The forest was a labyrinth of shadows, the moonlight barely piercing the dense canopy overhead. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, but beneath it lingered a metallic tang, sharp and laced with demonic musk.

The forest had been dangerous for a while, but ever since the emergence of a certain dungeon, it had become even more hazardous for humans. Even strong warriors sometimes had to reconsider venturing into the forest alone.

The covered cart rumbled along the uneven path, its wheels groaning under the weight of its mysterious cargo. Kain moved like a specter, his form flickering from tree to tree, his cloak a ripple in the night. No horse carried him; his unnatural speed and the strange energy in his veins let him glide through the forest with eerie precision, his amber eyes locked on the cart below.

Was it really his power, or was it something else entirely? Only a few people in Sturgon knew the answer to this question.

The guards and knights escorting the cart were on edge, their horses snorting nervously, hooves stomping the dirt.

Twelve men—eight knights in gleaming armor, swords drawn, and four guards on foot, clutching crossbows. Their eyes darted to the trees, the darkness pressing in like a living thing. The forest had grown unnaturally quiet, the usual chorus of crickets and owls silenced, as if the woods were holding their breath.

"Keep your wits about you," barked Captain Morrigan, the lead knight, his voice tight. He gripped his sword, the blade catching the faint moonlight. "Something's out there."

"I don't like this," muttered Joren, a younger knight, his helm askew. "The air… it's wrong. Like it's watching us. Beside what are we doing out here accompanying a carriage in the middle of the night?"

"Quiet, Joren," snapped an older knight, a scar across his cheek. "You'll spook the horses. Beside orders from the council is absolute. You're a knight of Sturgon, act like it."

Joren's hand trembled on his reins. "It's not just the horses. You feel it, don't you? Like we're being hunted."

Morrigan shot him a glare but didn't respond. Every man felt it—the creeping dread that made their skin prickle, the sense that the forest had turned predatory. The cart driver, a grizzled man with a patchy beard, whipped the horses to move faster, their eyes wide with panic.

Kain, perched in a gnarled oak, watched the scene unfold. His gaze wasn't on the cart, though its heavy enchantments screamed of something vital—likely Juno, the sword tied to the Marciel family's secrets. His attention was on the shadows slinking through the underbrush, their movements too fluid, too deliberate.

Cloven hooves and goat-like legs flashed in the moonlight—succubi. His lips curled into a grim smile. "Amateurs," he whispered, his voice barely audible. These were low-tier succubi, reckless and hungry, their auras pulsing with raw, uncontrolled energy.

He adjusted his grip on the metallic tube, its runes glowing faintly as he scanned the forest. The device hummed, pinpointing five demonic signatures trailing the cart. But something else caught his attention—a second group, further back, their auras dimmer, more disciplined. They weren't moving in for the attack. They were watching, just like him. Kain's brow furrowed. "What are you playing at?" he muttered.

The cart hit a rut, jolting violently. The guards cursed, steadying themselves, but the sudden movement snapped the tension like a taut wire. Joren froze, his gaze fixed on a shimmering haze in the trees ahead. "Captain!" he hissed, his voice shaking. "Do you see that?"

Morrigan squinted into the darkness. The haze was faint, like heat rising from stone, but it moved, coiling unnaturally. "Light it up," he ordered, his voice low but firm.

Joren fumbled with his crossbow, loading a fire arrow tipped with alchemical flame. He aimed, hands shaking, and loosed the bolt. It streaked through the air, igniting with a whoosh as it struck a tree. The flames illuminated five figures—succubi, their forms lithe and humanoid but unmistakably wrong. Their eyes glowed crimson, their goat-like legs bent at unnatural angles, and their claws gleamed as they bared their fangs.

"Ambush!" Morrigan roared, drawing his sword. "Formation! Protect the cart!"

The knights spurred their horses, forming a tight ring around the cart, but the succubi were already moving, their laughter a chilling melody echoing through the trees. They leaped from the shadows, claws slashing, their movements a blur. The first succubus lunged at Joren, her claws raking across his horse's flank. The animal screamed, rearing, and Joren barely stayed in the saddle, swinging his sword wildly.

"Stay together!" Morrigan shouted, parrying a succubus's strike. His blade caught her arm, drawing black ichor, but she only laughed, her voice dripping with mockery. "You think you can stop us, little man? Why don't you surrender and let me suck your cock instead...little man."

Morrigan could see that some of his men had already fallen to the charms of the succubi, as some of them had already unbuckled their pants and let these monsters suck their life force. It was disgusting for him to look at how his underlings became living husks.

Kain watched from his perch, his expression unreadable. The knights were holding their own, their training evident in their disciplined strikes. The succubi were fast, but these were no ordinary soldiers—likely royal guards, handpicked for this mission. A succubus lunged at the cart, only to be met with a crossbow bolt to the chest, fired by a guard who shouted in triumph. The creature staggered, snarling, but didn't fall.

"They're tougher than I thought," Kain muttered, his eyes flicking to the second group of succubi, still hidden. They hadn't moved, their auras steady, almost calculating. "Why aren't you joining the party?"

The battle raged below, steel clashing against claw, horses screaming as succubi tore into them. One knight fell, his throat slashed, blood spraying across the dirt. Another succubus went down, impaled by Morrigan's sword, her body falling like a dry sack of hay. The humans were winning, their numbers and discipline giving them the edge against the reckless succubi, even if it looked like succubi had the upper hand.

Kain leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Not bad," he said softly. "But you're not out of the woods yet."

Then it happened. Three knights collapsed simultaneously, their bodies crumpling like puppets with cut strings. No wounds, no cries—just sudden, inexplicable death. The remaining guards faltered, their formation breaking as panic set in. "What the hell was that?" Joren screamed, his voice cracking.

Kain's eyes widened, his senses straining. He hadn't seen it, hadn't felt it. His gaze snapped to the edge of the clearing, where a new figure emerged from the darkness. A woman, tall and impossibly beautiful, stepped into the moonlight.

Her horns curved gracefully from her forehead, her human legs moved with a seductive sway, and her attire—little more than silken strips which didn't hide her vagina or chest—clung to her form like a second skin. Her aura was overwhelming, a suffocating wave of power that made Kain's sense of danger tingle like no other..

"Superior succubus," he whispered, his face hardening. He hadn't sensed her approach, which meant she was far more dangerous than the others. His hand tightened on the tube, the runes flaring brighter.

The woman paused, her crimson eyes sweeping the battlefield. The remaining succubi froze, their heads bowing slightly in deference. The knights, too, seemed paralyzed, their weapons trembling in their hands. She smiled, her lips parting to reveal sharp, perfect teeth. "Such a delightful little skirmish," she purred, her voice like velvet laced with venom. She stepped toward the cart, her movements unhurried, as if the chaos around her was a mere inconvenience.

"Humans really are brave and resilient!"

Kain's jaw clenched. She was after the cart—likely Juno—but her presence changed everything. He prepared to leap, to end this before she could reach her prize, when her gaze snapped upward, locking onto his perch. Her smile widened, and she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, we have guests," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly. She glanced toward the second group of succubi, still hidden, and the lone human figure among them. "Come now, don't be shy. Enjoy the show."

Kain's blood ran cold. She'd seen him, felt him, despite his partial phase into the shadow realm. And she'd sensed the others, too. This wasn't just a superior succubus—she was something more, something ancient. His mind raced. The second group hadn't moved, hadn't reacted. Were they allies? Rivals? Or something else entirely?

Below, Morrigan rallied his men, his voice hoarse. "Don't let her near the cart! Hold the line!" But his words lacked conviction, his eyes wide with fear as the woman approached. One guard fired a crossbow bolt, but it disintegrated midair, reduced to ash by an unseen force. The woman laughed, a sound that sent shivers through the remaining knights.

Kain's smile returned, grim and determined. "Fine," he muttered. "Let's see how you handle this." He twisted the tube, its runes blazing, and prepared to drop into the fray. Whatever was in that cart, it was worth dying for—and he intended to find out why.

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