Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: EP 3. Uta - The Small Holy Festival (1) (Succubus Corruption)
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Finally, the Small Holy Festival had arrived.
The city was buzzing with energy from people celebrating the occasion.
This year marked exactly 240 years since Uta had accepted the Holy Church.
As such, events commemorating the Small Holy Festival were unfolding across the city on a grander and rowdier scale than usual.
At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary commemorative holiday.
But to newcomers who hadn't been in town long, or to the rare few who had somehow kept their sanity intact, the sights were utterly grotesque.
The Small Holy Festival originally celebrated the day Uta embraced the Holy Church.
Thus, it featured all sorts of religious items and events, but this year's festival honored just a single deity.
And that god was a wildly distorted perversion of its known form.
Mea, one of the eight holy deities, was originally the goddess of life, abundance, and benevolence.
But the people of Uta had long remembered her as the goddess of inexhaustible pussies, whores, orgies and oral sex, lewdness and uterine orgasms, constant estrus, and phallus worship.
Mea was fundamentally the embodiment of femininity and the ideal image of womanhood.
Thus, this twisted perception of the goddess had naturally seeped into the common sense the people of Uta held toward women, shaping their views.
The residents of Uta were among the most devout in the southwest region.
This stemmed from a time when trade routes linked the major cities, allowing their culture and customs to permeate daily life.
During Uta's heyday as a trade hub, the Holy Church's influence had peaked.
Back then, the church imposed massive religious tithes on each city, and those who resisted or dragged their feet faced pressure from all sides until they submitted.
So Uta's eager acceptance of the Holy Church had been something of a survival strategy. Cities friendly to the church enjoyed all sorts of tax exemptions.
These days, Uta had fallen behind other cities, with fewer travelers passing through than before, but the lingering effects of that era still held sway.
And that was precisely why the [Curse of Distortion] had been able to take such deep root.
The [Curse of Distortion] was a powerful curse that twisted common sense and beliefs. It especially corrupted and warped faith itself—the stronger the conviction, the greater the impact.
At first, a few people questioned it or resisted the curse, but they were quietly eliminated one way or another. Some vanished from the city entirely; others were thoroughly brainwashed.
As a result, what had once been a covert plot simmering quietly within the church's walls was now blatantly unfolding in the streets.
Under the pretext of celebrating the Small Holy Festival, statues afflicted by the [Curse of Distortion] had been erected throughout the city.
These statues were carved in the likeness of Goddess Mea, but even a sane onlooker—even a non-believer—could tell at a glance that they bore no resemblance to her.
Horns sprouting from the head, an arrowhead-shaped tail emerging from one plump buttock—by any measure, they screamed impure entity, demonic beast.
Moreover, the lewd yet servile expression plastered on her face, the pose and gestures as if milking a cock, legs splayed wide, and the pussy rendered in explicit, intricate detail—it was far too vulgar to represent a goddess.
Yet people accepted it without question or doubt as Yurr-Mea, the goddess of lust, estrus, and erotic dreams.
"Special wooden dildos on sale cheap! Discounted for the Holy Festival—come take a look!"
"Ultra-potent aphrodisiacs for sale! So effective, you'll stay vigorous through a full day of devotional activities!"
Such was the twisted spectacle of the city under the succubus's curse.
Men, women, young, and old paraded the streets with their privates fully exposed.
Normally, indiscriminate religious activities in public were forbidden, but today they were fully permitted—under the guise of the Holy Festival, of course.
As a result, people coupled their genitals anywhere and everywhere without regard for location. Lewd moans echoed nonstop from every corner, and walls, stone pavement, even the grass and bushes sprouting between were thick with the stench of semen.
"Oppa~♥ I want that piercing. It'd look so pretty on my nipples~♥"
"Shut up, you slut."
Girls who had been virgins just days ago, out-of-towners who stopped at an inn while passing through and got ensnared, even married women with families...
Without exception, nipples stiff and pussies dripping, they writhed in the arms of strangers, getting their cunts pounded while moaning and clinging or throwing tantrums.
It was only natural. Goddess Yurr-Mea decreed worship and obedience solely to men with massive cocks and insatiable libidos—men perfect for dominating women.
The city guards patrolling the streets were there to ensure the goddess's will was properly observed.
Their duty was to ferret out any potential "anomalies."
These "anomalies" were those whose minds weren't right—heretics who might disrupt the worthy Holy Festival.
Acting on reports of such lurkers hiding throughout the city, they patrolled under special orders.
To prevent any from fleeing, no one was allowed to leave the city today; the borders were tightly sealed.
And amid all this...
In the church—the heart of the Holy Festival—a most peculiar meeting was underway.
"Welcome, my lord. I am Sera, a nun of this church."
A brown-haired nun had come out to the church courtyard in advance and bowed deeply.
Standing before her was a middle-aged man dressed in a sharp suit.
None other than Macaron, the lord of Uta.
At his side stood a woman dressed in the city's near-unique modest attire, a sword sheathed at her waist.
It was Luseca, his personal bodyguard.
Once a veteran adventurer and famed swordmaster of renown.
Around her neck hung a necklace adorned with a blue gem. It appeared ordinary at a glance, but it was an expensive treasure infused with powerful anti-magic enchantments.
The lord wore a ring with similar properties on his finger.
"Your master's inside, I take it?"
Macaron swept a greedy gaze over the nun—her body slathered in semen, her ample breasts brazenly on display—before speaking.
But even the tastiest dish loses appeal when slobbered on by others. The nuns of this church were exactly that.
"Yes. Allow me to guide you."
The two followed Sera inside.
Since this meeting was to be kept utterly secret, they used the back door.
The destination was the basement. Once a columbarium housing the remains of the church's high-ranking clergy, it had been cleared out and now housed all manner of magic tools and arrays.
It was a blasphemous desecration that would enrage any faithful soul, a trampling of the city's history—but Lord Macaron paid it no mind.
Macaron had little attachment to Uta. He spent more time in the capital. Sent there as an infant, he had lived with relatives until adulthood.
He never should have set foot in this city. But his brother—the heir—died in an accident, forcing Macaron back to this unfamiliar hometown to succeed him.
The city's notables speculated that his brother's death, followed swiftly by their father's from illness, was part of some plot. That paranoia soon devolved into accusations of Macaron's own fratricide.
Macaron had no interest in defending himself. It struck him as too pathetic.
His pride was immense, his will unyielding. Besides, at least in his eyes, he was a "capital noble." Mingling with these rural lowlifes was beneath him.
Such attitudes isolated him. Soon, unsettling and dangerous incidents plagued his court: stray arrows finding their mark, savage beasts charging during walks.
Inquiries and audits yielded nothing. He had hired Luseca at great expense because he trusted no one else in this city.
Macaron was cornered politically and personally. Then one woman made him an offer.
The blonde named Yuri promised to overlook whatever transpired in the city in exchange for stabilizing his power and eliminating his rivals.
Suspicious as it was, Macaron—surrounded on all sides—couldn't refuse.
And so astonishing events began unfolding in the city.
At some point, Macaron realized this ally—or foe?—posed a greater threat than his old enemies.
But by then, it was far too late to act.
"Welcome, my lord. I am Yuria."
At last, a woman emerged from the shadows of the basement.
The vibe was similar, but her appearance differed greatly.
Not blonde, but silver-haired; slighter of build. Crucially, more elegantly beautiful. The woman he had known was a beauty in her own right, but this girl was peerless.
"You're not the woman I knew."
Macaron eyed the silver-haired nun suspiciously as he spoke.
She smiled lightly, brushing back the hair draped over her shoulders.
"The woman you knew is dead. I've taken her place. No need to worry—the plan is proceeding without a hitch."
"Dead... huh. Doesn't that void our agreement?"
Macaron glanced around warily as he replied.
He had dabbled in magic during his capital days. No great talent, nor deep study—just enough for self-defense. But it let him sense this much.
No ambushes in this basement. Just the brown-haired nun before him, this woman, his bodyguard Luseca, and himself.
"...And what do you mean by that?"
Yuria asked.
"Let's drop the transparent act. Neither of us is a fool. I don't know your connection to that previous woman, but regardless—you've done good work. The city's elites have gone cock-mad. Slap some charges on them, round them up, and it's done. The groundwork's nearly complete. You're the last loose end. Frankly, you're tempting, but I'm not idiot enough to bite into a poisoned apple without suspicion."
The woman's gaze shifted behind Macaron.
Luseca stood impassively, listening to the exchange. No sign of action yet—but if she willed it, this room would become a slaughterhouse in an instant.
Soon, the woman chuckled.
It grated terribly.
Like mocking laughter.
"Lord Yurr's foresight was spot on. About humans, that is."
"Yurr? Is that bastard the mastermind?"
"No need to know. You're dying here anyway. Great minds, huh? Lord Yurr was planning to dispose of you soon. You're too deeply involved."
"Pretty confident. Let's see if you stay that way after seeing my bodyguard's skill. Luseca's a renowned swordswoman, even in the capital."
Macaron edged back as he spoke.
"Foolish man. You put far too much faith in her."
Yuria sneered.
"Which means without her, you're just a corpse."
"...Don't bluff. Luseca and I are protected by powerful anti-magic treasures. You won't get an opening to act."
Macaron wavered inwardly but quickly regained confidence.
Expensive acquisitions, their efficacy proven in prior tests.
Even if some overwhelming curse surpassed them, casting it undetected was impossible. The treasures would have shattered.
"If that's what you want to believe."
"No more talk. Luseca—shut that arrogant bitch up, by force if needed."
Macaron commanded.
But Luseca remained rooted in place.
"Luseca...?"
"An order. Make it clear who you serve."
The woman said.
"Yes."
The stoic swordswoman replied. She drew her blade and moved at blinding speed.
For an instant, Macaron thought she was attacking him and stumbled back in fright. But no. The blade, swung from stillness, sliced only the clothes from Luseca's own body.
With swift, astonishingly precise technique—like some parlor trick—she severed the fabric without grazing skin. The revealed nudity was utterly depraved.
Thick iron rings pierced her nipples and clit. From collarbone to knees, her body was covered in filthy graffiti and obscene scribbles.
Moreover, massive foreign objects stuffed her pussy and ass had bulged her lower belly outward.
"Wha... what...?"
Before Macaron could recover from his shock, Luseca spread her legs wide, brazenly exposing her sopping, dildo-stuffed pussy, then bent forward, jiggling her breasts as she spoke.
"I am a veteran adventurer of the Adventurer's Guild, former executive of the Swordsmanship Association, official swordmaster, once hailed as a prodigy of the blade, gold medalist of the 16th Martial Arts Tournament—but now, merely a bitch in service to Lady Yuria. Obedience! Hngh~♥ Hooo~♥"
Each shake of her hips made the object lodged between her thighs squelch lewdly, love juices splattering to the floor.
"H-How...?"
Macaron stammered in disbelief.
"You stupid human. Lord Yurr's power corrupts the mind, turning targets into slaves. The moment even a trace seeps in, you're marked. Those trinkets of yours? They can't shield against Lord Yurr's power. It's a fragment of a god's might—cheap fakes stand no chance."
"A god's power...?"
Horns and a tail sprouted from the woman's head and hips.
Just like—yes—the statues dotting the city.
"You've served well. Your eager cooperation let Lord Yurr's plan progress smoothly. As a reward, I'll grant you an honor beyond your worthless life."
Yuria stepped forward.
Macaron tried to flee, but his body wouldn't move.
She leaned in close, yanking down his pants to expose his erect cock.
"Small and pathetic. Just like you."
Yuria giggled mockingly.
"Guh... you... demon...!"
"Silence."
At her command, Macaron's mouth snapped shut.
The silver-haired succubus gripped his throbbing shaft with one hand and began stroking smoothly.
Expert motions—teasing only the sensitive spots, relentless in caress.
"Urgh...!"
Macaron came in short order.
"Hmph. Premie."
Her interest faded; she coldly flicked the semen from her hand.
"I was going to let you have my pussy, but no. I can't sully myself with such a pitiful cock—not when I bask in Lord Yurr's favor."
She stood, approached Luseca, and slowly withdrew the object from her pussy.
"Hnnngh~♥"
"Speak your true desire."
Yuria whispered into Luseca's ear.
"Earn piles of money... become rich... open a grand swordsmanship dojo in the capital..."
"Lies. How dare a sow like you deceive great Lord Yurr and me?"
Yuria yanked hard on Luseca's nipple in rebuke.
"Hyah~♥ S-Sorry~♥ Truth is... I dream of becoming a 24/7 cock toilet~♥ All that money I hoarded...♥ To pilgrimage every male brothel nationwide~♥"
"And what of the man before you?"
Luseca glanced down at Macaron with contemptuous scorn.
"A worthless male...♥ Tiny cock too...♥ Ever since you took me in, Lady Yuria...♥ I've had dildos stuffed in pussy and ass, drenched in bitch pheromones...♥ And you never noticed once~♥ Retard♥ Moron♥ Premie♥"
"Guh...!"
Macaron squeezed his eyes shut against the barrage of insults.
Meanwhile, his recently spent cock stiffened anew.
"Then impale yourself on that despised cock and cum. Milk every drop, then kill him."
"As you command, Mistress~♥"
Luseca gripped her sword in one hand, straddled Macaron, and lowered herself—swallowing his small prick into her gaping pussy.
Ignoring the obscene moans, Yuria turned toward the red magic circle etched in the basement's center.
"At last... the time has come."
Yuria extended her hand toward the circle.
It began to glow with an ominous light, activating.