The way of the fist

Mark the Golden Sun was his name, or at least how he called himself. A strong hero who had traveled the world multiple times and acted more as a mercenary than an honorable warrior. 

His life was filled with parties, women, and riches.

Years ago, Mark had passed through this particular village—a place that had sent a shiver up his spine for reasons he couldn't quite explain. Something about it had felt…off. Still, he'd brushed aside the unease, dismissing it as the musings of an overworked mind. He wasn't alone on that journey. He was accompanied by his motley crew, a collection of adventurers, rogues, and thrill-seekers he had picked up during his travels. They followed him loyally, not out of honor or camaraderie, but because they knew that wherever Mark went, danger and fortune followed.

One of Mark's closest companions, though often his harshest critic, was Yamanouchi—a monk from Yamatai with a calm demeanor and an unyielding sense of discipline. Yamanouchi had joined the crew with the hope of steering Mark toward a more virtuous path, though that hope had been tested time and again.

"Tell me," the monk began, his voice edged with exasperation as they sat around a campfire one evening. "You spent all of your money on gambling and women again, didn't you?"

Mark grinned, leaning back against a log with a casual shrug. "Not all of it," he replied, taking a swig from his flask. "I saved enough for this fine flask of wine. It came for Grand Noah."

The monk pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. "You're incorrigible. Do you even care about the state of the crew? After what happened at Gold Volcano, you should be reevaluating everything."

The mention of Gold Volcano made Mark's grin falter for a brief moment. He took bitterly another gulp of his wine and grumbled under his breath. It was just a simple mission to help a guy collect some rocks there, but after a Dragon attacked them, the whole thing turned into a massacre. Many of their comrades had perished.

"That wasn't my fault, Yamanouchi" Mark said as he sat straighter to readjust his blue cape. "It's those idiots who were too weak."

"No," the monk replied sternly. "What cost those lives was your arrogance. You ignored the warnings, pushed us into danger, and treated it like a game. You knew how dangerous the volcano was before, haven't you faced a Dragon before?"

Mark spat into the fire, his face twisting in frustration. "Of course, I know what a damn dragon looks like! You think I'm an idiot? I almost died fighting one. Just like yesterday…"

"And yet here you are, drinking and gambling away what little you have left. Do you even care about your hero duties?"

Mark stared into the fire, his hand tightening around the flask. For a moment, the crackle of the flames was the only sound between them. "Of course, I do. That's why I took on this mission."

"Right," the monk nodded, his focus shifting to the upcoming day. "The supposed succubus. Do you have a plan to track her down?"

"Oh, I've got a plan," he said, leaning forward with a grin. "I'll just play dumb."

"So, business as usual, then?" Yamanouchi smirked, one eyebrow raised.

Mark snorted, swiping a hand through his messy blond hair. "Shut up, you damn priest. I still don't get why you're tagging along with me."

"Because," Yamanouchi said, his tone calm and measured, "someone has to keep you on the right path."

Mark chuckled, leaning back again, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Anyway," he said, his voice tinged with amusement, "don't you think 'Succubus Village' is a little on the nose? I mean, we've been here before, and didn't you notice how there were way more women than men?"

Yamanouchi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I did notice. But that doesn't prove anything."

"Oh, come on," Mark scoffed, gesturing with his flask. "You can't tell me you didn't feel it. There's something fishy about this place. Always has been."

"Perhaps," Yamanouchi admitted. "But if you go in there making baseless accusations, you'll only make things worse. We need evidence, not just your gut feeling."

"I know, I know," the hero waved his hand around. "Like I said, I'll hit on every single woman there. Thanks to your little 'blessing' or whatever you call it, I can handle most of the charm powers they throw at me. Once I've gained her trust and she thinks she's got me... that's when I'll strike."

Yamanouchi frowned, his arms crossed. "That's your grand plan? Playing bait until you stumble upon the right one?"

Mark shrugged, a cocky grin on his face. "We'll try to find a woman that matches the description we were given first. Don't worry."

The monk shook his head, exhaling deeply. "And if she is innocent?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, his grin fading slightly. "Innocent? She's a monster, you numbskull. I know you Yamatai types have a soft spot for some of them, but succubi? They're the worst kind. I may like women, but I know the difference."

amanouchi's gaze darkened, but his voice remained steady. "Be careful where you draw the line, Mark. Not all beings are defined by their nature. Some of them are capable of coexisting with us, humans."

"Tell that to the goddess then," Mark smirked, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. "Save the sermons for someone who cares. I've got a job to do, and I'll do it my way."

The monk remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't expect Mark to change overnight—or at all—but he hoped that, at the very least, his words might plant a seed of doubt in the hero's mind.

The fire crackled between them in silence as the night settled in. They soon both went to sleep, one dreaming of returning rich, the other hoping for a change, whatever it may be.

The duo arrived during the afternoon. Upon their entrance into the village, the succubi quickly followed the plan. The mayor greeted them without attracting any suspicions while Trish and Elira watched over them with a side-eye. The other succubi, mainly the kids, were staying at home and were forbidden from going out. 

Though Elira was still worried. Alma Elma hadn't come home since yesterday, and while it was not the first time it happened, the situation only made her anxiety worse.

"Welcome to our humble village, travelers," the mayor said with a gracious smile. "We received a letter informing of your arrival."

Mark returned the smile with his characteristic charm. "I've already been here, no need to welcome us. We'll be staying there for a while to investigate."

 The mayor's expression didn't falter, though her eyes flicked briefly to Yamanouchi, who stood silently beside Mark, his arms crossed. "Of course," she replied smoothly. "We're happy to accommodate you. I'll personally see to it that your stay is comfortable."

Meanwhile, Elira kept sweeping the leaves with a new broom and she cast a furtive glance at Trish, who stood nearby pretending to inspect a basket of goods. Trish caught Elira's eye and gave a barely perceptible nod.

The goal was to avoid conflict and let them go away without any proof. If the village was aware of the presence of succubi here, this could turn very badly for them.

However, Trish seemed preoccupied. Her movements were a bit too sharp and frantic and she was giving too many glances at the two heroes. Was she on edge because her daughter might be the culprit?

The heroes walked around the village for a while, casually greeting the people there with a wave of their hands. Surprisingly, a lot of women seemed to be cornering with their eyes the blonde hero. 

"Looks like I've still got it," he whispered, smirking. "Told you this place was fishy. Women here act like they've never seen a man before."

Yamanouchi glanced at him, unimpressed. "Or maybe they've just never seen someone as loud and obnoxious as you."

Mark snorted but didn't respond. He knew Yamanouchi was watching for anything suspicious, but his partner's disapproval wouldn't stop him from enjoying the attention. If anything, it fueled his performance. He tilted his head, flashed another grin at a small group of women who quickly turned away, giggling to themselves.

Back at her post, Trish's unease deepened. She watched as Mark and Yamanouchi interacted with the villagers, her heart racing every time one of the younger women got too close or lingered too long. She clenched her fists, trying to stay calm, but it was clear the blonde hero was drawing more attention than expected.

Fortunately, the succubi who were warned before their arrival stayed away from him. Though occasionally, they giggled while looking at them. 

Meanwhile, Mark and Yamanouchi stopped at a small stall where an older villager was selling fruits. Mark picked up an apple, examining it as he spoke casually. "Nice place you've got here. Quiet, peaceful. Must be easy living out here."

The villager, a wiry man with weathered hands, nodded. "Aye, we keep to ourselves. Don't get many visitors, so it's a bit of a surprise seeing the likes of you two here."

Mark tossed the apple into the air and caught it, grinning. "Well, we're here to make sure everything stays peaceful. Had any... unusual trouble lately?"

The villager smiled and nodded. "Nothing of trouble except the awful murder yesterday. You are the ones in charge, right?"

"Yup, don't worry, we're catching that succubus in no time gramps!"

Yamanouchi shot Mark a sharp look, but the blonde hero ignored him, his confidence unwavering as he bit into the apple.

The villager's smile faltered, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the fruit basket in front of him. "A succubus, you say? That's... a serious claim. You're sure it wasn't just some wild animal or bandit?"

Mark waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, we've seen this kind of thing before. Classic succubus attack, trust me. The corpse was dry like a fish. We'll sniff her out soon enough."

Yamanouchi stepped forward, his tone gentler. "We're here to investigate, not jump to conclusions. Can you tell us anything about the... incident? Who was the victim? Unfortunately, we were given the mission on very short notice, so…"

The older man glanced around nervously, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Poor lad... His name was Tristan. Found him in the woods, drained of life, pale as a ghost. 'Was a merchant doing trade here."

Mark's grin faded slightly, and he nodded. "Tristan, huh? Young guy?"

"Aye," the villager said, his eyes darting to the ground. "Aye, handsome too. Had a bit of a reputation, though. Always chasing after the womenfolk, if you catch my meaning. Friendly enough, but trouble seemed to follow him."

Mark tossed the half-eaten apple into a nearby bucket and dusted his hands. "Don't worry, old man. We'll make sure no one else ends up like him. You've got my word."

The villager gave a faint nod, though he looked still worried. "Hope so. I've never seen a succubus in my life, and I hope I don't."

As Mark and Yamanouchi walked away, the monk spoke under his breath. "The villagers do not seem under any kind of charm or control. Perhaps no succubi is living here?"

Mark shrugged, his hands sliding into his pockets. "We'll keep searching. No way a fishy village like that has nothing going on."

They continued walking, passing the small stalls and houses, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any hint of the creature they sought.

Then, as if on cue, his gaze met Trish's. The woman quickly shuffled around and turned away, her usual attitude replaced with a nervosity unbecoming of her. Mark's curiosity piqued, and he quickly pulled out a sheet of paper from his jacket. His eyes skimmed the contents: the description they had received. He checked the details once more—hair color, eye color, facial structure. Then his eyes flicked back to Trish, noting the same features he had just read.

"Same hair color. Same eyes," he muttered, his voice low as he nudged Yamanouchi. "That's her."

The monk glanced at the woman, then back at Mark. "Are you sure?"

Mark nodded, his mind racing. "I'm positive. She's hiding something. Let's follow the plan."

Yamanouchi hesitated, but Mark was already moving, weaving through the village with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving Trish. 

Soon enough, when Trish thought she had enough distance between her and them, she turned around. Eye to eye, she met Mark, who stood a bit above her, flashing a confident smile.

"Hey there, lady," he said in the most casual tone, his hands still in his pockets. "I like your style. Wanna hang out and drink?"

Trish's breath hitched for a split second, but her reaction was swift—she masked her surprise with a practiced smile. "A drink? And why would a handsome man like you want a drink with me?" she said while playing with a lock of her hair.

Elira watched from a distance, her eyes never leaving the Monk and the Hero. Trish was a good succubus and she could turn around any man she encountered, she knew she had what it took to turn them around but…

"Because," Mark pointed his thumb backward at Yamanouchi standing behind him. "Having this Monk over there for company is as fun as going to a funeral."

Yamanouchi scoffed in the background, an amused snort escaping his lips, which only added to Mark's casual demeanor.

With a soft chuckle, Trish nodded, giving him a look that was half teasing, half assessing. "Alright then," she said, her voice smooth. "I could use a drink too. The bar's just around the corner. Lead the way."

Mark's smile deepened, pleased by her easy acquiescence. "I'll be happy to."

As they began to walk toward the bar, Elira remained hidden in the shadows, her eyes never leaving the trio. Though Trish had agreed to the drink, she could feel a certain tension in her movements. 

Still, she believed in her and decided to follow them into the bar.

Once inside, Mark confidently approached the counter, ordering a round of fresh beers for everyone. The bartender nodded, and soon enough, the drinks were set before them, the sound of the mugs clinking against the wood of the table.

Mark took a long swig from his beer, his eyes scanning the room before he returned his attention to Trish. "So," he said with a smile. "What does a lady like you do in this sleepy little village?"

Trish took a slight sip from her drink. "I could ask you the same thing, mister hero."

"Just looking for a murderer," he smirked, his hand playing with the mug of beer. "Heard of anything lately?"

"Right, I heard about that murder," Trish nodded. "Truly awful. Such a tragedy for the village."

"You know," Mark said, his voice lower now, "we've been asking around. Some people say the poor guy was drained of life... kind of like a succubus attack, don't you think?"

Trish's hand tightened around her mug, though she quickly masked the motion with a faint chuckle. "I heard that too. But I' 've never seen a succubus myself."

Surprisingly, the conversation went quite well. Elira watched from a distance at another table with a drink. Trish avoided the conversation and quickly changed the topic as soon as the hero was asking for something and soon enough, night fell.

After another round of drinks, the bar closed, leaving the heroes to sleep at the inn. However, Mark was far from over with his attempts. 

"Well, Miss…" he said, his voice slower now, laced with the flush of alcohol. He leaned in slightly, his hand brushing against her shoulder in a way that was meant to be casual but was undeniably suggestive. "How about we have some fun at the inn? You know, after a long day of… chatting."

"Fun?" she repeated, her voice smooth, but with a hint of playful challenge. "And what exactly did you have in mind, Mister Hero?"

Elira pumped her fist in victory as she saw the scene play out. If Trish could get her hands on him, she could easily seduce him.

Mark leaned in closer, a tipsy grin plastered on his face. "I think you know what I mean."

Trish's gaze flicked toward the door briefly, then toward Elira, who gave her a small nod from across the room. Trish's eyes twinkled with mischief before she sighed dramatically, pushing her mug aside. "You're incorrigible, Mister Hero," she purred, flashing a grin that was equal parts teasing and seductive. "But… I'll indulge you."

Mark's eyes lit up with delight, and he stood up in a flourish, as if expecting his success. He straightened his blue cape dramatically, as though it were part of some grand performance. "Then let's go!" he exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

The monk said nothing and simply nodded with a sigh before leaving for his room. Mark and Trish both went inside the inn while Elira waited inside the reception room. 

Once inside the bedroom, Mark quickly jumped on the bed, his eyes lasciviously licking all over Trish's body.

"Come on, miss… It's cold in here."

She stopped just in front of him, her gaze lingering on his lips for a moment before she tilted her head, as if considering the next move. Her breath was soft, almost teasing. "You know, I'm not one to make the first move... but I suppose I could make an exception for you."

Trish jumped on the bed, straddling him. With a movement of her head, she pulled her hair backward and leaned in for a kiss. 

The kiss lingered, deep and intense, but Mark suddenly tensed beneath her. His eyes widened with realization, and he tried to push her away. "Wait... something's wrong," he slurred, his movements becoming sluggish. "I feel... the blessing should've..."

"Shhh," Trish whispered against his lips, her fingers tracing along his jaw. "Just relax. Let yourself feel it."

Mark's resistance weakened, his arms falling limply to his sides. "You... you're really..." His words trailed off as his eyes began to glaze over. "The monk's blessing... it's not..."

"Working?" Trish pulled back slightly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Of course not. You see, your little protection spell might work against a young succubus, but I'm far older than you imagined." Her fingers continued their gentle caress along his face. "Now, why don't you just sit back and relax?"

Mark's mouth moved sluggishly as her fingers expertly removed his belt with a sultry grin. 

However, Mark never locked the door.

The door burst open with a bang, making both of them turn sharply. 

"Mark!" Yamanouchi's stern voice cut through the room as he stood in the doorway, prayer beads held tightly in one hand. "Step away from him."

Trish leaped back gracefully, putting distance between herself and the dazed hero. Her earlier seductive demeanor shifted to combat.

"So," she said, her voice cool and collected despite the interruption. "You were spying on us? How naughty~"

Mark tried to sit up, fighting through the mental fog. "Yama... what're you..."

"I knew something wasn't right," the monk said, his eyes fixed on Trish. "The blessing should have protected him." He took a step forward, prayer beads beginning to glow with a soft light. "You're far more powerful than we anticipated."

However, as Trish was occupied with the monk, a piercing pain shot through her. 

"And you're an idiot to think I would get dazed from a simple kiss," Mark smirked, his sword embedded deep in the succubus's back. 

Trish staggered forward, her eyes wide with shock. The wound gushed out blood quickly and she was feeling her strength fading with each passing second.

"Your acting skills need work," Mark said, his earlier drunken demeanor completely gone as he twisted the blade. "A real succubus would've noticed I was faking."

With a sharp crack, he twisted his sword, drawing a pained gasp from Trish. Blood spread across her back, staining her clothes crimson.

Despite the agony, Trish managed a weak laugh. "You're going… Down…"

Suddenly, her form began to change. Her human features melted away, revealing her true succubus form - wings spreading from her back, pushing against the blade. Her tail whipped around with incredible speed, wrapping around Mark's pants before he could react.

"Hey, miss," Mark shot her a bored glare. "You really thought I was just going to incapacitate you?"

With another swift motion, his blade shot upward, splitting her torso in two. Blood sprayed across the room as her body fell apart, her transformed features frozen in a final expression of shock.

"NO!" A scream echoed from the doorway. Elira stood there, horror etched across her face as she witnessed her friend's instant death. Her own succubus features emerged instinctively in her distress, wings unfurling as tears streamed down her face.

"Another one?" Mark quickly switched his stance, blade readied as he faced the doorway. Blood dripped steadily from his sword onto the wooden floor.

"You monster!!" Elira's voice cracked with grief and rage, her wings spreading wide in the narrow doorframe. Her crimson eyes glowed with an unnatural light as her succubus powers fully manifested. "She was innocent! She had a daughter!"

"Innocent?" Mark scoffed, shifting his weight to a defensive position. "No such thing as an innocent succubus."

Yamanouchi stepped forward, his prayer beads glowing brighter. "Mark, wait. Something's not right here-"

But before he could finish, Elira unleashed a gust of wind that shattered the windows and sent both men outside. Glass rained down around them as she launched herself at them, the wind shifting around her.

"Tch, she is strong," Mark cursed under his breath as he took a jump back in distress, his blade poised to strike.

Yamanouchi was still recovering from the shock of the sudden attack, his eyes widening as he tried to regain his footing. "Mark!" he called out urgently, his hands gripping his prayer beads tighter. 

Mark glanced at him and nodded sharply. "Yeah, do it!"

The monk joined his hands in prayer before unleashing a binding spell at Elira. The wind around Elira faltered for a moment as the magic took hold, swirling around her, trying to restrain her movements. She cried out in frustration, her wings flapping with even greater force, attempting to break free from the spell that sought to contain her.

Mark steadied himself, eyes never leaving her, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But just as Elira began to struggle against the spell, a new presence appeared. With a sudden burst of speed, another succubus landed gracefully in front of them, her wings unfurling and her ruby-red eyes glowing with the same intensity as her mother's. Her lips curled into a smirk as she looked at Mark and Yamanouchi.

Elira's eyes widened in recognition, and she gasped in surprise. "Alma… Alma Elma, is that you?"

The new succubus smiled back at her mother, her posture confident, almost predatory. "I heard you scream so I decided to check."

"Trish is…" Elira's voice cracked, tears beginning to corner her eyes.

Alma's expression remained unreadable for a moment, her gaze flicking briefly toward her mother before she turned her full attention back to Mark and Yamanouchi. Her eyes turned cold and she took a deep breath.

Her eyes then remained for a moment on the monk, her memories coming back to her. The monk's eyes widened in sudden realization and his shoulders relaxed for a moment. "Y-You are…" 

"Thanks to your teachings, I have trained a lot," Alma Elma smiled at the monk. 

"What?" Mark glanced at the monk. "You know her?"

"Please, let's stop right here, Mark," the monk pleaded while he greeted his teeth. "We're not even sure that the one we killed was the culprit…"

Mark's brows furrowed, still holding his sword defensively. "Are you considering sparing these monsters? Seriously? If we were to bring the news to the world that this village was full of succubi, imagine the reward."

"But…" Yamanouchi bit his tongue. The monk's face fell, and he looked back at Alma Elma, his eyes silently begging her not to escalate the situation. But it was too late. Alma Elma was already shifting into a battle-ready stance, her wings flaring slightly as her posture grew more assertive.

Mark smirked, a cold laugh escaping his lips. "A succubus fighting with her fist? Seriously? Easy cake."

"I like your cape," Alma Elma noted. "Once I'm done with you, I'm taking it as a reward."

Mark's smirk grew wider and he leaped forward. He thrusted his sword, hoping to hit her head. The tip was narrowingly avoided by her as she moved her head to the side. 

She quickly retaliated with a jab to the chest, making him stagger for a bit. The shock was hard, harder than he ever thought a succubus could hit. His teeth gritted, he jumped slightly to the side and swung his sword into an arc. 

Alma Elma tried to dodge, but her inexperience against weapons showed. The blade slashed across her left arm, leaving a deep gash. Blood dripped from the wound, but she stood firm, her stance unwavering despite the pain.

With her heart beating faster, she licked the blood from her wound while staring at her enemy. "You're not bad," she smirked through the pain. 

With a powerful beat of her wings, she launched herself forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Mark barely managed to raise his sword in time to block her strike. The impact sent a shockwave through his arms, the sheer force of her punch vibrating along the blade. He gritted his teeth and shoved back, forcing her to retreat a few steps.

But she didn't give room to breathe. She ducked low and used her tail to latch onto his leg, locking him in place. Mark instinctively stepped forward to regain his footing, but his movement brought his head directly into Alma Elma's waiting forehead. The headbutt collided with brutal force, sending a ringing shock through both their craniums.

Mark stumbled back, momentarily disoriented, his vision blurring from the sudden impact. "Damn it," he muttered, shaking his head to clear it. "Yamanouchi, do something!"

"I…" Yamanouchi hesitated as he kept casting the spell to hold Elira in place.

Alma Elma staggered as well, her hand briefly coming up to her forehead, but she quickly regained her composure. "You've got a thick skull," she muttered.

Her tail uncoiled from his leg as she crouched slightly, her arms raised in a boxing stance.

"Thick skull or not," Mark growled, "you're not walking away from this."

Mark stepped forward before slashing multiple times toward her. Alma Elma dodged each one with ease before darting left to right in succession with some help of her wings. As he tried to track her movements, she feinted a strike with her right fist before spinning low to sweep his legs. 

Mark jumped back just in time, his boots skidding on the dirt. He retaliated with a wide slash, but Alma Elma ducked under it, closing the distance once more until she could almost feel his breath on her skin. Her left fist struck his ribs, a solid blow that made him grunt in pain. 

Before he could recover, Alma Elma seized his sword arm, locking it in place. "Got you," she teased with a sly grin.

But her overconfidence proved costly. Mark's free hand shot to his belt, where he concealed a blade. 

Alma Elma's eyes widened in shock as the cold steel pierced her flesh. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. She released his arm, staggering back, her hands instinctively moving to the wound. Blood seeped between her fingers as she stared at him, her expression a mix of pain and rage. Not towards him, but towards her.

She forgot that in a fight, nothing was fair.

"You fight well," Mark said between gasps of pain. "But you're as birdbrained as a harpy."

He readied his shortsword, holding tightly the grip with both of his hands before thrusting forward.

"Stop it!" Elira's terrified scream echoed through the village.

Before the blade could land, a hand shot out and caught Mark's arm, halting his strike mid-thrust. "Stop it, Mark," Yamanouchi said firmly, his voice carrying an unusual authority.

Mark turned his head in disbelief. "Yamanouchi, what are you—"

"She's down. This is enough." The monk's grip tightened on Mark's arm as he stared him down. "We're not killers."

Mark's breathing was heavy, his muscles tense. His face then turned into fury, his eyes blazing in anger. "Are you kidding me? Are you getting in the way of my mission?"

"Your mission was to slay the succubus who killed that merchant, not kill every other on—"

Yamanouchi's words were cut short. Mark's fist slammed into his abdomen with brutal precision, forcing the air from his lungs in a pained gasp. Before the monk could recover, Mark's blade flashed, a clean, merciless arc that opened a crimson line across Yamanouchi's throat.

The monk staggered, clutching his neck as blood spilled between his fingers. His wide, disbelieving eyes locked onto Mark's for a fleeting moment before his legs gave out. He crumpled to the ground, his prayer beads scattering across the dirt, their faint glow fading.

Mark stood over the fallen monk, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to make sense of what had just happened. "Shit... I wasn't aiming for his throat…" His voice was shaky, but the cold detachment in his gaze remained. He stepped back from the body, wiping his blade clean. "Still... that's what you get for having mercy on monsters."

His gaze flicked to Elira, her wide eyes filled with terror and disbelief. He could feel her fear, taste it in the air. He had a job to finish. Nothing more.

"Old man…" She winced as she clutched the knife embedded in her abdomen. Blood dripped from her fingers, staining her clothes and the earth beneath her. With a solemn face, she pulled out the knife from her side, blood flowing further between her fingers. 

With a slow exhale, she spread her legs and entered into a stance once more, her eyes leaving all compassion or thrill of the fight behind.

Her mind was fully focused, she would kill this man. 

Hesitation is defeat.

Without making a single sound, Alma Elma took a single step forward, her body a blur of motion seeking to end this once and for all. 

Mark reacted immediately, his blade thrust toward her.

Alma Elma took another step, the ground shaking beneath her feet, her eyes never blinking, never leaving her target. Without any excess of movement, she passed by the sword, the steel grazing her shoulder.

And then, it happened

In the blink of an eye, Alma Elma's palm struck out with devastating force, a technique from "The Art of the Extreme Fist," a move designed to incapacitate any foe with a single strike. Her hand slammed into Mark's chest with the power of a crashing wave, the force knocking the wind from his lungs. He stumbled back, the air completely expelled from his body as he fought to maintain his footing.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to go silent, the world around him fading away as he gasped for breath. His heart thundered in his chest, but he couldn't seem to draw in enough air. His body was paralyzed by the impact of the strike, his vision blurring as he tried to process what had just happened.

Alma Elma stood in front of him, unwavering, her breathing steady despite the blood still dripping from her side. Her eyes were hard, focused solely on Mark. There was no joy in the fight, no thrill—just a deep, burning need to finish what had started.

Finally, he stumbled on his back, the sword leaving his hand. 

Elira, who had been frozen in shock throughout the confrontation, finally found her voice. Her chest burned with a fury she could barely contain, her body shaking with the intensity of the emotions surging through her.

"Alma Elma, finish him off," she cried out, her voice raw with the heat of vengeance.

Alma Elma's gaze flicked toward her mother with heavy breath. She was losing blood rapidly and wasn't really understanding what she meant. 

However, Elira knew this was also a vital moment. If Alma Elma was incapable of killing a man who carelessly entered their domain and killed without remorse, then she would never be capable of becoming queen.

Above all the hatred she had for the man, her duty to raise her daughter came first.

This man had to die through the succubus way.

"Make sure to devour every last drop of life from him."

"But…" Alma Elma opened her lips in protest but her mother's piercing gaze was telling her not to talk back and just do it.

With a hesitant look, she stared down at the helpless man in front of her. If she was doing it, it would be her first time with real prey. Recalling Sally's words, she sighed and straddled the man before unbuttoning his pants. 

Recalling what she learned and using her instincts, she pressed herself down on him before pulling his underwear down. Unwillingly, his member stood erect which surprised her. Alma Elma's face was flushed with excitement as she processed what was happening. The man was still dazed from the blow, giving her a chance to complete what she needed to do. 

She could feel his arousal growing as her body made contact, and she swallowed hard, her hand cupping his face gently.

Elira watched intently with approval. "Take what you need, sweetie."

With a soft sigh of anticipation, she pushed aside the cloth of her panties and slowly lowered herself on him. Mark let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering open as he felt her warm heat enveloping him like a blanket.

Alma Elma gasped as she felt him penetrate her, a sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Instinctively, she licked her lips and began moving her hips, undulating against him with confidence. 

"Fufu…" she giggled, her breath hitching as she used her vaginal muscles to accommodate his size. 

For a while, she enjoyed seeing his reactions whenever she changed pace or movements and even ignored the pain in her abdomen.

Mark's groans turned into moans of pleasure, his hands reaching up to grasp Alma Elma's hips, guiding her movements. Without even realizing it, he had already surrendered. She found herself quickly enjoying the power she had over him, and she slowly leaned forward. With her breasts brushing against his chest, she whispered in his ear. "You like that, don't you?"

"Ah… Yes…" A vulgar moan escaped Mark's lips as his mind still felt hazy from the pain and pleasure.

"Too bad, I won't give you the chance to feel more," she licked her lips, her hungry eyes narrowing.

For the first time in her life, she could finally use it: Energy Drain. It was so natural for her she didn't even need to learn how to do it. A pinkish aura surrounded her and the man and, without even wasting a single second, the man ejaculated pathetically inside her.

It was a single, long-drawn-out spurt of seed that lasted for almost a minute. His body soon lost its color and his hair turned white as Alma Elma ravished his body until nothing remained.

With a final rattling breath, he expired, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.

Alma Elma lifted herself off his withered member, a satisfied smirk playing across her lips as she felt his essence leaking down her thighs. 

"Phew, it felt good," she giggled, wiping the sweat from her cheek. She turned to face her mother Elira, who watched with an approving nod.

"You're a natural, sweetie. I knew you could do it." She walked over and gently caressed her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Alma Elma closed her eyes before brushing her fingers around her wound. It had closed, probably thanks to the energy drain. "I'm fine…" She then looked around her, her eyes locking especially on the monk.

"Go home," Elira whispered with a strained voice. "I will take care of the cleanup and…" her thoughts drifted to Trish, a weight pressing down on her chest. "I will contact Sally tomorrow."

Alma Elma nodded, her head tilting down slightly, regret flashing in her eyes. "I'm... sorry for leaving so abruptly."

Elira wrapped her arms around her daughter in a brief, tight hug before pulling back and looking into her eyes with a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I'm fine."

Alma Elma returned the hug, then stepped back, her gaze drifting back toward the fallen monk. She hesitated before speaking. "Could you…bring him back to Yamatai?"

Elira's eyes hardened at her daughter's request. "No. I won't. He's the reason why Trish died."

"But he…" 

"Taught you martial arts? All the better then," Elira snapped. "They both got what they deserved."

"He saved my life." Alma Elma's fiery eyes locked with her mother disapprovingly. "So at least treat him with respect."

Elira's expression softened slightly, though her jaw remained set. "You're too kind-hearted, Alma."

Alma Elma turned her back, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's no kindness, I assure you." She paused, her shoulders tense as she faced the house. "I just... hated the way he died."

It wasn't a warrior's death or even a pleasant one. If he had died in a fight against her…

…She wouldn't have cared.