Echoes of a Past Life

A clock tower loomed at the heart of the fortress.

Stone buildings spread concentrically from its base.

The fortress city of Venedium, near the border — Yoal stood in its back alleys.

At the same time, he realized.

This was a dream.

A dream from twenty years ago, before Yoal's first death.

At the time, Yoal was twenty years old — a military mage undergoing officer training.

And he had a childhood friend he loved more than anyone.

Twenty years ago, on that fateful day.

Yoal lost everything.

A black robe signifying the Royal Magic Association.

He ran, heedless of its hem dragging on the ground.

His face was incomparably younger than now, a silver staff assault badge gleaming proudly on the back of his collar.

He knew exactly what lay ahead.

He had seen this dream countless times.

His destination was the clamorous central plaza.

Taking the shortest route through the narrow, winding alleys, Yoal witnessed the scene.

"Priestess Almaeira. Though you serve God, you led treasonous acts with the Demon King's army for personal gain, causing grave harm to our Kingdom of Levelant. Therefore, you are sentenced to burn at the stake. Do you have any objections?"

"… I have done nothing to be ashamed of. That is why it is deeply regrettable. That you have reached this conclusion."

At the center of the crowd gathered in a ring, a girl clad in pure white holy vestments was crucified on a platform.

"Ridiculous!"

"Kill her!"

"Kill her!"

"Demon King's lackey!"

"Some Saintess, what a joke!"

"A woman who'd sell out her country for personal gain, how despicable!"

The people hurled abuse one after another.

Unable to bear such words, Yoal stood frozen in shock.

—This has to be some kind of mistake.

The "Saintess" Almaeira Serenarie.

A petite figure of about 150 cm that could be mistaken for a teenage girl, with captivating platinum blonde hair flowing straight.

Her melancholic blue eyes were filled with compassion, and her gentle smile soothed the hearts of all who saw her without discrimination.

The origin of her title "Saintess" was quite simple.

In these times of continued tension with the Demon King's army, she was a young priestess who gave away her personal fortune to tackle poverty.

Thanks to her devotion and efforts, the homeless population of Venedium had seen a dramatic decrease.

Coordination between churches for orphanage establishment, free outdoor soup kitchens, temporary housing and job placement assistance — her works were too numerous to list.

She was also skilled in healing Divine Arts and medicine, her abilities rivaling the kingdom's top one or two.

— And she was Yoal's childhood friend.

"She was handing kids over to the Demon King's army, wasn't she?!"

"There's proof, they say! Hey, say something!!"

The Saintess Almaeira had gained immense popularity among the people.

For that very reason, it was only a matter of time before the kingdom came to resent her.

The details remained unclear even now.

However, it was certain that the kingdom's leadership had conducted some kind of operation.

Spreading malicious rumors, fabricating church corruption, and tying it all to Almaeira.

— Thus, the Saintess Almaeira's honor fell to the ground.

"…"

She no longer had words.

An executioner's axe was placed against her slender neck. Insurance in case her restraints came loose.

Another executioner lit the straw piled at the foot of the cross.

"Stop…!!"

He wanted nothing more than to sweep aside this obstructing crowd.

But stopping the execution took priority.

Yoal fixed his gaze on Almaeira and ran desperately.

"—Gah!?"

In that instant.

Yoal was struck on the head from behind — by someone in the crowd — and fell forward with great force.

People gathered around him in droves.

"Hey, this guy's one of that woman's allies!!"

"What?"

"They were hiding in the Magic Association too?"

"Same crime as her, get him!!"

His face must have been known as one of Almaeira's associates.

Yoal was surrounded by more than ten men and women, beaten senseless before he could even stand.

He didn't know who had first raised the voice.

It might have been an incited citizen, or perhaps a kingdom spy had mixed in.

Either way, it was all too late.

"Hey, won't he die at this rate?"

"Who cares!"

"He's probably using our hard-earned money for research or whatever, right?! Must be nice!"

"He's probably in league with the Demon King's army anyway, don't worry about it!"

Malice and curses were hurled at him.

Yoal was beaten, kicked, struck with sticks, and thoroughly pummeled until he was nothing but a rag.

"Stop," Almaeira pleaded.

Her voice would never reach the roaring crowd.

Writhing in agony, coughing up blood, Yoal kept his eyes fixed only on her.

And he couldn't help but smile.

Heedless of the flames engulfing her legs, Almaeira stared at Yoal.

Her blue eyes trembled with grief. Tears slowly welled at the corners of her eyes.

Almaeira's lips traced his name, "Yoal," as if whispering.

—This isn't the time to be worrying about me.

Engulfed in flames up to her waist, Almaeira also smiled faintly.

In that instant, memories flashed through Yoal's mind like a revolving lantern.

Trivial memories of their childhood, born in the same town, pledging their futures to each other.

Their boyhood, when they decided to pursue different paths.

One became a proper mage, the other a renowned priestess known as a Saintess — yet their friendship continued.

She would never enter into marriage with anyone.

Yoal was fine with that. As long as they cared for the same country, this bond would never be severed.

—It was all a fleeting dream.

His skull was cracked open by a wooden beam, and Yoal died.

And Almaeira died too. Burned by fire, her head severed from her corpse, branded with the disgrace of being a witch — the Saintess died.

A month later, the Saintess Almaeira was resurrected by the Demon King's hand.

Secretly, as the new queen of the Witchlands.

And Yoal—

 

 

He awoke to a strange sensation in his lower body.

Yoal rubbed his eyelids and looked down at the head bobbing rhythmically between his legs.

"… What are you doing?"

The witch Nyrn.

She knelt at Yoal's feet, wearing nothing but a shawl draped over her shoulders, his cock engulfed to the base in her mouth.

Her lips wrapped snugly around the shaft. The soft mucosa rubbing against him felt quite pleasant.

"… Is something… wrong…?"

Nyrn raised her brows in displeasure.

Her cheeks were flushed bright red with shame.

Her thighs squirmed restlessly — the depths of her abdomen trembling with sweet throbs.

"I haven't heard your answer about whether you'll guide me."

"Ah, that can wait… can't it…? Please…"

"Answer now."

"… So impatient… Ah, nn, fwa, aah…!"

A woman's voice tinged with sorrow as Yoal forcibly pulled her off — a bridge of saliva formed between her lips and his cock, the shaft glistening wetly.

"… Fine. I'll guide you to Almaeira-sama… Is that good enough?"

"Yeah."

For those who deal in magic, words carry significant weight.

Breaking a promise carelessly could even impair one's magical power.

"So… hey… it's okay now, right…?"

Nyrn turned the gaze of a starved bitch toward him. The lewd crest carved into her lower abdomen radiated a dull light.

Her slightly parted lips looked ready to drool at any moment.

"Do as you please."

"… Haaah…!"

Joy colored her eyes, visible even through her bangs.

Looking down at Nyrn as she eagerly devoured his cock, Yoal mussed her black hair.

"Stay like that. I have some questions."

"… Fwa, hi… If it's something I know… I'll answer anything…"

Eyes flicking upward while her lips clung tightly, sucking.

The oral mucosa squelched wetly against his cock — a gradual sensation of ejaculation welling up.

"Where is Witch Queen Almaeira?"

"… At the heart of the Witchlands… in the ruined castle."

"Can I get there alone?"

"The Black Forest of the Witchlands is a magical realm unlike any other… Even if you knew the way, escaping the eyes of the sentinel witches would be impossible."

Her long tongue slithered across the surface of his shaft. Meticulously licking the glans, wiping away the grime stuck in the ridges.

"I can handle concealment, but I don't know the path — looks like I have no choice but to rely on you."

"… About that, Yoal-shama…"

Slurp, slurrrrp. After loudly sucking up the pre-cum from the tip, Nyrn slowly stroked the shaft with her hand.

"What?"

"… I don't know what business you have, but… if it's something trivial, it would be wiser not to approach the Witch Queen. Almaeira-sama always has excellent guards by her side. Mages and martial artists far beyond the likes of me…"

"Do you know specifically who? They're witches too, right?"

"… They're attendants bestowed directly by the Demon King. Aery-sama, the Lady's Maid, and Charlotte-sama, the Royal Guard — those two. I haven't heard of any others. Almaeira-sama seems to prefer tranquility… There's been no word of her retinue changing in these twenty years."

I see, Yoal nodded while thinking.

Not knowing the extent of their abilities meant he couldn't make careless moves. Almaeira probably trusted them as well.

— In that case, the best strategy would be to work his way up from the bottom.

"… You're not backing down, are you?"

"Nope."

"… Charlotte-sama is said to surpass even the Demon King in individual combat. She's the Demon King's army's shield against the Kingdom of Levelant, as it were."

"My business is with the Witch Queen alone. I don't care about the rest."

The Witchlands bordered the Kingdom of Levelant. Stationing their greatest force there was an extremely rational decision.

"In the first place, how did you find out, Yoal-sama? Almaeira-sama's resurrection by the Demon King was already twenty years ago — you don't look any older than twenty or thirty…"

"That's tied to a pledge."

"… Truly, how selfish… A lowlife, and scum… Ah, honestly…"

"It's not my circumstances. It's the informant's."

Despite her insults, Nyrn's handjob was passionate enough to feel like affection.

Her fingertips entwined carefully from base to tip. Moving each finger as if milking, slowly driving the seed from his testicles.

Her gaze seemed to devour the tip of his shaft. A feverish stare clearly visible even through her bangs.

To be honest, when he heard she had been resurrected by the Demon King's hand, his fury was enough to make his intestines boil.

As if something precious had been stolen from within his heart.

Yoal spat on that fate — and decided to settle everything.

That's why Yoal was here now.

"… You plan to do this sort of thing to the Witch Queen too, don't you…?"

"Of course not."

"… Huh?"

"I only make sex toys do this kind of thing."

In that instant, Nyrn's face flushed hot.

Her gaze was murderous, yet for some reason her lips curled slightly upward.

Squelch, schlick — lewd wet sounds rose from her palm. She stroked the protruding glans with firm emphasis, a bit harder.

"… Th-then, please use me as your toilet to your heart's content… There mustn't be any impropriety with the Witch Queen… Come on, let it out…?"

Nyrn rapidly stroked the ridges of his shaft and engulfed the glans with a pop.

Her lips rubbed the glans ridge again and again. The soft mucosa stimulated his pleasure, spurting pre-cum in little bursts.

At the same time, she stroked the base with quick pumps. Squelch, squelch, she worked the ridges thoroughly. Her tongue slithered wetly over the glans, slurping at the slit.

"… Ah, I'm cumming."

"Y-yes, yesh… In your cock's toilet hole… Please, let it out…"

Her lips smeared saliva as they stroked the shaft with vigor.

The moment she felt the oral mucosa rub up against the glans — instantly, the tip swelled up.

Her tongue coiled around it slickly. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked fiercely.

"Let it out, let it out!" — the shameless face of a mouth devoted entirely to servicing male arousal.

Looking down at it, Yoal released without holding back.

Spurt, splurt, sploop — seed splashed against Nyrn's throat.

His shaft continued to pulse ceaselessly. The witch instinctively pulled her mouth away, this time catching the thick semen on her face.

— Splurt, splurt, sploop, gush!

White turbidity burst repeatedly against her skin, Nyrn's face left covered in cum.

"… Nn, hah… Ah… ah, nn…"

Finally, when the torrent of seed subsided, she let out an ecstatic sigh.

Her breath was completely steeped in the smell of semen, her face slathered white.

"Ah, haah… What shtinky cum thish ish…"

"… You like having your face used as a cum toilet that much?"

"…?! Th-that's not…!"

Nyrn, who had been showing a melted expression, hurriedly became indignant.

Her hasty denial was ruined by the way she kept licking the shaft.

"You're savoring the cum in your mouth. Let me see — open up."

"… Ngh…"

Nyrn's face turned bright red as she bashfully revealed the inside of her mouth.

Vivid vermilion oral mucosa. Atop it, pure white jelly-like thick semen swam about.

Each time her long tongue writhed, the white fluid flowed, staining the inside of her mouth with the pungent smell of cum.

"Hiding things is pointless. I can tell most things through the lewd crest. Including how many times you came last night… You can swallow."

"… Tru-ly… you're such a lowlife… Aaah…"

Gulp, gulp — Nyrn drank down the semen with audible swallows.

She didn't forget to lick every corner of her mouth, savoring every last drop.

She even pinched up the cum clinging to her face and sucked on it — heheh, Nyrn's cheeks slackened pathetically.

"Mm. All clean now. Open your mouth and show me."

"… Fwa, yesh…"

Nyrn opened her mouth as if delighted.

The white fluid that had been there moments ago was gone without a trace.

— Though her face was still covered in cum as before.