Chapter 82. Point Blank
Succubi Chapter 82. Point Blank
I leaned in—just enough to make her notice. Not threatening. Not begging. Just… suggestive. The kind of suggestive that might get you kissed or killed depending on how well you read the room.
And I had no idea how to read this room. The air felt like cold sea breath filtered through perfume and intent. Her aura pressed against mine.
“You know,” I said, voice low, deliberately ragged like I was just a little more breathless than I actually was. “You’ve got interesting taste in men.”
She cocked a brow, eyes glowing faintly. “Do I?”
“Yeah.” I gestured vaguely to where the last bits of neon-smeared sushi squad were still dissolving. “Six mermen in highlighter Speedos. Not judging—well, okay, a little judging—but you clearly like boys.”
She grinned. Slow. Dangerous. “And you’re jealous?”
I licked the blood off my lip and gave her the most cocky, chaotic smile I could manage without passing out. “Nah. Just bored. Thought maybe you needed to try something different. A new kind of demon. Less wet. More wicked.”
She laughed. Soft and sharp, like a bell dipped in venom. “You think you’re different?”
“Oh,” I said, stepping closer, “I know I am.”
She didn’t stop me. Not yet.
That was either a good sign.
Or a really, really bad one.
“I’m saying,” I continued, “maybe we don’t need to keep clawing each other open. Maybe we skip the violence and go straight to the fun.”
“Fun?” she echoed, lifting one leg like she was already imagining stepping on my throat. “You offering a deal?”
“Offering you, something better than loyalty. Better than victory.” I gave her a slow once-over, letting my eyes linger—not disrespectfully, but just enough to let her know I saw her.
Her power.
Her presence.
The way her wet hair clung to her cheeks like sea-drenched strands of silk.
The soft hissing mist around her.
“An experience.”
She tilted her head. “What kind?”
“I’m open-minded,” I said, stepping even closer. A show of submission. Sort of. “You want to tie me up? Fine. You want to make me scream with a whip? I’ll moan your name while I bleed.”
Her lips parted slightly. A flicker of something—not shock. Not desire.
Interest.
Hooked her.
“Maybe I growl. Maybe I beg.” My voice dropped. “Maybe I make you scream. We could make this whole chamber echo.”
She said nothing.
So I kept going.
Because this?
This was my only shot.
“I’ll be your pet,” I said, soft and sincere, brushing my fingers through the air like I was sketching a leash between us. “I’ll bark. Crawl. But in return?”
I was in front of her now. So close I could see every glint of her wet eyelashes, every drop of sea-magic sweat running down her collarbone.
“I’ll make you happy,” I said.
Her grin returned—sharp, amused, calculating.
“So…” she purred, “you want to be my little pet, hmm?”
Again, I took a step closer.
“Pet?” I echoed, voice low and raw. “Nice. I can bark.”
Another step. Her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“Or growl…”
One more.
“Or anything,” I whispered.
She inhaled like she was going to speak.
“N—”
I slammed my foot down.
‘Death Wave.’
It was point blank.
The explosion of cursed energy ripped through the air between us like a thunderclap made of screaming shadows. Her body was engulfed in black-red light, her hair flaring upward, eyes wide as the force smashed into her chest.
[Critical Hit! Damage Dealt: 5,423]
[Status: Staggered – Thrown Back]
She flew backward like a broken star, smashed against the far wall in a sickening crunch of magic and bone.
But I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t.
While she was down, I spun my hands and summoned my Shadow Blade. This time, it morphed into something longer, thinner—dark tendrils forming a bow of black smoke and hate.
[Shadow Blade—Bow Form]
Five arrows.
All glowing.
Each cursed.
I drew the string back, vision blurring from blood loss. My heart was a jackhammer in my ears. But I didn’t hesitate.
“Eat this.”
I loosed.
The arrows screamed across the chamber like thunderbirds. One, two, three, four, five—each slamming into her limbs and midsection, pinning her to the cracked pillar behind her like a drowned saint on cursed marble.
[Damage Dealt: 310, 290, 328, 306, 299]
[Target: Immobilized]
[Status: Bleed – Applied]
[Passive Curse Activated: Soul Drain]
She shrieked, not in fear—but in rage.
And her mouth opened.
Her voice wasn’t a song. It was a command. A psychic scream that tore through the air like invisible razors.
[Siren Wail – Mind Pierce]
I dove.
Even before I landed, the impact of the wail hit me. Like getting punched by air and sorrow. A shockwave that made my brain fizz and my spine convulse. But I gritted my teeth, bit down on my lip hard enough to bleed, and kept going.
I landed. Rolled.
[Shadow Blade— Scythe Form]
My scythe reformed.
And she was still there—arms trembling, mouth open, rage and disbelief painted across her face like mascara made of lightning.
I leapt.
One clean arc.
She reached out too late.
And I brought the blade down.
A sharp crack echoed through the dimension as the scythe carved clean through.
Her head hit the floor with a wet thump. Her body slumped. Her eyes stared forward, glowing faintly, then dimmed.
Silence.
Real silence.
I stood there. Chest rising. Falling. Blood dripping from my lips. My legs wobbled.
[Damage Dealt: 7,130 – Fatal]
[Status: Critical]
I waited.
Watched.
Still nothing.
No fanfare.
No Victory Achieved screen. No EXP dump. No rare loot pop-up.
Just the smell of blood and wet stone.
“Why…” I gasped, stumbling forward a step. “Why the hell… hasn’t the system said anything?”
I dropped to my knees.
The taste of copper in my mouth.
The air was still thick with mist. The pillars still glowed faintly with cursed blue light. My system flickered. Glitched.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
I looked at her body.
And I noticed it.
Her head rolled slightly—just an inch.
And her lips—
Curved.
A smile.
No. No no no.
Her body exploded into steam and water. The pillar cracked. The ceiling groaned. Water surged from the ground like a floodgate snapping open.
The chamber shifted. No, collapsed. The stone peeled back into a void of swirling ocean light, black water flooding every surface, and from the center of it—
She rose.
Tall.
Changed.
Her legs were gone, replaced by flowing ribbons of fin and shadow that pulsed like torn silk underwater.
Her arms had lengthened, fingers now webbed and tipped with claws that shimmered a cracked, flickering blue—unstable, like dying magic trying to hold form. And her eyes—those same, mocking eyes—still glowed, but now there was something wrong behind them.
A sharpness dulled by strain. Blood ran in thin streams down her temple and side, hissing where it touched the mist. She wasn’t regenerating. Just rage.
This wasn’t a rebirth.
It was a last push.
The kind of final phase bosses entered when they were at the edge of death and decided to take everything down with them.
Her voice echoed like a choir of drowned gods.
“Oh, darling,” she purred, rising above me on a tide of spectral mist. “Did you really think I’d die from foreplay?”
My heart dropped.
I had nothing left.
No demonic power. My scythe was gone. My health bar was a joke. My body was shaking.
And she was glowing like a corrupted dying goddess at a beach rave.
Her claws clicked.
“Now then…” she said, voice vibrating like a love song dipped in poison. “Ready for the real fun?”
And me?
I laughed.
Low. Bitter.
“…I hate this game,” I muttered.
But I still stood up.
Bruised. Battered.
Smirking through blood.
Because if I was going to die?
I was taking her with me.
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