Awakening. And Saintess Yuria's Sexual Relief♡

"...Hah!"

With a flash, the moment consciousness returns, I bolt upright. Only then do I feel my long hair sticking wetly to my back. My breathing is steady, my heart beats normally. But I can't shake the scene from just moments ago. A vast space, filled with utterly eerie beings. It wasn't death—it was a realm forcing endless life and childbirth.

I run my hands over my body. Exhale. My body doesn't feel like mine. Though, to be fair, I've rarely had the chance to even look at it properly. It's more like seeing my own body for the first time in years. In the end, I communed with her, inherited some of her power and knowledge, and grew closer to her. That's all. No matter how much time has passed or how much I've changed, it doesn't matter. Shaking off the piercing sense of wrongness in my head, I move.

I'm lying in the center of an intricate magic circle, surrounded by what looks like a mad wizard's lab—piles of parts, tools, and bizarre structures everywhere.

"Where...?"

Still naked, I slowly approach the window where a breeze blows in. Feeling the cold marble under my bare feet, I lean against the sill and widen my eyes. The entire landscape unfolds before me like a fantasy capital from above. Towering castles and multi-story buildings ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠look like tiny specks. Is this Olympus? It's that breathtaking. How tall is this building I'm in? And how could a kingdom with this kind of power fail to take down even a single mage tower?

"........."

Even for someone like me, who lives for violence and sex, it's shocking. A smile creeps onto my lips. With sparkling eyes, I gaze at the view for a while—

"This is the Holy Kingdom—no, the Empire's tallest citadel, the most sacred altar prepared to heal you. Beautiful, isn't it? The altar, the scenery outside... all of it?"

I turn my head slightly at the voice behind me and look at her. Gloria Roon Arizarad. Gloria's outfit has changed dramatically since I last saw her. She's still in a body-hugging dress, but this is extreme. Her deeply exposed cleavage shows so much skin it might as well be lingerie. She's wearing a one-piece skirt dress with a long slit exposing her hips and thighs, cinched tightly at the waist with golden silk for a fairy-like aura. But the ornate earrings, necklace... and now a crown she never wore before.

No one can just wear a crown. Especially not in the Holy Kingdom—

"It's been a long time, Alisa. I am the first emperor of the Holy Empire, Empress Gloria Roon Arizarad Karas. Ah♬, Karas is a new title I gave myself. It means 'ancient eternal golden well.'"

Smiling like that, Gloria is stunningly beautiful, radiating an immense aura unlike before. Is it her position as empress? No, something feels fundamentally different. Far more sensitive now, I sense the empress's alien energy, and she smiles sweetly as she speaks.

"As expected, you can tell, right? That I've changed? It's been twelve years since ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you shattered and scattered. So much has happened—things vanished and appeared over and over♬."

Gloria spreads her arms gracefully as she speaks. Her dress flutters dramatically in the wind.

"Thanks to you, I solidified my resolve. That pathetic kingdom is now an empire."

Twelve years. Despite that time, Gloria exudes an even richer, more seductive allure. With an imperial smile befitting her status, she begins recounting the past twelve years.

Twelve years ago. About a week after Alisa collapsed the mage tower.

Underground—the dank, dark basement of the mage tower, the audience chamber, teems with all sorts of creatures. Tentacles that carve cunts, tentacles that breed, tentacles that extract wombs, tentacles that induce sexual stimulation. Extraction tools, surgical instruments. Torture devices. And beyond them, bizarre creatures with ingenious biology and wondrous magic artifacts fill the space.

Though most monsters and lifeforms melted away under Alisa's magic, and many artifacts were damaged or destroyed as a result.

Even in this devastation, some creatures survive, biding their time.

Underground Ambush, Space-Cutting Processing Tentacle. 'Eaggressive.' A specialized processing tentacle excelling in magically slicing, shaping, modifying targets—and more. Like a massive octopus lurking in the 'sea' of the floor, its central eye blinks feebly.

This processing tentacle has shaped countless females. From reckless guild masters invading this place, to mages, arrogant elf archers, and countless rabble. Traps like antlion pits line the flesh walls around its territory, and any female who falls in gets processed immediately. The tentacle took pride in its work. Even if the audience chamber was a tough spot for dealing with intruders.

It lived happily, occasionally savoring the premium females its master tossed its way.

Of course, that peace shattered with the intruder's suicide spell.

Fortunate or unfortunate? Just before disaster struck the processing tentacle, it was toying with a modified ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠female. The right-hand woman of the former guild master, a superb fighter leading with martial arts. Short-haired for a female, muscular, but with excellent breasts and pussy. Midway through amputating her limbs, edging her with various body mods and tortures.

The petrified female suddenly chanted a spell, unleashing holy flames of immense power that incinerated the audience chamber—and beyond.

Using the sturdy woman as a shield and reflexively entering the master's barrier, the tentacle avoided instant death but suffered fatal wounds. It survived a week by draining the limbless monk woman's life force. But even she eventually ran out.

The overdose of concentrated aphrodisiac injected directly into her anus to extract essence was her undoing. Her tits so developed that a mere touch made her squirt; she came and died, nosebleeding profusely.

A fixed-type tentacle, it could move somewhat within flesh walls, but with its core shattered and the tower's master dead, it was utterly helpless. It hadn't even fully regenerated. Holy magic damage barely half repaired. And now its last female toy dead—only waiting to die remained.

"Here it is!"

Despair deepened at the bustling human voices from outside. Death's moment approached.

Its surroundings formed an antlion pit—pits and slopes dug invitingly. It used to adjust freely to trap approaching females or receive weakened prey. But now? Collapsed dungeon. Collapsed mage tower. Flesh walls crumbling to dust, the pit amid rubble glaringly obvious.

"Corpse here! Probably a mage tower beast. We should—"

"No~. Leave it. Priority is recovering the magic artifacts and the hero as ordered by the princess."

A sultry, lively female voice. The tentacle yearns to process her limbs, toy with her, make her beg—but impossible. Soldiers' footsteps pass, heavy machinery rumbles through the audience chamber.

"Saintess, the debris is too thick."

"Sigh. Step aside?"

BOOM!! Massive explosion, rocks shattering.

"Really. If the sturdy kingdom's soldiers are this weak, we priests aren't here for manual labor."

"Y-yes... Sorry! Clear the debris!"

Clunk. Clunk. Thud! Crunch! From its buried vantage, it senses them clearing the collapsed chamber. Without master or core, the lewd mage tower is fragile. The skeleton holding its absurd structure dead.

"Oh? What's this? The infamous lewd mage of the mage tower? Died so pathetically~ Half-assed barrier, maybe."

Mocking the master, but the tentacle feels no resentment—just acceptance of loss.

"And the hero's body is petrified and shattered. How did a non-saintess unleash holy magic like that...? Artifacts damaged too. Can we salvage? Gather hero fragments first, then supplies."

Thus, the tentacle awaits death amid the sultry voice. Hours later.

The chamber empty, soldiers gone with loot.

"Um... Anselos-nim. Really okay to go ahead without you?"

"Yes, yes. Go on. I have a special mission from the princess."

14th Saintess of the Holy Kingdom, Yuria Anselos. The sultry voice's owner is the saintess. Utterly arousing for the tentacle. Never touched one. But no chance to catch her. Why spare it, though? Unfathomable.

The saintess approaches. Toward the 3-meter slanted pit like an antlion trap.

Fixed inside the spacious pit chamber, staring up. End nears. Doom comes.

..........?

The tentacle doubts its eye. At the pit's edge, the saintess casts no spells, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exerts no prior brute force.

Instead, slowly inserts her leg between the tentacles.

"...Keeek?"

Beneath her saintess skirt—layers of soft silk and thin lace. The sacred pussy no one should see, fully exposed. She slides in up to her waist. Angle hides her face. Instead: black lace panties, thighs exposed without hesitation. Sturdy thighs and calves like the monk's—thicker, perhaps—swaying front to back.

"Ahh......♡ O merciful goddess of compassion, holy mother of us all......♡ Save me from this lewd demon........♡"

A sticky, flushed prayer echoes. Transparent, viscous fluid drips from her throbbing pussy, soaking her pure white stockings. The tentacle's last meal begins.