Succubi Chapter 129. You're Rough
I pulled.
She spun.
Her legs twisted mid-air like a dancer dipped in chaos. Mana crackled from her body, trailing in wisps of violet and black as I yanked the whip tighter, locking her movement with every centimeter I gained.
She gasped, breathy, as the shadow tendrils looped around her waist and arms, binding her in a crossed X across her chest. Her hair whipped around her face, and her glowing eyes snapped toward me, part fury, part delight.
"Ohh~ you're rough now," she purred.
I didn't answer.
Because I was already behind her.
[Shadow Step].
The moment slowed. The world turned grayscale. All noise cut out.
And then I was there. My feet touched the platform tile behind her, my hand already glowing with infernal red mana.
Her rune pulsed right between her chest.
Bright.
Vulnerable.
Right there.
I reached for it.
My fingers brushed against her skin, the rune humming under my palm as I grabbed the glowing rune with intent to crush.
But…
"Harder~" she whispered. Breath tickling my ear like a fucking succubus alarm clock.
My brain screamed.
My below? Oh, that bastard was already saluting again.
"Readiness Status: 101%"
"NO!" I shouted out loud, voice cracking through the arena.
"YES~" she answered innocently, all fake blush and wicked smiles.
I nearly combusted.
Her hips shifted just slightly, brushing into me, and my muscles twitched like they were ready to defect to the enemy's side. I tightened my hand around the rune but forced myself to stay focused. Somewhere above me, I could hear the betrayal.
Callahan wailed like I had just stolen his childhood sweetheart.
Felix screamed, "NOOOO, LET HER LIVE!"
Adrian shouted, "SHE CAN'T LOSE YET! I HAVEN'T EVEN TAKEN SHOTS!"
Someone from the stands yelled, "TOUCH HER MORE!!"
Another added, "I SWEAR IF YOU WIN I'M UNSUBSCRIBING FROM LIFE!"
And then…
Kyra's voice. Calm. Clear. Amused.
"Crush her, E. You got this."
Yeah.
That did it.
I let out a breath, teeth gritted so hard I thought I might snap my jaw. The banshee moaned again just to mess with me.
"Yesss~ punish me, you bad little man~"
"SHUT UP!" I roared and gripped her rune.
-Crack!
It spiderwebbed instantly, glowing red veins spreading like divine fractures across the crest.
She gasped, real this time.
"No, wait—"
Too late.
I pushed all my strength into the final grip and twisted.
Shatter.
"OH~!" she moaned as if she climaxed. Her body convulsed for a moment, then fell limp as the glow died out, her arms dropping to her sides as the rune flickered one last time and faded into nothing.
Silence.
For exactly one second.
And then…
Chaos.
It wasn't cheers.
It was pain.
"NOOOOOOO!!!"
"UNFAIR!!! I WANTED HER TO WIN!!"
"MY QUEEN!! SHE DIED DOING WHAT SHE LOVED!!"
"SHE SHOULD HAVE SUFFOCATED ME WITH THOSE THINGS!!"
I blinked.
Wasn't I the one who just won?
My heartbeat was thunder in my ears. The platform stank of scorched ozone, perfume, and the faintest trace of baby oil.
Then I felt it.
The bounce.
The soft.
Warm.
Sudden bounce.
My gloved hand had landed…
Oh no.
It had landed on her tit.
Right. On. Her. Left. Boob.
Full palm. Squeeze-like placement. No buffer. Just… boom.
She looked up slowly, smiling.
"Accident?" she asked.
I yanked my hand away like I touched lava and teleported two meters back in one panic-induced Shadow Step.
"Nope nope nope. I'm not falling for this."
I was panting. My face under the mask had gone full red.
My below whispered, "Sir, that was the promised land. I am ready to sacrifice everything."
I hissed, "Shut up, little guy. You're retired."
The arena slowly quieted.
And then the referee raised a hand, clearly hesitating. His eyes were still locked on the banshee's, let's call them, distracting battlefield assets.
After a long, dramatic pause, he coughed and cleared his throat.
"The winner… is Rogue Mask E."
I should've gotten a cheer.
A triumphant applause.
Something epic.
Instead?
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
"You monster!!"
"You should've let her win for the culture!!"
"I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!!"
From somewhere in the stands, someone threw a glowstick at me. It bounced off the barrier with a pathetic thunk.
Even the necromancer's undead army in the background looked disappointed. One of them was literally sobbing into its own ectoplasm.
I turned my head.
Callahan stood there.
No. He wasn't standing.
He was kneeling.
Hand on chest.
Eyes glossy.
Lips trembling like I'd just told him Santa wasn't real.
"You…" he whispered.
"I… I trusted you…"
I raised both hands. "I didn't even do anything! She was—"
"DON'T TALK TO ME RIGHT NOW."
Felix was collapsed in his chair like a heartbroken anime sidekick.
Adrian stared into the void with dead eyes.
"Did we just… lose our goddess?" Adrian whispered.
"She's not gone," Felix muttered. "She's just… defeated. It's not the end. She'll return. With new outfits. Better bounce physics."
And then, mercifully, Kyra clapped.
Once.
Twice.
"Wow," she said, smiling like the world wasn't on fire around her. "You did it. That was honestly… the dumbest, most chaotic win I've ever seen."
I limped toward the exit tunnel, holding my ribs.
"Thanks. I think."
"You look traumatized."
"Because I am."
"Did she really slap you with her boobs?"
"I'll never be the same again."
Kyra tilted her head. "Are you… proud?"
I paused. Looked back at the platform where the banshee still lay, humming a soft melody with her eyes half-lidded.
"Honestly?" I muttered. "I don't know how to feel."
Kyra grinned. "I know how I feel. You're buying dinner."
"Why?"
"For betraying the audience like that."
I groaned.
"Next time… better not be against a stripper banshee."
Kyra winked. "No promises."
I walked out of the arena to the sound of disappointed wails, shattered dreams, and the whisper of ghostly thirst echoing behind me.
And maybe, just maybe…
A tiny part of me thought…
"Yeah… I need therapy."
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