Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 120: Trial Phase 1! (15)

The bald youth’s excitement instantly twisted into suspicion when Creed pulled the crystal back at the last second.

His face scrunched up in disbelief, then shifted straight into fury like someone who’d been promised cake and got handed broccoli.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice rising like a rooster that’d just had its pride stepped on. "Don’t you dare try to cheat me! Give me the crystal! Do you want to die, huh?! Are you courting death?!"

Creed froze.

Then blinked.

Then slowly turned his head toward the guy with an expression so blank it could’ve been used to debug a robot.

"...Did you just say ’courting death’?" he repeated, like he couldn’t believe the words had come from an actual living human being.

The bald youth puffed up his chest, clearly unaware of the social suicide he was committing.

"Yeah! Don’t think just ’cause you’re strong you can bully me! Hand over the crystal or prepare to suffer the consequences! I might be weak, but my will is indestructible!"

"Bro," Creed muttered, raising a hand and placing it on the guy’s shoulder like a disappointed dad, "You sound like a low-level villain from an ancient cultivation manhua."

And then, boom!

Creed gave him a quick, sharp punch straight to the gut. The sound was solid. Like someone smacked a melon with a baseball bat.

The guy’s entire face crumpled as he let out the most embarrassing noise known to mankind: "AEEEEEHHHHHHH!!!"

He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach, tears instantly leaking from his eyes like a leaky faucet. "I-I’m sorry! Please! I beg you! Just gimme the crystal! I’ll never say ’courting death’ again!"

Creed sighed heavily and crouched beside him.

"Listen, it’s not about the crystal anymore. You think I’m gonna just hand it to you and watch you skip happily into that ferry? As soon as you’re safe, you’re gonna turn around and shout to the entire beach, ’Hey! That guy’s hoarding hundreds of crystals! Get him!’"

The boy flinched. Which basically confirmed it.

"Exactly," Creed said, pointing a finger like a lawyer who just caught the suspect red-handed. "I may be generous, but I’m not stupid."

He stood up and brushed off his pants like a merchant dusting gold coins.

"So here’s how this is gonna work. You’re sticking with us. We walk to the ferry together, and only after we’re inside, safe and secure, do you get your golden ticket.

"That way, if you try anything funny, like screaming your lungs out or pointing fingers, you’ll be the first to get tossed out by my foot before you can even say ’immortal realm.’ Got it?"

That was the safest way. By keeping the guy close and only handing over the crystal after they were inside, Creed eliminated almost every possible betrayal scenario.

If the guy tried to run? Caught. Tried to attack? Disqualified. Tried to rally others? Too late. By controlling the timing, Creed made sure every variable worked in his favor.

The bald youth nodded so fast it looked like his head was about to fly off. "Y-Yes, yes! Anything! I’ll behave!"

And so, with their new reluctant tagalong in tow, Creed and the girls began marching across the chaotic battlefield toward the ferries.

The beach was still madness. Explosions popped like fireworks, waves of aura rippled through the air, and the ground was littered with unconscious—or disqualified—participants.

Every few seconds, a figure would glow faintly and vanish mid-air, forcibly teleported away just as a lethal attack was about to connect.

People were screaming, activating technique, swinging weapons, and trying their best not to get their faces turned into sand pancakes.

But the moment Creed’s group started walking?

Dozens of youths turned toward them and launched attacks—flaming arrows, spiked chains, bursts of lightning. All kinds of things flying their way.

Until they saw what happened next.

Creed didn’t even flinch. With a casual flick of his aura-reinforced palm, most attacks were dispersed like feathers in the wind.

Amara followed suit, her defensive technique creating a shimmering ice wall that effortlessly blocked a wave of spinning daggers.

Lilith swatted away a thunderbolt with her sickle like she was brushing off lint. Tierra didn’t even blink as a vine whip shattered into particles.

Their talents—apart from Creed’s—were all SSS after all and even had attributes! It couldn’t be mentioned in the same breath with the other weaker talents around.

The attacking youths paused, stared, and then realized they had just messed with demons.

And just like that, they scattered like chickens after a firecracker.

That was the power gap. The average strength of these participants hovered around low to mid Stage 4 combat power.

Creed and Amara, without even using their full strength, were operating at the upper levels of Stage 5. That’s the kind of pressure that made people rethink their life choices.

Reaching the nearest ferry, Creed took a deep breath and turned to Amara. "Here," he said, handing her two golden crystals. "Go inside first. Give me one back once you’re in."

She raised an eyebrow. "Testing the system?"

Creed nodded. "If you can pass me something from inside, it means the mechanism only blocks people and not items. Useful to know."

She nodded and walked toward the ferry. A small magic barrier scanned her, and the moment one of her crystals vanished into thin air, the barrier opened.

She walked inside.

A second later, her fingers poked through the glowing entrance and dropped the second crystal into Creed’s palm.

Creed grinned. "Perfect."

Then, just to be thorough, he passed her a random dagger. The weapon slipped through the barrier without resistance.

But when he tried to attack it, it got blocked easily.

"Even better," Creed chuckled. "Trade still works. That means I can sell crystals to people after I’m safe inside."

Lilith and Tierra stepped in next, their crystals vanishing, and the magical barrier allowing them through without a hitch.

Creed followed last, his own crystal disappearing as he passed the boundary and entered the interior of the ferry.

Inside, it was surprisingly luxurious—cushioned seats, glowing lamps, sleek walls... It felt like a flying lounge for battle-hardened geniuses.

Creed turned back, now standing safely within the ferry, and held out the last golden crystal toward the bald youth, who practically leapt in joy as he accepted it.

The crystal vanished, and the ferry allowed him to step in too.

He didn’t walk.

He ran.

He bolted to the nearest couch, collapsed into it like a war veteran, and wiped his sweaty bald head with both hands. "Whew!" he exhaled dramatically.

"That was close! I have never been more grateful in my life! Today, I was saved by a mysterious senior! May the Nine heavens bless this noble benefactor!"

Creed, who had flopped lazily into a couch beside Lilith, slapped his forehead. "Bro, please, do you just eat cliche lines for breakfast?!"

The bald youth just gave him a goofy grin, hugged himself like a stuffed animal, and sighed in relief again.

Creed leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. His grin widened slowly, deviously.

He had 508 crystals left.

Thousands of desperate participants still outside.

And he had just confirmed you could trade inside the ferry.

"It’s time," Creed whispered, a glint in his eye, "to make a whole lot of money."

He walked over to the entrance of the ferry, took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and then cupped his hands around his mouth dramatically.

"HELLO EVERYONE!" he shouted, his voice booming across the battlefield like a town crier who just discovered vocal steroids.

Nothing.

Absolutely no one turned.

All around the beach, chaos still ruled. Fists flew, explosions crackled, techniques hissed through the air like fireworks gone rogue.

One guy screamed as he got blasted out of his boots by a flaming arrow. Another girl was body-slamming a guy into the sand with a steel staff like she was trying to plant a tree.

No one even glanced in Creed’s direction!

He blinked once, twice, then sighed as if this was just another Tuesday. "Called it," he muttered with a smug grin.

He knew his voice alone wouldn’t get their attention. Not in the middle of a battlefield where everyone was fighting for survival.

That’s why he had something a little... louder in mind.

Without another word, his eyes suddenly began to glow a deep, radiant silver, like twin moons rising in the night sky.

The air around him vibrated. The wood of the ferry creaked under his feet. Then, in the next instant, a terrifying, ancient pressure erupted from him like a dam breaking.

SKREEEEEEEEEEEE!

The horrifying cry of a spear rang through the battlefield.

Not a normal sound, no—this was the voice of something old, something primal, something that echoed straight into the soul.

The cry of an ancient weapon spirit awakening after eons of fury. It sliced through the noise like a divine blade, cutting past explosions, screams, and spells in an instant.

Every single participant on the beach froze.

They didn’t turn slowly.

They snapped their heads in unison toward the source of the noise like puppets on strings.

And there he was; Creed, standing tall and unbothered on the upper deck of the ferry, his eyes glowing like stars, and a silver aura swirling around him in the shape of a massive phantom spear.

It twisted and danced through the air, its presence so oppressive that the weaker participants instinctively took a step back.

The sheer pressure alone felt like gravity had doubled, then tripled.

Lilith and Tierra, standing just behind him, couldn’t help but smile.

There was pride in their eyes—not the kind of blind admiration that came from being dazzled, but the pride of warriors who knew exactly how terrifying their master was and felt lucky to be standing behind him instead of against him.

Amara’s jaw slowly dropped. Her pupils shrank. Her brain was suddenly racing.

The spear spirit... the Azure Auction... That terrifying bidder... It was HIM?!

Meanwhile, the others could barely process what they were seeing.

Creed’s pressure hadn’t just reached the peak of Stage 5—it had surged beyond it, clawing into the territory of Silver-rank combat power, hovering right at the edge of a breakthrough.

That wasn’t just impressive. That was terrifying.

Who was this guy?

And why did it feel like he was laughing inside at how shocked they were?

Back on the deck, Creed was definitely fighting the urge to throw his head back and say something outrageously cliche like "Kneel, mortals!" or "I am the storm that shall end your heavens!" or some other line pulled straight from a cultivation novel.

But he bit it down. Barely.

Instead, he raised a single glowing hand, palm open, and said calmly, "Relax. I’m not here to fight. I’m here to offer you a deal."

The spear phantom shimmered behind him, quiet but still swirling like a giant guardian made of willpower and ancient steel.

"You’re all fighting for a spot to qualify for the next trial," he continued.

"I understand. The rules are simple. Take someone out, earn a golden ticket. Only way to get inside the ferry... unless you have this."

He raised a gleaming golden crystal high into the air. It sparkled like treasure under sunlight, and the second he held it up, eyes everywhere widened.

"This," he said, "is the golden crystal. Your ticket. Insert it at the barrier, and you’re inside—no fight, no risk, no sweat."

Murmurs began to spread across the crowd. They were already tired. Bloodied.

Many of them had been here for several hours, and there were only two hours left. The idea of skipping the battle entirely?

Tempting didn’t even begin to describe it!

Creed smiled. He could practically smell the desperation.

"Price?" he said smoothly, still calm. "Simple. The first 100 go for 50,000 credits each."

The reaction was instant. A few gasps. Some outraged mutters. But no one dared shout. Not after seeing what he could do.

And besides, deep down... they knew it made sense.

"And after that," he added, his grin widening just a little, "the price goes up. Ten thousand more per hundred. Simple supply and demand. Exactly how much I have remains unknown. Could be two hundred, could be even less!"

One youth, clearly desperate and likely exhausted from fighting all day, stepped forward without hesitation.

He pulled out a shimmering black card—an Empire Enterprises transaction card—and held it above his head.

"I’ll buy one," he said, breathless but determined. "Fifty thousand. Take it."

Creed didn’t even blink. He pointed at Tierra. She took the card, confirmed the balance with a simple scan, and nodded.

In one smooth motion, Creed tossed the guy a golden crystal like he was flipping a coin.

The youth caught it, practically hugged it, then sprinted into the ferry. A moment later, the crystal vanished at the barrier and—poof—he was in!

He was in!

The entire crowd went quiet.

No more complaining. No more bargaining. Just a tense, anxious silence as hundreds of eyes turned toward Creed... and toward their dwindling time limit.

Because now, it was real.

People were buying tickets. People were getting inside. And every second they waited, the price would go up!

Creed chuckled, rolling his wrist like he was warming up for a poker night. "Next?"

And just like that, it began.

Twos and threes stepped forward, clutching cards, offering gear, shouting out trade offers. The line began forming, not even organized by anyone—it was desperation organizing itself!

Tierra, Lilith, and Amara moved like a well-oiled sales team. Tierra confirmed credit balances, Lilith handled item exchanges, and Amara, standing tall and radiant, served as the ultimate security system.

Anyone who looked like they might try something stupid backed off the moment she narrowed her icy beautiful eyes.

Within seconds, Creed had made hundreds of thousands of credits. The sales weren’t stopping. If anything, they were speeding up!

He leaned back against the ferry’s railing, wind brushing through his hair, watching credits stack like candy in a jar.

He didn’t need to fight.

He didn’t need to scheme.

He just needed to stand there... and profit!