Forced To Become The Devil’S Succubus Lover Chapter 33

Chapter 33 He Often Touches His Chest, Because…

Lishiel felt dizzy. He looked at his empty palm, feeling as if he had forgotten something important.

What was it? He inexplicably touched his chest, yet couldn’t recall.

But it didn’t matter, he thought carelessly. He had lived for so many years and forgotten countless things. As long as he lived according to his desires, nothing else was very important.

However, the moment he looked up, he saw a disgusting holy light—that light was stained with the power of the God of Light, the thing he found most repulsive, and it was hovering directly above him.

Oh, it was the Holy Sword wielded by the Saint Son of the Continent of Light. How annoying, he clicked his tongue.

Those ants spent all their time plotting to kill him and inherit his property. What wishful thinking, the Demon King thought with mockery.

He raised his hand and casually waved, sending out a black speck of light condensed with the power of The Abyss. It shot toward the Holy Sword at extreme speed.

The speck of light exploded into golden holy radiance.

As the holy light dispersed, a cold yet strangely familiar face was revealed behind it.

The Demon King was stunned.

Is this the current Saint Son? It’s rare to see such dense affinity for Light magic. No wonder he has the audacity to fight me.

He was rarely intrigued and was about to ask the Saint Son’s name when the loud voices of the ants below reached him.

—Great God of Light, your most loyal followers are willing to offer everything to implore you! Please let our Saint Son defeat the wicked Demon King!

He impatiently glanced down, flicked his finger, and casually cast a spell.

But the person opposite blocked him. Golden holy light rushed toward the magical light sphere he had launched, and then the Demon King watched as his magical light sphere was actually scattered!

Tsk, how irritating. The slight goodwill that had just arisen instantly vanished.

The current Saint Son, is it? the Demon King thought darkly. Since the God of Light fell into slumber, no one has dared to defy me like this.

“Saint Son, I am surprised you managed to hold on for so long.”

The Demon King let out an ambiguous chuckle, his gaze sweeping indifferently over the white-robed Saint Son, then meaningfully settling on one spot.

It was the opponent’s right hand, gripping the Holy Sword. The web of skin between his thumb and forefinger was split open and dripping blood.

Lishiel scoffed mockingly: “I just wonder how much longer you can last?”

The Saint Son’s expression grew colder. It had to be admitted that the opponent was truly aloof; he hadn’t spoken much since the fight began.

Even though his interest had been disrupted, the Demon King was willing to grant the person opposite a little more patience.

“You are the current Saint Son, right? What is your name?”

The more Lishiel looked, the more intense his interest became. For some reason, this person looked damn pleasing to the eye.

The opponent remained silent, raising the Holy Sword and slashing again.

But Lishiel wasn’t annoyed. It had been a long time since he had exercised like this. Playing with him wasn’t out of the question.

The two clashed in mid-air, evenly matched.

“I asked for your name. Why aren’t you speaking? Are you mute?”

Lishiel frowned slightly. He hadn’t expected the opponent to not only remain silent but also intensify his attacks.

For no reason, a breath caught in his chest. Logically, this was just a momentary whim, and it shouldn’t matter if he received no response; he was merely teasing this person for fun. However, the reality seemed different from what he thought.

The Demon King felt a surge of frustration and stopped merely blocking, beginning to retaliate.

The two exchanged blows, but the Demon King gradually grew irritable.

He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Why?

He felt it shouldn’t be like this.

But the opponent’s relentless offense caught him off guard. He had been in a period of weakness when creating this avatar, so his power wasn’t at its peak. Strangely, he could feel that half of his horn was broken, resulting in a loss of some power, which affected his performance.

The opponent’s storm-like assault made him increasingly agitated until he made a mistake.

It wasn’t a big mistake, but it was fatal. The opponent was clearly battle-hardened, seizing the opening and stabbing toward him with the Holy Sword, imbued with that incredibly repulsive aura.

That sword strike hurt, terribly. It hurt so much that the Demon King nearly lost his footing. Under all circumstances, he always maintained his composure.

It hurt too much… not just physically, but his heart was inexplicably throbbing.

The sword pierced his chest, and his power began to dissipate, but he stubbornly walked step by step toward the Saint Son. His movements showed no hesitation, allowing the opponent’s sword to sink deeper as he approached.

Finally, Lishiel stopped right in front of the Saint Son. They were so close that he could feel the Saint Son’s breath.

He thought for a moment, unsure what to say, and finally blurted out: “You certainly have some skill.”

That counts as praising him, right? Lishiel thought, since he had never praised anyone before.

But he looked so pathetic now, he thought again. Would it be undignified? And not very attractive?

That was truly awful.

Watching the opponent’s Adam’s apple bob due to his presence, Lishiel suddenly felt a familiar craving, as if long, long ago, he had wanted to touch it.

So he reached out. Under the opponent’s astonished gaze, his fingertip lightly touched the Adam’s apple and rubbed it gently.

That satisfied him, he thought, lowering his eyes.

But immediately following was a surge of uncontrollable unwillingness. This intense feeling of resentment dominated his body.

So he heard his own voice ring out, laced with contempt: “You will regret killing me, especially you.”

Outside the water mirror, Su Sheng watched this scene, his heart full of anticipation seemingly doused by a bucket of cold water.

It was still like this, he thought faintly.

Yet his eyes uncontrollably fixed on the figure in the water mirror.

Just watch a little longer, Su Sheng murmured to himself.

Opening his eyes again, Lishiel involuntarily touched his chest, where the Holy Sword had just pierced him.

The pain still lingered—a phantom pain.

This person actually had the ability to kill his avatar. If left unchecked, he truly would be a threat. Perhaps he should kill him, he thought darkly.

But the moment the word “kill” appeared, his heart suddenly clenched.

Forget it, the Demon King thought. Then he would turn him into his slave. It would be better to have him under his control.

“After all, he is so beautiful. It would be a pity to kill him,” he muttered to himself.

Thus, he personally orchestrated the “Three-Day Pact,” forcing the people of the City-State to offer the Saint Son to him.

The plan progressed smoothly. Those fools indeed sent the person over as he demanded, except they had actually severed the tendons in his little slave’s hands and feet, the Demon King thought angrily.

For touching his property, those fools would pay the price.

.

On the throne in the castle, the Demon King rested his head on his hand, watching the Saint Son in the water mirror with interest. He saw the Saint Son’s despair, and also his efforts and struggles. Finally, unexpectedly, the opponent broke free of his restraints and, by a strange twist of fate, arrived in The Abyss.

Seeing the Saint Son lying on the cracked ground yet still refusing to yield to his predetermined fate, his heart stirred. He created an avatar named “Loren.”

He no longer wanted a slave who would only obey; he wanted this unyielding soul to belong to him.

Outside the mirror, the Demon King’s thoughts were laid bare before Su Sheng.

Although he had anticipated it, an indescribable disappointment crashed down on him. Su Sheng suppressed his discomfort, deciding to continue watching.

He needed his own heart to see with its own eyes what kind of intentions the person who moved him harbored.

Loren easily killed the few demons who harbored covetous desires and rescued the Saint Son.

And, as he wished, he learned the opponent’s name.

Norton—those three syllables were ground between his teeth.

He put on his trademark smile and warmly pulled Norton up.

But then, the warm touch made him pause.

Why were his hands so soft?

They didn’t look like the hands of someone who wielded a sword.

The moment the other person looked over, he concealed the darkness in his eyes, smiling to meet the wary gaze.

He didn’t just want to conquer the Saint Son’s body and mind; he wanted him to submit and never be able to leave him.

To spend more time with Norton, he fabricated countless lies, including but not limited to:

His family needed the Silver Star Orchids growing near the Demon King’s castle to save their lives.

He was bitten by a silver wolf.

He deliberately collapsed in front of the teleportation array that Su Sheng was bound to pass through.

Telling the opponent he was the heir to the Kingdom of Philichis.

Ordering most of the humanoid succubi in The Abyss to pose as humans in the Kingdom.

And even the disappearance of that knight from the Holy Mountain was something he had sent demons to handle.

…

It wasn’t until Sala’s betrayal, when events spiraled out of control and Norton collapsed lifelessly in front of him, that he felt fear.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on this unprecedented feeling. Panic seized his heart, making it hard to breathe, but he remained outwardly composed when facing the old butler.

He said carelessly: “What is there to worry about? My magic power won’t run out for a hundred years. But if this person dies, where will I find such interesting entertainment again?”

“Besides, as long as he integrates this Abyssal Horn, it means he has accepted the gift of The Abyss. I will have full control over his body until he dies.”

At that moment, he decided that he didn’t necessarily need a slave; having the opponent willingly become his lover would bring him greater pleasure. He would definitely protect him.

Outside the water mirror, Su Sheng’s face was pale, a tear trembling in his eye. He slowly covered his lower abdomen.

No wonder, no wonder…

Making him the Demon King’s slave and lover was something this person had planned long ago. Even if the feelings changed, had the Demon King’s intentions remained the same?

The word “submit” stung him.

His heart ached almost to the point of death, yet his expression barely changed. He began to mock himself relentlessly.

See, this is the person you love.

He is despicable, wicked, willful, arrogant…

Should he still hand over his true heart? Being betrayed once wasn’t enough; must he learn his lesson only after a second time?

…

He reached up to wipe away the tear. As his hand dropped, his entire demeanor gradually turned cold, his eyes holding an ancient, unmelting frost.

With a wave of his hand, the remaining Dragon Horn was also cast into the array. From this moment on, the effect of the magic array changed. It would become a wicked magical illusion imbued with the power of the giant dragon. This magic would be incredibly powerful, making truth indistinguishable from falsehood, trapping those who succumbed to it without their realization.

The illusion would alter the past, essentially giving someone the most beautiful fantasy in their sleep and then mercilessly shattering it.

He wanted the Demon King to taste this heart-gouging agony too.

A fierce wind whipped up the surrounding dust. The biting cold wind scraped like blades. Outside the mist array, a solitary figure walked further and further away.

The water mirror continued to reflect the Demon King’s past. However, after Su Sheng left, Lishiel in the mirror suddenly clutched his chest. He looked down in confusion, murmuring:

“Strange, why does it hurt so much?”

.

As Su Sheng departed, Lishiel’s heartache became more pronounced, but he couldn’t find the reason.

In the illusion, with his efforts, Norton stopped being cold and began to approach him.

When he woke up in the morning, Norton would look at him, his gaze hinting at dependence. Lishiel would sit over, playing with the other’s soft black hair, and tell him repeatedly that he seemed to have fallen in love with him.

And he told Norton that he no longer minded the past.

Norton, under his expectant gaze, also abandoned his so-called mission and stopped searching for people. They found a clean and beautiful place to live, often traveling like an ordinary couple.

They went to Echo Valley in The Abyss, where vast fields of silver grass grew. Amidst the silver light, he confessed his love.

They finally became a couple.

He got what he wanted.

This was good, the Demon King thought, but he often touched his chest, because it always felt empty.