Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!

The silence was bone-chilling. Creed and Dagga stood frozen, staring at each other, their faces pale and their breaths uneven.

Fear danced in their eyes, sharp and raw, but neither of them spoke. Around them, the forest was eerily still, so quiet that even the slightest sound would've felt like a shout.

There wasn't even a breeze. The twisted trees stood tall and menacing, their shadowy shapes looking like they might reach out and grab them.

Creed broke the silence first, his voice barely above a whisper, "So… uh… where do we go now?" His question felt like it had weight, echoing in the eerie stillness.

Dagga didn't answer right away. He kept glancing around, his sharp eyes scanning the dense forest as if expecting something to jump out at them at any second.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cautious, "The original plan was to appear near the edge of this forest. I've got a hideout there—safe, stocked with food, weapons, everything we'd need to regroup and plan our next move."

Creed's face lit up with a spark of hope. "Oh, that sounds great!"

"But—" Dagga cut him off, his tone turning grim, "we didn't land near the edge." He paused and gestured to their surroundings, the tall, dark trees looming ominously.

"This isn't the edge. This is deep inside of the forest. The deep, dangerous parts."

Creed's heart sank like a rock in water. "You've got to be kidding me," he groaned. 'The deep, dangerous parts? How is that even possible? Do I look like a guy who'd survive a cursed forest? I'm already on a first-name basis with bad luck!'

Dagga ignored the complaint. "Plans have changed," he said simply. "Now, our only goal is survival. We need to move toward the edge, and fast. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it gets."

Creed sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over.

'Survive, huh? Great. Just fantastic. All of this because I put on some stupid golden ring. A ring! You know, in most novels I read people get magical rings that make them invisible or super strong. Me? I get a ticket to the horror forest!' He shouted in his mind.

"Next time I see jewellery, I'm running the other way. No exceptions."

Dagga glanced at him but said nothing, his focus still on the darkened woods.

Creed frowned, feeling the sluggish pull of exhaustion deep within his bones. "I'm low on energy. My Life Core's almost completely drained. I need to rest if I'm going to recharge enough to activate my Nyxara Bloodline again."

As he finished speaking, his body trembled, and the faint glow of his Bloodline powers faded.

The shadowy tendrils that had been coiled around him dissolved into the air like smoke caught in a breeze.

His form shifted back to his human self—smaller, less imposing, and far more vulnerable.

The moment his Bloodline deactivated, the cold bit into him like a pack of starving wolves.

He shivered uncontrollably, hugging himself as goosebumps spread over his skin. "Oh, great," he muttered, his teeth chattering.

"Now I'm freezing too. This just keeps getting better and better. Should I expect a bear attack next? Or maybe a tree will fall on me. That'd really complete the vibe. Could this day get any worse?"

The forest answered him with silence. And then…

It happened.

The air around them grew heavier, colder, and darker. A strange chill spread through the forest, one that had nothing to do with the weather.

It was the kind of cold that crawled under your skin, prickling every nerve and making your heart race.

Then, out of nowhere, a tall, shadowy figure appeared right between Creed and Dagga.

Creed's blood ran cold. The figure wasn't human—far from it. It wore an ethereal black cloak that swirled and rippled like it was made of smoke.

Its presence was suffocating, radiating a sense of death and despair so thick it felt like the air itself had turned poisonous.

Creed's breath caught in his throat. His knees wobbled as his instincts screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey.

The figure's hood was impossibly dark, a void that seemed to swallow any light daring enough to approach.

Slowly, agonisingly, it lifted a skeletal hand, its long, bony fingers stretching out toward Creed's head.

The hand moved closer, inch by inch. Time seemed to slow, each moment dragging like an eternity.

Creed's heart pounded against his ribcage as panic surged through him. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but he could only stand there, paralysed by terror.

Dagga, standing just a few feet away, was no better. His usually sharp, confident expression was replaced by pure horror.

He didn't even reach for his weapon. All he could do was watch, wide-eyed, as the figure's skeletal fingers moved closer and closer to Creed's head.

The world seemed to shrink to just that hand, that bony, deathly hand, and the unbearable tension of its slow approach.

Creed's thoughts spiralled. 'Is this it? Am I about to die? Killed by some creepy forest ghost because I couldn't leave a cursed ring alone?' He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable touch of death.

And then…

Nothing.

The hand stopped.

Creed cracked one eye open, his breath catching. The figure lingered for a moment, its hand hovering just above his head.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it dissolved into a wisp of smoke and vanished without a trace.

Creed staggered back, nearly tripping over his own feet. His heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest.

"What… what just happened?" he stammered, his voice shaking.

Dagga didn't answer right away. He was still staring at the spot where the figure had been, his eyes wide and his jaw tight.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and unsteady. "I don't know… but whatever that was, it wasn't something we were supposed to see. Or survive."

Creed let out a nervous laugh, but it came out more like a wheeze. "Great. Fantastic. So now we've got cursed death ghosts on top of everything else. What's next, a dragon? A zombie army? Maybe a forest demon who wants to play chess?"

Dagga shot him a glare. "This isn't a joke."

"I know," Creed said quickly, holding up his hands. "But if I don't laugh, I'll cry. And crying doesn't exactly help with the whole 'survival' thing, does it?"

Dagga shook his head and turned away, his focus shifting back to the forest. Creed, on the other hand, couldn't stop glancing at the spot where the figure had stood.

The oppressive silence of the forest returned, but now it felt even heavier, as if the ghost's presence had left a mark.

For the first time, Creed genuinely wondered if they'd make it out of the forest alive.

[WebNovel Rising Star II Entry] ALL SUPPORT is appreciated.

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Power stone Goal!

20 PS - 1 Bonus chapter

50 PS - 2 Bonus chapter

100 PS (Quite an achievement as of now) - 3 Bonus chapters.