Chapter Sixty One: Goddess Of Beauty

“U~~~~~U~~~~~~~!!!!!!!!!!!!!~~!!!!!!!!!!NNN~~~~NNNN~~~~NNNNNN~~~NNNNN”
A chilling cry burst from the Warlord, echoing through the vast chamber like thunder.
BADUMP!!! BADUMP!!! BADUMP!!!My heart pounded violently in my chest, louder than war drums.
“Holy… holy cow!!” I gasped, staggering, my whole body trembling.
The sight before me left me utterly breathless. No words from this world—or even the one I came from—could hope to describe her. The Warlord was beauty given flesh, a vision so overwhelming it was almost painful to look at her. Her very presence was a crime against reason, a temptation beyond human comprehension.
Inside her colossal manor, she reclined upon what seemed like a liquid bed—a pool of strange violet fluid that shimmered like starlight and carried her body weightlessly as if the water itself obeyed her will. It wasn’t quite liquid, nor cloth, but something between.
Her long purple hair spilled across the surface like rivers of twilight, stretching as far as her body itself. Her eyes—deep, pink pupils glowing faintly—were lowered with an expression that held both mystery and allure. She wore a dress reminiscent of the Chinese qipaos of my world, but tailored to tempt destruction. Her thighs gleamed openly, her chest left bare to the navel, yet it was not mere exposure that unsettled me—it was how perfectly sculpted every detail of her form was. Her shoulders were slender, her waist a graceful line, her lashes long and violet, her gaze molten with seduction.
She looked less like a woman and more like a goddess cursed to live in mortal skin.
The faint fragrance that filled the chamber was dangerously sweet—soothing, intoxicating, making my thoughts blur and my eyelids heavy. Yet beneath that calmness was a current of unbearable desire that gnawed at my self-control.
Purple mist drifted from her hair like vapor whenever she sighed or moaned, and I realized with horror—it was pheromones. Not ordinary charm, but a weaponized essence that could twist even kings into madness.
She noticed my dazed expression and tilted her head, smiling softly. “Thay yook at… me… ma~kes… me feel… so… warm…”
Her voice was a melody laced with moans. Every syllable took effort, stretched out as though pleasure was entangled with speech itself.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my body shaking. “Wh… what are you?” I whispered, though I barely trusted myself to speak.
Instead of answering directly, she shifted onto her side, propping her head delicately on her hand. The motion alone was enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“You… are the first I’ve seen in… two… decades,” she said, her voice trembling with its strange rhythm. “Not since the… succubi I command… have I spoken… face to face.”
Her words tumbled slowly, each sentence broken by sighs and moans. It took thirty minutes for her to tell me her story, but I absorbed every fragmented piece.
She explained how once she had been a central figure in the Allied Kingdom of the Four Races, attending councils alongside kings and generals. But her beauty—her existence itself—was too dangerous. One king had lost his mind after only a single meeting with her. Even then, she cloaked herself in barriers to keep her fragrance from spilling into the air, but it wasn’t enough. Her appearance alone was a weapon. Since then, she was forbidden from gatherings. Now she communicated with rulers only through magical orbs, exiled to her estate in the “Off-Land”—a forbidden zone no traveler dared approach.
And yet, fools still tried. Men of immense lust, believing their desire would grant them strength enough to breach her barrier. None ever survived.
As she spoke, I struggled to breathe. My dizziness worsened from the dense purple fog surrounding her, yet my fascination only grew. Her smile alone could topple kingdoms.
“Yr vo~~ice… makes me… feel so… warm…” she murmured again, squirming faintly, her eyes shimmering.
I clutched my knees, desperate to stay grounded. How much time had passed? Hours? My body ached from sitting, my mind nearly unraveling.
Servants brought food: fruits piled high on trays. She encouraged me to eat, her eyes never leaving mine. I reached for a familiar fruit—the Zaki, introduced to me by Etis long ago. Its taste was mild now, dulled, perhaps because my senses were overwhelmed by her very presence. When I glanced back, her tray was already empty—she had devoured them all in the blink of an eye, tilting her head innocently as if unaware of my astonishment.
Later, roasted duck was brought forth. Her servants dared not approach her directly; trays simply slid across the floor as if pulled by invisible hands. I watched in disbelief as she ate—her movements impossibly swift, her grace breaking only in those fleeting, feral flashes.
Even then, her beauty was unshaken. If anything, it was heightened.
I could feel my restraint slipping. My heart thundered. My breathing grew ragged. The distance between us was torture. I wanted to reach out, to touch her, to prove she was real and not some divine illusion.
But as I inched closer on trembling hands, a succubus servant’s sharp voice rang out: “Don’t! You’ll die if you touch her!”
Her warning barely reached me. My body screamed to retreat, but my mind and heart had already betrayed me. The Warlord’s eyes locked onto mine, filled not with rejection—but with curiosity. She wanted to see what I would do.
The very air around us shifted, charged like a battlefield. My energy darkened and clashed with her purple aura, winds swirling violently. Sparks leapt between us like lightning.
“W… what are you…?” I gasped, feeling my will nearly consumed.
Her smile widened, mysterious and knowing. “Something… you cannot yet… comprehend…”
The storm between us surged, rattling the manor, and I knew then—this was no ordinary encounter. To touch her was to risk annihilation. And yet, I could not look away.