Chapter 113. What Makes You Chase Power?
Succubi Chapter 113. What Makes You Chase Power?
I arrived at the Scarlet Rose Estate and let out a quiet breath. Home, or at least, the closest thing to it in this strange, hormone-infested, monster-infused, overly magical school.
Dropped my bag in my room. Quick check, nothing missing. Good.
I sat down at my desk and actually did my homework. Yeah, for real. I was a demon-marked student with glowy eyes, unresolved trauma, and a questionable harem trajectory, but damn it, I still believed in getting decent grades.
Half an hour. Quick, efficient. Done.
Then came the shower. Fast, hot, and necessary. I didn’t do the whole self-care routine, no incantation face masks or moisturizing elixirs, but I made sure I didn’t smell like stress and notebook ink. New shirt, clean uniform coat, boots tightened. Then the pouch.
Callahan didn’t tell us what to bring.
Which was exactly why I packed like I was prepping for an apocalypse.
Two flasks of mana potion. One anti-poison vial, just in case. A small water bottle. One compressed towel scroll. And my phone, charged, in case I needed to Ubber my ass back home if things went south. You never knew with Callahan. Or Cradlestorm. Or whatever mask-name he was rolling with tonight.
I checked the time.
5:47 PM.
Dinner.
I darted down to the dining hall just as the evening bell chimed and found an empty seat at one of the long tables. My pouch sat beside me, tight against my hip. Prepared.
And then…
“Yes,” I muttered under my breath, “this is what I was waiting for.”
The food arrived.
Bless whoever enchanted the kitchen. Spiced roasted meat, sweet root vegetable mash, mana bread rolls with that faint glowing shimmer from restoration runes. I didn’t waste a second. I ate like I was trying to fight famine. Because yeah, I needed the energy. Underground duels weren’t known for mercy, and Cradlestorm never picked easy drills.
Evelyn arrived late, sliding into her usual seat with a look that said she already knew what I was up to. But I didn’t explain. That was Evelyn’s job. She saw Ares today. She saw everything.
I didn’t have time for debriefs.
By 6:20 PM, I was already on my way out, dashing through the courtyard path back toward the academy’s central wing. The air had grown colder, but not winter-cold. Just enough to feel like the night had teeth.
The Arcana Hall loomed ahead, empty, massive, and old enough to hum with buried enchantments. Dust didn’t dare settle here. Neither did the weak.
He was already there.
Professor Nyx Callahan.
Standing in the centre of the hall. But Callahan didn’t look like a teacher right now.
He looked like Cradlestorm.
Midnight-black high magician suit, long-tail coat cut with precision, silver thread stitching arcane sigils into the lining. His white shirt was buttoned to the throat, and his gloves looked more ceremonial than functional. The half mask covered the upper left side of his face, sharp lines, cracked design. Like it had seen battle. A single monocle gleamed beneath. That was his signature look. Professional. Dangerous.
“Wow,” I said, stepping closer. “You look cool, prof.”
He turned slightly, head tilting with that mechanical grace he always had, like a raven trying to decide whether to talk or peck out your eyes.
“Ah,” he said. “Evan Drakos. I knew you’d come.”
I gave him a smile, digging into my pocket. “Of course. You didn’t exactly make it optional.”
He chuckled.
I pulled out the arcana card he gave me the day before, the invite to tonight’s session, and offered it back.
“I think this is a good choice. To sharpen my ability. To improve my fighting skills.”
I paused, then added, quieter this time.
“I need to train more. I need to get stronger.”
His expression didn’t change. But his monocle flicked, scanning something unseen. My mana, maybe. Or my conviction.
“What makes you chase power, Evan?” he asked, voice low and curious.
I met his gaze. “Survival.”
He grinned. “Great answer.”
Then…
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
“Yo!” a voice called out. “I’m not late, right?”
Adrian.
He jogged into the hall, hair slightly wind-tossed, a mischievous grin on his face as he waved his own arcana card in the air.
“Wow, you came!” I said, half-laughing.
“Of course I did!” Adrian said, breathless. “I’m not letting this opportunity go. A real Cradlestorm session? Hell yeah.”
I stepped forward and bumped fists with him. “That’s my friend.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, man,” he said, sliding next to me. “Besides, I already told Kyra. She’s coming too.”
And speak of the moon…
Kyra Nocthollow came in like a shadow on satin. Her robes were deep purple, speckled with glittering silver threads that mimicked the stars. A silver crescent circled her collarbone, enchanted, pulsing faintly with lunar mana. Her expression was calm. Always calm. But her eyes scanned the room like a predator.
“I assume this is the place?” she said.
Callahan nodded without turning.
Kyra held out her card silently, and Callahan took it with the same silence.
Then, behind her…
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of polished shoes on marble.
Felix Levanche.
He entered with all the grace of someone who knew how much his uniform cost. Pristine robes, pale ivory trimmed in deep blue, a perfect contrast to his hair, styled to look effortless. Even his mana felt expensive.
“Apologies for the delay,” he said, voice clipped and smooth.
He handed his card to Callahan with two fingers, like he was dropping a business card at a merchant’s table.
“Nice cologne,” Adrian muttered under his breath.
Felix shot him a look. “It’s imported.”
I smirked, turning back to Callahan. “So that’s four of us.”
Callahan glanced at each of us, eyes scanning, calculating.
“Four is good,” he said.
He stepped to the center of us. The floor pulsed once, reacting to his presence. The arcane lines along the platform flickered, one by one, like awakening nerves beneath skin.
“This is not an ordinary duel,” Callahan said, his voice deep and smooth as ever, but there was a new undertone tonight. Sharper. More… theatrical. “This is underground duel.”
I raised an eyebrow. Adrian immediately whispered, “Why does that sound like we’re about to get sued or murdered?”
Kyra just crossed her arms, unreadable as always. Felix looked mildly insulted, like someone had offered him tap water at a five-star dinner.
Callahan didn’t wait for reactions.
“This isn’t a test,” he continued. “There are no written reports. No spell analysis. No teacher reviews. This is a real duel. And while the academy allows me to host these as a ‘training experience’…” He air-quoted dramatically. “Make no mistake! Anything can happen.”
We fell silent.
“The match will be broadcasted to private spectators. You’ll appear as anonymous duelists. You’re still students, so you’ll be labeled as rookies. That means they won’t expect much from you.” He paused, eyes gleaming behind the monocle.
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