Succubi Chapter 73. Pattern and Rhythm
The second one circled to flank.
"Right," I muttered. "They've got tactics. Cute."
I took a step back, eyes scanning. The ruined foliage shifted with them. One to the left, the other to the right. Classic pincer move. But they were still illusions—crafted danger, not wild monsters. That meant there had to be a weakness. Pattern. Rhythm.
The left one charged again.
I stepped forward into its path, pivoted hard—and slammed the hilt of my blade into its jaw before the strike landed. It staggered, briefly stunned, and I didn't wait. My foot hit the ground.
[Shadow Blade – Changed]
The darkness responded like it had just been waiting.
It didn't shape into a normal sword this time. No neat edge. No predictable hilt. The shadows coiled, thickening, twisting, folding in on themselves with eerie silence—and then snapped into form.
A death scythe.
Long, wicked, and wrong in all the best ways.
Its obsidian-black shaft pulsed with veins of violet light. The curved blade at the top shimmered with an edge so sharp it hummed. It was the kind of weapon that didn't just cut—it reaped. Tall as I was, taller when lifted, and somehow weightless in my grip despite how it looked like it could split the moon.
Even the shadows around me flinched.
The illusion vines twitched as the weapon pulled in the ambient mana—roots, leaves, pillars, even the faint darkness between blinks. It fed. My boots lifted slightly as the air surged inward around the blade.
I twisted at the waist.
Swung wide.
A black crescent howled across the chamber.
It struck the first jaguar dead-center as it pounced, cleaving clean through the torso in a clean arc of shimmering violet. No resistance. No friction. Just clean death.
The creature didn't fall.
It fractured—split in half mid-leap before both pieces dissolved into a static storm of light shards and data mist, fading into the illusion floor like broken code.
"One down," I muttered.
But the second one was smart.
It had waited.
A low growl behind me was the only warning before it lunged—not for my weapon, not even for my center of mass.
It went low.
Barreled into me like a semi made of muscle and rage.
I flew backward into the illusion vines.
Which, for the record, were still fake and still about as soft as concrete with bad intentions.
My spine smacked against them. The breath punched out of my lungs.
Its teeth grazed my shoulder. Just a flicker of pain—more like a warning bite—but enough to make my body jerk.
"Cheap shot—" I grunted, twisting hard and shoving it off with both hands.
The jaguar stumbled back, but it was fast. Already recovering.
So was I.
I hit the ground elbow-first, rolled, and let the scythe drag a wide arc across the floor beside me—sparking up a storm of mana-dust and illusion sparks.
It lunged again.
I didn't run.
I rose into the swing.
Brought the scythe up in a tight vertical arc, the kind that would split a charging beast from chest to jaw if timed right.
And it was.
The blade phased into the creature's holographic form—no resistance, no delay—and then twisted, pulling shadows behind it like a storm drain sucking in black water.
The jaguar's red eyes went wide for a half-second before the entire form destabilized.
It collapsed into a rain of glowing data and disappeared like it had never existed.
Silence.
Just me.
The scythe.
And the quiet thrum of the illusion matrix around us, resetting itself like nothing had happened.
I stood there, panting.
The scythe in my hand was still humming. Still pulsing, like it wasn't ready to be dismissed yet.
"…Okay," I exhaled, pushing sweat off my brow. "That was definitely overkill."
The weapon finally dissolved—smoke and light peeling away like it was never real to begin with.
The room responded.
Soft golden runes ignited at the base of the illusion dome. A pulse of light surrounded me—warm, neutral, judging.
My body lifted slightly, like I'd stepped onto a pressure pad—or like gravity had politely taken a break.
[Assessment Complete.]
[Survival Time: 4 minutes 32 seconds]
[Combat Style: Reaper Aggression]
[Weapon: Shadow Blade – Death Scythe Variant]
[Damage Taken: Minimal]
[Visual Impact: High]
[Overall Grade: A-]
I blinked.
"A-minus? A-minus?" I threw my hands up. "What—did I not twirl enough?"
Look. I knew I got bit once. And maybe launched across some fake ruins. But still.
"I blame the vines," I mumbled. "Bad footing. Zero stars."
Before I could even stretch, the runes glared again—this time with a sharp click that echoed like a sealed fate.
[Next Simulation: ESCAPE SCENARIO.]
[Objective: Exit the environment without sustaining critical damage.]
My feet lifted again.
The world spun.
This time, no soft fade. Just snap—and suddenly—dungeon.
But not the gross, slime-dripping, mold-covered, "wow this needs a health inspection" kind of dungeon. This one was cleaner. Sleek walls of obsidian stone. The floor was polished black tile, cold beneath my boots. Crystals embedded at regular intervals along the walls provided a soft blue glow. Silent. Still. Empty.
Except for the air.
It had that subtle pressure. The kind of chill that didn't make you shiver, but warned you.
Something's watching.
I stepped forward cautiously.
The scent was... metallic. Like old spell residue. Faint scorch marks along the walls told stories of failed escape attempts—someone scorched, someone dodged too late. There were no bones. No real enemies.
Not yet.
I kept my hand near my side.
The first hallway was straight and narrow. I walked slowly, checking for floor traps.
Halfway down—
-Click!
"Oh come on."
The tile dropped.
My leg followed.
I jumped.
Barely.
My other foot caught the edge of the next tile, and I tumbled forward into a roll, barely missing the dart that fired from the wall behind me.
"Wow," I said, staggering upright. "Really subtle."
The system responded by opening the wall to my left entirely.
From it emerged…
A mimic.
Not a treasure chest.
A door mimic.
Teeth along the frame. A tongue like wet velvet dragging along the floor. Its doorknob twitched.
"I'm not even gonna ask what trauma designed that."
It lunged.
I dove right, rolled into a crouch, and flicked my wrist.
[Shadow Blade – Bow Form]
The blade melted and reshaped mid-motion, forming a sleek black bow with a pulsing string of glowing energy. I pulled.
The shadow arrow formed in the draw—compressed dark mana, humming like a heartbeat.
I released.
The shot cracked the mimic's face—if it had a face—right between the eye sockets. It hissed, staggered back, and—
[Second Shot – Chain Pierce]
I let the next arrow go. It split mid-flight into three trailing darts of condensed shadow and sliced through the door mimic's form. Its mouth went wide—and the whole creature folded in on itself like paper being torn by unseen hands.
Gone.
I exhaled sharply.
"That was... uncalled for."
But I was getting into it now. The rhythm. The flow.
I moved faster down the next corridor. More careful steps. A low hum followed me—like the dungeon knew I passed the last test and wanted to up the stakes.
That's when the lights flickered.
And I felt the chill again.
Not physical. Not magical.
It was emotional.
Fear.
The kind you felt in your chest before your brain processed why.
The hallway opened into a larger chamber. Circular. Too quiet. The middle of the room held a strange floating orb of light—softly pulsing.
Objective? Maybe.
Trap? Definitely.
I approached slowly.
No reaction.
-Step!
-Step!
Three more.
Then—
-CRASH!
Illusion shards broke across the room. Holograms flickered into form—five armored knights, featureless, faceless, armed with broadswords twice their size.
"Now we're talking."
[Shadow Blade – Dual Form]
Two short blades snapped into shape in my hands, reverse grip. Lighter. Faster. More slashes per breath.
They charged.
I moved.
The fight blurred.
Metal slammed. Sparks flew. I ducked, spun, pivoted on my heel, brought one blade up and slashed across a knight's chest—watching it glitch and burst into pixels.
One down.
Four.
Another came from the right—I blocked, parried, reversed the blade, and jammed the hilt into its helmet. My other blade slashed upward, right through the throat.
Three left.
I was panting now. Not tired—just adrenalized.
They surrounded me.
Bad move.
[Charged Shadow Blade – Whirlwind]
I leapt.
The blades absorbed the ambient shadows.
I spun.
Darkness exploded outward in a cyclone of slashes.
The remaining knights were torn apart mid-lunge, scattered like broken data.
Silence.
Then the door opened behind me.
I didn't even wait.
I ran.
Ran like the entire simulation hated my face—which, based on earlier stares from Ares, seemed to be a universal theme lately.
I crossed the final hallway and saw the glowing end gate.
Bright. Calm. Inviting.
I sprinted for it and dove.
The simulation dropped.
And I landed on my knees back in the chamber—gasping, sweating, smiling.
[Escape Complete.]
[Time: 7 minutes 12 seconds]
[Damage Taken: None]
[Efficiency Grade: A+]
[Stealth Rating: B]
[Adaptability: A]
[Mission Rank Unlocked: C-Class]
I grinned, flopping on my back and exhaling toward the ceiling.
"Yeah," I whispered. "Totally nailed it."
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