Succubi Chapter 81. A Battle I Couldn't Win
I told myself that, forced it into my bones like a mantra. But even as I stood there—scythe of shadow in my hand, blood dripping down my back, teeth clenched—another part of me whispered the truth.
'If this keeps up… I will lose.'
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't defeatist.
It was just facts.
Not pessimism—realism. I wasn't some delusional main character charging into boss fights on raw ego and plot armor. I was tired. Bleeding. And Virelya?
She was still beautiful. Still calm. Still untouched in that haunting, terrifying, runway-walking-through-a-warzone kind of way.
I could be an opportunist—but I wasn't stupid.
And I'd seen enough fights to know the difference between a challenge and a death sentence.
This one?
Was somewhere in the middle.
A battle I couldn't win.
But I had to.
Somehow.
Before I even finished thinking it, she attacked again.
I barely managed to block the first blow—her claws clashing against my scythe with enough force to make my elbows scream. Her other hand came in low, and I twisted sideways, boots skidding on the damp stone.
She moved like water and razors—graceful, silent, impossible.
Her palm slammed into my stomach with a burst of pressurized water magic that launched me backward.
[Damage Taken: 203]
I hit the floor hard, air knocked out of my lungs. My body bounced, rolled once, and came to a stop in a heap.
Before I could recover—
She was already there.
A blur. A shadow trailing frost and perfume.
Her foot cracked across my ribs. Not with brute strength—but with speed and spell-fused precision.
[Damage Taken: 404]
My vision pulsed white.
I gasped, stumbled to my feet, and summoned all the energy I had left to fire off another Death Wave.
The blast cracked through the air like a shockwave of dark lightning.
She tried to shield—but it tore through her barrier.
[Damage Dealt: 410]
[Life Drain: +33 HP Recovered]
Her arm twisted, blood trailing down her shoulder.
I saw her eyes flare, her expression twitch—finally.
But I didn't get to savor it.
She closed the distance and slammed her elbow into my chest.
[Damage Taken: 103]
The impact was like getting punched by a freight train.
I felt my ribs scream.
My back slammed into the ground with a brutal thud, and the air tore out of my lungs like it'd been evicted. Blood dripped now—sharp, warm, and steady—down my chin, soaking into the collar of my already-ruined uniform.
My Devil Armor flickered around me, its dark plating cracked and glowing with pulsing red lines. It was on the verge of collapse. One more clean hit like that, and it'd shatter. Just like me.
[Warning! Your HP is 31%!]
But before she could follow up—
I lashed out.
A quick flick of my wrist, fueled more by instinct and desperation than grace.
[Shadow Blade – Dagger Form]
The blade formed mid-motion, slick and curved like a fang of darkness. I twisted my arm low and jammed it upward into her thigh as she stepped forward to finish me.
[Damage Dealt: 192]
[Status: Deep Cut – Movement Impaired]
She hissed. Her body jerked back on reflex, eyes flaring wide.
And I didn't waste the moment.
I launched myself backward, pushing off with what strength I had left—blood slipping under my boots, momentum throwing me in a half-roll, half-flop across the stone floor.
I landed hard on my side with a grunt.
Not graceful.
Not pretty.
My shoulder cracked against the ground, my knee bent awkwardly under me, and I skidded another few feet before finally coming to a stop.
But I was alive.
Barely.
Heart pounding. Head spinning. Hands shaking.
I dragged myself back to my feet, coughing, wiping blood from my lip with the back of my hand. Each breath felt like inhaling daggers dipped in fire. My whole chest ached.
But I kept my eyes on her.
Because if I blinked now?
I wouldn't open them again.
'Dark Healing.'
The shadows wrapped around my body. Cold and alive. The wounds closed—slowly—but I could feel the strain now. My skin knotted with fatigue. My blood felt heavier.
My demonic power?
It was thinning.
Not because I was injured.
But because I was emptying out.
I'd burned through too much during the mission test. Then the glowing Speedo squad. Now this boss-tier siren with sea-blades and a Victoria's Secret murder aura.
And once my demonic energy was gone?
That was it.
No armor. No spells. No healing.
Game over.
I needed a miracle.
No—I needed a stupid idea.
And then it hit me.
A really, really stupid idea.
She stood across from me again, chest heaving slightly now. Barely. But I saw it. Her arm still bleeding from my last Death Wave hit. Her dress had a fresh tear at the waist.
She looked… annoyed.
But not tired.
She tilted her head. "Still standing?"
"Barely," I muttered, voice dry and cracked. "But I've looked worse after cafeteria food."
She chuckled softly. "You're stubborn. I like that."
"Yeah?" I wiped more blood off my mouth. "I've been told I'm irresistibly punchable."
Her claws shimmered again. "Should I test that?"
I held up a hand.
And, yeah, even I wasn't sure what I was doing yet. But I took a step forward. Not lunging. Not charging.
Just… slow. Measured.
Deliberate.
"Hey," I said, panting slightly, "before you do—mind if I say something crazy?"
She arched an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," I said, giving her a small, almost sheepish grin.
"Mm. The foot that kicked your ribs in?"
"Yeah, that one. Loved the delivery. Very stylish."
Her smirk returned. "You're trying to stall."
I shrugged. "Can you blame me? It's not every day I get to fight a siren in designer couture. Kind of hard to focus with all the blood loss and the runway energy."
She narrowed her eyes.
I kept going. Slower now.
My weapon faded, slipping back into shadow. Arms open at my sides.
"I mean—come on. You're obviously hot. Powerful. Smart. Deadly."
I gestured toward her. "You're giving major villainess energy. And me? I'm just the low-ranked demon boy who probably should've died ten minutes ago."
She tilted her head.
But she didn't move.
Didn't attack.
Good.
"Maybe we don't have to keep trying to kill each other," I offered. "Maybe there's a better use for your time. Maybe we talk. Grab a drink. Make out. Something that doesn't end in one of us bleeding to death?"
Silence.
Her eyes roamed over me—top to bottom. Judging. Calculating.
She didn't seem convinced.
But she wasn't moving either.
So I stepped even closer.
My tone softened. Just a little.
"You came here to prove something, right? Not because someone ordered you. You chose this. You don't need to finish it if you don't want to. You've already made your point."
I met her eyes.
Sincere.
Slightly flirty.
Extremely desperate.
"I've got nothing left to prove. And you?" I grinned, cocking my head. "You've already proven you could kill me."
A pause.
Then her claws retracted.
Just slightly.
"…You think flattery's going to save you?" she asked.
"No," I said. "But it might distract you."
I stepped even closer.
Close enough to smell the sea breeze on her skin.
Close enough to see the slight flicker of amusement behind her lashes.
My pulse pounded.
I had no idea if this would work.
But hell—
If I was going to die?
I'd rather go out charming.
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