"My lord!" Velmaria panicked, quickly taking the knife from his hand and tossing it to the ground with a clink. "Forgive me—I shouldn't have blacked out so suddenly." She tore a strip from her sleeve and gently wrapped it around the bleeding cut on Malrik's finger.
And as if a spell had lifted, the pain surged in full. The wound throbbed and stung sharply as the cloth tightened, forcing Malrik's breath to hitch. His eyes welled instinctively, the childlike part of him warring against the growing pride that refused to cry out.
Velmaria cooed softly as she lifted him, pressing him gently against her chest. "There, there," she whispered. "It'll be just fine, my lord. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." Her voice trembled with genuine emotion, her arms protective.
"Let…" Malrik mumbled, his voice shaky and small.
"What was that, my lord?" she asked, still rocking him, already mid-motion in pulling down the front of her dress.
The swell of her breast emerged—pale and smooth, faintly flushed from the heat of battle and emotion. Soft and generous, it exuded the warmth of a caretaker, though the demonic allure in her blood lent it a hint of unnatural perfection, the kind that could comfort and tempt in the same breath.
Malrik's words caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her breast—soft, full, the skin pale as moonlight. Her areola, perfect in shape and hue, sent a ripple of instinct through him far stronger than any pain.
Don't you say it—
"…Milky," he muttered anyway, the word slipping out with a kind of dazed reverence as his small, bloodied hands reached toward her.
Velmaria smiled gently, brushing his hair back. "Drink, my lord," she whispered, voice low and aching with devotion. "Let me soothe you…"
He didn't need to be told twice. His lips latched onto her breast, warm and firm against his mouth. The taste that met him was oddly sweet—not milk, but something more subtle. Skin, warmth, a trace of her perfume and sweat, all mixed into a flavor that made his pulse slow and his mind quiet.
He suckled without urgency, not out of hunger but instinct, lips forming a seal as his tongue flicked curiously over her nipple. It stiffened under the attention, and he felt it pulse slightly with each tug. One of his small hands rose, kneading the soft mound clumsily, fingers splayed over flesh far too large for them to grasp.
Velmaria held him close, arms cradling his tiny form as if he were the most sacred thing in existence. She said nothing more—only stroked his back in slow circles, her breathing steady, her head bowed over him like a priestess before an altar.
No milk came. That didn't matter. It was the act that comforted, not the sustenance. The warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the way her heartbeat echoed steadily against his ear—all of it quieted something wild and rattling deep inside him.
His tail wiggled, trailing down her dress and slipping between her thighs. It reached her pussy with little resistance—she was completely bare down there. His tongue circled her nipple, drawing a soft moan from her lips, while his spade-shaped tail slowly pushed into her folds.
Her breath hitched as the tip of his tail flexed within her, exploring her heat with slow, deliberate pulses. She arched slightly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he suckled at her breast—not with hunger, but with reverence, grounding himself through her.
The warmth between her legs bloomed, her hips shifting to welcome the intrusion. She whispered something soft and broken, her voice trembling in the still air. He didn't answer, not with words. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, letting her feel the slow grind of his need against her thigh.
There was no rush, no frenzy. Only heat. The rhythmic sway of his tail, the wet sounds of her folds parting, and the steady thrum of her heartbeat against his cheek.
Velmaria felt the gentle exploration of Malrik's tail, a sensation that sent a warm, tingling pulse through her core. She was no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh, her demonic lineage ensuring she was well-versed in the art of carnal delights. Yet, there was something innocent and pure in Malrik's touch, a raw, untamed curiosity that stirred a different kind of heat within her.
His tail, slick with her arousal, pulsed rhythmically, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure that made her inner muscles clench. She could feel the rough, spade-shaped tip, the ridged texture of his tail—every detail amplified by her heightened senses. It was a slow, deliberate dance, a claiming that was as much about comfort as it was about desire.
Velmaria's breath hitched as Malrik's tail delved deeper, his exploration becoming more insistent. She could feel the slight resistance—the barrier that marked her as untouched. A soft, satisfied smile played on her lips. She had given herself to no one—not out of innocence or fear, but because her former lord, Thorneveil Abyzrakul Tenebris, had kept her pure ever since the conception of her new master. Every moment, every restraint, had been in preparation for this.
Her fingers carded through his hair, gently guiding him as he suckled at her breast. She felt his need, his desire, his hunger for her. And she was glad. Glad that he was finding solace in her body, glad that he was claiming her in this primal, instinctual way.
"More, my lord," she whispered, her voice low and sultry, yet filled with a tender affection. "Take more of me. Let me soothe you, let me fill you with my warmth, my love."
Malrik's tail pushed deeper, his tip breaching the barrier with a soft, almost imperceptible pop. Velmaria felt a brief flash of pain, a sharp pinch quickly swallowed by the warmth of their connection. She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, but her voice remained steady, her words a soft, encouraging murmur.
"That's it, my lord. Take all of me. Let me be yours, completely—"
Before Velmaria could finish her sentence, a glint of cold metal caught her eye. Hmm? Her smile curled wider. Hmm? Oh, this whore's trying to take us by surprise, it seems~
Turning her head ever so slightly, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the red-haired woman on the cave floor inched toward the knife within her reach.
Velmaria made no move to stop her. The threat barely registered compared to the thrill flooding her body. She welcomed it—enjoyed it—even as Malrik's tail moved within her untouched depths, claiming the last vestige of her maidenhood with a slow, exploring thrust.
What's this?? thought Malrik as he sucked on Velmaria's tit, his tail squirming inside her as he technically took her virginity—well, half of it, as his tail had only torn through half of it.
But that wasn't what confused him.
It was fear.
Not just any type of fear—but fear of what would befall them if they didn't succeed.
Images flashed through his mind—
A horde of goblins ravaging the red-haired woman, her hands tied and her legs spread wide, taking in goblin after goblin as they fulfilled their carnal desires, filling all her sexual orifices.
Her body was covered in semen, taking it in every hole. Her eyes cloudy, her stomach bulging with life.
And in front of her—the other woman Velmaria had brought into the cave—receiving the same treatment.
He and Velmaria watched it all with twisted amusement—
Then burst into laughter.
The vision ended just as suddenly.
A sharp sting prickled through him as his mana drained—[-30 MP]—a price paid for activating Lust Sense, showing him the festering lustful fear within the red-haired woman.
Before he could fully understand what had just happened, a burst of wind rushed over him as Velmaria twisted her body, parrying the red-haired girl—the same woman who had looked at him with scorn.
The other two women, along with Saelira, let out audible gasps as what little hope they had—the hope that the red-haired woman might kill Velmaria—faded into despair.
One of the girls on the floor tried to bear through the pain in her body and stand, desperate to help. But a single look from Velmaria shut her down.
She had seen how effortlessly Velmaria had butchered the goblins, keeping them half-alive, and her body shuddered at the memory.
Her eyes darted to the nearest goblin—its vocal cords and limbs sliced so precisely it could neither move nor scream. Yet she knew: if it could, the cave would be filled with its cries.
She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering a silent prayer that someone would find them... that these demons would be executed.
But then—a dry thud struck the ground before her.
Slowly, she opened her eyes—and met a pair of brown ones, glassy and lifeless.
Her face froze in terror. Then twisted into horror as a blood-curdling scream tore from her dry, cracked lips.
Save me, save me—heroes, anyone! she screamed internally, pushing herself backward, away from the severed head.
Terror clamped her throat shut. Her breath hitched. Her body trembled violently, the last shreds of dignity slipping away as a warm wetness spread between her legs, soaking her thighs completely.
She couldn't look away from the severed head staring blankly up at her, its mouth still hanging open in a silent scream, blood pooling thick and dark beneath it.
Her gaze snapped upward, landing on Velmaria.
Velmaria's crimson eyes burned with twisted amusement as she cradled Malrik in her arms. Her fingers holding onto his as the knife the girl just had was now within their shared grasp.
Malrik—no, that thing—was smiling too, lazily, as though they hadn't just murdered someone without a second thought.
The girl fell to her knees, hands trembling so badly she could barely keep herself upright.
"P-please," she sobbed, the words tearing from her throat, raw and desperate. "D-don't kill me... don't kill her either... we'll do anything you want... please!"
The other girl—already slumped on the floor, bruised and beaten—saw her chance. With tears streaking down her dirt-caked cheeks, she forced herself up onto her hands and knees.
"M-me too!" she cried hoarsely. "I'll do anything! Please—I'll serve you, just don't kill us!"
Their pleas echoed against the cave walls, weak and broken, filled with the kind of terror that even death couldn't wash away.
Velmaria tilted her head slightly, as if considering. A cruel, slow smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Malrik shifted lazily in her arms, his tail curling with interest.
His eyes drafting to the Exp that had appeared
{+38.1EXP}
──────
Name: Malrik Thorneveil Tenebris
Race: Incubus Scion (Demon lord)
Class:
Level: 6 {+1} ([400] - Locked)
EXP: 348 / 800→ 386 / 800
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Affiliation: ???
Title(s):
Spawn of Abyzrakul Tenebris
Son of Thorneveil Abyzrakul Tenebris
Thamor, the Lord of Consorts
──────
Compared to that goblin, the EXP he got from killing a human was probably three hundred percent more.
This made him feel a bit off — mixed feelings, as Velmaria had made him kill her and he couldn't resist — but that was the human part of him.
The other part...
...He'd never admit that.
His eyes took on a crimson glint, his dark, slit-like pupils becoming more prominent as he listened to the two girls beg and plead. Despite the gunk, they still looked decently attractive.
Hmm, would my Authorities work on them?
And they said they'd do anything, right?
Malrik Thorneveil Tenebris (Authority) {Activated}
His eyes were purged of their crimson glint as a golden glow overtook them.
A visual illusion of a golden halo appeared above his head, along with two illusory golden rings around his index and middle fingers.
The silver ring on his ring finger also glowed gold, and the ring on Saelira's finger mirrored his.
The two girls gasped as two panels hovered in front of them:
──────
Name: Elira Wens
Race: Human
Class: Commoner
Level: 1
EXP: 12 / 100
Alignment: Neutral Good
Affiliation: Redwillow Village
Title(s):
Bloom of Redwillow
The Gentle Hand
──────
HP: 28 / 70
MP: 0 / 0
Stamina: 20 / 50
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 2
Vitality: 2
Intelligence: 5
Charisma: 8
──────
ABILITIES:
(None)
──────
The first panel was grayed out.
This killed his mood a bit — he hoped the second one wouldn't be gray too.
But when it appeared, it was also bathed in gray light.
This was Malrik's first time seeing that color.
He had only used his Authority twice before.
The first time was with Velmaria, but he hadn't been able to — her status panel had been blood red.
Even though it failed, she had been bustling with joy that he was able to use his stolen godhead of the fallen god of marriage, and said he was one step closer to becoming the Lord of Consorts.
After that, she had kidnapped Saelira for her breast milk and to test if he could use his godhead on her and grow stronger.
He had succeeded — Saelira became his first consort, and he gained a copy of her stats added onto his own.
That time, her panel had been gold, which was why he believed it had worked.
Though he hadn't seen gray before, he could guess what it represented.
Gold meant he could make a ring and marry them.
Red probably meant they were too high of a level.
And gray... meant he couldn't at that time — or he wasn't truly willing to make them his Consorts.
Meaning his plan to use his other Authority — to make them swear an oath of love and protection, basically making him temporarily immortal as long as they lived — had failed.
I guess I still have Saelira, he thought as he read Stella's status.
──────
Name: Sella Darn
Race: Human
Class: Farmer
Level: 2
EXP: 25 / 150
Alignment: Neutral
Affiliation: Redwillow Village
Title(s): (None)
──────
HP: 24/ 85
MP: 0 / 0
Stamina: 25 / 65
Strength: 2
Dexterity: 1
Vitality: 3
Intelligence: 1
Charisma: 6
──────
ABILITIES:
(None)
──────
Velmaria laughed gently.
"What do you think we should do, my lord? I don't think we can keep them anymore," she said, taking the knife out of his hands and looking at the girls with a cold glint.
Killing one of them should teach them a lesson~
Malrik sighed internally.
She's probably already set on what to do with them anyway. There's nothing more I can do but comply with this twisted demon maid, he thought.
Yet the grin pulling at his mouth made the thought feel like a blatant lie.
"Legs..."
That was all he needed to say.
Velmaria smiled brightly, as if she'd been waiting for it.
"As you wish, my lord." Her voice was thick with excitement.
"I need you to sit down first though. But make sure you watch closely~"
She placed Malrik down gently on the dirt floor.
The moment she let go, one of the girls bolted, sprinting into the dark tunnels in a blind panic.
Velmaria didn't hesitate.
Her arm snapped up, and with a flick of her wrist, a thin black knife flew through the air.
There was a dull thunk — then a wet thud.
The girl dropped immediately, skidding across the dirt.
Her ankle had been severed cleanly — the foot lying a few meters away, twitching weakly in the dust.
Blood poured out fast, soaking the ground under her.
Velmaria walked over calmly.
The girl tried to crawl, clawing at the dirt, whimpering through gritted teeth.
Without a word, Velmaria grabbed her by the remaining foot and dragged her back like a sack of meat.
The girl screamed once when her stump hit the ground, then bit her own lip hard enough to bleed, trying to stay conscious.
When Velmaria reached Malrik, she threw the girl down roughly at his feet.
The broken stump was still bleeding hard, staining the dirt a deep red.
The other girl — Sella — was frozen in shock, hands trembling in the air like she wanted to move but couldn't.
Velmaria straightened up, bloody knife spinning casually in her hand.
She gave a playful curtsy.
"One down, my lord. Shall I take the other one's legs too?" she asked sweetly.