Chapter 33
Chapter 33: Blurred Self
The 317th time.
Today, Funis had failed again.
Just as Qixiya had told Stacy before, this had become a special form of greeting between them.
Whenever Funis had suitable weapons at hand, she would unhesitatingly launch attacks at Qixiya who suddenly appeared beside her, regardless of time or place.
Regardless of how harmonious, warm, or sweet their relationship had been when they last parted.
The next meeting would still be like enemies.
She would act obedient and well-behaved in front of that woman, but hatred and loathing were always buried deep in her heart, constantly growing and multiplying when she was alone, eventually transforming into fierce beasts that devoured everything.
But Funis’s challenges and transgressions didn’t come without cost—Qixiya was never that tolerant.
Most of the time, these attacks posed little threat to Qixiya, and her retaliation was restrained and measured. But this didn’t mean the witch wouldn’t slip up.
Funis had been killed by Qixiya more than once.
She had lost even more memories.
Her parents’ faces, her sister’s name…
Each death and resurrection left Funis with bone-deep understanding of that feeling of important things flowing away like sand through her fingers, reaching out trying to retrieve them—vain and powerless.
Yet Funis had never regretted it.
This was her necessary path. Before killing Qixiya, before destroying herself, she would never give up.
But failed challengers always had to accept punishment, and Qixiya’s temper wasn’t always so good.
This was also the rule.
Like now, emerald vines wound slowly up along her slender legs clad in white silk stockings, penetrating beneath her fluffy dress, gradually approaching sensitive and vulnerable areas.
Funis could only glare angrily at the black-haired girl slowly approaching her with a flushed face.
Fragrant flowers bloomed like clusters at the girl’s feet. Each step symbolized the birth of beautiful things, as decay and ruin behind her gradually transformed into flourishing flora.
The girl tucked back her hair and bent down to pluck a white lily from her feet, gently inhaling its scent.
She finally came before Funis.
“You did really well. This kind of skill is enough to defeat any non-extraordinary being, and even some Seventh Sequences wouldn’t be your match.” Qixiya inserted the small lily into Funis’s thick silver hair. “Although I always believed you could do it, thinking about it again carefully, this really is quite a feat, isn’t it?”
She was referring to Funis defeating a Charity Path Eighth Sequence as a Ninth Sequence.
Although Funis had made it reality, from most people’s common sense perspective, this was still as unbelievable as an Arabian Nights tale—like a three-year-old child defeating a boxer in his prime.
“It was all just… small clever tricks…” Funis’s breathing gradually became thick and sweet.
As the vines caressed, her face flushed ever more deeply, her calves trembling weakly and almost unable to straighten, but the vines still bound her tightly, forcing her to maintain an upright posture, her leg curves bound into alluring shapes.
It shouldn’t be like this.
Being slightly teased and toyed with immediately showing such a delicate appearance, as if she were deliberately trying to please Qixiya with pitiful and cute behavior—but she shouldn’t be like this.
However, this last pathetic inner struggle of Funis vanished in an instant after the witch’s hands climbed up her slender waist.
“But these small clever tricks are what you’ll rely on to survive from now on.” Qixiya held her tightly, cheek to cheek as she gently bit Funis’s reddened soft earlobe. “Accept them, get used to them, forget your past. You’re no longer that righteous and upright Grand Executor.”
“Ha… watching me become more and more… more and more like a witch… does that make you happy… doesn’t it? Ha…” Funis stubbornly glanced sideways at Qixiya, speaking harshly while breathing sweet fragrance.
But the vines suddenly began violently writhing and trembling at that moment.
“Mmph♡—!?”
Funis cried out softly.
With just that, the girl threw away all pride and dignity, leaning against the witch with slightly rolled-back eyes, her top hat falling lightly. Faint trickling sounds could be heard in the empty theater.
“Exactly right, little cake~ Your contrasts always leave me wanting more.” Qixiya played with the girl’s long hair, brilliant silver threads flowing slowly through her fingers. “If you suddenly became completely obedient one day, I might just throw you away.”
The vines didn’t stop, and the trickling sounds continued intermittently.
The girl buried her face in Qixiya’s chest, small hands gripping her sleeves and not letting go, her delicate body trembling constantly, soft sobbing mixed in with her gasping.
“Mm? Are you crying?” Qixiya touched the back of her head and comforted her softly. “I’m just joking. I won’t throw you away. Remember? I promised to wait for you.”
“Wu♡~ Ha♡~”
But Funis’s response was light, delighted moaning.
Like this, the girl experienced pain within pleasure in the embrace of the black-haired witch, this battlefield theater now filled with the sweet atmosphere unique to girls.
But it shouldn’t be like this.
Funis knew she shouldn’t continue like this.
She accepted the witch’s care, accepted the witch’s teaching, became accustomed to life following beside the witch, thinking day and night about how to defeat the witch, how to kill the witch, to the point where even being separated from the witch for just a short while made her unconsciously miss her.
As if something invisible was tightly gripping her heart.
She couldn’t tell if this longing was hatred or attachment.
This was definitely wrong.
She shouldn’t be like this.
But Funis still couldn’t suppress the emotions and thoughts constantly surging from her heart. She was no longer that stern, rigid Grand Executor. The current Funis was just a newborn succubus less than a year old, a delicate and weak girl.
What she had lost through repeated deaths and resurrections wasn’t just memories—it also included Serra Fred’s personality.
She was becoming blurred. The boundary between Funis and Serra was becoming blurred.
She wanted to act spoiled.
She had just defeated an almost impossibly strong opponent.
This was remarkable progress worthy of praise. She wanted Qixiya to praise her, she wanted to act spoiled toward Qixiya as a younger sister, she wanted sister Qixiya to praise her—that was all.
But she couldn’t.
She hadn’t completely forgotten that she had once been Serra Fred, hadn’t completely forgotten that it was this woman who killed her family, hadn’t completely forgotten all those painful, profound memories of the past.
Funis hated herself like this.
She hated her current contradictory, twisted self.
What would follow would probably be endless cycles. She would challenge and fail countless times, then submit to the witch’s caresses, hatred and infatuation entangling and deepening.
It would be the same afterward too.
She could no longer leave the witch’s side.
No matter how many times it repeated, Funis would perhaps still be like now—even with flushed face and teary eyes deeply lost in rapturous pleasure, she would still stubbornly raise her head to look at Qixiya.
Then say to her softly:
“Please kill me.”
She requested.
Please kill her.
Don’t let her continue wallowing in depravity like this.