"Cure Light Wounds."
A soothing wave of life energy brushed over the delicate little feet, pure as fresh snow. Within seconds, the light dimmed—blisters shed, new skin formed, and the raw, battered soles rapidly healed, restoring them to their pristine, crescent-like softness.
But it wasn't over yet.
The life energy mended the wounds, but the sweat from a day's journey still lingered.
"Dust Removal."
Playful magic elements stirred a gentle breeze, a whisper of wind that trembled over the little witch's body and her calfskin shoes. Stains vanished, and the air around the bonfire grew crisp.
Anthony finally dared to take a deep breath.
If it weren't for his lack of specialization, he might've cast Delay Poison just to bolster his resistance.
Now clean, those tiny feet were fresh and flawless, carrying a girl's natural scent—something indescribably unique.
…Alright, maybe still a little sour.
Anthony gazed at those plump, softly curved little feet, imagining them as tender, sweet dumplings—pale, supple, and irresistibly tempting, as if calling him to experience their unparalleled softness, so different from the rest of her.
Still, something felt missing.
With a smirk, Anthony released a modified Grease spell.
The warm, slippery soles now felt even more velvety under his touch. As he toyed with them, the little witch's body trembled faintly in response, her rounded toes wriggling restlessly. A quiet, breathy whimper escaped her.
"Master… not… done yet…?"
"Mmm, almost." Anthony chuckled mischievously. Just as he was about to let the Little Witch feel the uncommon warmth of his Giant Dragon—
A sultry gasp cut through the air.
"You two…!"
It was that bard—the one who only knew how to sing and hand out "favors."
Damn. When did she get here? Anthony's mood soured.
This wasn't just about ruined fun. If she hadn't made a sound, he'd never have noticed her presence.
Had she been hostile, he'd have lost the initiative—maybe even eaten a preemptive strike.
For a Spellcaster, that was dangerous.
The Little Witch jolted at the outsider's voice. Strength flooded back into her limbs. Ignoring the slick oil on her feet, she shoved on her shoes, covered her face, and fled.
Too embarrassing.
She still didn't fully grasp what had happened.
Back in her tent, the Little Witch took forever to steady her breathing.
Gods. What was that just now? It was her first time being so… close to a man.
That flustered, heart-pounding feeling was strange—like her bones had melted, her words turned to mush.
Hugging her blanket, she scolded herself: Never again. Her mother had always warned her—men are bad..
Master Anthony… wasn't bad. He'd dutifully treated her foot, never taking advantage.
Maybe he's… honorable?
The thought warmed her.
Black hair. Red pupils. A warrior's build. Handsome, too. Though she wondered—how old is he, really…?
Her eyelids grew heavy.
She didn't notice her companion still hadn't returned.
Anthony glared with dead-fish eyes, scowling at the bard who radiated temptation from head to toe.
Maybe it was the false sense of security from having an Archmage on night watch—or maybe she just didn't care—but this otherwise weak bard had ditched her protective combination leather armor.
Now she wore only a thin shirt, its buttons misaligned as if oblivious to the scandalous glimpse of skin beneath. She sauntered toward the bonfire.
Anthony studied the beautiful temptress with a critical gaze.
Huh. Big chest. Big hips.
Poetry wasn't his strong suit.
The temptress settled into the spot where the Little Witch had been moments ago. Tossing her hair, she murmured in a honeyed voice, "My apologies, sir. I grew worried when she didn't return—thought some misfortune might've befallen her. Imagine my surprise to find her here with you, doing… this."
Anthony glanced sideways at her. "What 'kind of thing'? The girl's feet were blistered. I treated them and gave her a massage. Is that so strange?"
The bard covered her mouth with a giggle. "Not strange at all. She is a pretty young beauty—I like her too. I just never thought your tastes were so... particular."
With that, she slipped off her shoes and stockings, her long legs gleaming under the firelight. Biting her lip, she cooed, "I've walked all day too, Master... Won't you rub my feet...?"
Anthony turned his face away. "If you're tired, go to sleep. That's how you restore stamina."
Undeterred, the bard closed the distance, committing a blatant foul—body-checking him with her assets. "Master, do you really prefer the unripe type? My skills are far better... I promise you an exceptional experience..."
With that, she slipped off her shoes and stockings, her long legs gleaming under the firelight. Biting her lip, she cooed, "I've walked all day too, Master... Won't you rub my feet...?"
Anthony turned his face away. "If you're tired, go to sleep. That's how you restore stamina."
Undeterred, the bard closed the distance, committing a blatant foul—body-checking him with her assets. "Master, do you really prefer the unripe type? My skills are far better... I promise you an exceptional experience..."
After she finished speaking, he heard the sound of a veil falling to the ground behind him, and then her seductive body came closer. Anthony could fully feel that the touch of the graceful body behind him became more delicate, and the smooth skin rubbed against his back.
Judging from the feeling on his back, she should have taken off all her clothes, and the faint humming sound made him even more angry.
Anthony wore only a simple black robe, and this near-zero-distance contact stirred a rather indecorous reaction in his body.
The bard seemed to have anticipated this. Her small hands had already brushed against the fourth tent erected in the camp—but what lay within far exceeded her expectations. Her voice dripped with a sweetness like spring rain: "Master, your... endowment is truly impressive. Even among warriors, few could rival you."
Anthony exhaled slowly. "Seems you've seen your fair share of battles, eh?"
The bard giggled, clinging to him like a koala. Every slight shift sent waves of pleasure coursing through him. "How cruel of you to say that, Master. Do you prefer those inexperienced fledglings? They know nothing of pleasuring a man—only how to weep and whimper..."
Anthony drew a deep breath, steadying the heat coiling within him. "If it's coin you seek, why not chase that noble? If it's a night of passion, the paladin's strength would serve you better. Danger lurks on every side in these depths. Return to your bed now, lest you regret what comes next."
The bard's nose twitched, her voice trembling as if wounded. "Master, why would anyone regret the joys of flesh? And as for your suggestions... out there, they might hold appeal."
"But here, in the shadowed depths of this labyrinth, what else matters but strength? Power is the most intoxicating allure of all."
"Master, I won't ask for too much. As long as you are willing to shelter me until the mission's end, I will be your personal plaything." Her body twisted restlessly, and she turned gently and sat in front of Anthony. Every part of her graceful body was seen clearly under the firelight. The beautiful scene exuded a charisma that was enough to drive people crazy.
Her eyes glazed over, lips parting in a drunken whisper: "Just let me live, Master. Beyond that... do as you will."
Hearing his breath grow ragged beneath her, the bard knew her scheme had triumphed. With a sultry smile, she let herself be pulled into his embrace—his arms far more powerful than she'd imagined, stoking her anticipation for what was to come.
A strong body promised pleasure aplenty, and it would only steel her seduction's resolve.
An archmage, enslaved. What a trophy to flaunt before her sisters.
Once this was done, delivering his soul to the Abyss would surely earn the Queen's favor.
Just as she braced for the storm about to engulf her, the arm around her back seized her throat. A crushing grip stole her breath.
Was this mage a latent sadist? How delightful. Her smile remained saccharine, even as a searing agony erupted in her chest. A soundless scream died in her throat, her eyes wide with confusion.
Anthony rose impassively, clutching a still-beating heart—larger than any mortal's.
"I warned you'd regret staying. But I never said it'd be over a tumble in the sheets."
"M-Master...?" Her face drained of color. Even a demon couldn't withstand such a blow. Her disguise unraveled, her true form emerging:
Her beauty remained, but the demonic horns and cloven hooves could no longer be hidden.
The truth had been exposed, and even her Heart was taken away in an instant. Feeling her body losing strength, her pale face smiled instead, and her voice was still as sweet as before: "Master...my guise should be flawless, ahem...how did you find out..."
"Even the fiercest women have fragility. Yet you bore hardships better than hardened men—unnatural, that."
The succubus blinked, feigning frailty. "Ah... so that's all it took...?"
Anthony's gaze was ice. "I urged you to leave. Yet you pressed your seduction. Demons fail for a reason."
Truthfully, he'd only been suspicious. Escorting even deadweight to the drow city could've been useful. But her reckless hunger made him trust his instincts.
Killing? Hardly a dilemma. He never hesitated.
The succubus coughed blood. Even abyssal bloodlines couldn't survive a missing heart. "Mercy, Master! I'll obey! Keep me alive, and my body is yours to—"
Anthony grinned. She mirrored it, sweet as spring. As his focus locked onto her, her concealed tail—charged with final strength—lashed toward the mage.
The whoosh of air made Anthony turn, but his reflexes were sluggish. The succubus' lips curled in triumph.
A mage without shields or armor? One strike would end him.
Her stinger struck—but met not flesh, but the clang of metal.
Shock flashed in her eyes. She tried to speak, but Anthony was done with games. A size-45 boot crushed her skull mid-word.
He sighed at his now-filthy shoe, then skewered her heart on a branch, roasting it over the fire.
"A succubus' tongue drips only lies. I wonder what poor soul's suffering etched that into dragonkin lore."
As he turned the charred demon heart, he lamented the lack of cumin and ginger.