Succubi Chapter 130. Fan Service Boss
That should be the end of our first underground duel.
No fireworks. No fancy trophy. No victory music or glitter shower from above. Just the weird electric hum of mana still buzzing in the floor tiles, the soft crackling of barrier runes cooling down, and the faint scent of sulfur, sweat, and overused cologne from someone in the audience. Not naming names, but I had my suspicions.
We were off the main platform now, gathered back on the staging floor. Opposing teams standing across from each other, sweaty, winded, maybe slightly traumatized. The referee hadn't called it quite yet, so we were all just kinda... existing. Breathing. Processing. Trying not to look at the half-naked banshee still proudly posing like she was doing a cover shoot for Mana Vogue: R18 Edition.
Seriously. Match's over. Wear a robe, lady. You're gonna catch a cold.
We stood there. Four of us in matching lightweight uniform, dirt and scuffs marking every limb, the faint glow of residual mana still lingering on our skin. Across from us, their team: smug necromancer, thirst-trap banshee, that CEO dude and yeah... him.
The Hexblade.
Still looking at me like he already carved my name into a tombstone.
I scratched the back of my neck through my glove, pretending not to notice, while my eyes drifted to where the two mentors were having their post-duel moment. That hot mentor chick stood calm and poised. Perfect posture, firm handshake, radiant smile. Trying to end things with elegance.
And Callahan?
Sigh…
Callahan tried.
His half-mask still in place, the cool-looking kind that left the mouth exposed so he could smirk at inappropriate times. His hair was swept dramatically to one side, windswept like a protagonist who just survived a betrayal arc. He looked strong, confident, dangerous.
And then he spoke.
"A shame, really…" he said wistfully, shaking her hand with two hands like this was a wedding ceremony. "So many beautiful moves on both sides, and yet… I never got to show off my wand."
No. No, he did not just say that out loud.
My head whipped toward him, eyes wide behind my mask.
The hot mentor smiled politely. Probably because she was too classy to respond with violence. But I saw it. The twitch in her eyebrow. The subtle step back. The way she nodded with the grace of a saint forced to deal with pervy nobles.
Callahan, meanwhile, still had those glassy eyes of poetic tragedy.
Like this match had ripped something precious from him.
"Could've been beautiful," he added softly, eyes drifting between her and the banshee. "So beautiful…"
We all looked at him like we were watching a car crash happen in slow motion. A beautiful car. A legendary vehicle. With fire runes and soul-boosted tires. And yet… a complete wreck.
Even the Hexblade blinked.
Even he looked mildly disturbed.
Which was impressive.
"Professor," I muttered. "Please."
Kyra leaned toward me and whispered, "Are we sure he's not cursed?"
"I mean," I whispered back, "he's still staring at her chest like it's a tragic monument."
And yeah… the banshee? Still. Wearing. That. Outfit.
Zero shame. Just leaned on one hip, arms crossed beneath those things like they needed a throne of their own. Her teammate the necromancer didn't even blink. I guess this was normal for them. Maybe her wardrobe options were 'runway' or 'fan service boss.'
Either way, she didn't look cold. She looked amused.
The referee finally stepped up, holding a scroll and tablet hybrid interface, glowing softly with the system light.
"We now conclude the entry-level match for Group 3-A."
He tapped a few things, mana scanning the scroll automatically as a checkboard list projected into the air.
"Participants will now be called forward based on evaluation."
I took a slow breath. Okay. Normal. Nothing to panic about.
"Rogue Mask K," he called.
Kyra stepped forward smoothly. Elegant as always. The glow from the system scanned her. Ding. Her check lit up.
"Performance stable. Magical control: precise. Team synergy: above average. Targeting priority: good. Score: 7.2." Then I saw he transferred something to Kyra.
Kyra bowed lightly and stepped back. She gave me a quick wink.
"Rogue Mask F."
Felix swaggered forward with just a little too much confidence. Still limping from earlier, but playing it cool. The system scanned him. His check appeared.
"Performance: aggressive. Area impact: significant. Score: 4.8." And then he transferred something again.
He raised both hands like a champ.
"Rogue Mask A."
Adrian approached like a war hero with regrets. Still dramatic. The scanner flared and his score came up.
"Performance: consistent. Score: 5.5." Then transferred something too.
He nodded solemnly and took his place beside us.
And then…
"Rogue Mask E."
Oh. Me.
I stepped forward, straight-backed, casual but not cocky.
"You won the battle," the referee said, tone flat but clear. "Your score is slightly elevated based on direct rune engagement and final execution."
The check lit up. And then the number.
[+1,000 Creds]
My brain short-circuited.
Wait.
One thousand?
One.
Thousand.
Creds?
Behind my mask, I grinned so hard it hurt my cheeks. My lips curled like I just got proposed to by the goddess of luck herself.
I whispered, "Oh my god. I'm rich."
I mean not actually rich. But I was a battle academy student. I was mostly broke. My wallet had spiderwebs. One thousand creds?
I could buy hot meals for two weeks straight. Well, I didn't need it now. But I could buy other things like… Refill my good shampoo! New boots! Fancy kind.
I bowed like a humble war general accepting his paycheck and muttered a quiet, "Thank you."
Then I turned, because obviously I had to do the anime glance toward my rivals.
The necromancer gave me a thumbs-up from across the room. Chill. Supportive. He pointed at his own eyes then at me, signaling "don't be a stranger." Not bad. Respectable. We might run into each other again. Could be fun. Could also be deadly.
I gave him a thumbs-up back. Bro-code established.
The banshee?
She was licking her lips.
And not like "I'm thirsty" from the heat.
No.
That was the "I'm planning to pounce on your soul and body and probably your credit score too" look.
Her gaze traveled from my head to my feet. Then slowly back up.
I took one step back.
Nope.
No thank you.
Not today, temptress.
Callahan, of course, saw it. His hand slowly lifted in front of his chest like he was about to pray.
"Why…" he whispered. "Why does he get the attention…"
"Professor," I warned.
"I could've been the one she groped…"
"Oh please."
"I'm still young… I'm cool… I have a wand…"
Kyra grabbed his collar. "You're losing grip on reality again."
And the Hexblade?
Still standing across from us like a final boss teaser trailer. Arms crossed. Cold eyes locked on me. Not on anyone else. Just me.
Yeah. That guy? He's gonna be a problem.
But not today.
Today, I had creds in my pocket, a wild memory of surviving banshee boob attacks, and a mentor who may or may not need therapy.
We exited the stage one by one.
And I thought, yeah… that was only the entry level?
I'm so screwed.
And maybe… maybe excited.
Depends if the next boss is fully clothed.
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