The Hero That Was Body Swapped With A Lewd Succubus!

Leila had grown accustomed to Freira's ramblings and her candid way of expressing her thoughts, especially when she tried to get her to reveal her secrets. Questions she asked casually carried an undertone of pure curiosity. As curious as she was, she refrained from asking it outright. 

Her attempts had come close, striking at inopportune moments, but they hinted at something Leila had overlooked. Freira never mentioned her lewd crest. Her breasts caught the student's attention, but her abdomen remained uncovered. They should’ve found it and gossiped about it. If it was gossip, then Freira would know. She had never brought it up or hinted at it.

Was this what Zain used Seducion on instead? To ensure her corruption remained hidden. Her soul, tainted by corruption, bore the mark of a demon. Long ago, the Goddess of Light, from whom Leila had fallen, decreed: “Those tainted will repent and bleed until they are saved from the dark. If their darkness persists, they will perish." Her words were the words of the Kingdom since the rise of the first hero.

And worse off.

Demons didn’t get the privilege of Purification. They were born of darkness, and no light or attempts at saving them through the light worked. Either slaughter, burning, or scattering were their fates. Head decapitated. And that was the best scenario. Worse, they’d learn of her blood relationship to the Demon Queen. Her head would be stabbed on a stick on top of the outside walls, facing the Demon Kingdom, for them to witness. No way would her head stay in one piece for long. The knight's spears and swords would mangle it.

Her body—the rest of it. Would suffer more. Chained to a pole above the central fountain in the heart of the capital, she was deprived of all her clothing and human dignity. This act served as a public demonstration of the filthy nature of demons, who indulged in acts of lust without bothering to dress themselves. Her blood would mar her flawless skin as she was slashed, stabbed, stoned, and cursed, as sins she didn’t commit were thrown as though she had. Decades after her death, the city square no longer served as a gathering place. No children chased after a hand-sewn ball that bounced and rolled into the fountain. No adult swung hands with their children's smiling faces. Just a barren, abandoned tomb of curses, where both children and adults wore masks of hatred.

Leila tensed, and her lips twitched. Despite the awkwardness and fear, she remained in control and silent. She had tried to ignore it, but it tended to crawl back and suffocate her. Always warn her—don't accept this life—and don't get too close with Freira. Clothes made her feminine, but she didn't consider herself a woman.

Nor a demon.

As fallen as she may be, she wanted to save human lives. Demons didn't matter. No kinship between them. Humans were against her, but even if they cursed her, she'd save them. No amount of dicks she sucked, moans, or lustful Zains could change that.

Freira was a threat. The more time she spent with her, the greater the risk. With one slip of the tongue, she could lose her life, and her imagined death would become real. Then neither Zain's hero status nor her demon status could save her. Nevertheless, she spent each day nurturing trust with her. It was a faint trust—a long way from becoming acquaintances, let alone friends—but it existed. Maybe, with a deep bond, she could trust Freira, knowing she was a demon.

“Anyone in there?” Freira doubled over and tapped her forehead. One, two, and three. The third made Leila return a glare.

Wishful thinking. She’d never reach there.

Freira smiled. “Oh, you’re in there. Let’s get to it. Flashing those boobs of yours at me.”

Her cheeks flushed as she scanned the area for others. Except for them, the garden was empty. Why did she mention her chest? Trusting her had seemed possible before, but now she wasn't so sure. Even so, Leila wasn't going to let her go—not for this. She had learned a valuable lesson from her. Don't let it be one-sided.

“We’re not there yet. Voice first, others later. It seems you want me to. You nagged your way into helping me, Princess," Leila retorted.

“I don’t. I am not a princess. Er… When did you start fighting back?”

“You’re wasting time.” Leila sat on the stone bench behind her, crossing one leg over the other. “Ready?”

Puffing her cheeks, she scuffled to the center. She had no weapons. Freira was a mage from the Caveadel noble family. A natural wind mage. Leila couldn’t agree more. The wind, free and unconstrained by anything or anyone, fit her so well.

"Good," she said, closing her eyes.

An itch arose as she channeled mana into her eyes, followed by a sensual warmth. She opened her eyes, and spectral pink motes of light drifted around her within a sphere of an armspan’s length. Sparse and scattered. When she gazed at her body, she found dense and solid motes.

Not now, later. 

Leila composed herself. She couldn't focus on the wonders of Lust Sense, a skill that gave her an accurate depiction of what happened when using Seduction.

“You said I was wasting time.” Freira tapped her foot in rhythm. “Guess who’s really wasting time?”

“I’m concentrating. Getting into it isn’t easy. It takes time.” Leila sighed and took a moment to calm her nerves. “Cast a deception skill. I’m ready.”

Freira drew her hand up in a slow arc as gray mana poured out and spread, creating a fog. It grew denser and soon resembled a cloud. The thickening cloud engulfed Leila, and her arms disappeared as a cold, turbulent wind whipped her hair and dress, numbing her skin. The wind roared in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. The motes remained.

Leila shot a thin ripple of motes from her Lust Sphere, but it missed Freira. She had changed her position. Where was she? She shot several ripples, each targeting spots near the initial one.

Nothing.

What about behind? She shot a wide, thin ripple behind her, encompassing everything, and it struck Freira. The motes spread through her body. Motes of a darker shade of pink belonging to Freira were dragged, and they all stopped at the head and concentrated there. For some reason, Leila knew. She had dominion. She could do anything. But the absolute power waned, and the motes broke off and returned to Freira's body. She had little time.

“Dispel.”

The cloud dissipated, and her hair and dress settled. Her voice exuded Domination, which didn’t sit right with her for the first Seduction skill she cast.

"Got you," Freira said, pressing a blunted wind stick against her throat as the numbness faded. One hand rested on her shoulder.

Leila took her hand and threw her over her shoulder. "And I got you."

She let out a girly scream and caught herself as a cloud emerged below. Her face reddened, and she covered her mouth, whispering through the gaps. "You heard nothing."

"I heard everything. Enough of that." Leila pulled back her messy hair. I will need to fix it later. "What did you think?"

"You took too long to discover, target, and counter my skill with that manipulation of yours." Creepy and useless. You’re dead.”

Leila raised a brow.

Freira reassured, "I mean, you would be dead—I'm not threatening you"—she rubbed her legs together—"If this was more than a spar, before you could determine my position, a wind blade would’ve been sticking through your neck."

"Is there anything I can improve?"

“You’re using a sense skill, right?” She reclined against the cloud, one hand raised. Four water balls formed around her, with a fifth pinched between her fingers. She popped it into her mouth.

A water mage as well. Interesting. That explained the cloud.

“Do you?” She asked again.

“Yes.”

“Took you long enough. Quit spacing out—please." She popped another one. "Rather than trying to find me, focus on using the skill to sense the mana aspect. I have wind, so I focus on sensing the air people breathe in. For the flame or heat sense, they’d focus on body heat. As for the cold, they’d look for the darkest void in the cold."

Leila uncrossed her legs and pressed her palms against her knees. She took a deep breath. A splash interrupted her attempt at falling into a meditative state. She extended her hand, envisioning a mana wave disrupting the ball's solidity.

The water ball in Freira’s hand rippled and broke, splashing toward Freira's face. Did self-indulgence also improve her control over mana? Leila frowned. The water didn’t splash over Freira’s face as she had intended. Instead, it shot toward Leila and forced itself into her mouth, which she gulped down.

“You.”

"I was enjoying my water.” Freira popped the last one into her mouth. “You didn’t need to disrupt me.” 

“You were distracting.”

"That settles it, then. I am taking a nap. Wake me up when you succeed, or when it's time to go back.” She dropped her hand and dozed off.

Leila criss-crossed her legs, shifting until she was comfy, and closed her eyes. She searched for the darker motes of lust within Freira. None showed. She visualized the raspberry-pink motes of lust, and her mana flowed to her eyes. Nothing.

What am I doing wrong?