Succubi Chapter 118. Gym-rat Necromancer
The referee raised his hand, his voice booming from the floating platform above.
"Combatants. Are you ready?"
No.
Absolutely not.
I wanted to shout it. Wanted to yell "No sir, I am emotionally unprepared and physically underwhelming, please let me go home and do my homework like a responsible trauma ridden academic!"
Instead, I nodded.
Just a single, slow nod that felt like signing a consent form to chaos.
I glanced toward Callahan. That bastard.
There he was.
Not floating alone in some neutral professor zone like a mentor should. No. He was standing next to her. Vesperine. They were talking. Smirking. Probably flirting.
Of course they were flirting.
Callahan caught me staring. His gaze snapped to mine. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up.
It was one of those thumbs up. The kind that could mean either "Go for it, Evan!" or "At last, I have a socially acceptable excuse to flirt with my war rival!"
Either way?
Damn him.
The referee's voice cut through my growing resentment. "All contestants, proceed to your stages!"
Right. That part.
The battlefield trembled slightly, rumbling as four circular platforms rose from the floor. Each one floated a few feet above the arena base, surrounded by shimmering barriers of transparent mana. Four mini-stages. One for each pair.
So we were fighting all at the same time.
Great.
Because nothing boosts confidence like knowing that if you get choked out by a gym-rat necromancer and make some embarrassing noise in the process, three other live fights and two thousand people might catch it in 4K.
Hopefully they only zoomed in when I looked cool.
Oh wait…
I was wearing this stupid alphabetic minion mask.
Yeah. Never mind.
Any cool moment I might've had was already out the window.
Even if I won, it wouldn't matter. I'd be known as "That Rogue Mask E Guy."
But hey… on the bright side?
If I lost, I could pretend it wasn't me.
Win-win?
Maybe.
The rune pulsed faintly. A low, steady thrum against my skin, like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
The referee called out again. "Minion E, proceed to your stage."
My soul cringed.
My head snapped toward him. My body almost followed.
I opened my mouth, almost yelling, "Did you just call me Minion E?!"
But then I remembered I was a peaceful person. Sort of. Kind of. On weekdays.
So I swallowed the rage. Literally. Took a breath. Exhaled it with pride demon dignity.
And walked away.
The others were already headed to their stages.
Kyra looked completely unbothered, because of course she did. She had her rune proudly displayed between her boobs and walked like she was ready to bankrupt a man.
The Spirit Channeler? He looked right at her rune and visibly clenched his jaw. His soul left his body. I could see the internal HR training flash before his eyes.
Felix? That bastard stood hands on his hips, practically thrusting forward like a peacock, showing off his rune on the crotch like it was the main event.
The banshee woman was blushing. Like real blushing. She kept glancing at him, then away. The duality of girlboss and confused pervert.
Adrian was stroking the collar rune on his neck like it was a designer necklace and not an AoE losing condition crystal.
The Hexblade just stared at him, eyes slightly widened with conflicted emotions. Typical high morality fighter.
Yeah.
It was working.
Their insane rune placements were actually messing with the enemy's heads.
I should've put mine on my butt.
But no.
I was a Pride demon.
Even if no one knew, even if I wore a stupid "E" mask, my soul knew.
And my demon pride said, "No ass-rune."
The necromancer approached my platform at the same time I did. His boots hit the metal floor with heavy thuds, and the runes beneath us lit up in a circle. He didn't look at me. Just scanned the area, like he was measuring angles for a body toss.
His rune was on his chest.
Right in the middle.
Of course it was.
Like a target.
They all had theirs there. The respectable ones. The boring ones.
He cracked his neck.
Then his knuckles.
Both echoed. Echoed. Like a warning bell from a horror movie.
I stood straight. Mask on. Breathing even. Calm outside.
Inside?
I was a Pride demon on a school trip with a bag of panic and 30% off coupons for anxiety.
The referee's voice roared again. "Ready!"
I stared ahead.
The necromancer finally looked at me.
And he smiled.
Not a friendly smile.
More like the smile of a man who found the last protein shake in the gym fridge and knew you wanted it too.
The air shifted.
Tension coiled around my ribs.
The crowd roared, somewhere far beyond the barrier.
And then…
"Start!"
We moved at the same time.
He charged forward, heavy and fast, like a train with an attitude problem.
I didn't hesitate.
[Skill Activated Shadow Step]
I vanished in a blink, the world shifting around me in a shadow-flash, reappearing just behind him.
My hands moved on instinct.
[Shadow Blade – Twin Daggers Form]
Darkness rippled around my fingers, forming two hooked blades in my palms, edges serrated with unstable mana. I slashed toward his back…
But he spun. Fast.
Blocked.
He raised his forearm and deflected both daggers with brute force, knocking me backward.
I flipped once and landed, breathing steady, eyes wide.
Okay. He was faster than I thought.
"Nice move," he said, voice deep and gravelly. "Didn't expect that from a mask-wearing intern."
"I moisturize," I replied.
He lunged again. This time, not with fists… he pulled a chain of bones from his belt and whipped it forward.
[Skill Activated Devil Armor]
My body shimmered for a split second as shadow-like armor formed around me, absorbing the impact as the chain smacked into my shoulder.
Didn't hurt. Much.
But I stumbled.
He followed. Big hands. Glowing sigils on his knuckles.
I ducked low.
[Skill Activated Death Wave]
My palm slammed into the ground, and a ripple of black mana burst outward in a circular pulse. He jumped back—just out of range.
He was smart.
Damn it.
But I had more.
[Skill Activated Dark Orbs]
Fifty orbs blinked into existence around me in a wide, spiraling triangle pattern. Each orb glowed with pulsing dark energy, humming in tune with my heartbeat.
The crowd screamed.
The necromancer paused.
His eyes darted from orb to orb.
They hovered.
Then pulsed.
-Boom!
Mini-explosions, each with a subtle gravity pull. They yanked at his body. He growled, trying to resist, planting his boots hard on the floor as the orbs kept pulling.
I dashed in.
Twin blades again.
But this time, I ducked under his guard and went straight for his chest.
He blocked it, barely, but staggered.
I felt the shift.
The rhythm was changing.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
I smirked under the mask.
[Shadow Blade – Reaper Form]
The daggers merged into a long polearm. I spun it once in my grip.
"Let's dance, protein powder."
He roared and charged.
And I ran to meet him.
Because yeah, this was insane.
Yeah, I looked stupid.
But none of that mattered right now.
Because the moment I moved?
I wasn't Minion E.
I was Evan Drakos.
And I was gonna win this damn fight.
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>Read 10 chapter ahead of this story.
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