"They look like ants. Ants running from the rain."
The wind, gaining strength, whipped her long black hair around her face. Her reddish-brown eyes shimmered with a strange glow.
From the rooftop of the three-story building, she could see the city perfectly: gray buildings, half-collapsing houses, cars trapped in traffic, horns blaring, pedestrians fleeing from the downpour in scattered formation.
"What a beautiful night," the dark-haired lady whispered as her gaze lingered on the horizon, where the full moon shone brilliantly.
Then she noticed movement in a nearby alley. Curious, she focused her eyes and saw two young girls walking nervously in the dark. They held hands tightly. Their clothes were similar: long skirts and blouses with sleeves down to their wrists.
One of them wore a black unbuttoned jacket over her shirt. On the shoulder, the woman spotted a symbol she knew well: a sword driven through the chest of a dead man, forming a cross.
"The Watcher's Cross…?" she muttered, frowning.
"Hey, Jes, where do you think we are?" the smaller girl asked, clutching her sister's arm.
"I have no idea, Mica, but… it's freedom!" Jes inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of wet earth, letting the rain soak her body.
They walked cautiously through the alleys, pausing at every shadow, flinching at every noise. Lost. Frightened.
Neither noticed the pair of reddish-brown eyes tracking them.
"Jes, do you think we lost them?" Mical whispered, fear in her eyes.
"I think so. Don't worry, little sister. Everything's going to be fine."
Mical nodded. Then her green eyes glimmered strangely.
"Jes… what's the first thing you want to do?"
"I don't know. Maybe eat candy? I always wanted to try those sweets I saw in that magazine. What about you, Mica?"
Mical's eyes glowed even more strangely.
"I want to feel a man's touch. I want to know what sex is like."
Jes stared at her, dumbfounded. This brat!
Before Jes could smack her sister on the head, shadows moved around them. Men emerged, surrounding them.
All wore the same black jackets, marked with the Cross of the Watcher.
"Jéssica. Mical. You should be ashamed, running into the arms of a profane world. Sinners must die. You're lucky to be your father's daughters, or you'd already be corpses. Now, be good girls of God and don't resist."
A deep voice thundered from the darkness.
"Seize them!"
"General Kézar!"
"Run!" Jes shouted, pulling her sister, but the circle was already closed.
One man grabbed Mical. Another seized Jes. They struggled, kicking, screaming, but it was useless.
"Take them to the car!" Kézar commanded.
But then… the man holding Mical froze. His eyes glazed, his jaw slack, drool sliding from his mouth.
Something grotesque bulged in his pants, swelling larger and larger, obscene and unnatural.
"Let go of me, you pervert! Help!" Mical screamed.
"What the hell, George?" Kézar growled.
The bulge grew monstrously. George's face twisted in unbearable agony. He dropped Mical, clutching himself desperately.
A scream tore the night,then his crotch exploded.
Blood gushed violently, splattering the alley walls. The torrent spurted as if blown out by pressure, painting the ground red.
George collapsed to his knees, howled in torment, then fell dead.
Everyone froze, horrified.
Kézar's jaw clenched. "What the,"
"Apologies. It's my influence. Men can't keep their genitals intact around me."
A woman stepped calmly from the shadows. Her black hair framed her glowing reddish-brown eyes, casting her in eerie beauty.
The shadows themselves bent toward her, cloaking her in sensual terror.
"W-who are you?" one man stammered.
"State your name!" Kézar barked.
She didn't answer. Instead, her body dissolved into mist, reappearing behind a man. She touched the back of his neck. Gone again. Another man. Another touch.
Too fast to follow.
Then, from the mist, she reemerged in the center of the alley, hands on her hips, slightly out of breath.
"Guess I'm a little out of shape."
The first man she touched collapsed. Blood poured from his groin. A scream,and his crotch burst like a balloon.
The second man dropped to his knees, sobbing.
"Please! Spare me! I beg you,"
"Oh, for Satan's sake," the woman sighed.
And his crotch exploded too, drenching the ground.
The woman's smile was radiant, twisted.
"My name is Clara Lilithu," she said. "I am a succubus."
"Men!" Kézar roared. "Forget the girls. Kill this whore of hell!"
They charged.
The first swung a cleaver for her neck. Clara leaned back, letting the blade whistle past, then slammed her fist into his abdomen.
The air shook. His body flew across the alley, smashed into a wall, and went limp.
Another, a hulking brute, charged like a runaway train.
He punched once,Clara dodged.
Twice,dodged again.
Three times,missed once more.
Then Clara struck back. A vicious uppercut to his jaw sent two teeth spinning into the air. The train derailed, crashing to the ground.
"Let's run!" Jes hissed, pulling Mical.
"No. I want to see this," Mical said, eyes locked on the succubus. She was entranced.
The men came in waves. Clara tore through them all. None could touch her. Her speed was inhuman, her blows devastating.
Soon only corpses and the general remained.
Kézar foamed with rage, his eyes burning with hatred. Yet suddenly he smiled.
Clara narrowed her gaze. He was too calm.
"They say a crusader once wielded this blade," Kézar said, his voice nostalgic, his grin proud. "He slaughtered infidels by the thousands. The desert drank their blood. He was so feared they called him the Archangel, general of the heavens. But one day he grew tired of killing mere men. He prayed for greater prey , and the Lord answered."
Clara's eyes widened. She knew this story.
"A drop of Christ's blood fell from heaven upon the blade," Kézar continued. His right arm flared with holy light. "The sword became the perfect weapon to slay demons like you."
In his hands, a radiant sword materialized. Along its blade spiraled a crimson stain of dried blood.
"This is the Archangel's Jewel. With it, I'll mount your head among my trophies."
"Well, well. A zero like you wielding such a treasure. Who would've thought?" Clara sneered. "You talk big, but can you fight?"
Kézar lunged. The sword slashed, too fast to follow. Clara leapt back, narrowly avoiding it, though her dress tore across the chest, exposing a flash of pink bra.
"I loved this dress," Clara growled.
"And I love your tits," Kézar grinned, swinging again.
He was fast. Far faster than his men. His strikes were relentless. Clara dodged, but the holy blade was deadly , even a graze could kill her.
He thrust for her heart. She twisted aside, the sword stabbing into the wall.
Clara countered with a punch, her fist sinking into his abdomen. He staggered but held his ground.
She panted. Fighting was no issue, but unarmed, against this sword, the odds weren't in her favor.
"You're no warrior," Kézar sneered, raising the sword. "Just a whore of hell. Time to add your head to my collection."
But Mical rushed forward, grabbed the fallen cleaver from the ground, and hurled it.
"Catch!"
Clara snatched it midair, gripping the handle tight.
Kézar attacked. She blocked with the cleaver, steel clashing. Sparks burst.
Surprised, he faltered. Clara pressed forward, slashing and striking. He barely kept up.
She darted behind him, fingers aiming for his neck. But he twisted, blocking at the last second.
She was slowing. Her strength was waning. It would have to be decided blade to blade.
Kézar's sword swung. Clara dodged. Time slowed. The holy blade whooshed past her face, his hand gripping the hilt right behind it.
No hesitation.
Her cleaver rose in a brutal arc.
The blade sliced through his wrist. His hand spun through the air, still gripping the sword. Blood poured freely.
Kézar howled, collapsing.
The Archangel's Jewel clattered to the ground. Clara smiled victoriously and stepped forward.
But Kézar lunged, grasped it with his remaining hand. The sword blazed with radiant light, then vanished.
"A demon like you will never touch it," he spat, coughing.
"Well then," Clara sighed, spinning the cleaver. "Looks like I'll just have to add a head to my private collection."
"No! Don't kill him!" Mical cried, rushing forward with tears streaming. Jes followed, her eyes wet.
"Enough blood!" Jes pleaded.
Clara smirked, resigned. She turned to the wounded general.
"Know this, zero: you live only because they begged for you… and because I allow it."
She inhaled the damp night air. Smelled more Watchers nearby. More trouble. She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"Damn it. I've done enough already."
She turned, exhausted.
"We'll find you, Succubus!" Kézar shrieked.
A blinding light erupted. When it faded, Kézar and the two girls were gone.