The miasmic species—creatures from other dimensions—were an ever-present threat to Earth. Each continent had its own particular brand of nightmare to deal with. In the North, the Shadow Seekers roamed, ethereal and relentless. To the West, ogres and orcs waged their brutal campaigns, their sheer physicality a constant challenge. In the South, the dark beasts prowled, their monstrous forms as dangerous as their cunning minds.
The East had faced its own scourge in the past: vampires. Nearly two centuries ago, they were driven to the brink of extinction by Liam Kagu, the First Hero. His efforts were so thorough that most people believed the vampires were gone entirely. But I knew better. Beneath the surface, in an underground city far from the eyes of the living, the vampires lurked, rebuilding in the shadows.
Yet out of all the miasmic species, one stood apart. Not just in strength, but in purpose. They weren't here because of natural migration or desperation. No, their presence on Earth was by design. A calculated, cold invasion.
Demons.
Where other species clung to survival, demons sought dominion. They didn't come to coexist, didn't even pretend to want peace. They came to conquer. Interplanetary, interdimensional conquerors, with a terrifying knack for dominating every other species they encountered. And they were good at it.
The novel I'd read—before, well, finding myself here—hadn't gone into too much detail about demons. Lucifer, the protagonist, had limited contact with them up to the point I'd read. But I remembered enough. Enough to know this was bad. Very bad.
Demons were unique among the miasmic species. At birth, each was assigned to one of the seven deadly sins. That wasn't just a fancy naming convention, either—it dictated their very being. Each sin came with a corresponding Gift, a manifestation of power tied to their nature.
The demon in front of us? Lust. A succubus, to be exact.
Luna's voice cut through my thoughts, calm and clinical. 'A demon baron,' she informed me. Her tone made it sound like she was discussing the weather, but my stomach dropped all the same.
A demon baron. Equivalent to a White-ranker in the human system. Which would have been bad enough, but demons didn't play by human rules. Their progression system was different, rooted in miasma rather than mana. But at every stage of their growth, they were inherently superior to humans of the same rank. Just as humans could outmatch beasts of the same mana level through intelligence and technique, demons outclassed humans in almost every meaningful way.
This succubus? She could contend with Lucifer himself. She'd lose, eventually—his Yin-Yang Body and sheer power would see to that—but the fact that she could even push him to his limits was a testament to the gulf between demons and humans.
And here she was, standing in front of us, her every movement languid and predatory. The air around her shimmered faintly with miasma, thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes, a shade of violet that seemed to pull you in, fixed on me with an amused glint. She smiled—a slow, deliberate expression that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
"Well, aren't you three interesting," she purred, her voice smooth and melodic, each word laced with something that felt dangerous. Wrong. "A Saintess, a Slatemark, and… whatever you are."
Her gaze lingered on me, and I gripped my sword tighter, trying to will my legs not to shake. I could feel the weight of her presence pressing down on me, as though she was trying to peel back my skin and peer into my soul.
This was no ordinary opponent. She wasn't here to play games. She was here because she wanted to be. And that made her all the more terrifying.
'A Slatemark,' I thought grimly, the weight of history pressing down on my shoulders. The demons had left Earth long ago, driven back by none other than Julius Slatemark, the man who had forged the Slatemark Empire from blood and defiance. Julius, Luna's first contractor, had met his end at the hands of the demons—at least, that's what the records claimed. Whether or not those records told the whole truth didn't matter right now. What did matter was that demons hated the Slatemarks with a vengeance, and the Slatemarks hated them right back. Their mutual animosity ran deep, and if the novel was anything to go by, the first place the demons would attack when they returned would be the Slatemark Empire.
"Rach," I said, my voice low but urgent, as I felt her hand touch my back. A wave of energy coursed through me, Rachel's golden mana infusing my body with renewed strength. My wounds knitted themselves together, the ache in my limbs fading like a bad memory.
"Luckily, neither Cecilia nor I pushed ourselves too much," Rachel said, though her breathing was growing heavier with each passing second. Healing wasn't effortless, even for her.
"Why the hell is a demon here?" Cecilia hissed, all traces of her usual playful demeanor burned away, replaced by cold, focused anger.
Demons—the most reviled enemies of humanity. Hated, feared, and yet forgotten by most thanks to their centuries-long absence. They'd played a significant, albeit indirect, role in the Eastern continent's struggles nearly two hundred years ago, a role that Liam Kagu had brought to an abrupt and bloody end. But they were considered relics of the past now, irrelevant to the present day.
Until now.
"The Academy's not responding," Rachel said, her voice steady but strained. Her wings flickered faintly, a sign of her mana expenditure.
I nodded grimly. Demons weren't just stronger—they were smarter, too. Blocking our communication was child's play for them, and it was no surprise that the Academy's tech had been rendered useless.
"Well, cuties," the succubus purred, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. She leaned forward slightly, her violet eyes gleaming as she touched her lips with a finger. "My name is Vespera. How about you come kiss me?"
Her words hit like a hammer to the chest. Heat flooded my face, my mind spinning as her voice echoed in my head. My heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
"Arthur," Cecilia said sharply, her hand gripping my shoulder and pulling me back to reality. The grounding touch, combined with her firm tone, snapped me out of the succubus's spell.
'I thought my mental defenses were solid,' I thought, shaking my head as the haze cleared. But Vespera's power wasn't just an illusion or a suggestion—it was something far more invasive, something that dug under your skin and made you question your own will. Overpowered was an understatement. Of course, as a succubus, her power naturally targeted me—a male—far more effectively than it would the two very unimpressed straight women behind me.
"Aww," Vespera pouted, her expression a masterwork of mock disappointment. "Looks like I'll have to try a little harder."
Whatever she planned to do next, she didn't get the chance. Crimson and golden arrows streaked through the air toward her, a barrage of mana-infused power launched from behind me.
Vespera's eyes gleamed with delight as miasma poured out of her, thick and dark as spilled ink. The arrows were shredded mid-flight, cleaved apart like paper in a storm. Not a single one made it through.
"Four-circle spells," Cecilia muttered, clicking her tongue in frustration. "And she just shredded them like nothing."
The succubus smiled lazily, tilting her head. "Is that all, darlings? I expected more from the Saintess and a Slatemark princess."
'Relax,' I told myself, my grip tightening on my sword. My mana flared to life as I stepped forward, silver light flickering around me. I couldn't afford to hesitate. Not now.
This wasn't just a battle. This was survival.