Not a Dream
The legion commander atop the watchtower gazed down below. "It was a dream... wasn't it...?"
When the demons announced they were forming an army, the initial reaction had been skepticism and mockery. An army is a collective. No matter how strong individual demons were, they were far too heterogeneous compared to human races to form one. The prevailing opinion was that gathering them would just make a band of bandits—how could they possibly call it an army? The Demon King who formed the Demon King’s Army crushed that ridicule mercilessly. Both theoretically and physically. It hadn't taken long for the disdain to turn to apprehension, the sneers to fear.
The legion commander surveyed the battlefield. The 1st and 2nd Legions, which had racked up victory after victory since their formation. The thunderous stomping of countless soldiers shook the field. A deafening roar that rattled the ears and pounded the skull. There had even been times when this sound alone forced a surrender without a fight.
Opposing this massive host was a small fortress. Situated on flat ground with a shallow moat, its walls were so low the commander could peer down from the watchtower. Crumbling sections here and there bore witness to the trebuchets' handiwork. His pauldroned shoulder felt heavy. He'd commanded battles from this very tower countless times, but its dizzying height struck him anew. Demons were innately belligerent by nature, but a soldier's perspective could never match a commander's.
His scarred, brutish face betrayed nothing, but the legion commander was uneasy. He'd stood by the Demon King's side since the uprising against the Empire. Looking back on past battles required no flowery rhetoric, no special tactics. They'd simply fought as ordered and won. The strongest. Invincible. The commander had reveled in those accolades. It boosted morale, and frankly, it felt good to hear.
Kuwaaaaa—!! Spurred by squad leaders, the soldiers unleashed their roars. An attitude that brooked no doubt of victory. Keen weapons and gleaming armor clanged. It was hardly fitting for a commander to feel anxious amid such spirited troops.
But his unease wasn't groundless. He could justify his own weakness. Intelligence reported a hero party inside that tiny fortress.
Urgh... He swallowed a sigh that threatened to escape.
Until now, the Empire had concealed the hero party's location. Rumors placed them everywhere and nowhere. This intel was likely another feint. Even if true, they numbered just four. Beneath him stood two full legions. Never before in the war had such forces gathered in one place—and never would again. Breaching this fortress would punch straight through to the imperial capital.
Yet the hero party had proven themselves through the demons' crushing defeat—the Empire's great victory. No bodies recovered. All sent to camps or "purified." The commander sensed this was the war's turning point. Victory here would decide the war's course, the fate of demons and Empire alike.
But he was still uneasy. Not because of an unpredictable future. The situation facing this battle unnerved him. To be brutally honest, it terrified him.
The commander lowered his head again. Then, amid the soldiers, something odd caught his eye.
What is that...?
The troops roared and brandished their weapons overhead, yet held formation. Maintaining ranks was the cornerstone of military drill. Amid those perfectly arrayed ranks darted a tiny something.
The commander squinted. The distance from tower to ground was vast, but demon eyesight pierced it clearly. A frame far smaller than surrounding demons. Long, flowing pink hair. Horns protruding between. Pale lavender skin, more exposed than covered.
...A succubus?
She clutched her head with both hands, staggering this way and that.
The commander beckoned to the side. A demon stationed in the tower's corner hurried over.
"You called, sir?"
"Were there any succubi among our troops?"
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
The staff officer trailed off in confusion. The commander silently pointed. The officer's eyes widened in shock. A rare sight even among demons—a succubus had appeared out of nowhere. Strange enough on its own, but worse, she was disrupting the formation. Her tiny size spared her notice amid the frenzied soldiers, thankfully. No variables allowed. She had to be dealt with swiftly, before anyone else spotted her.
The commander glared at the officer.
"Go. Get rid of it."
The officer saluted clumsily and scrambled down the ladder. The commander snorted. A succubus out of the blue? Those haughty bitches who never showed their faces. Bizarre.
But things didn't go as planned. The officer's descent was a spectacle. The little succubus nimbly dodged through the rampaging soldiers. Meanwhile, the hulking staff officer—bulkier than most troops—floundered trapped in the ranks. Even when he broke through the crowd, he only grew farther from her. And now soldiers' eyes were turning toward the commotion.
The commander watched her path and paled.
Where's she heading...? No way.
Her antics inside the ranks were trouble enough, but heading outside—toward the battlefield's rear, away from the fortress—was worse. He barely bit back the rest. Speaking of "desertion" before battle was taboo. Some staff eyed him curiously; the sharp ones sensed his dread.
He moved to summon archers from another tower. Better blood spilled among demons than risk it. Then another officer shouted first.
"The gates are opening!"
The commander snapped his head up. The fortress gates swung wide. The Empire chose field battle over defense. Facing this host from walls was suicidal—even rabble knew that. The demons' cheers swelled.
The commander gritted his teeth. Hero party or not, he wouldn't yield initiative.
He bellowed louder than the soldiers' roars.
"Sound the charge!"
The horn carved from beast tusk blared across the field. Bwooooo. The deep, resounding call ignited the troops.
Waaaaaaa—!!
The horns drowned in the uproar. The two legions' front lines broke into a sprint. The ground quaked like never before. The lavender-skinned succubus, unbeknownst to herself, thus preserved her life—fleeing the demons' battlefield, the tremors, horns, and shouts behind her. Her path led into dense mountain woods.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
I bolted upright. Flailing arms kicked off the blanket. Panting raggedly, I frantically scanned around.
Bare wooden floorboards. Wall without paper—same as the floor. Thick latticed wooden window. Crude door. Rusty metal mirror. Rough, uncomfortable mattress. White blanket. Candle flickering on the bedside drawer. Cramped room. Dead silent save my own ragged breaths.
No armored giants. No ear-splitting roars. No pursuing blue monsters. No dust clouds or earthquake tremors.
"It was a dream after all..."
Tension drained. A sigh of relief escaped.
"Huuu... Uh?"
Wait. What was that sigh? A woman's voice. But I'm alone here?
"Haa, haa, haa...?"
And these breaths—what the hell? Goosebumps prickled. A chill raced up my spine. Right after shaking off dread, the backlash hit hard.
Now the room felt off. Rusty mirror? Wallpaperless wood walls? Random candle? Where is this?
I whipped around even faster.
"...Huh?"
Raising my arm bumped my elbow into something. A pressure on my chest. Instinctively, I looked down. Shabby, scratchy top. Beneath it, swelling so much my collarbone vanished—deep cleavage filling my entire lower view. Lavender. My chest.
"Ah."
A shrill woman's voice. I knew the source. My voice.
"Aaa..."
Slowly, I raised both hands. Candlelight revealed lavender skin, black nails—small, delicate. My hands. They cupped my face. Smooth jawline, cheeks, even eye sockets felt alien. My face.
"It wasn't a dream..."
I mumbled through muffled hands.
Fleeing mid rampage of those giants—no dream. Not some dream event either. It happened. Two days ago.
Escaping into pathless forest hills, scaling them madly at midnight to find this mountain lodge. Me, a man, suddenly a purple-skinned woman. This not Korea, but some unfamiliar world. All real.
"Aaa..."
Hands still on face, I slumped forward. Brush—long hair cascaded. Elbows didn't hit knees first; my chest did. Something soft squished against my thighs. Chest compressing under my torso. Waist too short, chest too huge. The more I thought, the more absurd.
"What is this..."
Face-down, tiny hands wiped my dry face.
Nothing made sense. How? Why? Possession? Reincarnation? Those at least give info. Some accident. Status screen. Or a god explains. But nothing.
No fave novel obsession. No weird games. No sudden accident. Just normal phone scroll before bed. No shady ads or sites.
Did I drop dead in sleep? Am I dead? Really dead and this is it?
Gloom mounting, I lifted my head. Slowly peeled back the blanket over my lower half. Craned my neck. One hand parted the heavy chest slightly. Other tugged up the top's hem.
Smooth, soft belly dwarfed by chest fat. Below navel—crotch area, bluntly. Ignoring the flat, missing manhood, on lavender skin: stark, ornate black pattern.
"Ahh, huu..."
Shouldn't have looked. Just a sigh leaked out.
Skin tone. Chest. And this. Never got tattoos, and no sane person would choose this design. Thick black heart-shaped tattoo. The infamous erogenous tattoo...
I flung the blanket fully aside and slid off the bed. Grabbed the candlestick. Stepped cautiously. Thighs rubbed crossing legs. Soles stung on rough floor; ankles throbbed from mountain run in this body. But chest, ass, short legs wrecked my balance. Two days ago, I'd clutched one tit while sprinting.
Approached the metal mirror. Heavy rust, but it distortedly reflected. Only my face fit—mirror wasn't high. I'd shrunk that much.
Even in the cramped reflection: lavender skin, vibrant pink hair, pair of horns jutting from either side of my head. Fingered them. Size and length I'd grasp easily. Warm as body temp, hard texture. No weight—small mercy.
"Haaaaah."
Long sigh. I could picture my distorted mirror face. Surely a miserable pout.
Putting physical traits together, one thing screamed obvious. Skin, build, horns, tattoo. Blatant.
"Succubus."
Saying it aloud darkened the mood. Suddenly a succubus. In a world of roving blue-skinned monsters. No warning, no explanation. This body succubus. Why? What for? Why a succubus, of all things? Even succubi don't need to be this tiny. Or have monstrous tits. Or the tattoo...
"No, really. Aaa..."
Questions piled, unresolved. Mounting into rage, spilling as sorrow. Narrow shoulders in the mirror began to shake. Tears welled in my eyes.
What is this? Tell me it's a weird dream. God, you listening? Watching? You did this? Why? Why me? I hate succubi. Never wanted isekai. Just wanna go home. Please? I'll live right from now on. No funny business. Turn me back. Send me home. Please...
"...Hic. Sniff."
Sobs echoed in the room. Free hand wiped tears. They were clear. Small mercy from this changed body—but that thought just saddened me more.