They walked side by side. Zaar’tha walked like a seasoned soldier, constantly checking every corner while every step carried purpose. Rachel was skittish, shivering as the cold breeze brushed against her naked skin. Though cold, she couldn’t help but like the sensation.

  ‘Zaar,’ Rachel said to stop her mind from drifting while they journey through the second floor of the mansion. ‘My husband, have you seen him?’

  The demon shook their head. ‘You humans look alike. You need to give me some details.’

  In detail, Rachel explained everything she could remember about her husband. The tattoo on his face, the scar on his back when he got surgery to remove a cyst. Everything. Even the details that were too private. Like his crooked penis and being allergic to latex condoms. Unknowingly sharing the most embarrassing aspects of her and her husband’s relationship just so the demon might recall encountering him.

  Yet after all that, Zaar’tha looked apathetic and shrugged. ‘I didn’t encounter a human like him. I came to your world only moments ago, you are the first human I’ve spoken to.’

  ‘Oh,’ Rachel mumbled, heartbroken by the cold answer. ‘Then tell me what you are. What is a Succulabra?’

  As she asked that question, the demon smiled. ‘We are one of the mightiest kingdoms of Hell. While the other dynasties war over petty squabbles and rare metals, we prefer to master the one thing that is certain. Flesh. While they hammer metals and forge hideous monstrosities, we cultivate our bodies and modify them to become something more. Something divine! Our existence is an exercise of that strength.’

  ‘What makes manipulating flesh divine?’

  ‘Because all life requires flesh. Biomaterial can only exist when the physical and the immaterial combine to become one. By mastering our bodies, we can turn our skin into armour, our hair into razor wire, our bones into mighty blades, and potentially become immortal. To ignore or disregard our flesh in pursuit of the material is to abandon the potential and understanding of what we are. For that is unacceptable, for we are all made to pursue what is true in this world.’

  ‘The Leader wants to master flesh as well.’ Rachel pointed out. ‘What makes you two different?’

  Zaar’tha halted and turned to face Rachel with a piercing gaze. ‘Look around you, does this look like paradise? No, the smell of rotten meat is prevalent, the taint of corrupted magic even more so. What he wants is to seek power, not understand the beauty in what our bodies can provide and how we can improve ourselves. The difference, human, is that my people’s ideas aren’t just limited to the pursuit of selfish desires for grandeur. The enlightenment of flesh is as much a philosophical pursuit as it is a physical one.’

  ‘Does that enlightenment include sex?’ Rachel awkwardly blurted out, her cheeks blushing as she realised what she said.

  ‘It is only a minor aspect of its teachings.’ Zaar’tha casually pointed out. ‘Carnal pursuits are encouraged if they achieve a goal in mind. If one chooses that path to find understanding in oneself through sex, that is accepted. But they will only be seen as mature once they forfeit all carnal desires and gender identity. These binary constructs are tied to a limiting factor of flesh, which goes against our teachings of constant improvement and enlightenment. A proper succubus is neither man nor woman, but an individual of their own choosing.’

  ‘Then if that is frowned upon, how do you…’ Zaar’tha raised their hand before Rachel could finish. Like they heard something. The demon’s bone blade popped out of their arm as they intently examined their surroundings.

  Without warning, Zaar’tha kicked Rachel out of the way as the hulking monster burst through the walls. In frightening speeds, Zaar’tha jumped out of the way and slashed at the Inheritor’s back to chop off a chunk of its flesh and coating her bone blade in yellow pus.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  However, seeing that their attack did nothing to the creature, their left wrist shot out a long, fleshy tendril that moved independently from them to prepare for a prolonged engagement. The tendril smacked the Inheritor in the eye to blind it, but the creature remained unfazed.

  Yet as they tried to move back to gain some distance. In a rage, the Inheritor grabbed the demon and slammed them through the floor. Taking their fight somewhere else, as the two killing machines fight it out for supremacy.

  Rachel choked as she struggled to get off the ground. Feeling that she might’ve broken a rib.

  ‘Dammit!’ She grunted as she got back onto her feet. She looked down at the hole but saw that the demon and the monster had moved on, taking their fight to the other part of the mansion.

  ‘No time to dally! I have to end this.’ Rachel grunted as one hand rested on her side to alleviate the pain. But by pressing down on her wound, the pain is replaced with an odd calming sensation.

  She rushed to the stairs to make it to the third floor. Yet with every step as the mansion shook and slowly fell apart. Rachel had no choice but to find a room to rest and catch her breath so as not to pass out from the pain. Without checking or seeing if it was safe, she barged into a storage room and rested on a wooden crate. Coughing and gagging as her broken rib slushed around in her chest, making her feel funny inside.

  She looked to her right and saw a naked man sitting in a closet, clutching a book near his chest. He looked sickly, his skin deathly pale, while his hair looked oily and thin.

  Oh, for fuck sakes, not another one. Rachel thought to herself before turning to face the cultist to prepare for a fight. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  The cultists gulped. ‘Theodor… Theodor Smith. I’m a scribe… are you a guest?’

  Tired and already fed up with tonight. Rachel nodded and played along, ‘yeah, I’m a guest. Just trying to survive, like you.’

  To her surprise, Theodor chuckled. ‘Tell me about it. Place is a total mess.’ He looked at the exit before turning to her. ‘Look, I am not here to chat. I want to get out of here and go home. You don’t mind if I leave, do you?’

  ‘No, you can leave. I just want to catch my breath before running out.’ Rachel gestured at the exit. Which the sickly man stood up and smiled as he ran out of the room.

  As he left, a thought came to her mind. What if she killed him? Maybe do something more enjoyable? Her world was falling apart, and her husband might be dead. What wrong could a one-night stand be? A little fun before their inevitable deaths. Maybe his cock would feel good inside her as she rides and screams her heart out.

  ‘Such strange times.’ She mumbled before pushing off the crate. She shook her head to remove the unsavoury thoughts that flooded her mind. With a deep breath, she mentally prepared herself to find The Leader and put an end to what was going on.

  Yet as she took a step outside the room. On the other side floor was the man himself, The Leader. He frowned at Rachel, furious that his subject had escaped his room and was roaming freely.

  It was quick and sudden. All he needed to do was raise his weapon to his shoulder and pull the trigger. It was a slug round that went straight through Rachel’s right shoulder and knocked her flat on the ground. From her years reporting on wars, she was never shot once. Shot at, but never directly hit.

  That day changed as bone fragments burst out of her now dislocated shoulder. Her breath slowed as the light faded from her eyes. Allowing the magic to take complete root in her mind and causing her to pass out.