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

Dreams are strange, sometimes you dream of the past from a third person's perspective. I stood at the top of the tower more than ten years ago, watching the mentor sleeping on the chair and the young apprentice trembling on the ground, fully understanding the latter's feelings.

Human beings have a ridiculous way of thinking, they are too harsh on good people and too tolerant of evil people. If a kind-hearted divine official who has always been renowned saves you, you will be extremely grateful, while subconsciously taking it for granted - you are just one of the many beneficiaries, and the divine official will certainly save you. He will save anyone who suffers, and it is only natural for him to do so. But if an evil dark wizard who does all sorts of evil and never shows any goodwill, why conspire and pay a certain price to save your life?

Half elves also have the same bad habits.

You can think of how an 18-year-old half elf apprentice feels at this moment with just one foot.

After seven years in the tower, he has learned from various crises and the replacement of excellent classmates that the mentor does not care about the life or death of the apprentices. The difference between each apprentice is only in their value, and there is no one irreplaceable. He actually had reservations deep down in his heart, knowing that no matter how glamorous he looked, no matter how much Rachel favored him, once he made any mistakes, he would still become a corpse almost indistinguishable from others, and his mentor would at most frown at his foolishness. He reminds himself of this every day, so as not to get carried away and miss out.

But on that day, he realized that the fact that 'whether you can leave the top of the tower alive depends entirely on the probability' was not true.

He discovered that the famous saying 'Rachel doesn't care about the life or death of any apprentice' was a lie.

Rachel is protecting him, Rachel cares about him.

I can no longer remember what I was thinking at that time. My emotions from more than a decade ago have become vague, and I can only guess roughly as an observer. It's easy to guess, it's clear at a glance. At that time, I had already become one of the famous smart ghosts under Rachel's command, but looking back now, in some aspects, I really understand how pitiful it is.

Rachel's mage tower is very specialized, and staying there for a long time can easily lead to being blinded by one leaf and becoming a stubborn black wizard like other classmates - yes, cunning black wizards can certainly be described as having one muscle, emotional intelligence and intelligence are not equal. The blindfolded donkey, no matter how cunning and deceitful it is, still knows only one way to go until it gets dark, hoping to eat the radish hanging in front of it.

In summary, these things are not worth mentioning and have already passed. I didn't have much sighs or genuine resonance in this dream, but unexpectedly noticed something else.

I stared at Rachel.

The adolescent half elf apprentice dared not look directly at the mentor's face, only dared to look down at the mentor's drooping feet. Rachel didn't wear shoes or socks inside the tower, and his black robe revealed a pair of red feet. The toenails have been trimmed round and neat, making it easy to see that they are pampered and do not walk much. Well, my mentor never leaves when he's floating. He's a cave dwelling creature that stays in the tower all year round. Rachel is so thin, her skin is as white as translucent white wax, and you can see the blue blood vessels and tendons below. Luo's exposed feet, hands, and neck were all accentuated by the black robe, making them look even less like living people, like marble carvings.

That is undoubtedly a pale, cold, and lifeless body.

At the age of eighteen, I looked at those cold feet like a hungry wild dog looking up at the hanging flesh. Apprentice Haiman's saliva dripped with longing, and he dodged in fear, as if someone would come out of the room with a big stick and slap him a few times just by thinking about it. He nervously averted his gaze and met my eyes.

The young mage apprentice froze in place, as if frightened by being caught, perhaps because I hadn't figured out how to meet the young me yet, and the dream couldn't show it. I walked over, grabbed the silly kid's hand, and gave him a high five.

Not bad, Haiman, "I muttered to myself," Well done

After my death, I hope someone can erect a tombstone for me that reads: Here lies the great Heiman, the great escapee who lived safely to XX years old in the hands of the dark wizard Rachel, the excellent troubadour, and the outstanding battle mage. He accomplished the great feat that many adventurers dream of: defeating Rachel Cliff.

Well, take it out.

As long as you are alive, you will eventually meet the person you have always thought of - Haiman

——I want to engrave this line on the back of the tombstone as an epitaph. Unfortunately, I come from an orphan background without a surname, otherwise this line of characters would look more high-end and sophisticated.

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

I went to the laboratory to coax out the tired Rachel and told him that the days were long and he was not in a hurry. After days of suffering from hunger, my teacher was filled with excitement and determination to conquer the curse. But the slow transformation seemed to have not solved his sleep problem, and Rachel was visibly tired and sleepy. It seemed that if he was pushed to the ground, he would fall asleep like this.

This makes no sense, "Rachel pinched her brow unwillingly and muttered," The way of feeding has completely shifted towards succubus, but the demand for sleep is almost the same as that of ordinary people. How did the curse come about

Wait until you wake up and think about it, "I advised, taking the quill from his hand, turning him around and pushing him outside.

He shook his head again and reluctantly took a step forward when he realized that drowsiness couldn't be bothered.

I have been living with him day and night these days, and I can't help but feel curious. I want to know how Rachel survived before deceiving the devil and being able to use magic to control all the necessary actions in life. He refused to "eat" even when he was hungry (the psychological shadow left by the demon lord was certainly one of the reasons), and still only slept for half of the time as an ordinary person. The remaining half was forced to endure staying up late, feeling that succumbing to physical needs before the limit time was a great waste. If he had been like this from the beginning, I would have been surprised that he could have lived to become a mage.

Speaking of which, I can't imagine a young or even young Rachel either.

There is a folk saying that goes, 'A child will always be a child in the eyes of their parents.' When applied to us, it means that 'a teacher will always be an old man in the eyes of a disciple.' Ah, it may not be as exaggerated as an old man, but I always feel that he was born like this, a young old monster who uses black magic from birth. The first thing he says is a ten syllable curse. I can't imagine how he learns to speak and does silly things that only children would do. I can't think of his parents, his cradle, or those who raised him.

His rise was silent, and no one knows where Rachel learned from or what her background was. Some people firmly claim that he was originally a descendant of the devil, while others believe that he was an exchange baby stolen by fairies and went astray, Balabala. There's nothing we can do, ordinary people with low-level tastes are always willing to use our imagination for things that can't find any evidence.

I was pushing Rachel while she was distracted, and he was walking while feeling drowsy. Both of them were wandering aimlessly. Therefore, when Rachel suddenly stopped for some unknown reason, I bumped into her and my lips touched his neck.

We have arrived at his bedroom door, and this vulgar accident, if placed in a poem or popular novel, will surely develop into a delightful physical exchange. The handsome knight male protagonist (these tin cans are so popular among the masses) collided with the delicate and soft princess female protagonist (the aesthetic of the general public is so obvious), who whimpered, softened his legs, and fell into the former's arms.

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

I caught his instant spell at the critical moment, but his bedroom was not so lucky. The wood and bed quickly sank in the splashing acid, emitting a very pungent smell. I jumped back two meters, in a defensive posture, thinking to myself that thanks to being an excellent mage, the story would have gone from an erotic drama to a thriller, and the handsome knight with blonde hair and blue eyes would have become a skeleton dead knight without hair or eyes.

Rachel looked at her masterpiece, the weariness on her face swept away, and her face turned pale again.

It was just an accident, "I said." It was my fault. I shouldn't have touched you rashly. It's the instinct of every mage to use acid to attack those who come into contact without permission

It's not an acid attack, "Rachel said dryly.

Ah? "I said.

It's not 'acid splatter', it's' frost strap ', "he said.

I fixed my gaze on those poor pieces of wood and indeed saw a hint of frost on the charred edge.

This problem is a bit serious.

You might be... too tired? "I said without any confidence.

Rachel remained silent and once again used the Frost Strap spell towards the bedroom, attacking ten times in one breath. The neat spell traces spread from the far left to the far right, and three out of ten spells turned into something other than frost, either acid, flame, or lightning.

Any mage can make mistakes, and every year there are many unlucky or careless individuals who have magical accidents, bringing very bad consequences to themselves or the world. However, all unexpected spells are caused by casting errors, and the cause of the error can be identified. As long as the error is perfectly and accurately eliminated, all problems will be easily solved. Mages' spells are very logical, and excellent mages can know whether a spell will be successfully completed before it is released.

Are you worried about a 'random spell accident'? "The mage would sneer at the worrier layman," There's no such thing. Do you think we're sorcerers

This fully reflects how much the mages who rely on knowledge for their livelihood sneer at the warlocks who rely on bloodline for their livelihood.

Ah, that's not right.

This fully reflects how much deviation the spell effect will produce once the wizard's organized magic is affected by some incalculable things. The spell system of mages and the casting system of magical creatures are two completely different and cannot be shared. Warlocks cannot learn the spells of mages, their bloodlines will affect the spells and turn them into a chaotic pair of accidents.

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

The gradual transformation towards succubus not only changes Rachel's diet.