The Price of Rescue

Relying on the sparse moonlight, a lone figure stumbled through the forest, desperately searching for direction.

“Huu… huu…” Dragging his aching body, Rolan gasped for breath, inching forward with each step. “I need to get back quickly. It wouldn’t be good if that thing caught up…”

He glanced back at the pitch-black woods behind him, a shiver of dread running through his spine.

What exactly was that creature? He had truly come within an inch of his life. If not for the monster, its arm severed, abandoning its attack at the very last moment…

He took a shaky breath, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead.

Though he had managed to sever an arm from the blue behemoth and slay three black undead, the victory had come at a heavy cost.

His left leg was almost certainly a comminuted fracture, while his right shoulder had been pierced by sharp claws. Countless other minor wounds adorned his body.

Pain, exhaustion, and an insidious magical energy continuously eroding his body were subtly at play.

“Almost there…” Rolan leaned against a tree, catching his breath. “From this distance, Mondstadt shouldn’t be far.” He channeled his dwindling magic to support his body, fighting to maintain consciousness and guide his steps, feeling utterly tormented.

His injured foot inadvertently struck a protruding rock. His left leg buckled, and his weary body collapsed.

The earthy scent of damp grass filled his nostrils, and murky mud clung to his cheek. Rolan lay on his side, head resting on the ground, his eyes half-closed.

He suddenly found a strange comfort in simply lying there. The gentle breeze brushed over him, as if soothing his battered body and weary soul.

‘So tired… I just want to rest…’

‘Being a Hero is truly exhausting…’

He sighed, then a foolish smile touched his lips.

‘Perhaps I’m better suited to being a villager. I miss the old days: tending to the obedient sheep each morning, working the fields, occasionally selling goods at the market near Paimon Fortress, greeting neighbors in the village, and, if the opportunity arose, finding a good wife…’

‘A wife…’

‘What kind of wife would I want? I suppose I’d prefer someone who is…’

‘Stupid Hero—’

Suddenly, inexplicably, the image of the little Demon Lord from earlier flashed into his mind.

Her mischievous tone, the slight curve of her lips, and the way her eyes always challenged him.

‘She was rather amusing, he had to admit…’

‘Tsk, wait, why am I suddenly thinking of her?’

‘She should be eating relief rations in Mondstadt right now. I wonder how they taste. There was so much luggage on the trailer; she probably didn’t have time to take it all. That girl loves good food, so if the rations are just black bread, she’ll definitely complain endlessly.’

‘Eh? No, that’s not right. Why do I keep thinking about her?’

Rolan shook his head, attempting to banish the troublesome figure from his mind.

‘Hmm… what’s Mother doing now? She should have reached Mondstadt by now. I heard the Lord of Mondstadt is a very cold and ruthless person; I hope he treats the refugees kindly, at least. Everyone usually returns home once the disaster ends anyway. As long as things develop normally, and the Church or Imperial government finds a cure for the illness, everyone will be fine…’

‘I hope I can return home to Green Village soon…’

‘Once I’m home, I’ll definitely put Freya to work. Since she’s completely lost her memory, making her do a bit more shouldn’t be an issue. After all, it was my great mercy that took her in.’

‘And then…’

In a daze, an image seemed to force its way into his mind: the gentle morning sun streaming into his small room, illuminating a relatively clean wooden bed. There, a figure playfully tugged at the soft strands of his hair, tracing patterns across his face. Beneath a fringe of snow-white bangs, a pair of clear, captivating eyes curved into a sweet smile, framed by long, slender lashes.

‘I remember, this was the morning I was woken by that little Demon Lord.’

‘How strange. Why would I think of this now?’

‘What’s wrong with me? Why is my mind filled with these images?’

The sunlight, too, seemed to soften, its golden, wheat-like glow gently settling upon a snow-white face…

‘I don’t want this anymore.’

‘Stop thinking about it!’

‘I almost…’

‘Don’t think about it!’

‘Stop!’

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through Rolan’s left leg. The intense agony finally tore through his thoughts, dragging him back from the precipice of unconsciousness.

He immediately straightened, clutching his heart with his left hand, gasping for air.

“I almost fell asleep just now…” he muttered, a tremor of fear in his voice. “I nearly forgot what’s important. I can’t rest yet…”

Rolan used his left hand to support himself, trembling as he rose. This simple act consumed several minutes of his precious time.

‘So exhausted…’

‘And with almost no magic left to use…’

“Hahahahahaha—”

A grating laugh echoed from the distant woods.

‘What’s happening? Aren’t they afraid of attracting monsters with that noise?’

‘Oh, I forgot. Most of those monsters have already been dealt with by me…’

‘No, that’s not right. Others shouldn’t know that.’

‘Never mind. I’ll go check it out…’

As he drew closer, step by agonizing step, Rolan’s heart began to accelerate.

‘A familiar presence… it seems to be…’

“No…”

“Cough, cough—cough, cough, cough—”

‘That little Demon Lord’s voice?’

‘How could this be? Shouldn’t she have already reached Mondstadt?’

“She’s still trying to hold on, hahahaha—”

“That one’s willpower is quite strong.”

‘A man’s voice? It doesn’t sound like a good person.’

“She’s just a woman, after all.”

In that instant, a chilling realization dawned on Rolan. The two swords strapped to his back trembled, vibrating with the residual magic coursing through his body.

The pain in his left foot seemed to vanish, rendered insignificant. He slowly accelerated, pushing forward, ignoring the obstructions of sharp branches and dense foliage. After covering several tens of meters, he finally glimpsed that familiar figure once more.

The little Demon Lord, or rather, Freya.

Rolan saw her kneeling on the ground, hands clenching her thighs, seemingly struggling to maintain consciousness. Yet, moments later, her body began to tremble uncontrollably. A flush of crimson spread across her snow-white skin, her soft chest heaved with rapid breaths, and her tear-filled eyes appeared hazy and unfocused.

The two figures before her were undoubtedly enemies.

There was no need to think too much, nor did he wish to.

With his left hand, Rolan unstrapped Thunder’s Fury from his back. He poured his last reserves of magic into the blade, his gaze fixed on two thick necks, then hurled it with all his might.

“Boom—”

Lightning flashed, like a raging, defiant fire.

The short sword, imbued with the Hero’s magic, became an arc of azure and white, tearing through the air. A roaring sword-cry echoed through the stillness.

Approximately a few seconds later, two heads, now devoid of the lightning’s glow, quietly rolled onto the ground.

Well, that problem was temporarily resolved.

“Huu… huu…” Dragging his even wearier body, Rolan covered the remaining tens of meters. He placed a hand on the little Demon Lord’s shoulder, calling out with effort, “Hey! Are you alright?”

Freya offered no response. Simultaneously, Rolan felt the strangeness of her body; her soft form was now burning hot, pliant, and slick with sweat. He had no choice but to use his sweat-dampened hand to cup her head, breathing heavily as he urged, “Snap out of it!”

The girl beneath him slowly lifted her beautifully curved jaw, her hazy eyes fixed on him. Her face was as delicate and captivating as a pink flower petal, while her collarbones and neck glistened with overflowing beads of sweat. Warm, moist breaths escaped her cherry-red lips, caressing Rolan’s face and sending a ripple through his composure.

‘This little Demon Lord… did she take the wrong medicine?’

Rolan glanced at the ground and indeed saw two bottles. Just as he was about to pick them up for a closer look, his vision swam.

“Ugh, ow, ow, ow…”

He gasped in pain, bewildered to realize that Freya had just pounced on him.

“Freya?!” He stared in astonishment at the little Demon Lord now pinning him down, unsure what mischief she was up to. Soon, however, a chilling understanding dawned.

Freya’s head was bowed, her white hair cascading over his face. From this vantage point, he clearly saw the little Demon Lord’s hands reach above her shoulders, slowly pulling down the two straps of her dress…

‘Undressing?’

The black dress’s straps slipped down like soft, dark clouds. Her pristine, warm shoulders and flawless skin made Rolan almost reluctant to open his eyes. He realized this was the first time he had truly observed the little Demon Lord’s body, and the first time he understood just how alluring her form was.

‘He couldn’t tear his gaze away…’

The black dress continued its slow descent, and the bright moonlight now seemed to sharpen its focus. The instant before he was about to see something specific, Rolan instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard.

‘Don’t open them! Don’t be tempted!’

‘She wasn’t like this before! This body, this is all a trick she concocted to deceive me!’

‘Be firm! Be firm!’

‘I am a Hero; I cannot be tempted by the Demon Lord!’

‘I can definitely…’

The next moment, a warm body reached out, wrapping itself around him.

Something soft pressed against his chest, radiating a heat that steadily transferred to his own body.

Rolan felt enveloped by an intoxicating fragrance. His entire body tingled as if struck by lightning, and his thoughts soared into the clouds.

‘Should I take a peek? It should be fine…’

‘The little Demon Lord isn’t very lucid right now anyway. Even if I were to… take advantage of the situation, she wouldn’t know.’

And so… his eyes opened just a slit.

It wasn’t an exaggerated size, but certainly far from ordinary. The proportions were perfectly suited to the Demon Lord’s figure, creating a harmonious beauty. The cherry-blossom pink and white blended exquisitely, like beautiful, vibrant flowers after a spring rain.

“Huu…” Freya’s face drew closer, her cherry-red lips slightly parted. Her glistening eyes, filled with a pitiful plea, stared at him like a small dog begging for food.

‘I…’

Rolan’s mind went utterly blank, as if it had been blasted by a seventh-tier explosion spell, leaving him completely dumbfounded.

His body, however, was disturbingly compliant and impulsive.

His hand found Freya’s waist, feeling the delicate skin and slick sweat.

In this moment, if he were to simply follow his instincts, he could naturally proceed to the next step.

Before he could even move, Freya’s lips covered his. Her own lips, dry and rough from dehydration and exhaustion much like his own, did nothing to dampen her fiery passion and desire. From the bold and eager touch of her tongue, Rolan sensed that the little Demon Lord had become an entirely different person. There was no gentle, lingering kiss; the girl above him burned with a fierce, untamed fire, as if desperate to unleash all her desires in a single moment, or perhaps to extinguish them instantly.

She fiercely pressed her lips against Rolan’s, forcefully locking down any escape for his tongue, leaving him no chance of evasion.

After a long moment, Rolan, feeling oxygen-deprived, pushed Freya away. Several glistening strands of saliva stretched between their parted lips.

“Hey…” Rolan, having absorbed a considerable amount of magic, felt a slight return of strength to his body. He gasped for air, then spoke in a resigned, almost self-deprecating tone, “You brought this upon yourself.”

He then reversed their positions, pressing her down onto the ground, placing himself above her.

The girl beneath him lay still on the ground, her snow-white hair fanned out like silk behind her head. Every pore of her beautiful body exuded a fervent heat.

She was still breathing heavily, her eyes still filled with desire. Beneath her pure exterior, Freya’s gaze and aura continuously enticed him. Looking at the girl below, Rolan felt she was like a delicious, sweet, irresistible poison.

The thread of his sanity slowly began to fray in that moment…

‘Am I truly going to do this?’

‘There will be no turning back…’

‘Little Demon Lord, you are truly something…’

He closed his eyes heavily, then opened them again, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

‘I lost.’

He slowly let his hand glide over the body beneath him, as if memorizing its contours and warmth, or perhaps preparing for his next move.

‘Soon, you will belong to me…’

Suddenly, his intended next action faltered.

He noticed several bluish-purple marks on Freya’s lower abdomen, clearly the signs of being struck.

“How did you run into this trouble?” Rolan gently touched her wound, and a look of extreme pain twisted her face.

“Does it hurt that much…?” Rolan’s heart ached as he saw Freya’s contorted expression of pain. He instead stroked her head, sighing, “Honestly, you always manage to get into trouble…”

“Mmm-ngh…” Freya shook her head, an expression of longing on her face. She pushed his hand away, her eyes shimmering with tears, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

Rolan frowned, slowly leaning closer to listen carefully.

“Give me… medicine… medicine…”

His pupils constricted as he sensed something amiss. He reached for the bottles beside him and, scrutinizing them, saw the labels clearly: [‘Mandrake Root Mixed Oblivion Potion’] and [‘Rofinia Maiden’s Brow Potion (Note: Highly Addictive)’].

“…It’s these kinds of things.”

A breeze swept through, and in an instant, the pain in his body and the chill in the air suppressed his desire, awakening his reason.

He looked at Freya, who was suffering from the potion’s effects beneath him, his eyes flickering.

Seemingly unwilling to wait any longer, Freya struggled back up, mechanically wrapping her hands around Rolan’s shoulders.

“That hurts, you silly girl…” Rolan winced in pain as Freya’s hand pressed against his right shoulder.

He removed Freya’s hands, shaking his head with a wry smile. After a moment of hesitation, his eyes slowly hardened.

Rolan picked up the black dress and carefully helped Freya put it back on.

“Listen to me!” He subdued Freya’s instinctive resistance, pressing his forehead against hers, a hint of helplessness in his smile. “If you ever do this again, I won’t give you another chance.”

With that, he delivered a swift chop to Freya’s neck. Once he confirmed she was unconscious, he hoisted the little Demon Lord onto his back and began walking, step by step, towards Mondstadt.