Echoes of a Past Life

At the heart of the fortress city of Venedium, near the border, a clock tower loomed. Stone buildings spread concentrically from its base. Yoal stood in a back alley, realizing—this was a dream. A dream from twenty years ago, before his first death.

At twenty, Yoal was a military mage under officer training, clad in a black robe signifying the Royal Magic Association. His youthful face contrasted with his current self, a silver staff assault badge gleaming proudly on his collar. He knew what lay ahead; this dream had replayed countless times.

He sprinted toward the noisy central plaza, the hem of his robe dragging on the ground. Weaving through narrow alleys, he reached the scene.

"Priestess Almaeira, you, a servant of God, led treasonous acts with the Demon King's army for personal gain, causing grave harm to the Kingdom of Levelant. You are sentenced to burn at the stake. Do you object?"

"I have done nothing to be ashamed of. It is deeply regrettable that you have reached this conclusion."

At the center of a jeering crowd, a girl in pure white holy vestments was crucified on a platform. Almaeira Serenarie, the "Saintess," stood petite at about 150 cm, her striking platinum blonde hair flowing straight, her blue eyes filled with compassion, her gentle smile soothing all who saw her. Her moniker came from her selfless work—using her wealth to tackle poverty, reducing Venedium's homeless population through orphanages, free meals, and job placements. Her healing arts and medical skills were unmatched, rivaling the best in the kingdom.

She was also Yoal's childhood friend.

"She handed kids to the Demon King's army, didn't she?!"

"There's proof, say something!!"

Almaeira was adored by the masses, making her a threat to the kingdom's elite. Though details remained unclear, the kingdom's leaders orchestrated her downfall, spreading lies and tying her to fabricated church corruption. Her honor was shattered.

The executioner placed an axe at her slender neck as a precaution. Another lit the straw piled at the cross's base.

"Stop it!!" Yoal shouted, desperate to push through the crowd, but saving her was priority. He locked eyes with Almaeira and ran.

Suddenly, a blow struck his head from behind—a civilian in the mob. Yoal stumbled forward, surrounded.

"This guy's her ally!!"

"What?"

"The Magic Association's hiding them too?"

"Same crime as her, take him out!!"

His face, known as Almaeira's associate, marked him. Over ten men and women encircled him, beating him mercilessly before he could rise. Whether spurred by a citizen or a kingdom agent, it didn't matter—it was too late.

"He'll die at this rate!"

"Who cares!"

"Using our taxes for his fancy research, huh?!"

"He's probably with the Demon King, don't bother!"

Malice and curses rained down. Yoal was pummeled, kicked, and bludgeoned into a bloody mess.

"Stop," Almaeira pleaded, unheard over the mob's roar.

Writhing in pain, spitting blood, Yoal fixed his gaze on her. He smiled faintly.

Ignoring the flames licking her legs, Almaeira stared back, her blue eyes trembling with grief, tears welling. Her lips silently formed his name, "Yoal."

—Worrying about me now, of all times?

As flames reached her waist, she gave a faint smile.

Memories flashed through Yoal's mind: their carefree childhood in the same town, promising futures; their paths diverging as he became a mage and she a renowned priestess; their bond enduring despite her vow against marriage. Their shared love for their kingdom ensured their connection would never break.

—It was all a fleeting dream.

A wooden beam cracked his skull, and Yoal died.

Almaeira died too, burned, beheaded, branded a witch.

A month later, the Demon King revived her, crowning her the new queen of the Witchlands.

And Yoal—

 

 

Yoal woke to a sensation coming from his lower body. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down to see a head bobbing rhythmically between his legs.

"What are you doing?"

The witch Nyrn, naked save for a shawl draped over her shoulders, knelt at his feet, her mouth engulfing his cock to the base. Her lips tightly enveloped the shaft, the soft mucosa rubbing pleasantly.

"Is something… wrong…?"

Nyrn raised her brows in displeasure, her cheeks flushed red with shame. Her thighs squirmed restlessly, her lower abdomen twitching with sweet tremors.

"I haven't heard your answer about guiding me."

"Ah, that can wait… can't it…?" she mumbled, voice muffled. "Please…"

"Answer now."

"So impatient… Ah, nn, fwa, aah…!"

Her plaintive voice rose as Yoal forcibly pulled her off, a bridge of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening shaft.

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

"Yeah."

For those versed in magic, words carry weight. Breaking a promise carelessly could impair one's magical power.

"So… it's okay now, right…?"

Nyrn's gaze was that of a starved bitch, the lewd crest on her abdomen glowing dully. Her parted lips seemed ready to drool.

"Do as you please."

"… Hah…!"

Joy flashed in her eyes, even hidden by bangs. As she eagerly sucked his shaft, Yoal tousled her black hair.

"Keep going. I have questions."

"… Fwa, hi… Anything I know… I'll answer…"

Nyrn's eyes flicked upward, lips clinging tightly as her mouth worked his cock, stirring a slow buildup of pleasure.

"Where is Witch-Queen Almaeira?"

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

"Can I get there alone?"

"The Witchlands' Black Forest is a unique magical realm. Even knowing the way, escaping the sentinel witches' eyes is impossible."

Her long tongue slithered over the shaft, meticulously licking the glans and cleaning the ridges.

"I can handle concealment, but the path's the issue. Looks like I need you."

"… About that, Yoal-sama," she said, slurping pre-cum before stroking the shaft slowly.

"What?"

"I don't know your business, but if it's trivial, it's wiser to avoid approaching Almaeira-sama. She's always guarded by elite protectors—mages and martial artists far beyond me."

"Know who they are? Witches, right?"

"Her closest aides, gifted by the Demon King himself: Lady's Maid Airy and Royal Guard Charlotte. No others are mentioned. Almaeira-sama prefers tranquility. For twenty years, her retinue hasn't changed."

Yoal nodded, thinking. Their strength was unknown, so reckless moves were unwise. Almaeira likely trusted them, so targeting them first might be the best strategy.

"You're not backing down, are you?"

"Nope."

"Charlotte-sama alone might surpass even the Demon King in combat. She's the Witchlands' shield against the Kingdom of Levelant."

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

The Witchlands, bordering Levelant, logically stationed its greatest force there.

"How did you even find out, Yoal-sama? Almaeira-sama's revival by the Demon King was twenty years ago. You don't look older than twenty or thirty…"

"That's tied to a vow."

"Really, so selfish… lowlife scum…"

Despite her insults, Nyrn's handjob was fervent, almost affectionate. Her fingers worked from base to tip, milking seed from his balls with deliberate care. Her heated gaze fixated on the tip, unmistakable even through her bangs.

When Yoal first heard the Demon King revived Almaeira, rage boiled within him, as if something precious was stolen. He spat at fate and vowed to settle everything. That's why he was here.

"You plan to do this to the Witch-Queen too, don't you?"

"No way."

"Huh?"

"I only do this to sex tools."

Nyrn's face flushed hotter. Her glare could kill, yet her lips curved slightly. Her hand made lewd, wet sounds, focusing on the flared glans with firm strokes.

"Then… use me as your toilet as much as you want… No mistakes with Almaeira-sama… Come on, cum…!"

She jerked the shaft rapidly, engulfing the glans with a pop. Her lips rubbed the ridge repeatedly, the soft mucosa teasing out spurts of pre-cum. She stroked the base vigorously, her tongue slithering over the tip, sucking the slit.

"… Ah, I'm cumming."

"Yes, yesh… Your cock's toilet hole… Please, cum in it…!"

Her lips smeared saliva as she worked the shaft. The moment her mucosa rubbed the glans, the tip swelled. Her tongue coiled around it, sucking fiercely.

"Shoot, shoot!"

Her shameless mouth begged, selling herself to his lust. Looking down, Yoal let go, unleashing his load.

Spurt, splat, squirt—seed splashed her throat. The shaft pulsed endlessly. Nyrn pulled back, catching the thick semen on her face.

Splat, spurt, squish, gush!* White turbidity burst across her skin, coating her face. She sighed in ecstasy, her breath reeking of semen, her face plastered white.

"Ah, ha… Such stinky cum…" she murmured.

"You like being a semen toilet that much?"

"What?! No way…!"

Her melted expression turned indignant, but her licking of the shaft ruined her denial.

"You're savoring the cum in your mouth. Open it."

Blushing, Nyrn shyly revealed her mouth. Vibrant red mucosa swam with thick, white, jelly-like semen. Her tongue's movements spread the murky fluid, embedding the stench in her mouth.

"Hiding's pointless. The crest tells me everything, including how many times you came last night… You can swallow."

"Really… you're such a lowlife…"

Nyrn gulped down the semen, licking every corner of her mouth, savoring each drop. She even scooped the cum from her face, licking it up, her cheeks slackening pathetically.

"Nn. Clean now. Show me."

"Fwa, hi…"

She opened her mouth gleefully. The white fluid was gone.

Her face, though, was still a semen-soaked mess.