Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 146: Bro, Say less. I’m Out!

Creed stood tall in the shadow of three terrifying Silver-stage earthworms, his eyes half-lidded like a man who just woke up from a nap and realized he had ten missed calls and the apocalypse knocking on his door.

The rocky floor beneath his boots hummed with the remnants of the brutal battle Tierra and Lilith had barely survived.

The scent of acid, burnt flesh, and scorched stone filled the air, but Creed didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

His blue eyes, calm and unreadable, slowly turned toward the storage ring on his finger.

Then

CLANG! freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

In a single, fluid motion, a long obsidian-black spear with glimmering gold veins snaked out from his ring and dropped into his hand like it belonged there.

As he spun the spear around, the very air began to sing. The wind, heavy and dry just moments before, howled to life, swirling around his frame like a pack of excited wolves called to their alpha.

His shirt fluttered, dust scattered, and the worms shivered; because that spin wasn’t just for show. That was a warning.

Creed looked down at his own arms. His muscles flexed and hummed with a vitality that even he didn’t fully understand.

His brows furrowed in mild surprise, and then a smirk touched his lips. "How strong am I right now?" he whispered to himself, voice low and dangerous.

’Even I don’t know!’

And that wasn’t arrogance. That was fact. Because the last thing Creed remembered was being at the peak of Stage 2 before everything went dark.

But now? He could feel the immense power surging through his bones, swimming in his blood like lightning looking for a storm to crash into.

He had broken through.

Twice!

He was now at the peak of Stage 4, a full two minor realms stronger, and yet that wasn’t the true reason his heart was pounding with anticipation.

No, the real power-up wasn’t just the cultivation. It was the realization; the comprehension.

He had comprehended not one, but two new paths!

Most awakened beings under Gold rank hadn’t even comprehended a single one yet. But Creed? He now held three!

First was the terrifying Path of Killing, which he had previously grasped during that nightmarish experience at the unexplored rift.

It was a brutal, merciless path that resonated with his deepest will to protect, conquer, and destroy whenever something stood in his way.

Now, to that fearsome path, he had added the Path of Freedom and the Path of the Mountain.

He grinned, shaking his head slightly. ’I guess that old man wasn’t lying when he called me interesting...’

His eyes drifted briefly to his hands, covered by the same blue and gold gloves the old man had thrown at him in the middle of a random, quiet alleyway.

Back then, he’d assumed they were special but nothing too crazy, only now did he know how much of an understatement that was!

Currently, they were glowing faintly, pulsing with an ethereal light that hinted at something much more.

Who was that man? A hidden boss? A wandering hermit? A forgotten god pretending to be a pervert?

Creed didn’t know. But he wanted to find out.

He closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. ’After this trial... I’ve got a lot to do.’

He no longer needed to waste money chasing after random techniques like a desperate adventurer in a budget fantasy novel.

His future path had been carved, and he now walked on a road very few dared to tread.

What he needed now was not quantity—but depth. He would deepen his understanding of his paths, learn to bend them to his will, and hopefully soon start to create his own arts.

His own legend.

But right now? Right now, he didn’t need fancy techniques. Even a crude application of these new powers would be more than enough!

He opened his eyes and raised his spear.

"Let’s start with this one," he said softly, then thought the words in his mind:

Path of Freedom!

Instantly, the air around him shifted.

A formless aura erupted from his body, invisible yet overwhelming. It wasn’t sharp or violent like the Path of Killing, nor was it heavy like the Path of the Mountain.

This was different. It flowed. It shimmered without light. It danced without form. And yet, it carried with it a profound presence that was nearly impossible to describe.

If the Path of Killing was like a sword aimed at the world...

Then the Path of Freedom was the wind itself—uncatchable, undefined, unconquerable.

This path was not bound by laws or structures. Its very nature was choice. It didn’t conform to rules or hierarchy.

That’s why, unlike other paths which carried a single dominant hue, the Path of Freedom shimmered in colors.

Ever-shifting, ever-changing. Because freedom was colorful. Freedom didn’t wear a single identity. It was whoever you chose to be!

And in this moment, Creed chose to be a man who could fly!

Swoosh!

He lifted off the ground!

Just like that!

With no wings. No wind talent. No support formations or enchantments!

He simply... floated.

"I can fly," he breathed, a genuine childlike joy bubbling up in his chest. ’Holy crap, I can actually fly!’

For someone like Creed who had spent months in this magical world looking up at those flashy awakened who could fly and dreaming of lifting off the ground himself, this was a dream come true.

His smirk deepened. ’Guess I’m finally a free man.’

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chamber, the worms were feeling more constricted than ever!

They trembled, their long segmented bodies flailing as they hissed and roared, trying to reclaim the dominance they once held over this battlefield.

But they couldn’t stop shaking. Not now. Not under this aura. Creed’s next thought sent a second aura wave out—this one pure red, like blood boiled down into essence.

The Path of Killing!

The entire battlefield froze.

Then his spear shot forward like a general’s command.

Creed pointed it straight at the worms.

"Die."

The word was cold. Simple. Honest. It was not said with anger or hate. Just certainty. Like a man telling the sun to set.

In the blink of an eye, Creed’s body vanished.

To Tierra and Lilith—who watched wide-eyed from the ground—it was like a red streak of light had exploded from where Creed once stood.

A blinding flash that tore through the air, sound, and space itself.

And the next thing they saw...?

Creed stood right in the middle of the three terrified worms, his spear already moving, already whistling with the wind of death.

The three colossal worms trembled, their gargantuan, armor-like bodies quivering like jelly on a plate.

Despite their thick scales and monstrous power, they suddenly felt as fragile as wet paper caught in a thunderstorm.

If they could speak, they would have screamed, "We picked the wrong guy!"

If they had tear ducts, they would have cried rivers of regret right there and then.

They didn’t know who he was, they didn’t know where he came from, but they now understood one simple truth:

This man did not come to play!

The killing intent in his eyes wasn’t just bloodlust; it was pure certainty.

It was the gaze of someone who had already written their deaths into the script and was now just acting it out.

No second thoughts. No mercy. No hesitation. It was the kind of stare that said: You die here today. End of story.

Faced with such overwhelming pressure, the worms did the only thing they could. They started to burn their life essence.

Their scales began to glow with a faint silvery-red light, and steam hissed out of their bodies. The ground trembled as energy surged through their veins like volcanic magma.

Their massive eyes burned with fury and desperation. They were going to fight!

They were going to use every last ounce of strength they had. If they were going to die, then they’d drag this flying devil down with them!

The most injured of the trio—the worm that had already been split and barely healed thanks to the help of its comrade—roared with a guttural screech.

Acid began to bubble at the corners of its gaping maw. This was no ordinary vomit. This was the culmination of all its rage, pain, and despair.

It was ready to unleash the strongest acid blast of its entire life, the kind that could melt through mountains and dissolve the bones of even silver-rank powerhouses.

Its throat inflated like a balloon, and its body shook violently, gathering all its remaining strength into one final, suicidal attack—

ZSHOOM!

It never got the chance.

A red light flashed across its eyes so fast it couldn’t even blink before its vision shattered like broken glass.

Boom!

In the same moment, a soundless boom echoed across the battlefield; a sonic ripple so sharp and sudden it felt like space itself had been sliced open.

And then... silence.

The injured worm was gone.

Or rather, it had been reduced to soup!

Chunks of slimy flesh rained from the air like meat confetti. Dozens—no, hundreds—of pieces splattered across the ground.

Acid splashed, nerves twitched, and steam hissed from the mess, but the creature was undeniably, unmistakably... dead.

Not wounded. Not incapacitated. Dead-dead. Executed in a single, effortless stroke so clean that even the laws of biology seemed confused about what just happened!

Lilith, lying in a puddle of her own blood with her head on a luxurious pillow, blinked in shock. Tierra’s already wide eyes somehow widened further.

Both girls stared at Creed as though seeing him for the first time.

He had barely moved his spear!

Just one casual motion.

One light swing of his arm!

And one of the apex predators of the underground labyrinth had been turned into sushi!

The two remaining worms froze. They didn’t tremble. They didn’t growl. They didn’t even dare to blink.

Because in that moment, every part of their brains—the primitive instinct, the battle logic, and the spark of sentience that allowed them to coordinate in combat—all screamed the exact same thing:

RUN!

One worm glanced sideways at the other, its trembling eye-stalks silently communicating its desperation.

The second worm glanced back, visibly nodding with its massive slimy head like, "Bro, say less. I’m out!"

They didn’t care about pride. They didn’t care about honor. They didn’t even care about revenge anymore. They just wanted to survive!

And so, with a united cry of pure terror, both of them roared and turned their gigantic bodies around.

One burrowed madly into the stone floor, launching dirt and debris in all directions like a jackhammer on steroids.

The other tried to leap toward a vertical escape shaft in the chamber wall, wriggling its slippery bulk like a panicked noodle.

They had to get as far away as possible from this evil demon!