Zarvon opened his eyes to a dark cave ceiling above him, his whole body aching and his throat dry and hot. He tried to remember what happened before this—traffic lights, a truck flashing, the screech of brakes, then darkness. Now he was here, somewhere clearly not a hospital, with a body that felt strange and heavy.
When he tried to get up, his palms pressed against the cold cave floor. He saw his skin was dark gray and rough, his nails long and curved, and when his hand touched his head, two hard bumps pressed into his palm. Horns. Fucking horns.
"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice coming out rougher and deeper than usual, almost unrecognizable.
A transparent window suddenly appeared in front of him, floating with letters that seemed to wait for him to read them.
[Purity Stealer System Activated]
[Host: Zarvon (Designated: Demon King, Rank: Low)]
[First Mission: Steal the purity of Sister Lysara – Village Priestess]
[Reward: Skill "Aroma of Seduction", 200 PP]
[Warning: Failure to complete mission within 7 days will result in death.]
Zarvon stared at the window for a few seconds, then let out a long sigh. "Of course. I die, wake up as a demon king, and now I have a system that tells me to steal a priestess's virginity. Just my luck."
But his thirst wasn't just for water. He felt an empty, pulling sensation inside him, and the system seemed to direct his attention to one place. He looked toward the cave entrance, where moonlight filtered through the rocks, and in the distance, between the tall trees, a small chapel stood with candlelight flickering behind its windows.
"A priestess," Zarvon muttered as he forced himself to stand, his legs shaky because he still wasn't used to this new body. "Alright. Might as well try. Worst case, I die again."
He stepped out of the cave, the night air cold against his skin, and under the pale moonlight the chapel looked old and lonely but warm because of the candles inside. He walked closer, his heartbeat faster than it should. Not fear. Maybe curiosity. Or the system pushing him with that empty feeling he couldn't explain.
When he reached the half‑open door, he leaned in and peeked. There at the altar a young woman knelt in a slightly wrinkled white robe, long brown hair loose over her shoulders, eyes closed in deep prayer. Zarvon swallowed.
"Fuck it," he whispered. "Once crazy, once dead."
He pushed the door open slowly, his boots creaking on the old wooden floor, and the woman spun around, her eyes going wide when she saw the demon with horns and red eyes standing before her.
"A demon?!" She—Lysara, the system told him—stumbled back, legs trembling, clutching the cross around her neck. "Stay away! This place is holy!"
Zarvon raised both hands. "Easy. I'm not going to bite. I'm just thirsty."
"Thirsty?" Lysara was confused but still wary. "There's water behind the chapel. Take it and leave."
"It's not water I'm thirsty for." He stepped closer, watching her stiffen. He couldn't help a small smile. "But before that—pretty priestess like you, why alone here in the middle of the night?"
Lysara bit her lower lip. "I… I'm guarding the chapel. It's my duty."
"Guarding?" Zarvon raised an eyebrow. "Or hiding from the village gossips? From the men who look at you with interest?"
Lysara's face flushed, and she backed up until her back hit the altar. "You… you don't know anything about me."
"I know your eyes." He was close enough now to smell the soap and wood on her, watching her brown eyes dart nervously. "They're tired. They look like you want to run away. I used to have eyes like that."
Lysara stared at him, fear and curiosity mixing. "You're… a demon. Why are you here?"
"I died and woke up in a cave near here. Now a system tells me to steal something from you." He let that hang, watching her expression shift. "Honestly, I don't really get it either. All I know is I'm thirsty, and for some reason, you make me feel that thirst even more."
Lysara swallowed, her voice almost a whisper. "What… what do you want from me?"
"Be honest." He leaned in a little, just enough to make her press further against the altar. "When you're alone here at night, what do you imagine? Whose lips touch your neck? Whose hands stroke your back?"
Lysara closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling fast, tears beginning to fall from the corners of her eyes. "I… I don't know… I just… want someone to see me… not as a priestess… but as…"
"As a woman," Zarvon finished softly. He touched her chin gently, making her open her eyes. She looked at him with a gaze that no longer held fear, but something deeper.
"Tonight," Zarvon said, his voice softening, "I'm not a demon, and you're not a priestess. We're just two people who are thirsty. What do you say?"
Lysara bit her lower lip one more time. Her hands were shaking. She stared at his horns, then at his eyes, then at the floor. A long pause. She didn't say anything.
Zarvon waited. He could feel her fear, but also the crack in it—the part that wanted to say yes. He didn't push.
Finally she whispered, "I… I don't know."
"That's fine." He stepped back, giving her space. "You don't have to decide now."
But when he moved away, her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Her grip was tight, her knuckles white.
"Don't," she said, her voice breaking. "Don't leave."
He stopped. Looked at her hand on his arm, then at her face. She was crying, but she wasn't scared anymore. She was angry—at herself, at him, at whatever had brought her to this point.
"I want this," she said, as if forcing the words out. "I've wanted it for years. I just… I never thought…"
"Never thought a demon would be the one to offer?"
She let out a shaky laugh. "Never thought anyone would."
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a tear. "Then stop thinking."
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Her body was still trembling, but she wasn't pulling away. When he kissed her, she kissed back hesitantly at first, then with more force, her fingers digging into his shirt.
The candles on the altar went out one by one, moonlight streaming through the window, and the white robe fell to the wooden floor with a soft rustle.
He laid her down on the altar cloth, the candlelight flickering in her eyes. He could see the doubt still there, the old training telling her this was wrong. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, slow and patient, until her body relaxed beneath him.
"You sure?" he asked, his voice low.
She nodded, but her eyes were wide.
"Words."
"Yes." Her voice was barely audible. "Yes."
When he finally entered her, she gasped, her nails digging into his back, and he stopped, letting her adjust. She breathed hard against his neck, her whole body tense.
"It's okay," he murmured. "Breathe."
She let out a long breath, and he felt her relax around him. He moved slowly, watching her face, stopping when she winced, waiting for her to pull him closer. She did. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she whispered his name like a prayer.
Afterwards, Lysara lay beside him, her head on his chest, the robe now a makeshift blanket beneath them. She was quiet for a long time.
The system chimed in his head.
[PURITY STOLEN. +200 PP. New skill: Aroma of Seduction.]
[Sister Lysara is now bound to you. Loyalty: 85%.]
[Mission complete. Next mission: Reach the capital. Find Lady Nyxara.]
"That noise," she said. "What was that?"
"System." He kept stroking her hair. "It's how I track things."
She looked up at him. "Are you going to do this to other women?"
He didn't lie. "The system says I need to."
She stared at him for a moment, then let out a breath. "I thought so."
"You could leave."
She laughed, a sad sound. "Leave to where? I just lost my purity, my chapel, my faith. I have nothing."
"You have me." He said it simply. "Whatever that's worth."
She rested her head back on his chest. "We'll see."
---
Dawn came, and they walked away from the old chapel into the forest, Lysara now wearing a gray robe she'd found in the chapel's closet. Her face was still a little red when she remembered last night, but her eyes were more alive than before.
"Where are we going?" Lysara asked.
"The capital." Zarvon kept his eyes forward. "Apparently there's a noble's daughter whose purity we have to steal."
Lysara stared at him, half‑shocked, half‑amused. "Seriously? So this is our job now? Stealing women's purity?"
"Looks like it." He took her hand, gripping it tightly. "But everyone we steal becomes part of the kingdom we're building. Including you."
"A kingdom?" Lysara laughed. "We have a leaky chapel and a few goblins, and we're talking about a kingdom?"
"Every big kingdom started small." He smiled. "Trust me."
Lysara squeezed his hand back. "I trust you."
He didn't answer. In the distance, beyond the morning mist, the capital's towers rose, hiding their next target.
[Nymphaearoot the Author]: Hope you enjoy reading! If you like it, please add it to your library and let me know your favorite moments in the comments