Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!

The world blurred around Creed as Dagga carried him effortlessly over his massive fiend demon shoulder. 

The riverbank where they had fought had now been left far behind, replaced by dense forest and jagged terrain. 

Creed's body bounced slightly with every step, his wounds aching less and less.

In his mind, he marvelled at the astounding regeneration granted by his Nyxara Bloodline. 

Even with the severe wounds he'd sustained, his body had already healed to a surprising degree. Yet, he kept his breathing laboured and let his head loll back as if he were on the brink of collapse.

Why?

Creed's lips curled into a subtle, wicked smile as he rested against Dagga's back. He might be young in appearance, but since he was a transmirgrator, he was way older than he looked. 

He wasn't foolish. If Dagga thought Creed's "sacrifice" had been massive, it would stoke a fire of guilt and respect in his heart. 

Guilt was a powerful tool. It gnawed at the mind, making people more likely to trust and appreciate those they believed had made great sacrifices for them. 

If Dagga thought Creed was barely clinging to life, it would only deepen his respect for him.

Respect would deepen trust, and trust would strengthen loyalty. It was simple psychology: the greater the sacrifice appeared, the greater the gratitude owed.

Hidden from view, Creed smirked devilishly. "Let's see how much you respect me now, my dear demon."

But as Dagga raced through the forest, Creed grimaced and shifted. "Ugh, couldn't this guy have smoother skin?" he muttered under his breath. The fiend demon's sharp, jagged spikes were digging into him uncomfortably.

His face twitched as he mentally grumbled. 'Dagga's body is like a pincushion! These spikes are torture!' He winced as another jagged edge dug into his side.

"If only this was some soft, curvy succubus carrying me..." Creed let out an exaggerated sigh. He couldn't help but imagine a harem of beautiful succubi at his beck and call. 

'How comfortable would their embrace be?' His mind wandered to a bright, fantastical future surrounded by succubi offering him... well, everything.

His inner monologue shifted into grand ambition. 'Yes, yes! That's it. Once I'm strong enough, I'll use Demon Dominion to tame an entire harem of sexy succubi. My future will be glorious—surrounded by beauty, basking in luxury. My sacrifices will finally be worth it!'

"Ah, I really need to tame one soon," he whispered in his mind, a ridiculous grin forming on his face.

Suddenly, Dagga stopped in his tracks and unceremoniously dumped Creed on the hard ground.

"Ugh! Ow!" Creed yelped, landing with a thud. He clutched his side, glaring up at the towering fiend. "What the hell was that for?"

Dagga glared down at him, crossing his massive arms. "Stop pretending, human. Your breathing is steady, unstrained. That means you're not in pain anymore. You're healed."

Creed's mouth opened in shock. "You figured all that out just from my breathing?"

Dagga snorted. "Obviously."

Realising his cover was blown, Creed scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Alright, fine. I, uh... just got healed. Like... just now." He awkwardly laughed, praying Dagga wouldn't push further.

Dagga didn't seem to care. Instead, he turned and gestured for Creed to follow. "We're heading out of the Armhold. It's too dangerous to stay."

Creed jogged to catch up. "Why were you even on the run in the first place? You're not exactly low-profile. Did you piss off the wrong demoness or something?"

Dagga's expression darkened. "I know something I shouldn't."

The cryptic response only made Creed more curious. "Oh? What do you know?"

"If I told you, your life would also be in danger."

Creed snorted. "Dagga, look around. My life is already in danger! Just spill it already!"

Dagga hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak—

ROOOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRR!

A deafening roar tore through the forest, shaking the very earth. Trees trembled, and their branches swayed violently, as if responding to the sheer power behind the sound. Creed's heart dropped.

"What the hell was that?!"

Dagga's face twisted into a snarl. "The Blades are here already!"

Creed had no time to ask what that meant because Dagga was already running, his massive frame cutting through the dense forest like a bulldozer.

Cursing under his breath, Creed activated his Nyxara Bloodline, shadows wrapping around him as his body transformed. 

Even though his life core was low on energy, the power of his shadow demon form allowed him to keep pace with Dagga.

They sprinted out of the forest and up a steep mountain path, the terrifying roar still echoing in the distance. 

When they reached the summit, what they saw before them froze Creed in his tracks.

An army.

Below, stretching across the horizon, was an army of tens of thousands of fiend demons. Their dark, writhing forms moved in perfect unison, a tidal wave of destruction heading their way. 

Even from this distance, the sheer power of their combined aura was suffocating.

Creed's knees almost buckled. "What... what the hell is that?! How are there so many?"

Dagga cursed in a deep, guttural tone, his words dripping with demonic menace. "Vorkhazat!"

Creed blinked, startled by the strange word. "What does that mean?"

"It means 'damnation' in the old tongue," Dagga said grimly. His eyes scanned the horde below. "They sent a Four Ring after me?"

Creed was too stunned to process the words fully. "Four Ring? What's that?"

Dagga's jaw tightened. "It's how the military ranks its operations. A Four Ring means they've sent not just soldiers but elite commanders. This isn't just a hunt—they're out to eliminate me completely."

Creed stared at the endless army below, feeling his courage waver. "How do we survive this?"

Dagga straightened, his expression grim. "We don't fight. We hide. There's a place nearby, but I can't remember exactly where it is. I haven't been there in twenty years."

Creed groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. Twenty years?!"

Dagga ignored him and began searching the rocky terrain. "Look for a stone with two circles carved into it. It serves as the key to the entrance to a hidden refuge."

Creed threw up his hands. "Do you know how many stones are on this mountain? That's like finding a needle in a haystack!"

Frustrated, Creed kicked a nearby rock. The small stone rolled over, revealing two faintly carved circles on its surface. He froze, staring in disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, staring at the rock.

Dagga immediately noticed. "There! That's it!"

Creed picked up the stone, his heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and relief. "Well, I guess I'm a genius after all."

Dagga wasted no time. He grabbed the stone and pressed it against a nearby cliffside. A low rumble echoed as part of the rock face slid away, revealing a dark, narrow passage.

Without hesitation, Dagga stepped inside. Creed followed, glancing back one last time at the approaching horde. 

The ground still trembled beneath their feet, and the air was thick with impending doom.

"Whatever's in here better be worth it," Creed muttered as the passage sealed shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.