The light-hearted conversation, punctuated with impertinence and awkward moments, floated around us as we advanced through the heart of this ochre immensity. The sun was beginning its slow descent, setting the sky ablaze with warm hues, but the heat remained merciless, clinging to our skin like a second layer of clothing.
That's when everything changed. Frieda's expression transformed in an instant. Her azure eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, suddenly froze; her mocking smile vanished. Her slightly pointed ears – that subtle detail betraying her succubus nature, along with her striking beauty and boundless energy – suddenly perked up.
"Vibrations!" Her cry tore through the still air, sharp as a blade.
In a lightning movement, she pulled on the reins with calculated violence, pivoting her mount with astonishing dexterity. In a fraction of a second, she had moved several meters away, leaving behind a void that I still observed, dazed. Her horse whinnied with the sound of pure terror.
I hadn't yet processed what was happening when the sand exploded at the exact spot where Frieda had been standing moments before. A monstrous mass erupted from the depths, revealing a chitinous exoskeleton of gleaming brown that cruelly reflected the last rays of the sun. Dozens of clawed legs thrashed frantically as a massive body uncoiled, topped by a gaping maw armed with oversized hooks and clicking pincers. A Giant Scolopendra of Valora – the embodiment of terror in the sands.
The creature emerged with lightning speed. Frieda's horse, still too close, had no time to move further away. The scolopendra struck without hesitation, its pincers sinking into the animal's flesh with a sickening wet cracking sound. Nearby, one of the succubi in our escort reacted a second too late. The creature's segmented body struck her violently, throwing her into the air like a rag doll. Her body fell heavily on the sand, broken, motionless. Death had struck, brutal and relentless.
But Frieda... Frieda did not falter. At the very moment her mount collapsed under the fatal blow, she leaped with insolent grace. In her hand suddenly appeared a sword – not of metal, but a blade woven of pure light, blinding and vibrating with energy. A weapon forged from her will itself.
The scolopendra, still occupied with tearing apart its first victim, pivoted toward this new threat. Frieda lunged forward, her slender body drawing a perfect curve in the air. She dodged a lightning-fast attack from the hooks with unreal ease, as if gravity had only a negotiable hold on her. Then, in a blinding flash, her blade cut through space.
"[Purifying Radiance]!"
The name of the spell resonated like a sacred incantation. The luminous blade cleanly severed the scolopendra's head. A shrill, almost metallic scream tore through the atmosphere – a sound that didn't belong to our world. The creature's massive body began to disintegrate where the light had touched it, dissolving into incandescent dust that floated in the air like dying fireflies.
Adrenaline exploded in my veins. It was the first time I had seen the magic of this world fully unleashed, in all its brutal power. And it was... dizzying. Fascinating and terrifying at once. Especially when the ground trembled again beneath our feet.
Two new geysers of sand erupted, and two more scolopendras emerged from the depths, even closer to our main group. Their multiple eyes, like black and shining pearls, fixed on us with a primitive hunger, attracted by the movement and the metallic smell of their fellow's fresh blood.
"Squad! Around the Kaiser! Form a barrier! NOW!" Frieda's voice, despite the effort that had preceded it, carried an authority that suffered no argument.
The succubi reacted in unison, their mounts moving with impressive discipline that betrayed years of training together. In seconds, they formed a compact circle around me, Greta, and the remaining horses. Lights of various hues – pale cerulean, twilight purple, abyssal green – began to emanate from their outstretched palms, weaving together a shimmering energy veil that enveloped us like a protective cocoon.
Meanwhile, Frieda faced the two new threats alone. Her sword of light had vanished, but her hands quickly wrapped in a flaming aura, orange and crackling like live embers.
"[Burning Salvo]!"
Several spheres of fire sprang from her palms – simple but formidably effective in their speed. The flaming projectiles struck the chitinous bodies of the scolopendras with surgical precision. Fire, even from elemental magic, seemed particularly devastating against these sand creatures. Hisses of pain rose as their carapaces blackened and cracked under the thermal assault.
Frieda chained her spells with impressive cadence, visibly drawing from the last drop of her mana reservoir. Under this relentless rain of flames, the two monsters eventually stopped moving, their charred bodies gently smoking in the desert air like strange censers.
A heavy silence fell again, disturbed only by Frieda's ragged breathing and the constant whisper of wind over the dunes. Three giant scolopendras defeated. One succubus lost. One horse sacrificed. The toll was as brutal as the battle had been swift. Frieda, despite her youth and often casual attitude, had just proven herself an exceptional warrior.
She turned to me, visibly exhausted but haloed with fierce pride. Her blue eyes gradually regained their usual sparkle. The redness that had colored her cheeks before the attack still lingered, now mixed with dust and the sweat of combat.
A wave of euphoria overwhelmed me – that particular intoxication that follows moments when death brushes past without taking you. Fear receded, giving way to sincere admiration for her extraordinary abilities and... to the irrepressible amusement inspired by our strange relationship.
"Bravo, Sergeant!" I called out, my voice vibrating with genuine enthusiasm, but immediately returning to our absurd pact. "You were... magnificent! You protected me!" A mischievous smile stretched my lips, the same one that had annoyed her so much earlier. "So... my reward?"
Frieda's face, which had just begun to return to a normal hue, turned violently crimson. Her eyes widened, mingling disbelief and indignation, as if I had just uttered the worst blasphemy.
"You... You're a monster! A pervert without the slightest decency!" she exploded, her voice rising to a high pitch under the effect of anger and embarrassment. "Right after this?! One of our sisters lies lifeless and you're thinking about... about a kiss?! You're irredeemable! The worst of men!"
I let her pour out her anger, a discreet laugh rising in my throat. Yes, I was probably irredeemable. But she was splendid in her fury, sublime in her courage, and her reaction was worth all the treasures in the world.
Greta emitted a slight sigh beside me – an ambiguous sound that could betray either exasperation or amusement. "Your Majesty... the Sergeant isn't wrong. There will be a time and place for... those rewards. For now, we should focus on our safety and continuing our journey."
The tension of the battle gradually dissipated, replaced by accumulated fatigue and persistent heat. The sun continued its course toward the horizon, the air cooling imperceptibly, but the sand retained the burning memory of the day. Our progress slowed, the loss of Frieda's horse and the death of a succubus forcing us to reorganize our formation.
As the first shadows of twilight stretched across the dunes, an unexpected vision emerged on the horizon. At first a simple dark patch, it quickly took the recognizable shape of palm trees gently swaying in the breeze, with a lighter glow below – the reflection of water. An oasis.
A tremor of relief ran through the entire escort. It was the ideal place to halt. A source of life in the heart of desolation, a temporary sanctuary.
We reached it as night deployed its inky mantle dotted with stars. The oasis was modest but welcoming, with a crystal-clear pool bordered by slender palm trees and vegetation more generous than anything we had encountered since entering the desert. The succubi dismounted with military efficiency, tending to the surviving mounts and establishing a campsite both simple and secure in remarkably short time.
The time had come to stop. To savor this providential water, to share provisions, to get rid of the embedded dust and accumulated tension. The moment to regain strength before dawn reminded us of our duty.
The command tent already stood in the twilight, a dark silhouette against the purple sky. But after the relentless furnace of the desert and the violence of combat, it was the crystalline call of water that dominated all my thoughts. As the succubi bustled around the camp, a strange realization suddenly struck me.
"It's curious..." I murmured, eyes lost in vagueness, more to structure my thought than to be heard. "Since my awakening in this world... I haven't really felt hunger. Not even thirst. Not really."
Greta, who was supervising the methodical unloading of provisions with quiet efficiency, pivoted toward me. Her movements had that distinctive fluidity that seemed to characterize high-ranking succubi. Her purple gaze scrutinized me before she slightly nodded.
"That's completely normal, Your Majesty," she replied, her composed voice resonating like a soothing certainty. "The... particular... physiology of Succubi, and by extension of those now linked to them as you are, transcends the fundamental needs of mere mortals. Food and drink become sensory pleasures, sometimes sources of alternative energy for certain techniques, but by no means necessities for survival or hunger relief."
A pleasure. Not an obligation. My teenage body from the past demanded three daily meals and a water bottle perpetually within reach. My Emperor's body freed itself from these earthly constraints. Fascinating. This also explained why none of the succubi seemed concerned about the prospect of supplies.
As I assimilated this revelation, Greta advanced toward the water basin that softly shimmered under the nascent velvet of the starry night. Without a shadow of hesitation, with almost unreal grace, she began to undress. Her scarlet dress slid along her curves like a caress, collapsing in a dark corolla at her feet, revealing her body in its absolute perfection. Then, with a step as fluid as the element awaiting her, she immersed herself in the water, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips.
It was like a silent signal. The entire escort followed her example. In small groups or individually, the succubi undertook to remove their clothes. Military uniforms, pieces of light armor, travel outfits... everything disappeared with disconcerting nonchalance. The scene metamorphosed into a surrealist tableau. Dozens, then over a hundred succubus bodies, each sculpted in a different but equal perfection, revealed themselves under the celestial vault, converging toward the water as if drawn by an invisible magnet.
My heart raced. It was... a spectacle that my former incarnation would not have dared to imagine even in his most audacious fantasies. Everywhere my gaze fell, I saw only pearly skin, harmonious curves, generous breasts of varied shapes, all softly gleaming under the moonlight, as if the stars themselves had decided to bathe with us.
My hesitation was brief. If this collective nudity represented the norm here, if this uninhibited naturalness was their custom... why abstain? I quickly removed my campaign uniform, letting it join the other abandoned clothes on the warm sand, then advanced toward the water. The first contact with its coolness was electrifying on my skin, still burning from hours spent under the merciless sun. I immersed myself completely, joining this assembly of demonic beauties in their aquatic ritual.
As I let myself float, savoring the unreality of the moment, my gaze was drawn to a solitary silhouette. Frieda. She stood back, still dressed in her uniform, her eyes fixed on the other succubi with an expression I instantly recognized for having seen it too often in my former life – that of deep, visceral insecurity.
I swam gently toward her, approaching without abruptness.
"Frieda? Aren't you joining us?"
She looked away, her arms unconsciously tightening around herself in a protective gesture. "Master... I... prefer not to," she whispered, her voice so low it seemed to merge with the rustle of water. "My chest... It's not... like theirs..."
Ah. Her "small chest." So that's where her complex resided. In this universe populated by succubi with generous attributes, she felt like an anomaly, inadequate.
I delicately placed my hand on her forearm, a contact meant to be reassuring rather than seductive. "Frieda... listen to me." I then drew on lessons from my world of origin, that Earth where bodily diversity existed despite the dictates of standardized beauty. "Where I come from... beauty was not a uniform concept. It manifested in an infinity of forms, colors, sizes. And each possessed its own splendor."
I offered her a sincere smile, devoid for once of any malice. "A small chest can be just as enchanting, just as desirable as a more imposing one. It's just one aspect among many. Your value... your beauty... far transcend these superficial considerations. It's your indomitable strength, your quick wit, your courage... and that heart you so fiercely conceal behind your anger."
A new light crossed her cerulean irises – a mixture of amazement and a more complex emotion that I couldn't immediately identify. She clearly wasn't expecting such words from the "perverted Kaiser" she thought she knew. Perhaps within this fantastic world itself, some fragments of wisdom acquired during my previous life could still find their usefulness.
Her cheeks reddened again, but this time, the shade was not that of the usual indignation. It was softer, more vulnerable. She remained silent, but her gaze slowly drifted toward the water with visibly lessened apprehension. The tacit invitation now floated between us, fragile but very real.
Night had deployed its inky veil above our heads. The firmament of Aerdenreich, foreign but just as majestic as Earth's, stretched to infinity, studded with stars in unknown configurations that seemed to watch over our halt. The oasis had become an ephemeral sanctuary where resonated the soothing lapping of water and the crystalline laughter of succubi.
For the first time since my brutal arrival in this new existence, I felt... no longer lost, but simply present. Anchored in the moment. In this surreal bath in the heart of the desert, as the improbable sovereign of a people of demonic seductresses.