"Gaaahh!"
A sudden yelp pierced the silence of the room as the figure on the bed jolted awake. In a frenzy of movement, he sprang up, his body reacting with shock and confusion.
As he stood, the towel wrapped around his waist slipped to the floor, revealing his unclothed form. He froze, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
The figure's hands trembled as he touched his own body, his fingers running from his face down to his abdomen. His skin felt unfamiliar—firmer, smoother, and his muscles were more defined than he remembered.
His eyes widened in disbelief as his hands wandered over the contours of his new form. He blinked repeatedly, hoping that each blink would change what he saw, that the nightmare would dissolve back into reality. But the room remained unchanged, a dreadful sight seared into his vision.
The towel he'd dropped was soaked with blood, its vibrant red stark against the dark stone floor. He glanced around, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the full extent of the scene.
Blood was everywhere, painting the walls, pooling on the floor, and staining the sheets of the bed he'd been lying on just moments ago. The metallic scent hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint, sickly-sweet odor of decay.
He instinctively reached for the closest mirror, which hung crookedly on the wall nearby. As he stepped in front of it, his eyes met the reflection of a stranger. A young man, seemingly in his early twenties, stared back at him—a man with tanned skin, shockingly vivid purple hair, and eyes that gleamed with a shade of amethyst. The figure was strikingly handsome, with a sharp jawline and features so perfect they almost seemed unreal.
But it wasn't just the face that startled him.
"No... This can't be me!" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he raised a hand to his head. There, emerging from his forehead, were a pair of thick, obsidian horns, curling gracefully backward. They felt solid and warm to the touch, a part of him as real as his flesh and blood. And his eyes… they held a hypnotic, otherworldly glow. This was a charm and beauty far beyond any human—something that exuded an unnatural allure.
His pulse quickened as he put the pieces together. There was no mistaking the horns or the peculiar shade of his hair and eyes. They were traits of the succubus race—a race of demons renowned for their beauty and ability to seduce.
But succubi were all female, weren't they? He had never heard of a male succubus before. And yet, here he stood, very much alive, in a body that bore all the hallmarks of their kind.
"How is this possible?" Noah whispered, his reflection staring back at him, equally bewildered. His last memory flashed through his mind—the agony of Seraphelle draining his life force, the darkness closing in as his screams echoed across the battlefield. He had felt death's cold embrace.
Noah was certain he had died. Yet now, he found himself standing in a room soaked with blood, in a body that was not his own.
He looked back at the room, a new dread curling in his gut. Whose blood was this? And more importantly, why was he reborn in a place that seemed to be a shrine of carnage?
As he fought to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind, a faint sound reached his ears—a low, rattling whisper.
"Help me," It was barely audible, a weak cry that seemed to come from somewhere beyond the room's only door. It wasn't a scream; it was the kind of sound someone made with their last breath. It was a death rattle. Noah's senses told him it was coming from just down the corridor.
Cautiously, he wrapped the towel around himself once more and stepped into the hallway, the cold stone floor pressing against his bare feet. The corridor was dimly lit, and the air was stale, carrying the lingering scent of blood and death. As he ventured forward, the sight that greeted him only fueled his growing unease.
Corpses were strewn about the hallway—twisted, broken bodies with dark, leathery skin and other grotesque features. Some had horns like his, while others possessed claws or elongated limbs. Their eyes, now lifeless, stared blankly at the ceiling, mouths twisted into expressions of horror or rage.
It didn't take Noah long to realize what these beings were—demons, but of various kinds. There were no humans here.
Kneeling beside one of the bodies, he inspected the dark, almost ashen skin. The scent of sulfur and charred flesh clung to the air around it, unmistakable signs that these creatures had come from the depths of the demonic realm.
But how had they died? There were no visible wounds on some of them, and others had been reduced to nothing but charred husks, as if their life force had been drained completely.
Noah's gaze drifted to the end of the hallway, where the faint cry had originated. His steps quickened, each one echoing in the silence, until he reached a slightly ajar door. He nudged it open with his foot and peered inside.
The room beyond was just as grim as the one he had woken up in—blood-soaked walls, splintered furniture, and the unmistakable stench of death. In the far corner, a figure lay slumped against the wall, its body convulsing in its final moments. It was another demon, this one more humanoid than the others, with features that were eerily beautiful despite the grotesque situation.
The demon's eyes flickered toward Noah, recognition flaring within them. Its lips moved, forming words that barely escaped as a whisper. "In… Incubus…" it rasped, before letting out a final shuddering breath and falling still.
Noah froze, the demon's last word reverberating in his mind. Incubus. It suddenly made sense. He hadn't been reborn as a succubus—he was an incubus, the male counterpart of the succubus race. But that realization only raised more questions. Why an incubus? Who had done this to him? And why had he awakened in a place filled with dead demons?
His mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. But one thing was clear—whoever, or whatever, had brought him back wasn't finished with him yet. He was in the heart of a demonic lair, and he needed answers. And perhaps, buried in the depths of this blood-soaked place, he would find them.
But first, he had to find a way out.