Roth roared to the heavens, exhilarated. Though the Elder God had already sunk back into slumber after assigning the task—and couldn’t possibly hear him now—Roth was certain: delivering this human Archangel intact to the Abyss would make the Elder God feel the blazing sincerity of his loyalty.
But for now…
He looked down at Sylvia, still unconscious. Despite their different races, he could clearly sense the nobility and sanctity radiating from her. He had to admit—it was the first time in his existence he’d felt such overwhelming awe and instinctive dread.
That a mere glance from this human Archangel could stir such terror in a Demon Lord proved just how formidable she must have been at her peak—easily capable of suppressing him.
Yet the more holy and powerful she seemed, the stronger his urge to defile her grew. Roth gazed greedily at the girl, extending his demon-steel tongue drill to lick his grotesque vertical mouth bristling with fangs. After a thought, he decided to personally verify for the Elder God whether this so-called “once-in-ten-thousand-years perfect vessel” truly lived up to its name.
The idea sent a thrill through him. His demon scales quivered with glee.
Should he savor the Archangel’s humiliated expression firsthand? Or make her body willingly embrace him while her mind screamed in resistance?
Both options delighted him. After millennia of abstinence, he felt like a freshly hatched, naive little demon—brimming with fantasy and restless anticipation for a surface-world maiden.
“I recall… what was that trinket the Succubus Clan offered last time? Ah—the Blood of Pure Lust! Said to awaken the Succubus Queen’s bloodline in any female of any race for a time…”
With a casual swipe through the void, a tiny black portal spat out a vial of blood-red liquid. Roth’s three golden pupils glowed slightly as he stared at the vivid crimson potion.
*This was it.*
As a revered Demon Lord, why choose? He’d have it all. He craved the exquisite torment of the human Archangel weeping in despair while her body betrayed her with fervent compliance.
*So thrilling!*
“Hehehehe…”
Chuckling at the coming delight, he popped the wooden stopper with a soft *pop!*
“Mmm…”
Sylvia’s lips parted easily in sleep. Roth watched, entranced, as the crimson liquid drifted gently into her softly flushed, dewy lips. His fangs trembled with excitement.
“Eh…?!”
No sooner had half the vial been poured than Sylvia’s eyes flew open, confusion dawning on her face.
“Hero… what… are you giving me…?” Her voice was faint, still fogged with sleep. Though her eyes were open, she saw nothing clearly.
“A recovery potion for the Archangel. I mixed it into your tea—hence the red color, with a slightly sweet, metallic taste~”
Amused by her dazed, innocent expression, Roth mimicked Kroso’s voice and tone perfectly. He’d fooled her.
“I see… Thank you…”
Seeing the poison status on her panel steadily decreasing, Sylvia obediently nodded and closed her eyes again, lips parting slightly in trust.
Roth’s excitement surged. He guided the liquid slowly inward.
*This roleplay… unexpectedly fun!*
His face lit up—but as the Blood of Pure Lust seeped deeper, the “Corruption” status on Sylvia’s panel flashed crimson. Heat flooded her body. She ached to tear every garment off.
*What’s happening?!*
She’d recognized the Hero’s voice! Was the potion from a traitor? Did the Hero not know?
Panic seized her. *Stop! Please stop!*
She strained to cry out, but her limbs refused to move—as if her body no longer belonged to her. Pure terror gripped her.
Externally, a deep blush stained her cheeks. Her once light-blue pupils had fully shifted into the signature pink heart-shaped eyes of a high-tier succubus.
*Success?*
Only after the last drop vanished did Roth pause. Sylvia’s holy radiance as the Archangel of Supremacy had utterly faded. The innate suppression and dread were gone—replaced by a raw, primal allure even a Demon Lord struggled to resist.
No need to resist.
Sylvia, now awakening to the Succubus Queen’s bloodline, let out breathy, seductive murmurs. Tears glistened in her heart-shaped eyes—exactly as Roth had hoped. She’d realized the truth. Her despairing, fragile beauty sent his pulse racing.
“I can’t take it! Absolutely unbearable!”
“Heh~ My dear Archangel~ Choose: the big drill on my tentacles, or the one in my mouth? Either way, I, Roth, will make sure you *thoroughly* experience the Abyss’s hospitality!”
The more she trembled, the wilder his excitement grew. Demon-steel tentacles and tongue drill circled her, tips spinning furiously.
“What’s wrong, little cutie? Silent? Then I’ll use them all~ Heehee!”
With a manic shriek, Roth lunged—the tongue drill shooting toward her slightly parted lips with such speed it cracked the air.
The night was long.
Plenty of time to play with the human Archangel.
