After the teacher becomes a succubus

I remember that day, I was dreaming about that day.

Dreams are weird, sometimes you dream about the past, but from a third person perspective.Standing on the top of the tower more than ten years ago, I looked at the mentor who fell asleep on the chair and the young apprentice who was shocked on the ground, and I knew the latter's mood clearly.

Humans have a ridiculous way of thinking, they are too harsh on good people and too lenient on bad people.If a well-known and kind priest saves you, you will be very grateful, and at the same time subconsciously take it for granted—you are just one of many people who are helped, and of course the priest will save you, and he will save anyone who suffers, And rightly so.But what if an evil dark wizard, who did all kinds of evil and never showed any kindness, paid a price to save your life for no reason?

Half-elves have the same bad habits.

How does the half-elf apprentice, who can think with his heels, feel at this time.

Seven years after entering the tower, he has learned from various crises and the replacement of outstanding classmates that the mentor does not care about the life and death of the apprentices. The difference between each apprentice is only in the value, and none of them is irreplaceable.Deep down in his heart, he actually had some reservations, knowing that no matter how glamorous he looks, no matter how much Rachel favors him, if he makes any mistakes, he will still turn into a corpse that is almost the same as others, the mentor said Many would frown at his stupidity.He has to remind himself of this every day, lest he get carried away and miss the mark.

But on this day, he discovered that "whether you can leave the top of the tower alive depends on the chance" is not true.

He finds out that the famous aphorism "Rachel doesn't care whether any apprentice lives or dies" is a lie.

Rachel is protecting him, Rachel cares about him.

I can no longer remember what I was thinking at that time. My mood more than ten years ago has long been blurred, so I can only guess as a bystander.It's easy to guess, it's clear at a glance.At that time I had become one of Rachel's famous smart guys, but looking back now, I was really miserable in some ways.

Rachel's mage tower is very slanted. If you stay there for a long time, you will easily lose your sight and become a black wizard with a single-mindedness like other students—yes, a cunning black wizard can certainly be described with a single-mindedness. Emotional intelligence It is not the same as IQ.No matter how the blindfolded donkey does all kinds of tricks to steal, rape and play tricks, in essence it still only knows one way to the dark, eager to eat the radish hanging in front of it.

All in all, these things are not worth mentioning, they are all in the past.In this dream, I didn't feel much regret, nor did I have any real resonance, but I noticed something else by accident.

"I" stared at Rachel.

The adolescent half-elf apprentice didn't dare to look directly at the mentor's face, but only dared to look down at the mentor's hanging feet.Rachel didn't wear shoes and socks in the tower, and his bare feet were exposed under his black robe.The toenails are rounded and neatly trimmed, and it looks pampered and doesn't walk much.That's right, my mentor will never leave when he can float. He is a cave-dwelling creature who stays in the tower all year round.Rachel is so thin, her skin is as white as translucent white wax, and she can clearly see the blue blood vessels underneath.The bare feet, hands, and neck were all set off by the black robe, making them look less like living people, like marble sculptures.

There was no doubt that it was a pale, cold, lifeless body.

I just looked at those cold feet, like a hungry wild dog looking up at the hanging meat.Apprentice Heyman was drooling with eagerness, and dodged in fear, as if someone would come out of the room with a big stick and hit him on the head and face if he just thought about it.He looked away in a panic and met mine.

The young mage apprentice froze in place, as if terrified of being caught, and it was more likely because I hadn't figured out how I would meet the young me, and the dream couldn't show it.I walked over, grabbed the silly boy's hand, and gave him a high five.

"Not bad, Hyman," I said to myself, "nice job."

After I die, I hope someone can set up a tombstone for me, and it should be written like this: Here lies the great Heyman, the great escaper who survived to the age of XX in the hands of the black wizard Rachel, and the excellent bard Poet, outstanding battle mage.He accomplished the feat that many adventurers dream of: killing Rachel Cliff.

Well, get rid of it.

"As long as you're alive, you'll always meet the person you've ever thought of—Hyman"

——I want to engrave this line on the back of the tombstone as an epitaph.It's a pity that I was born as an orphan without a surname, otherwise this line of characters would look more high-end and foreign.

When I woke up the next morning, nothing had changed.

I went to the lab to coax the tired Rachel out and told him that there was a long time ahead and there was no rush.My teacher was full after days of hunger torture, and he was very excited, and he was about to go all out to overcome the curse.But the slow transformation didn't seem to have solved his sleep problems, Rachel was visibly tired and sleepy, and seemed to push him to the ground, and he'd just fall asleep like that.

"It doesn't make sense." Rachel pinched the center of her brows unwillingly, and muttered, "The way of feeding is completely biased towards succubus, but the sleep requirement is almost the same as that of ordinary people. How did the curse do it?"

"Think about it after you wake up." I persuaded, took the quill from his hand, turned him around, and pushed him outside.

He shook his head again, and when he found that the sleepiness was really entangled, he reluctantly took a step forward.

Being with him day and night these days, I couldn't help but wonder how Rachel survived before she deceived the devil, before she could use magic to do everything necessary in life.He refused to "eat" when he was hungry (the psychological shadow left by the devil lord is certainly one of the reasons), and still only slept half of the time for ordinary people, and the remaining half forcibly endured staying up late, feeling that before the limit time Giving in to the needs of the body is a great waste.If he started out like this, I'm surprised he survived long enough to be a mage.

Then again, I can't imagine a young or even young Rachel.

There is a folk saying, "A child is always a child in the eyes of parents", and this sentence applies to us, that is, "A teacher is always an old man in the eyes of his apprentices", ah, it may not be as exaggerated as an old man, but I always feel that He was born like this, an old monster with a young appearance, who could use black magic from birth, and the first sentence he spoke was a ten-syllable incantation.I can't imagine how he's babbling, how he's doing silly things like a child, I can't think of his parents, his cradle, the people who raised him.

His rise was silent, and no one knew where Rachel came from and what his background was.Some swear he was born of the devil, others say he was a swap baby stolen by goblins and gone astray, blah blah.No way, ordinary people with low tastes like us are always willing to use our imagination for things for which there is no evidence.

I was distracted while pushing Rachel, and he was sleepy while walking, and both of them were walking in a daze.So, when Rachel stopped suddenly for no apparent reason, I bumped into him and touched the back of his neck with my lips.

We were at the door of his bedroom, and this vulgar accident, in troubadour or popular fiction, would have developed into a delightful carnal exchange.The handsome knight hero (these tin cans are so popular with the masses) bumps into the soft princess heroine (the public's aesthetics is so clear at a glance), the latter screams, his legs soften, and falls into the former arms.

But there are only two mages in front of the bedroom, and one of them is Rachel.

I caught his instant spell on the nick of time, and his bedroom wasn't so lucky, with the wood and bed rapidly dented in the spray of acid, giving off a very pungent smell.I jumped back two meters away, in a defensive posture, and said to myself that thanks to my good mage, otherwise the direction of this story would have changed from a erotic drama to a thriller, and the handsome blond knight would have turned into a blind man Skeleton Death Knight.

Rachel looked at his masterpiece, the sleepiness on his face was swept away, and his face was livid again.

"It was just an accident." I said, "It was my fault. I shouldn't have touched you rashly. It is every mage's instinct to use acid to attack people who come into contact with you..."

"Not an acid attack," Rachel said dryly.

"Huh?" I said.

"It's not 'Acid Splash,' it's 'Girdle of Frost,'" he said.

I took a closer look at the poor wood, and I did see a little bit of frost on the blackened edge.

This problem is a little more serious.

"Maybe...too sleepy?" I said without confidence.

Without saying a word, Rachel used the frost girdle spell on the bedroom again, attacking ten times in one breath.The neat spell traces spread from the far left to the far right. Among the ten spells, three times turned into something other than frost, or acid, or flame, or lightning.

Any mage can make mistakes, and every year there are quite a few unlucky or careless folks who have magical accidents with very bad consequences for themselves or the world.However, all spell accidents are caused by mistakes in casting spells, and the cause of the mistakes can be found. As long as the mistakes are eliminated perfectly and accurately, all problems will be solved easily.Wizard spells are logical, and a good wizard knows before a spell is cast whether it will succeed or not.

"Are you worried about 'random spell accidents'?" The mage would sneer at the worrying layman, "There is no such thing, do you think we are warlocks?"

This fully reflects how much mages who rely on knowledge to make a living are contemptuous of warlocks who rely on blood.

Ah no.

This fully reflects how much the magic effect will be deviated once the wizard's methodical magic is affected by something immeasurable.The spell system of a mage and the spellcasting system of a magical creature are completely different and cannot be shared.Warlocks cannot learn the spells of mages, and their blood will affect the spells, turning them into a pair of random accidents.

Warlocks are just people with special bloodlines, while succubi are pure magical creatures.

The gradual transformation into a succubus didn't just change Rachel's recipes.