the tears, the man, the woman, the forest, the pond, the bear, the cock, the food, the memory, the coffin, the screaming—

"I— it is not— how can I—" she stammered. Her voice was broken. The words would not form. Her mouth was moving but the sounds were not connecting. "I am a princess. A princess without a mother. Without allies. Without an army. Without—"