Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!

The training hall inside Creed’s apartment still hummed faintly with the lingering power of the summoning circle.

Light traces of multi colored mist coiled along the edges of the rune-etched floor, flickering like the last breath of a storm.

The air was warm, silent, reverent—like the inside of a temple that had just received its miracle.

Creed stood a few feet away from the girl who now stood beside the fading portal.

No... Not a girl. A succubus.

Meredith.

Petite and nearly too perfect to be real, she stood barefoot on the cold marble tiles, her toes curled inward shyly, her long lashes fluttering every few seconds as she peeked up at him.

Her body, dainty as it was, radiated a quiet kind of temptation; like sugar laced with poison.

She fidgeted without even realizing it, rubbing her thighs together now and then, each motion causing her midnight-black dress to ride slightly up her legs.

When her hunger swelled, she’d glance up at him with those watery, shimmering blue eyes and an expression so delicate and needy that it was nearly unbearable.

And Creed noticed all of it.

Every squirm. Every trembling breath. Every heartbeat that seemed to echo with craving.

But even with the temptation hanging thick in the air like incense, Creed’s mind remained grounded. His silver eyes burned not with desire, but curiosity.

He’d waited far too long to ask the questions that burned at the edges of his soul. His mind was flooded with questions.

Even though some could wait... others couldn’t. Not anymore.

"Meredith," Creed said softly, his voice echoing gently in the wide hall, "where... do you come from?"

This was a very important question to him. His bond with Lilith and Tierra made him desire to know more about them.

He wanted to understand who they were, what their kind was and where they were from. And Meredith could give him those answers.

Possibly.

She blinked at the question. Her fingers clutched the edge of her dress nervously. A few heartbeats passed before she looked away and muttered, "The Third Circle."

Creed tilted his head slightly. "That’s it? The Third Circle?"

Her brow furrowed, and her lips trembled in frustration. "That’s all I remember. I know it’s where I lived... but everything else is blank. Like someone tore pages out of a book and left only some parts behind."

The Third Circle...

Creed frowned. That wasn’t a planet name. It wasn’t even a regional domain. It sounded like something out of a myth, or worse, a layered hierarchy from a different plane of existence.

Not this galaxy. Maybe not this universe. It carried a spiritual or perhaps even mystical connotation, like some inner ring of a grander cosmological structure.

And the fact that Meredith couldn’t recall anything else?

That made things worse.

’No point trying to find it,’ he thought. ’Not now. If it’s really beyond this dimension, then chasing it’s as useless as diving into the sun.’

He crossed his arms, now even more on edge, but focused.

"What happened to you... before you got summoned over?" he asked, his tone more gentle now. "Your life. What was it like?"

Meredith’s lips parted, her eyes glassy now—not with seduction, but something deeper. Regret. Maybe sorrow.

"I used to be a librarian," she said, voice soft and musical. "My days were quiet. I spent them cataloguing relics, decoding ancient bindings, guarding knowledge no one read anymore. I liked it. I wasn’t... important. But I liked being invisible."

Creed remained silent. He could almost picture her in some forgotten corner of a castle or citadel, surrounded by dust and silence. Looking absolutely beautiful as always.

"But then I... I developed the Mark."

She touched her chest near her collarbone, as if something invisible was inked there.

"My people thought I was cursed. They said it was a sign of death, that I’d been chosen as a ’Blade-Bond’—a war slave, meant to be thrown onto the frontlines of some conflict I didn’t even understand."

Creed’s mouth twitched. Blade-Bond. That was an ugly title.

"They locked me away," Meredith continued, her voice cracking slightly. "Stripped me of everything. I was going to be sent off in chains the next day. But then... the voice came."

His heart skipped. He instinctively knew he was at the precipice of finding out something major about his talent.

"A voice?" Creed asked slowly.

Meredith nodded. "It came in my dreams. A deep voice. Gentle but powerful. It told me it could free me... take me away from that fate. All I had to do was agree. To serve the Chosen. To... serve you."

Creed’s breath left his lungs all at once.

He took a step back, his mind racing, thoughts crashing into each other like waves against a cliff.

So that’s what it is...

His summoning wasn’t just random. It wasn’t some divine roulette that pulled beautiful warriors out of thin air.

It was a contract system!

His absurd talent had been bargaining behind his back—reaching across realms, dimensions, maybe even timelines, and whispering to the desperate, the forgotten, the ones on the edge of ruin.

And offering them one thing.

A way out.

Creed’s mouth went dry. He looked at Meredith again; her tiny body, her trembling shoulders, the softness of her smile, the barely visible mark hidden beneath her skin—and it hit him hard.

He wasn’t just summoning.

He was saving.

But also... stealing.

"You had a life," he said softly. "A fate. Maybe a terrible one, but still. And now you’re here. Your whole future... rewritten. For me."

She nodded. "It’s better this way. I would’ve died... or worse."

Creed looked away, his fingers curling tightly at his side. A part of him was grateful. Another part? Uneasy.

The sheer weight of it. The realization that every summon might be someone who’d been plucked from their own despair and rewritten to orbit around him.

It was exhilarating... and terrifying.

Just how deep did this talent go?

What was the Mark?

How many others had heard that voice?

And who—what—was behind it?

He didn’t know. Not yet. But he did know one thing: His talent wasn’t just powerful. It was insane!

He stood in the soft glow of the now-faded summoning circle, arms loosely crossed, his eyes never once leaving Meredith as she nervously rocked back and forth on her heels.

Despite the hunger still etched into her face—and the occasional thigh squeeze she probably didn’t even realize she was doing—Creed kept his mind focused. Mostly.

There were still too many unknowns. Too many potential threats. And one key word echoed through his thoughts like a war drum.

Third Circle.

"Tell me more about your world," Creed said gently, crouching slightly to meet her at eye level.

"Anything you remember; culture, leaders, powers, stories. Doesn’t matter how small."

Meredith blinked and tilted her head, her long dark lashes fluttering as she combed through the dusty halls of her half-lost memories.

"Well... each Circle is ruled by an Arbitrator. That much I know. Ours was... distant. She didn’t speak often, but the moment she appeared, everyone dropped to their knees. She could crush someone just by... looking disappointed."

Creed’s spine tingled. "Wait. Arbitrator? There are others?"

Meredith nodded. "There’s a First Circle. And a Second. Even a Tenth. Ten total. They go in order, with the First being the highest... the strongest. The Arbitrators are the ones who enforce the laws. Keep everything in balance. But they’re not really people. More like... manifestations of the Circle’s will."

Creed squinted. "So they’re like guardians? Sentient laws?"

"Something like that."

"And... how strong are we talking here?" Creed asked cautiously.

Meredith blinked again. "The Arbitrator of the Tenth Circle which is the weakest one, can destroy a planet with a single slap."

Creed’s heart stopped.

"...A slap?"

"Mm-hm. A casual one, too. Like flicking a bug off their sleeve."

Creed’s entire body froze.

He stared at her blankly for a full five seconds.

Then, internally, his brain went wild.

’Oh my god. What if they notice I stole Meredith? What if the Arbitrators are watching right now? What if they’re drawing straws on who gets to slap Earth into a flaming space pancake because some random talent user decided to gacha-roll their precious librarian?’

He swallowed hard.

’I really, really hope they can’t trace this back to me. Because I do not want Earth to get obliterated by some bored galactic war deity trying to fix a kidnapping paperwork error!’

His face twitched as his imagination spiraled out of control: The moon exploding. The oceans flipping upside down. A giant divine palm slowly descending from the heavens like "Sorry. Gotta reset this one."

Slap!

Creed took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

’No use worrying about it now. Besides, if they could track me, I’d probably already be a crater.’

"Alright," he exhaled, brushing a hand through his hair. "Let’s... change the topic before my heart explodes."

He paused, then offered her a soft smile.

"What’s your talent, Meredith?"

The succubus perked up instantly. Her eyes gleamed with innocent pride as she clasped her hands in front of her chest.

"It’s called Divine Hex!"

Creed raised a brow. "Fancy name. What does it do?"

Meredith’s smile widened, and she extended her hand as a soft violet glow began to gather at her fingertips. "It lets me... give orders to the world."

Creed blinked. "Wait, what?"

She placed a delicate finger on the ground and with a small flick, traced a glowing word in the tile:

"Float."

The tile beneath her shimmered and promptly ripped itself a few inches off the ground, hovering there like an obedient puppy.

Creed’s jaw dropped.

"It’s a soul-drawn hex," she explained. "Each one-word command I write gets absorbed into the universe itself, and the world follows it. But..."

She let the glowing rune vanish with a sigh.

"The stronger the command, the stronger the backlash. If I’m not careful, it could tear my soul apart. That’s why I can only use three hexes a day right now."

Creed just stared at her, then blinked slowly.

"...You’re telling me," he said cautiously, "that you can literally write reality-altering commands into existence... as long as they’re one word?"

Meredith nodded sweetly.

"And if you wrote ’Heal,’ we’d be healed?"

"Yup."

"If you wrote ’Strength,’ we’d gain superhuman power?"

"Exactly." freewebnoveℓ.com

"...And if you wrote ’Die’ while touching an enemy..."

"They might just drop dead," she said matter-of-factly, "if their willpower or resistance isn’t strong enough."

Creed inhaled sharply and took several quick steps away from her like she had a live nuke strapped to her chest.

Then he spun back and pointed at her like he’d just discovered the secret to eternal life.

"This talent is absolutely busted!"

His mind exploded with possibilities:

"Shield" in the middle of a battlefield? Instant fortification!

"Blind", "Burn", "Freeze", "Cripple", even "Stun"—her toolkit could singlehandedly shift any fight.

And with strategic planning, she could hex gear, terrain, or even herself for enhanced mobility or survivability.

Three uses a day was a limitation, sure. But if those three hexes were timed perfectly? They could change the flow of war.

’She’s not just useful,’ Creed realized. ’She’s a game-changer. A battlefield nuke with a librarian’s heart and a succubus’s charm!’

He looked at her again.

And suddenly... she seemed even more beautiful!

Not just because of her looks, but because of how powerful she was and yet she had no clue.

Power. Loyalty. Potential. Mystery.

All wrapped into one shy, trembling, adorable little package who kept glancing at his lips like they were made of chocolate.

Creed chuckled, the tension rolling off him like mist.

"Don’t worry, Meredith," he said warmly.

He stepped forward, gently taking her delicate hands in his.

Then, with a care that made her eyes widen in surprise, he cupped her soft cheeks in his palms and leaned close.

"I’ll make sure to feed you properly."

Meredith’s lips parted.

And though her hunger was undeniable... it was her smile that said everything.

"Mmmf—"