"Who the hell is she?"
"She's tearing through us like we're made of paper!"
Meanwhile, in the Velvelt Palace, Saki continued her advance. Bolts, wind slashes, even daggers and swords, she was dodging them all as she made her way toward the north aisle, where the lord of the place was supposed to be.
Or at least that's what the first few guards she met told her the moment she kicked them in the face.
With a bat of her wings, she leaped from one wall to another, narrowingly avoiding multiple bolts shot at her. Then, with a smooth flick of her wrist, her whip crackled the air and their fingers, making the succubi drop their weapons in pain.
Another squad of guards charged her, their hands shining as they prepared their magic. She kicked off a nearby pillar, her boots leaving deep cracks in the marble as she propelled herself forward like a missile.
"Saki kick!" she yelled, the force of her strike hitting one guard square in the gut. The impact sent him flying into the others, scattering them like bowling pins.
Before they could regroup, she spun around, her whip coiling like a serpent and snapping onto the ankle of another guard. With a violent tug, she yanked her opponent off their feet and slammed them into the ground.
"Saki spin!" she shouted, laughing as she used her momentum to deliver a crushing blow to the next guard's side.
Another lunged at her, their blade raised high. Saki sidestepped effortlessly and drove her fist into their face with a resounding crack.
"Saki punch!"
The remaining guards hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. But one mustered the courage to approach from behind, their weapon poised for a sneak attack.
Without even turning, Saki shot her elbow backward, striking the guard in the neck. They crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.
"...Saki elbow," she exhaled, straightening her stance. She flicked her whip back into her grip, her eyes scanning for more challengers.
The guards that remained standing began to back away, their resolve faltering. "Anyone else?"
That simple sentence made the remaining guards question their loyalty to Valeria, and in a matter of seconds, they all scattered away, leaving Saki alone to enter the north aisle.
With a smug grin, she strode forward, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Reaching a set of towering double doors, she pushed them open with both hands, stepping into an expansive chamber.
There, she saw multiple mutilated bodies on the bloody sand, and in the middle, a single giant man of more than two meters tall.
Valeria, who was sitting on the throne, let out a throaty chuckle as she gazed upon the newcomer. "Oh? A new challenger? I don't recall asking for one to come."
Saki stepped forward, her whip coiled at her side and her eyes glinting with determination. "I figured you needed your ass kicked."
Valeria's smirk widened, her sharp nails tapping rhythmically against the armrest of her throne. "Bold words for a Dreamweaver. But tell me, do you recall how the last one fared? Or perhaps you'd like a demonstration."
With a sharp gesture, she snapped her fingers. The hulking giant in the center of the room turned to face Saki, his expression cold and devoid of mercy. His massive broadsword, nearly too large for a single man to wield, gleamed ominously as he hefted it with ease in his left hand.
"Braïus," Valeria commanded her arm raised like a conqueror. "Show her true pain!"
The giant's eyes locked onto Saki, and with a guttural roar, he charged.
Saki readied herself, her legs slightly apart to keep a good footing. The giant swung his broadsword with terrifying speed, and the battle started.
And after what felt like an hour, the battle stopped. Valeria's back against the wall, her hand raised as she was pleading for mercy.
Never in her life had she seen something like this. This wasn't a battle, it just wasn't fair. This girl couldn't be a Dreamweaver, nor a Nightlord.
"P-Please, spare me!" the Nightlord pleaded as Saki's unharmed form towered her. Her crimson eyes, wide with terror, darted to the whip in Saki's hand. The giant Braïus didn't die in the battle but was so exhausted he couldn't move anymore. It had become a battle of endurance rather than might and Saki had easily won.
"Spare you?" Saki tilted her head as she stared down at the trembling figure of the Nightlord. "Like you spared those other succubi perhaps?"
Valeria's lips quivered. "I-I made a mistake. I didn't know you were—"
The whip snapped on the ground, making Valeria flinch. "Shut your trap. "You don't even try to have a shred of dignity, and you dare call yourself a lord? The one who's supposed to lead the Vale?" Saki's gaze turned into pure disdain, her face contorting in disgust. "Look at you. Groveling like a worm, begging for your pathetic life. You're a disgrace—not just to your title, but to your kind. Have some respect for the power you wield. For the lives you've ruined."
Valeria shrank further, her once-proud frame trembling under Saki's unrelenting judgment.
Saki leaned in, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "Do you know the difference between a lord and you, Valeria? You rule with power biggest you're the biggest fish in this pond. But a true lord looks at the sea. And in there, you're nothing."
Valeria's lip trembled as she opened her mouth to speak, but the sharp glare from Saki froze her in place.
She straightened her whip snapping again. "And unfortunately for you," Saki continued, her tone icy and final, "I have a human to protect. Your time is up."
"Wait!" Valeria's desperate cry barely left her lips before Saki moved.
Without hesitation, Saki summoned a wind blade that cut the throat of the woman. The Nightlord's eyes widened in shock as she clutched at her neck, blood pouring through her trembling fingers.
"Come on, little fish," Saki taunted, her voice calm and chilling. "Try to breathe."
Valeria collapsed to her knees, her gasps growing weaker until the life drained from her eyes.
Saki watched impassively as the once-feared Nightlord crumpled to the ground, and, with a flick of her wrist, her whip coiled back around her.
She turned and walked away without a second glance, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "I hope you understand now how miserable your species is," she muttered, as she headed toward the exit.
Meanwhile, the scene was vastly different.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as Luka and the nameless succubus made their way back to the shack. It had been a long day of surviving and navigating through the narrow tunnels, but they finally reached their destinations.
He reached for the door, but as he pushed it open, the old hinges gave way with a loud creak, sending the door tumbling to the ground.
"Well, that's one way to do it," Luka muttered, half-laughing at the unexpected turn of events. He stepped inside and moved toward the center of the room, where he gently lowered the succubus—still draped around his neck—into a nearby chair.
Her breath had become regular but she was still deeply exhausted. Her limbs were falling off along her body and she barely could lean properly against the back of the chair.
Luka followed by sitting on the bed while searching for some bandages of replacement for his hurt hand. He found some pieces of soft paper and used them as a makeshift band-aid for now.
Then, he rubbed his hand over his tired face and leaned back against the wall. "Phew… Finally some rest…"
The succubus didn't respond. Instead, she had a vacant look, her mouth opening and closing with each breath, as if she was sleeping awake. A strand of hair passed over her eyes, but she didn't move to push it away. She seemed too exhausted, as if her life hanging on by a thread.
"You okay?" Luka asked quietly, though he wasn't sure if she could hear him. Or if she even cared at all.
The succubus didn't respond, but her eyes slowly drifted shut, her head tilting forward as she gave in to the weight of her body.
Luka leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his mind wandering back to what had just transpired. Being kidnapped again and the time he had spent with her in that cell, working on the spell to save their kind.
But did they deserve it?
The images flooded his mind again: blood, screams, the sickening crack of bones breaking. He closed his eyes as the memories tried to drown him, but they didn't go away. His mind kept repeating the same word, over and over.
I hate it. I hate it.
His mind kept repeating that same word ever since he had left the so-called "garden" of that psychopath. Why did he even come here? These barbaric creatures cannot even work together, so how could he expect them to work with humanity, even in dire times?
Still, that was hypocrisy to him. Humans weren't better anyway, they were also psychopaths in his world, too many to count.
Hell, the atrocities Vlad Tepesh had committed in his life were close to what Laura had done.
And yet, here he was, caught between two worlds that were just as corrupt as the other. Two sides that had never truly tried to understand each other, both capable of endless destruction. None of them were better and yet…
A small whimper pulled him back to reality. The succubus opened her eyes and shifted slightly in her chair.
"Yo," Luka raised his hand in a welcoming gesture. "You dozed off? You were out ever since we left the dead forest."
"I… Tried to kill you…"
Luka nodded, his face serious. "You did."
There was an awkward silence between them, but neither looked away.
It was true, she did try to kill him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to hate her. After spending a whole week in that cell with her, even if their interactions were nothing more than either silent work or small philosophical debates, he couldn't hate her.
The succubus shifted again, her face still weary but her gaze clearer now. Her voice trembled slightly. "Why didn't you… kill me?"
No, he couldn't hate her because…
When they were in that cell, she said something that struck him to the core.
"Because…" Luka muttered, his eyes lowering to the floor.
He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. Perhaps because he was still immature, or perhaps because he felt it was silly. Anyway, the succubus simply shook her head and smiled faintly.
"It's okay, I understand now…"
As ever, she was able to read him like a book, and Luka returned the smile, albeit a small one. It was strange, how easy it was for her to see through him, yet he couldn't fully do the same for her.
"I need to go, now," she continued as she pushed herself off the chair.
"Where are you going?"
"To Danthea's manor," she replied, her voice steadier now. "The spell is completed, and I need to present it to her. I'll make sure it's launched tomorrow in the central place where they sell off slaves."
Luka raised an eyebrow. It was oddly specific, but he understood what she had to do.
"You sure you want to go alone?" he asked, feeling a mix of curiosity and concern.
She nodded. "Yes. I need to go alone."
And then, as she turned to leave, her footsteps faltering slightly, she paused.
"Luka."
He blinked, catching her eyes one more time. "Yes?"
"It's okay to be angry," she whispered, her lips curling into a faint smile. "It's okay to be a monster sometimes."
With that, she pulled out a small book and dropped it before leaving the shack with unsteady steps.
"But never betray yourself," she added over her shoulder, her voice softer now, as though she had said something she wanted to for a long time.
Her last words left her mouth and Luka watched her go. Luka's mind raced, trying to make sense of what she had just said. It was so sudden, so unexpected, and yet…
He knew it was important.
His gaze drifted back to the book she left, the same one that was hidden beneath the false bottom of her desk in the cell.
The same one she was hiding from him.
"It's not a coincidence, huh…?" he muttered under his breath as he pondered on whether or not to give her back.
But he knew better than that. She dropped it on purpose. After a few moments, he leaned and picked it up. Upon opening it, he remarked that many pages were old and worn, probably by time itself as Luka figured she had been around this world for a while.
Yet despite the visible signs of age, the book had been meticulously cared for. As he opened the first page, the faint smell of ink and paper filled the air. The writing was precise, each word neatly placed—almost too neat, as if it had been written under duress, or in the hope that it would outlast time.
Luka flicked through the pages, scanning the contents. His fingers brushed over the faded ink, absorbing the strange, cryptic symbols, the half-finished sentences, and the fragments of thoughts that seemed to have no clear order.
However, it soon became clear. This book was her most prized possession.
The result of her life.
When night had finally come, the moon high in the sky, a small sigh escaped his lips. He closed the book and with a bit of magic, burned it, leaving no trace whatsoever.
Because in truth, this journey had finally begun.