Simply put, this world is divided into ten races: Human Race, Elf, Succubus, Vampire, Necromancer, Giant, Corrupt, Ghost Race, Rock Demon, and Dragon Race.
But within each race, there are countless subraces.
For example, the Human Race includes Humans, Dwarves, Merfolk, Beastmen…
Among the Elves, Golden Elves, Moon Elves, and Dark Elves are innumerable.
Each race is incomparably complex.
There is no clear hostility in the continent, much less a central empire.
The relationships within each nation are already tangled, and with the constant rise and fall of countries and grudges throughout history, wars and ethnic hatred only intensify.
For example, Humans have once been slaves of Giants, food for the Corrupt, and the primary source for Necromancers…
In Vilan’s eyes, the reason this world is so chaotic is, first and foremost, because there has never been a true “God.”
The power of the Church only serves to gather faith and soothe people.
There is no clear opposition.
The western fantasy novels Vilan read once were simple—Humans and Demons, Hero and Demon King.
If there were a clear opposition, there could never be such chaos.
Yet after crossing over, what Vilan saw was a real and truly complex world.
If there was a pure land, then it would definitely be the land of the game’s storyline—Aurora Academy.
The academy’s name signified hope.
It was an academy of equality founded by the legendary Human Archmage Daoluo.
Because he was once the strongest existence in the world, the students, teachers, and academy resources he left behind became a force capable of rivaling nations.
However, because the academy holds no stance, all nations choose to turn a blind eye to it, and even continue to send talent, hoping they will return and give back to their own countries after their studies.
As a result, no one dares to disrespect the academy.
Vilan sighed.
Although the Succubus Race was one of the ten major races, it was by no means a large race.
In fact, the Succubus’ population was small and their territory limited.
The only reason they stood strong in history was due to the efforts of the successive Queens of the Banshees.
Furthermore, the Succubi often dwelled in peaceful, remote valleys, and because those places weren’t of much importance, they would even relocate at the sign of war.
The Succubus Race never established any clear power.
Thus, most other races didn’t bother to become enemies with the Succubi.
Eliane quietly watched Vilan as he flipped through the book.
At this moment, Vilan was reading an ancient text titled “Old Gods and Curses.”
As an ancient race whose civilization had never been severed, the Succubus’ knowledge reserves were astounding.
This book was an introduction to ancient existences and curses.
Vilan often didn’t blame Malinsa too much for keeping him in the Royal Court, since just the Royal Court’s collection would take him a lifetime to finish.
Sometimes, when he felt bored from reading, he would sneak out alone to see the natural scenery, just like before.
Just as the title suggested, this world does have gods.
But not the “omnipotent gods who control rules or laws” that Vilan understood—instead, they are simply extraordinarily powerful mortal beings, with even their lifespans limited.
Vilan had read that some gods in history even fell to become prey for nations to hunt.
The main storyline of the game itself is to raise favorability with the harem and complete conquests.
However, among the few human-like actions in the main plot, solving the Old Gods’ crisis stood out.
This indicated that those Old Gods would return to reality one by one, bringing slaughter anew.
To avoid disaster and protect himself, Vilan naturally studied such knowledge with effort.
It was worth mentioning that only after Vilan truly understood the world did he realize how Lovecraftian it was.
For example, the concept of a god—in this world, even someone as powerful as the Archmage Daoluo cannot be called a god, nor can mighty beings with authority.
Only those who can bring curses can be called gods.
In this world, “Curse” is a neutral term.
Most people more or less possess latent or manifest curses.
Curses are no longer the evil buff cast by Western witches, but rather an “evolution” spread by gods among living beings.
When one’s own curse reaches a certain degree, it breaks free from the body, transforming into a beast-like monster—these monsters are generally called Kin.
Curses are uncontrollable and spread by unknown means.
Some people live together all their lives without being infected by another’s curse, while others are cursed by merely meeting eyes in a sea of people.
Every country typically has an orthodox god of faith, along with orthodox “curses” and their own Kin.
Those infected by the curses of other gods are called “Unclean.”
If lucky, they’re only discriminated against and driven underground.
If unlucky, they’re massacred outright.
It could be said that disputes between nations often contain conflict over the orthodoxy of curses.
At present, there are eight known gods—most people know this.
They are “Sacred,” “Starry Sky,” “Wind and Snow,” “Flesh and Blood,” “Tribulation,” “Savage Wilds,” “Corruption,” and “Deep Sea.”
No matter what, these gods and Kin are orthodox for different nations.
Even though gods and Kin are indescribable existences.
Vilan flipped through the ancient text.
The more he read, the more these Lovecraftian Old Gods made his mind feel corroded.
“Sigh… being a Succubus really is better.”
There are no strange curses or bizarre beings, nor is there the misandry found in traditional yuri stories.
Time passed minute by minute.
He finally finished reading about the last two Old Gods symbolizing “Sun and Moon,” and stretched.
Eliane spoke patiently beside him, “Young Master, shall we go rest?”
“Mm.”
Vilan nodded, handing the book to Eliane so she could return it to its place.
He stood up and walked toward the sleeping chamber.
In the corridor, candlelight flickered, and Vilan’s shadow stretched across the wall.
Footsteps echoed behind him—probably Eliane following.
The murals continued along the walls; the eerie faces of Succubi looked particularly strange at night.
Suddenly, white light flashed in the Royal Court.
A muffled buzzing came from outside the window, and torrential rain poured down onto the earth.
“Is it raining?”
Vilan paused, just as Eliane arrived at his side.
“Young Master, what’s wrong?”
Seeing Vilan’s dazed look, Eliane couldn’t help but ask.
Vilan shook his head, indicating it was nothing.
Perhaps he was a little sensitive to rain.
After all, in his previous life, his parents had died in the rain when he was young.
Moreover, whenever Malinsa spoke of the preciousness of life, she always liked to do so on rainy days.
Vilan continued walking.
Eliane chirped on about wanting Vilan to continue telling her stories later.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
No one noticed the pair of eyes at the end of the hallway behind Vilan, staring intently at him.
Vilan returned to the sleeping chamber.
Eliane habitually jumped onto her Young Master’s bed, then patted the mattress eagerly.
“Young Master, Young Master, hurry up—last night you said the Foreign One stopped the coming of Megao, returned to The Hunter’s Dream, the dream began to burn, and Geman gave the Foreign One those two choices. So what did the Foreign One choose?”
Eliane looked at Vilan with anticipation.
Vilan let out a wry smile.
Ever since one boring night when he told Eliane a few ghost stories, she’d pestered him every night for more.
However, the ghost stories and fairy tales ran out quickly.
Originally, Vilan intended to tell her about must-read stories for transmigrators, like Journey to the West, Doupo, or Douluo, but Eliane couldn’t listen to those Eastern tales at all.
Troubled, Vilan happened to hear the Church used blood to cure people, and, connecting blood and curses, he began to tell Eliane the story of “Bloodborne Curse.”
Unexpectedly, this dark tale became Eliane’s favorite.
Vilan fell silent for a moment.
After all, “Bloodborne Curse” is a game with three endings. Which one should he tell?
To be honest, none of the endings could be called good.
Vilan’s prolonged silence seemed to make Eliane realize something.
Her curiosity faded.
“Young Master, is it because, no matter what choice the Foreign One makes, they can never change the fate of Yanan?”
Vilan was stunned, then nodded.
He hadn’t expected Eliane to be smarter than he thought.
Eliane sat up on the bed, half-lying, looking at Vilan with a half-smile.
“The story Young Master tells is thought-provoking. Sometimes, I wonder—if even the Foreign One couldn’t break free from fate, how could our world ever find peace?”
Vilan didn’t react much.
Eliane was just like this—sometimes strange and eccentric, sometimes shy and mischievous, and at times calm and realistic.
“Our world, huh…”
Yes.
Even if all the gods were killed, people’s curses and conflicts would remain, and even new gods would be born.
Vilan suddenly realized how incredible the game’s heroine was.
Though only a fleeting peace, she truly established an era of tranquility.
“She really is amazing…”
Vilan couldn’t help but view the heroine differently in his heart.
After night fell…
The rain outside still hadn’t stopped.
In a haze of dreams, Vilan seemed to hear whispers in the darkness.
As thunder crashed, Vilan jolted awake.
A flash of white light entered his eyes.
He instinctively dodged—the next moment, a blade sliced past his head.
Vilan’s heart pounded wildly.
Following the light, he saw the face before him.
“Big sister? Why are you—?”
Standing before him was a Succubus of the royal branch—one of the sisters who’d grown up with Vilan—Chareis Greya.
“Sorry, Vilan, Your Highness…”
Before Chareis finished speaking, the blade in her hand stabbed again.
Vilan had no time to wonder why Chareis would choose a blade instead of magic to kill him.
He dodged the blade in panic, murmuring strange, incomprehensible words—a single word, “Curse of Withering.”
In the next moment, Chareis felt her body stiffen, and Vilan took the chance to dash out.
A beam of starlight shot from behind, dotted with stars—it was the Arcana “Strike.”
With little combat experience, Vilan couldn’t construct a defensive Arcana in time, nor could he dodge.
Yet in the next moment, a familiar figure rushed before him, blocking the blow.
The girl groaned as the beam pierced her abdomen.
“Eliane!”
Vilan rushed to hold her, disbelief filling his eyes.
Blood gushed from Eliane’s mouth as she gently caressed Vilan’s face.
Vilan bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes.
He didn’t understand why—why had the once peaceful Royal Court descended into chaos, or how the girl who’d accompanied him for so many years could just die like this.
“Don’t cry… You’re the only Prince of the Banshees, after all…”
Eliane’s final expression froze in a smile as her gaze faded.
“Eliane… Eliane… Please, don’t sleep, don’t sleep…”
Vilan begged the girl in his arms, desperate.
The distant figure advanced step by step.
Chareis’s heels stopped before Vilan.
“Your Highness, how wretched you are.”
At the cold voice, Vilan wiped away his tears and glared with fury.
At this moment, Chareis’s face felt unbearably hateful.
His fingertips traced Arcana, countless beams of Strike rushing toward Chareis.
“Commanded by me.”
Chareis muttered.
Vilan’s beams halted instantly, then dissipated.
Vilan clenched his fists.
Chareis was a nearly century-old Succubus—how could he possibly win?
A sense of helplessness overcame Vilan.
“Why? What are you doing this for?!”
“Sorry, Vilan, Your Highness. Someone wants you dead.”
Light flickered in Chareis’s palm—next moment, a surge of magic was about to erupt.
“Who wants him dead?”
With a chilling voice, Chareis was instantly blown away like a cannonball, slamming into the wall of the Royal Court.
A familiar black dress fluttered before Vilan’s eyes.
Black silk brought overwhelming security.
“Darling, are you okay…?”
Malinsa crouched down, cupping Vilan’s face in her hands.
Vilan could only stare silently at Eliane’s corpse lying in a pool of blood.
“Sigh… my condolences.”
“Eliane’s death hurts me, too.
But now’s not the time to mourn.
More dangerous people are coming—we have to go.”
Vilan gazed blankly at Malinsa.
He bit his lip, but seeing the urgency in Malinsa’s eyes, he understood the crisis and could only obey her.
“Good, let’s go quickly.”
Malinsa picked Vilan up in her arms.
Vilan could only watch Eliane’s body recede into the distance, the final smile on her face burning into his memory.
“I’ll avenge you…”
Vilan vowed silently.
They exited the Royal Palace.
Rain drenched them, the air filled with a strange chill.
Vilan trembled as he spoke, “Mother, where are we going?”
“To escape.”
“Why do we have to run? This is our home. And Chareis—she killed Eliane…”
Vilan couldn’t make sense of the situation.
Could this be a rebellion of the Succubus branches?
But why would they rebel?
Even if they did, couldn’t Mother handle them alone?
“Ka Jielielun and Aoluowei Sa’s Humans have allied with the Greya Family and rebelled.”
“Humans?”
Vilan still didn’t understand why those two nations interfered in Succubus affairs, nor about the Greya Family—was Mother not good to those branch families?
Malinsa suddenly stopped.
Two figures appeared at her side.
Vilan recognized them—they were Mother’s personal guards.
“Vilan, I’ll leave you to them…
Take him to Aurora.”
After setting Vilan down, Malinsa kissed his forehead and placed her veil in his hands.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The two guards obeyed without hesitation.
Vilan stared at Malinsa in a daze.
“Mother, what do you mean?”
“Why can’t you leave with me? And can’t you defeat these people?”
“Darling, Mother’s old.
I can’t fight like I used to.”
Malinsa gave a bitter smile and pushed Vilan toward the two guards.
“Mother, don’t leave me…
Let’s go together, please?”
Vilan’s heart ached unbearably.
He’d lost his parents in his past life and endured a decade of loneliness.
After crossing over, he finally had a mother who loved him dearly.
Vilan clung to that love—why did such things keep happening to him?
He didn’t know if it was tears or rain, but droplets kept streaming down his face.
“Darling… Mother is the Queen of the Banshees—I cannot run. When Kaixi died, didn’t I tell you. You’ll face separations like this countless times in your life…”
In the next moment, Vilan felt himself being pulled away by the two guards.
He struggled desperately, but was powerless, only able to watch Malinsa recede into the distance.
“No, I don’t want to lose you again!”
Malinsa’s back trembled, but she didn’t look back.
The torrential rain washed over the boy’s young face.
Vilan tried to break free from the guards, but they held him tight.
He could only reach toward his mother’s figure, unable to touch her.
“Mother…”