I lay on the ground, wrung out like a fucking rag. Couldn't move a muscle. Not even my eyes. So that's what "life force" means. Back in my old life, there was an unspoken rule: don't give drugs to junkies, don't drink with alcoholics, and don't stick your dick in crazy. Somewhere in the fine print, there was a note about avoiding nymphos too. I broke one of those commandments. Turns out, succubi have some forbidden magic that keeps certain male parts rock-hard for a really long time (really fucking long). In reality, they're just straight-up nymphomaniacs. I think my balls broke the laws of physics and smashed through Planck's constant. Even my nerve control didn't work. Her kung-fu was stronger than mine.
Still, she was workable. Her name was… Shit, forgot it. Old habit. Anyway, we struck a deal. She brings me stuff from outside, and I suffer. (I've got a sneaking suspicion I got screwed on the terms.) This deal's fucking hazardous to my health. I'm seriously risking impotence at fifteen. To avoid that disaster, I decided to get back to my main gig as a mage-coach.
Grok was nearby, trying to snap me out of it. Sweet of him. I bet he was genuinely worried I might croak. No surprise, given the noises I was making for the last few hours. By the way, his healing does work, just not much. Gotta fix that ASAP.
"Vyer, break my arms."
"As you say, sensei."
The obedient demon eagerly complied.
"Now, Grok, focus on healing just one arm."
At first, my whole innovative approach was about upping my comfort level. That's standard teaching worldwide. But I'm not like that. My life depends on my students' progress. So I got to work.
I thought long and hard about Vyer. He doesn't use magic, just senses its presence—some advanced combat skill. He's physically strong. His skin's so tough a regular knife can't pierce it. Moves like a fucking mongoose, quick and smooth. In a normal fight, you'd be dead before you could blink. His claws are razor-sharp. He doesn't burn in fire. All in all, a damn skilled warrior. Coordination like Bruce Lee and Lionel Messi combined. So I picked the most logical path for his development—one where he could fully unleash his potential.
"Vyer, meanwhile, sew me a nice suit. You can use my skin."
Any teacher will tell you to nurture talents. Plus, let him be useful. It's hot as hell here, but sometimes it gets windy. My old pajamas? Fucking nothing left after recent events. Some might think it's weird, but to me, there's no outfit more organic than one made from your own skin.
After giving Vyer his task, I decided to experiment with healing magic. I wanted a scientific approach to figure out Grok's limits. I'd need measuring tools. Ideally, a stopwatch to track healing speed based on different factors. But… But.
"Guys, you got a lip-zipper machine lying around?"
"Look on the table," Vyer said.
Fuck me... amazing joke...
Alright, this is all fun, but let's get to practice.
Some time passed. I was lounging on my dream mattress, hands behind my head, enjoying the weather. A light hellish breeze ruffled my greasy hair. Vyer was turning my legs into hamburger, while Grok cast healing on them. I optimized the damage-healing cycle and carved out some nap time. When everyone's recharging mana, I can catch a few winks. Demons, by the way, don't like sleeping. Kinda feel bad for them.
We worked hard with Grok on magic control. Now he can pinpoint the worst injuries and heal them separately, not all at once. I skipped the long, grueling training sessions on the brink of a breakdown. Long story short, as promised, Grok seriously leveled up.
Thanks to his progress, I went for a risky-as-hell stunt. The damage points kept nagging at me. My theory: life-threatening injuries should carry more weight in the game system. They'd be worth more points and boost healing skills harder. One day, we decided to poke around in my guts and see what happened. We ran tests on hellhounds first, but I was still shitting bricks. If I died, it'd officially be the dumbest death in human history. Thank God it worked out. Grok pulled through. From then on, we used advanced techniques and charged forward.
Time passed. I grew. I'm about 5'9" now. Even got some decent muscles somehow. Probably from the hellhound diet. Lately, I switched from raw to cooked meat. Thanks to Mary for the frying pan and salt. Mary—that's our succubus pal. Her name's Mary. MA-RY. Mary. Like Mary Poppins. Like Merry Christmas. Can't forget it. Gotta carve it on my body somewhere. Gimme a knife! When I politely asked her name again, she ripped my dick off. Hard to imagine what would've happened without Grok nearby. In that moment, I truly believed in karma. All those nerves I spent training him? Worth it… Fucking worth it…
My room's decor stayed pathetic. I could ask for stuff, but it costs a fortune. Plus, Mary doesn't go topside often. Mary. Her name's Mary. When I first gave her a mile-long wish list, she looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "What, I'm your pack mule?" Fair point—she'd have to haul it all herself. But a week later, she dragged in a mattress. I bet she had her own reasons, but I'm not complaining. Speaking of, I could ask her about it now. She's standing over me.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"Oh, Mary… Hey, Mary. Good to see you, Mary. What's up?"
"I asked you something."
"Oh… Nah, Mary, don't worry, I'm golden."
"Completely brain-dead? Why would I worry? I'm a demon."
"Right, right, sorry, Mary."
"Call me by my name one more time…"
"Sorry, sorry, won't happen again. So, uh… what brings you to visit lil' ol' me?"
"Hah, you sly fucker. Drop your pants."
"Uh… what?"
"You two, nature's fuck-ups, scram!"
"No, no, no, they're not going anywhere. Grok, buddy, don't you dare leave."
"What, you joined the backdoor club or something?"
"No way. You nuts?"
"Then what's the problem?"
"Fuck, what's the problem?! Like you don't know."
"Oh, don't cry about it. It's fine, why you freaking out?"
"You can't do guys like that. We need finesse. Where's your charm?"
"I'll fucking charm you right now…"
"Grok, stay with me! If she rips something off, you better stitch it back."
"Annoying… Fine… I'm headed to the city. What do you want?"
"Nothing."
"What? You've got jack shit here."
"No shit, like there's much up there… Gonna drag me a river or some fresh air? You know, instead of a shower, I get skinned, and I gotta wash my balls with acid."
Mary stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. Her death glare burned through me, but I wasn't scared. As long as Grok's around, I'm good.
"You little shit, I came all this way for nothing? It's a long fucking walk."
"Don't give a fuck. That's your problem. No sex. If you're that desperate, grab something off the table. Saw a nice long pole there. Figure it out."
"Fucking with me? Maybe I'll take your pole since you don't value it."
"What's wrong with it? You're a big girl, you're used to this."
"Everything's wrong! Needs a living human, or the magic doesn't work."
Better not know what she's talking about.
"What about demons?"
"With them? These two?"
"Hey… Don't diss my students. What's wrong with them?"
"Are you fucking serious? Demons aren't exactly brainiacs, but this new batch is something else."
"Hold up. Don't tell me you're into smart guys?"
"You mean you? HAHAHA!"
"Hey… I can calculate cube roots, so yeah, me!"
"Then how'd a genius like you end up in this pathetic mess?"
"It's not pathetic! I've got a mattress! I'm practically royalty!"
"Hahaha! Oh, thanks, you're a riot. Now quit screwing around and let's get to it."
"No! Find a demon and do whatever with him, leave me alone."
"They're all frigid like old nuns. Magic doesn't work on them. And look… Would you want them?"
For a second, I pictured myself as a rape victim. If these two were into young boys, I'd… Fuck, it's scary to even think about. Somehow, my backdoor's stayed untouched all this time. Guess my idea of hell was off.
"Alright, I've got a deal. I can get you a level map, if you're interested."
"Now we're talking. Tell me more."
"What? You don't know about level maps?"
"Should I?"
"Humans made it. Magic that shows your level, skills, and specialty. But… you're a slave. Probably useless to you…"
Useless…
"Guys, I need a favor. Can you leave us alone? We're having a serious talk. If you hear weird screams, don't worry. But if you hear 'pineapple,' come running. Got it?"
As my students slunk off behind the rock, heads down, I started the serious convo. I was suddenly pissed at my orphanage teacher. Two years, and that asshole never mentioned this tech. But what if Mary's just playing me? It's possible. This bitch is capable of anything to get her way. Just as I was about to grill her harder, it was too late.
Dark, thick smoke rose from the cracks. Lava bubbled in small puddles. Black clouds blanketed the sky. Or ceiling… Still not sure. Dozens of hellhounds ran around, jaws flapping, desperately dodging rocks flying at them like bullets. Vyer and Grok were having a blast wiping out the poor things, ignoring the blood-curdling screams from behind the rock.
"PINEAPPLE!!!"
"PINEAPPLE!!!!"