Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

- Pov: Blossom -

It wasn't long ago that I was running for my life- and bodily purity.

It had been a close call, too close. The large pack made up of horny werewolves had nearly caught up to me, but before they could claim their prize my objective had been achieved when I brought them to the outpost and the soldiers had arrived just in the nick of time to save my desperate hide.

The clash of steel hitting fangs and claws and the reverberating sounds of their monstrous roars and shouts of orders gave me all the distraction I needed. As the werewolves were forced to divert their attention to the new threat, I seized the opportunity to slip away, darting into the dense forest foliage and fled as fast as my legs could carry me.

Once I was a safe distance away, I found a small clearing and wasted no time in shedding my soaked pants that were like a beacon, broadcasting my scent to the ravenous werewolves, whose powerful noses could track even the faintest hint of desire no matter how far I ran from them.

I then quickly cleaned myself with water from my waterskin, scrubbing my private area to the best of my ability, that was no longer leaking anything thanks to the existential danger I was in.

Blossom must not think of Master's naked form again!!! I chastise myself and thankfully so far it seems to be working. My body must understand that if it starts leaking again, chances are that we won't be able to see Master ever again and enjoy his loving embrace.

Now, with the immediate danger behind me, I sit on a highly perched tree branch and watch the battle from a safe distance, which is possible thanks to my Phantom Canine spell [Heightened Canine Senses], it allows me to hear and see better, among other things, for ten minutes.

Below, the werewolves are locked in a fierce struggle with the soldiers, but despite them numbering in the fifties, and each of their members seeming to be at least level 15, with most being much higher than that, they're still losing ground. Not just because they're outnumbered- no, most of the human soldiers are getting massacred by the dozens.

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It's the few outstanding individuals among them that are turning the tide, fearlessly jumping into the midst of the pack of monsters and slaughtering them like they are simple wolves and not the great predators of the night.

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A sudden, furious roar echoes through the air, forcibly snapping me out of my thoughts. "Where's the tasty bitch in heat?! Stop hiding her, damned humans!" A giant werewolf, who seems to be the pack leader with his form that's towering over that of his companions', which makes him the super alpha considering the size of their pack- shouts with a voice that is filled with boiling rage.

I can't help but snicker. Oh, they're looking for Blossom even now, in their horrible position, are they? How flattering... She didn't know her smell was this tantalizing… Hehehe. Blossom may be a bitch in heat, but only for one person in this entire world, and you ugly, mangy wolvies are most certainly not 'him'!

As I shout my declaration inwardly, my head suddenly snaps away from the battlefield towards a certain point in the far distance, and I raise my nose, sniffing deeply the strong scent carried by the wind. A wave of panic washes over me as the realization hits. "Oh no... No!" I whisper with a trembling voice.

Trouble is coming, much worse than it already was.

I strain my eyes, and soon enough, I see them: the female portion of the werewolf pack, pursuing their males.

The two sides who were engaged in a bloody scuffle just a second ago retreat momentarily to two distinct sides to lick their wounds.

The arrival of the women is heralded by a chorus of angry growls and snarls, their eyes blazing with fury. They're not just angry but absolutely livid, and as soon reach their destination and begin vehemently questioning the males, asking for an explanation for their actions.

One of the males with tail between his legs, tries to explain. "She… she smelled too divine, compared to your-"

"Compared to my what?" one of the females snaps, her voice dripping with venom.

"Uh, your, uh, w-wet dog smell?" he stammers, realizing too late the grave mistake he's made.

The female's eyes narrow to dangerous slits, and before he can react, she swipes a clawed hand across his face, leaving deep scratches that ooze blood and possibly blinds him in one eye. "Hmph!" She snorts, snapping her head away in evident disgust.

The other females crowd around, their ears twitching and their hackles raised, glaring daggers at the males who dared to run after a random "slut" while they were also in heat.

Meanwhile, I'm having a full-blown nervous breakdown. My hands tremble, and sweat beads on my forehead. "Master told Blossom to bait a few monsters to the outpost…" I mutter frantically under my breath. "The fifty male werewolves were already way beyond the quota, but now… now there's an extra hundred and fifty females here too!"

I swallow hard, feeling my heart trying to escape the confines presented by my chest as my ears droop low in shame. Blossom absolutely failed her most important mission. This wasn't supposed to happen! All because she got horny, she ruined the plan… Master… Blossom is so sorry…

No matter how mighty the strongest humans might be, against these werewolf numbers they stand little chance. They will be overrun in a couple of minutes.

Just as I stand up to run to Master and inform him of this colossal blunder, my eyes catch sight of something unusual.

One of the brave soldiers who was slaughtering werewolves while being surrounded from all sides suddenly crouches low, then, with a powerful flex of his muscles, he leaps into the air and soars an incredible hundred meters (~328 feet) straight up, propelled by the sheer strength in his legs, and he is soon joined by the other four similarly dressed soldiers.

What…?! I gasp.

I've never seen such a display of physical might before. What kind of Strength stat must one possess to achieve such a feat?

They land a short distance from the monsters and out of thin air, a strange artifact materializes in the hand of the one who disengaged from the middle of the bloody battlefield first. It's a slender, ornate device, gleaming with a dull light. The artifact looks like a cross between a horn and a scepter, with intricate runes carved into its surface, pulsing faintly as if alive.

He lifts it to his mouth, his face calm and composed despite the imminent danger.

"This is Aegis Vanguard Unit Leader Stormlord, calling headquarters for immediate reinforcements. Secret Outpost 0014 is about to be overrun by a rampaging horde of werewolves."

A similarly cold, detached voice responds through the artifact, "Noted. Sending backup. Keep the monsters at bay, even if it costs your life."

The captain's reply is just as calm, "Naturally."

He doesn't sound particularly worried, almost as if he's ordering an extra round of drinks rather than calling for backup in the face of near certain death. His voice carries a level of confidence that borders on arrogance, as though this situation is just another day on the job for him.