Since the lady had already agreed,
as a man, Guilliman had no hesitation.
Although the method of dispelling the curse was not his most desired 'pounding' therapy,
the most direct contact between two souls was already the most romantic thing in many legendary stories.
It was far more sacred than the promiscuous state between many scummy men and women in reality.
Guilliman did not move his body; he simply held Francesca's shoulder with one hand and entered a meditative state.
At this point, he was quite skilled at astral projection.
Not only could he complete astral projection by just closing his eyes for a few seconds,
he even had a feeling.
When his soul reached the Saint stage, he should be able to multitask, controlling both his body and his soul clone simultaneously.
This would make astral projection even more powerful, almost equivalent to a'stand' attack from a certain anime.
After his soul left his body, everything around him looked different.
Whether it was the flow of magic, the difference in temperature, the souls of humans and other beings, or even the magnetic fields of all things in the world, he could vaguely sense them.
From Guilliman's perspective, there was indeed a mass of evil curse in Francesca's lower abdomen, forcibly suppressed by powerful magical energy.
The magical power was so strong that it could be described as a concentrated mini-nuclear bomb, capable of destroying a town.
However, because its attributes were completely unrelated to the curse's power, it seemed a bit strenuous.
If Ada's Striga curse was like two or three hundred parasitic worms with ghastly faces,
then Francesca's curse intensity was definitely several times that of Ada's curse.
It looked like thousands of ugly, ghastly tadpoles, twisted and entangled together, quite unfriendly to those with trypophobia.
However, such a sight was nothing to a witcher.
He first flew around the Elf Queen once, taking a good look at the beauty of this peerless elven beauty from various angles.
Then, he stood in front of Francesca, directly extended his soul clone's palm towards the sorceress's lower abdomen, and forcibly pulled out a handful of ghastly tadpole-shaped curses, letting them drill into his own soul.
In reality, Francesca vaguely sensed the witcher's soul trace; this was because her millennium of magical cultivation was extremely exquisite, making her exceptionally sensitive to the flow of energy, even able to sense the flow of soul power.
However, when the witcher's soul hand reached into her body and forcibly pulled out the curse,
this Elf Queen, who had always maintained an elegant expression, could no longer remain calm. Her expression slightly twisted as she opened her mouth, then her whole body trembled, her pupils constricted, and she let out a rather high-pitched sound.
Ah!
Soul damage and contact were much more intense than physical harm; even battle-hardened veterans would find it difficult to endure such pain, let alone a pampered queen.
However, this was not a feeling of pain, but an extremely intense stimulation. To some extent, the intensity of the stimulation even surpassed 'pounding'.
This was also one of the reasons why Ada liked him so much back then and was not interested in other men.
Once you've experienced a higher level of stimulation, ordinary levels of stimulation become less noticeable.
Guilliman was already familiar with this, having tried it many times on Princess Ada.
He estimated Francesca's body's tolerance limit and pulled several times in a row, probably removing about a quarter of the curse from the sorceress and stuffing it all into his own body.
These curses might be deadly dangers to others, but to him, they were free soul power, the more the better.
When his soul returned to his body, and Guilliman opened his eyes again,
he found that Francesca no longer had her initial elegant and ethereal posture. Instead, she was completely limp, as if boneless, lying in his arms.
Her eyes were unfocused, her pupils dilated, looking as if she had been 'played out'.
Guilliman was amused, feeling a thrill similar to teasing a kitten with catnip until it made a fool of itself.
But a beauty was a beauty; even with this expression, Francesca still possessed a charm that ordinary people found hard to resist.
Especially since she had probably struggled unconsciously just now, her clothes were disheveled, her skirt was damp, revealing her slender, long legs, and a large portion of her fair skin on her chest, giving her a broken beauty reminiscent of a defeated elf queen CG in some games.
Although Guilliman was incredibly lustful, he still helped her cover her clothes and carried the Queen back to the campfire in the temporary camp to prevent her from catching a cold.
After about ten minutes, Francesca finally recovered from her dazed state.
At this moment, she was still held in the witcher's arms, but her clothes were no longer so transparent due to the campfire's heat, and her wet golden hair was no longer dripping, returning to its soft and smooth state.
Looking at the recovered Elf Queen, Guilliman felt a bit of regret. Holding her while warming by the fire felt incredibly comfortable, like holding a soft, fragrant little cat-girl that made one's chest warm.
"You're awake, Francesca."
"How do you feel?"
The witcher's voice was very gentle. The Queen had already given him many benefits, as refreshing as eating ice cream. He was always patient with beauties.
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