Prince Julian Valoria was right in the middle of enjoying the heavenly sensation of two beautiful women in his luxurious private chambers deep inside the imperial palace of Valoria.
The Duke's daughter, Leila Calmert a lithe, petite blonde with seductive green eyes and a beautiful smile was eagerly sucking his thick, hard cock. Her soft lips wrapped tightly around his shaft as her warm, wet tongue swirled around the head.
At the same time, the talented court mage Savre Evin a fiery redhead with big, bouncing breasts and warm brown eyes straddled his hips, moaning loudly as she rode him hard. Her tight, dripping pussy squeezed and milked his cock with every bounce, her juices coating his shaft.
Julian's hands gripped their bodies possessively. He thrust upward lazily, a satisfied smirk on his face. He was the strongest genius in the entire empire, born with monstrous mana and the powerful Voice of Dominion soul skill that could bend wills with a single word. Yet he spent most of his days doing exactly this fucking beautiful women and living a life of pure pleasure.
"Deeper, Leila. Suck it harder," he ordered casually. Leila moaned around his cock and obeyed instantly, taking him all the way down her throat.
Julian then smoothly transitioned, pulling Savre down harder onto his cock while Leila moved lower, licking and sucking his balls with wet, eager strokes. Savre leaned forward, pressing her large breasts against his chest as she rode him even faster. "Your Highness… you're so deep inside me… ahhn! It feels so good!"
Julian chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the heavenly sensation of their bodies. Warm, wet, tight this was the only thing in the world that truly interested him anymore.
But then it happened.
A sudden cough interrupted his pleasure. At first he ignored it, continuing to thrust into Savre's dripping pussy. But the second cough was violent. Blood sprayed across Savre's bouncing tits.
"…What the fuck?" Julian rasped.
The women froze in shock. Blood started gushing from his nose like a fountain. Then from his eyes, his ears, and even leaking from his still-hard cock and anus. He coughed again and again, spraying crimson everywhere as unimaginable pain exploded through his body.
The poison was vicious. It burned through his veins like molten lava, bypassing even his monstrous regeneration.
"Julian! Babe!" Savre screamed, tears and snot running down her face as her makeup melted. Leila cried out in terror, calling for the guards.
They knew they were finished. They were the last ones seen with him they would surely be executed.
Julian tried to speak, to use his Voice of Dominion and order them to bring his unicorn blood potions, but only blood came out. His limbs grew heavy. The world spun.
The last thing he saw was Savre's tear-stained face and the luxurious ceiling as everything went black.
Morgan Heavenor was dying.
His face had been split wide open, skull and brain exposed. Regret flooded him as memories flashed before his eyes. He had been too kind, too hesitant in battle. He never properly used his soul skills. Now he was leaving his little brother and sister alone in this cruel world.
All he could do was cry silently in regret.
Then, suddenly, his fading consciousness surged back to life.
He sat up with a jolt.
He was sitting in the mud on a blood-soaked frontline battlefield. The air reeked of shit, burnt flesh, and death. Shouts and clashing steel rang out nearby.
Morgan reached up and touched his face. A fresh, one-inch-wide cut burned from the corner of his left eyebrow, diagonally across his cheek, ending at the lower right side of his jaw. Blood still flowed from the wound, but the fatal blow that should have split his head open had… healed?
A powerful foreign soul crashed into him. A blue-eyed, blonde prince Julian Valoria flooded his mind and completely merged with him.
Julian's vastly stronger soul took full control. The original Morgan's consciousness faded away.
Morgan (Julian) pushed himself up, groaning. This new body felt extremely weak and slow. Nothing like the overwhelming power he once had.
He looked down at his hands. Calloused from mercenary work, but with elegant bone structure. His skin was the ethereal white of elves, untouched by the sun. Long black hair with silver streaks fell messily around his face.
"I guess I'm Morgan now, huh?" he muttered. His voice was smooth, deep, and naturally commanding.
A Status Window appeared in his vision.
Status
Name: Morgan Heavenor
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Race: Half-Human / Half-Elf
Soul Skills: Voice of Dominion (Awakened), Vampiric Incubus (Awakened)
Knight Rank: None (Uninitiated)
Mage Rank: None (Uninitiated)
Physique: Weak Mortal Body (Severely Damaged)
Bloodline: Common Elf, Human
Skills: Basic Swordsmanship lvl 1, Dodge lvl 5, Ambidextrous lvl 1, Thrusting lvl 4, Fingering lvl 6, Pussy Licking lvl 2
Morgan stared at the screen for a long moment, then let out a low groan.
"…What the fuck is this? Thrusting level 4? Fingering level 6? Pussy licking level 2?" He rubbed his face, careful of the still-bleeding cut. "No way all those moans were fake, right? Those women were screaming my name like I was a god. How the hell is my pussy licking only level 2? This system is clearly broken…. Right? Still, I need to get better sex by this thing's standards as soon as possible."
He shook his head, already feeling motivated in the one way that always worked for him.
Morgan stood up slowly. The body was weak, but he smiled and wiped the blood from his face and looked toward the distant camp.
He started walking, his posture naturally elegant despite the blood and mud. Even in this state, he acted like a prince.
Back at Camp
The frontline camp of the Kingdom of Vale was chaotic. Tents flapped wildly, wounded soldiers groaned in pain, and officers barked orders.
As Morgan approached, several mercenaries stared at him warily. The fresh cut across his face was still bleeding, making him look like death barely let him go.
A female soldier leaning against a supply crate noticed him first.
She was tall and athletic with short-cropped auburn hair and sharp green eyes. Her leather armor hugged her strong, curvy body. Known as "Scarlet," she was a capable fighter with a well-known reputation for being quite generous with her body after tough battles.
"You're still alive, pretty boy?" she called with a smirk, though her eyes widened at the deep bleeding slash. "That wound looks nasty. Come here, let me patch you up before you bleed out."
Morgan studied her. Strong muscles, yet soft and feminine in all the right places. Rosy cheeks and a nice tan. Quite attractive in a rugged, battle-hardened way.
A small, teasing smile curved his lips.
"Patch me up?" he said, his voice smooth and deeper than before. "Would you rather do something more… pleasurable for both of us?"
Scarlet raised an eyebrow, surprised by his bold shift. The old Morgan was kind but reserved.
She laughed. "You're bold for someone who just got his face carved like a pumpkin and bleeding out, but sure… if you're offering. Let me patch you up first."
She waved him over and led him to her tent.
Morgan followed, already feeling the familiar spark of excitement.
He had a lot of work to do.
First, strengthen this weak body.
Second, understand this new situation.
And eventually… return to the lazy, pleasurable life he loved while becoming strong enough that nothing could threaten him or his family again.