Tangled Yearning
Lusteria sliced through the air at a velocity so blistering that the sound of her flight split the sky with a sharp, thunderous roar. The moment she pinpointed her master’s location, she began braking with all her might. Though her speed dropped dramatically, she was still descending at a steep diagonal toward Neromeltia; if she failed to stop in time, she risked slamming straight into the ground.
“Telekinesis.”
Neromeltia invoked the psychokinetic spell that allowed her to influence the movement of objects through sheer will alone. Originally, the magic could only shift light bowls or jars, its output limited by the meager energy it could generate. Yet when the Demon Lord wielded even such a modest convenience spell, the result was something else entirely.
Lusteria, who had still been moving far too fast, decelerated sharply without straining her body, then came to a perfect halt in midair. Floating gently, she drifted downward and finally tumbled into Neromeltia’s waiting arms.
“Got you.”
“Master!!”
Having fallen straight into her long-awaited master’s embrace, Lusteria clung to her with all her strength. Neromeltia returned the fierce hug with a soft, radiant smile.
Though they had been apart for less than half a day, Lusteria expressed her joy at their reunion with unrestrained passion. Had the news she carried not been so urgent, she looked ready to keep acting spoiled for quite some time.
“Master! The entire plain surrounding Caboni Forest is swarming with undead!”
“How many?”
“Thousands—tens of thousands at least! I couldn’t even count them! They filled every inch of the horizon!”
The information Lusteria delivered in a frantic rush carried a grave threat. Unlike undead who retained clear egos, those who had lost their minds were often consumed by insatiable greed and rage toward all living things. They longed for the life they could never reclaim, driven by unfulfilled wishes or bitter grudges, and poured their fury onto the living simply for possessing what they lacked. If such creatures reached the ogre village, they would destroy everything in their path.
“And I saw a colossal wall—clearly built by the humans! At a glance, it looked like an enormous barrier stretching all the way around the plain!”
From Lusteria’s additional report, Neromeltia finally understood how the peace of Caboni Forest had been preserved. Though the evidence was circumstantial, the causal link was now so clear that her hypothesis could be treated as virtual fact.
Beatrice seemed to have reached the same conclusion and added her own thoughts, lending further credibility to Neromeltia’s theory.
“It appears the humans lacked the courage to eradicate the undead and settled for confining them instead. Under those circumstances, crossing undead territory to scout Caboni Forest would have been utterly unthinkable.”
“Exactly. Besides, there was no guarantee the forest itself remained intact. They couldn’t risk their lives on something so uncertain. The risk was enormous, and the potential reward vanishingly small.”
Human strength lay in their magitech creations and their ability to unite as one. Their armies—soldiers who set aside personal individuality to move with flawless precision according to command—were the humans’ greatest asset. The overwhelming power born of vast numbers was the collective might of a single organism, perfectly suited to confronting a handful of powerful foes.
Even the weakest individuals could wield devastating force through magitech equipment, further amplifying the army’s collective strength. Yet against a horde of the restless dead, that very strength became a liability.
Warning shots meant nothing to the undead, who charged without the slightest fear. One had to destroy them before they closed the distance. But even if half their bodies were blown away, the undead did not perish, and they were no weaker than humans. While effective against small groups of elites, the humans’ military doctrine struggled against a swarm stronger than any single soldier.
If their magitech weapons possessed enough firepower to sweep the enemy from range, that would be one thing. But once the undead were allowed to close in, it was the humans who would be torn apart. Worse, anyone slain by the undead rose as one of them. Like a plague, comrades turned into enemies, the horde never dwindled no matter how many were slain, while the number of survivors plummeted. The humans’ greatest advantage—overwhelming numbers—became the very noose that strangled them when facing the undead.
“Still, something feels off. They have priests, don’t they? With divine power, dealing with the undead shouldn’t be that difficult. Their magic is advanced enough that they should have been able to cast Turn Undead.”
The humans’ notorious vulnerability to the undead had not prevented them from conquering the Astaris continent precisely because of their faith and the existence of Turn Undead. The humans who worshipped gods such as the Divine King Odvolg possessed priests—divine proxies—who wielded Divana, the holy mana of the gods. That power held absolute dominance over undead and demons alike.
Even ordinary Vitana, the mana of life used by humans, could be shaped into the spell Turn Undead to forcibly send the creatures to their rest. For a human civilization powerful enough to conquer the entire continent to fear the undead so much that they built a wall and refused to approach was somewhat baffling. Still, there was no denying that the undead were indeed a terrifying foe to humans, so Neromeltia decided to accept that explanation for now.
“I suppose I’ll have to keep our adorable young lady right by my side from now on. Look at the state you’re in after being apart for only a little while.”
“Ah… well…”
With a soft chuckle, Neromeltia began straightening Lusteria’s thoroughly disheveled clothes. The fabric was badly wrinkled; ironing would have been ideal, but that required removing the garments entirely, so she settled for tidying them as best she could. She even adjusted the succubus’s red bow tie, then opened her Dimensional Storage.
From within, she withdrew a chair and gently sat Lusteria down, then produced an elegant silver comb adorned with garnets that gleamed with beautiful color. Lifting the bewildered succubus’s chin, Neromeltia began carefully combing out her tangled hair.
The sight of her master—overflowing with maternal tenderness, as though caring for a beloved child—made Lusteria’s heart flutter. The pleasant rustle of hair sliding through the comb tickled her ears, and the warmth of those gentle hands stroking her head filled both body and soul with supreme comfort.
“Master… I could have done this myself…”
“Our sweet young lady worked so hard. The least I can do is this much, don’t you think?”
Though Lusteria protested—embarrassed to be tended to in front of others and feeling it was far beyond what a mere servant deserved—her words were only half-hearted. Her body melted under her master’s touch, flooded with deep comfort and a strange, thrilling excitement.
It should have been the servant attending the master, yet here the roles were reversed. Nor was this the first time. Even though it stemmed from her master’s deep affection and playful nature, the inversion of their positions remained undeniable.
When Lusteria was exhausted, her master would lay her in bed. When something dirty stained her, magic erased it instantly. No matter how trivial the task, if it seemed difficult or unpleasant, her master would step in rather than let her servant bear it. Meals were personally prepared by her master’s own hands. If anything smeared Lusteria’s lips while eating, her master would gently wipe it away without hesitation.
Even during their nightly pleasures, it was always her master who took the lead, bestowing ecstasy upon her.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
“Your hair is so silky and lovely, my lady.”
“…Master, you’re being mean…”
Lusteria’s face flushed crimson. Not only had her master teasingly called her “my lady” despite her status as a servant, but now she was treating her with the utmost care one might show a noble. Lusteria knew full well that her master was simply doting on her and playing around, yet as a servant she could not simply brush off such treatment lightly.
Then her gaze fell on Beatrice, who had been watching them silently from the side. Those deep eyes revealed nothing of her thoughts. Beatrice maintained her usual stoic, expressionless face, yet her profound, enigmatic stare remained fixed on both her master and Lusteria.
How would Beatrice have handled a situation like this?
Lusteria, who often felt clumsy and imperfect, secretly harbored a quiet admiration for Beatrice’s meticulous precision in all things. To her, Beatrice embodied the ideal servant. There had even been times she thought the role of secretary would suit the other woman far better than herself.
She couldn’t say exactly how Beatrice would have responded, but she was certain the other woman would have dealt with their master’s sudden whims in a far more elegant and intelligent manner. Surely she would have displayed greater competence than Lusteria, who could only blush and remain speechless.
And so, even as she basked in the comfort of her master’s touch, a gloomy emotion began to bloom inside Lusteria. It was the sense of powerlessness one feels when gazing upon true talent—mingled with a faint thread of jealousy.