Reborn As An Evolving Monster



With eyes filled with malice and perverse interest, the Demon Lord of Lust watched over the scene.

As part of his Territory, the Demon Lord had every right to watch.

Interfering, on the other hand, was a different issue.

The Demon Lord of Sloth had used its right to pinpoint Mark's location.

The Demon Lord of Lust did not need to do that.

After all, its Pet, the calamity known as Tavashed, had come across the intruders.

The Demon Lord, despite the large distance separating it from the intruders, only needed to check its Pet's location, and follow from there.

***

Elisa turned around to face him.

A strange feeling.

An itch she couldn't scratch.

It was there, somewhere.

She couldn't tell where exactly.

She couldn't tell when it had appeared either.

Had it just appeared? Just now? Had it appeared after kissing?

After kissing him the first time? Or was it the second?

Had it always been there? Was it new? Was this just the first time she had become aware of it?

Elisa, who was breathing somewhat heavily, couldn't tell.

What was wrong with her? What was this sensation? What brought it? What awakened?

What was it for?

She wasn't sure.

But as Mark walked closer to her, her skin shivered and the itch grew stronger.

It grew stronger. More persistent.

It grew insistent, and harder to ignore.

He walked closer, and she realized.

The itch that she couldn't scratch herself, the itch she couldn't pinpoint, perhaps he could?

He could scratch it. He could find it. He could reach it.

Her breathing grew heavier, and her legs shook slightly.

Why were her legs shaking? Why was her breathing this unstable? What...

'What's... Happening to me?'

It was strange. Too strange.

It was the first time she felt this way.

She looked at him.

It was the first time someone made her feel this way.

And as he walked closer, she asked herself a question.

A question that made the itch even stronger but, at the same time, reassured her.

As she stared into his clear purple pupil, she asked herself.

'Perhaps he feels the same thing?'

She couldn't tell.

His breathing was controlled. His legs weren't shaking. He was walking towards her naturally.

Elisa's ear twitched.

His heart was beating fast.

Incredibly fast.

Then...?

Inside her, an outburst of emotions and thoughts.

If he could rid her of that itch.

If he could help with that itch.

If he was feeling the same itch.

If he could rid her of that itch.

If he could help with that itch.

If he was feeling the same itch.

Elisa took a step forward, closing the distance.

If they could help each other with those itches.

Clear. Purple. 

A beautiful shade.

Purple or violet?

A light and clear iris color.

His soul, she could almost see.

Elisa lay both her hands on his chest, to which she was eye-level.

Why had she done that? 

Having her hands on him this way, looking up at him when she was breathing heavily, Elisa thought it wasn't a good look.

It wasn't a look worthy of a Princess.

Yet, she didn't step away. She didn't take her hands off of him.

His hands gently grabbing her waist made her shake.

This time however, she didn't try to hide it.

She felt ashamed. She felt ashamed. She felt... Different.

But she didn't hide it.

There was no need to hide it.

Not to him anyway.

If I want this itch taken care of, if I want this itch taken care of by him, then why should I hide it?

She rose to the tip of her toes and kissed him passionately, her eyes closed.

Elisa noticed she was more aware of her tongue. Definitely more than the usual, but also more than earlier. As if all she focused on was her tongue. She was more in control. More in touch with it. 

She swayed her head, and so did he.

She moved forward, and so did he.

No, perhaps he had moved backwards?

Had he kissed her, or had she?

Was she kissing him, or was he?

Elisa arched her back, and his hand was there to support it.

Had he put his hand there after she had arched her back, or had she arched her back because his hand was pulling her from there?

She straightened her back and his hand moved up that back.

Which one had come first? Which one had led to the other?

Mark? Elisa?

Which one was leading and which one was following?

Who was acting and who was reacting?

In this dance where the window to react was low, they didn't need to react.

They didn't need to lead or follow.

They were in tune.

Each one understood the other perfectly.

Each one understood what the other was doing. How the other was moving. How the other was touching and how the other wanted to be touched.

Just like in a fight.

Elisa had grown used to assising Mark. To tailing him. To reacting to his movements.

She had grown accustomed to how he fought, how he moved. To how he wanted to fight and how he wanted to move.

Mark, in his own right, could do so too, although not as well. The encounter with the first Krishren proved that.

The slightest movement is proof of an intent. Inferring the thought behind slight movement is no easy feat. It requires, of course, quick thinking, a flexible mind, and a good memory. Truthfully, it probably requires a dozen other things. The ability to put one's self in another's place, to judge while taking into account the fact that -They- are not -You-.

Inferring thought behind slight movement. Foresight? Not quite. As Mark would later learn, this was something that Kati, the second Candidate to escape the Dungeons, exelled at.

What is necessary for it? Kati would have dozens of possible answers, as he is not a man of a few words when asked a question and when comfortable with the person asking.

From those dozens of answers, the simplest way to predict a person's actions, the simplest, most effective, and truest way, was knowing the person.

Knowing facts about the person doesn't help.

It has to be more than that.

A deeper understanding.

A feel for who they are.

Something that only your gut can detect.

Just like in a fight... No.

Just like in a dance.

So in tune, so harmonious, that it couldn't be told who led and who followed.

With their bodies and tongues, they danced and kissed.

But the heat wasn't decreasing.

With their bodies and tongues, they danced and kissed.

But the heat was only growing stronger.

Elisa pulled back, out of breath.

His right hand, which used to be on her waist just like his left, made its way down her body.

She gasped, her heart shook, and her eyes widened, as his hand lay on her round and firm bottom.

Every muscle on her body tightened up out of surprise as he gently squeezed and pulled her closer.

No one had touched her that way before. No one had attempted doing so. And anyone who had would have walked away with a hand missing.

No one had ever.

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