Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 168: Pyramid Of Dominion! (End)

The moment Nicholas Grey stepped down from the glowing arena throne, the atmosphere snapped taut like a pulled wire.

The air seemed to hold its breath. His silver hair fluttered as he turned away, exhausted, his last art having drained him entirely.

Across the fractured floor of the throne arena, the strange geometric etchings on the black tiles pulsed red once more. It was hungry for a new master.

But Nicholas didn’t vanish. No. Instead, he gave a low laugh, that kind of cocky chuckle Creed had come to loathe.

The bastard was still full of energy where it counted the worst: his mouth.

"You’ve got twenty minutes," he said, chuckling in that smug, mouthy tone Creed had fantasized about stabbing for the last hour.

"If you don’t have that third throne fragment by then, I’ll just sit my pretty ass right back down and restart the countdown. And guess what?"

He leaned in slightly, grinning. "You’ll get to try and throw me off all over again. Fun, right?"

Indeed, that was a very serious problem.

Creed and his girls had only managed to defeat the second eclipse guardian before Nicholas had activated his throne and forced Creed to rush over.

Now that he had prevented him from being the first victor and getting the mysterious special reward and privilege, Creed now had to worry about finding the third throne fragment and activating his own throne!

20 minutes was most likely not enough!

Yet instead of seeing the anticipated nervousness or panic on Creed’s face, Nicholas saw the complete opposite reaction.

Creed just stared at him—sweaty, bloody, breathing like he had three broken ribs—and smirked. A slow, knowing curl of the lips. "That so?"

Then, without turning his head, he raised two fingers.

Fwoosh.

Two figures materialized beside him in a flicker of light, one clad in a tight purple combat suit, lightning dancing around her fingertips, the other crackling out of a warp in space like a grey glitch in reality.

Lilith and Tierra.

Nicholas frowned. "What—"

"Heya," Lilith grinned and, without ceremony, reached into her pockets and slapped something bright and jagged into Creed’s outstretched hand.

The Final Throne Fragment!

This was the last step in Creed’s plan.

When he had left his summons behind to stall the hundreds of knights, he could have easily recalled them into his tattoo once he’d gained enough distance from their previous location.

After all, their combined might was far greater than Creed’s strength alone. Yet he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d given them a mental command: to search for the location of the last Eclipse Guardian.

That way, once he stopped Nicholas from seizing the first victory, he could immediately regroup, hunt down the guardian, and activate his throne in the shortest time possible.

But his two beautiful summons had gone even further.

They hadn’t just located the Eclipse Guardian, they had taken it down!

Their incredible effort struck a deep chord in Creed. As he held the final throne fragment in his hands, a wave of pride swelled in his chest.

These were his girls.

And damn, they were awesome!

With the last fragment acquired, the three pieces hovered above his hand and began to hum together.

A deep, echoing tone like an ancient warhorn vibrated across the entire arena.

The throne lit up instantly.

Rings of light spun around its edges. Chains of red and gold detached from its sides, floating upward like they were being pulled by divine force.

The arena lit up with a bright red glow, signifying his activation!

Nicholas’s mouth fell slightly open. "No way... You... you had the last piece this whole time?"

Creed just smiled, eyes glowing, and stepped forward into the throne’s gravity.

"Like I said," he muttered as the lights embraced him, "I’m the kind of dude who always saves the best for last."

The platform responded instantly.

The arena’s carvings flared to life as Creed placed all three fragments into the center pedestal, and without hesitation, the countdown started again. 10:00.

Nicholas let out a sigh that was half defeat, half amusement, and gave a slow clap. "Well played."

He had to admit it this time around. He had truly lost to Creed.

He, Nicholas Grey, the unparalleled God Of Reflection had lost to someone his age?

That was... exciting!

But Creed was already turning away from him, standing tall on the newly formed throne.

Ten minutes. That’s all it would take.

The wind from the arena surged around him like the breath of the world. Lightning crackled behind Lilith. The space around Tierra rippled like a mirage.

And Creed—battle-worn, bloody, and grinning—watched the timer drop to zero with the weight of a king returning from war.

The badge in his chest flashed violently one last time.

[You have taken the throne.]

[Trial complete. You are the first victor!]

.....

When Creed opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was the breeze. Not just any breeze—real air.

Fresh. Open. Light. A sky, no ceiling. He blinked twice, and his vision adjusted. He was standing just outside the rift.

Behind him, the swirling tear in space crackled softly, like it hadn’t just been the arena of madness and near-death trials for what felt like an eternity.

In front of him was the open world again, a vast flat stone platform that led toward the edge of a mini carrier port.

The trial was over. He was back. Alive. Victorious.

Standing still for a second, Creed just took a deep breath and let it sink in; he had actually pulled it off. He had won the throne!

He had gone from an unknown orphan to the First Place holder in the most prestigious academy exam in the world!

He had done it!

But damn, that trial had been a lot.

"Why the hell was that an entrance exam?" he muttered to himself, stretching his arms with a low groan.

"I fought gravity-warping monsters, space-folding knights and even a dude who could reflect my own spear back into my face?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. ’All for what? A place at a school?’

But even as he grumbled, Creed couldn’t help the grin slowly spreading across his face.

His body still ached in weird places. His ribs were sore from a twisted mid-air flip, his palms tingled with leftover energy from his new arts, and he was still tasting blood somewhere deep in his throat.

But he had made it through. More than that, he had grown.

The trial had been brutal, sure, but he had come out of it with two fully comprehended arts, a whole new level of understanding about himself, and two beautiful, terrifying, overpowered summon girls who had his back through it all!

"I just want steak," he said out loud to no one in particular, placing a hand over his stomach dramatically.

’A big, juicy, spicy steak. With extra sauce. And then I want a long, long, long night in bed. Maybe two. With Lilith on my left and Tierra on my—’

A sudden chill ran up his spine, snapping him out of the fantasy so hard he actually shivered. He took a step forward on instinct, and it happened so fast he barely saw it.

A hand swiped through the air exactly where the back of his neck had been a second ago.

Creed flipped backward with a sudden burst of Path of Freedom, his body spinning in the air and landing with grace a few meters away.

His heart was thundering. Not because he was scared, but because he had felt it again. That strange, eerie sensation.

Just like the alleyway with the old monk who had tried to touch him all a week ago. But this time? This time Creed dodged it.

’Too slow,’ Creed thought, standing upright as his golden eyes locked onto the figure.

It was him.

The cloaked man. The same mysterious figure who had told all the examinees to enter the rift trial in the first place.

He was just standing there like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just tried to touch Creed’s soul or whatever that was.

His cloak shifted slightly in the wind, and the shadow under his hood didn’t quite match the light around him. Unnatural. Just like before.

"You’re still on edge," the man said after a long, strange pause. His voice was as cold and smooth as winter glass. "Good. That’s how survivors stay alive."

Creed wanted to retort with something witty, but instead just huffed and rolled his shoulders. His body was still half-wired for combat.

"If you ever try to sneak up on me again, I just might poke you in the eye with a spear."

That earned a faint smile from the man, who stepped forward and studied Creed for a few silent moments too long.

Then he nodded and said flatly, "Congratulations on securing first place. Your admission materials, initial resources, and rewards will be mailed to your registered address within the next few days."

Creed blinked. ’Wait... that’s it? No confetti? No, ’Oh wow, Creed, you were amazing, here’s your prize money, and oh by the way, can I get your autograph?’ Just a ’check your mailbox’?!’

He felt a little let down! How come things were not how he thought?!

The man didn’t notice. Instead, he reached into his cloak and pulled out something small and sleek; an elegant, jet-black invitation card with silver linings that shimmered when it caught the light.

"But," the man continued, "there is more to this world than meets the eye. If you’re confident and curious enough, take this. The location is written inside."

Creed took the card warily. The material felt expensive. Weirdly heavy, like it wasn’t just paper.

His eyes scanned the fine print and sure enough, he noticed a few subtle symbols near the edges that hinted at government-level clearance. Or something close to it.

"And yes," the man added suddenly, almost like he had read Creed’s mind, "I do work for the government. Sort of."

Creed opened his mouth to ask more questions, but that was the moment the official security squad arrived.

Dressed in crisp uniforms, they stepped out from behind shimmering barriers that flared to life, clearly shielding this cliffside from public view.

One of them saluted Creed. "We’ll be taking you back now. A transport is ready."

Creed gave the cloaked man one last look, but the figure was already turning away, vanishing like a shadow under the sun.

The guards motioned him toward a small portable carrier—sleek, silver, and humming softly like a spaceship.

As Creed stepped inside and the carrier lifted off, he leaned against the cool glass and let himself finally relax. His thoughts, though, were anything but calm.

That man was dangerous. That touch, he didn’t understand it yet, but it was something deeper than physical. It had almost reached into his being.

And that card? Something told him the choice to go or not would lead to something far beyond school exams and arena battles.

Still, the idea of steak, a bath, and sleeping in a real bed again was very appealing.

He clutched the invitation in one hand and tapped the other against his thigh restlessly.

This wasn’t the end.

This was the beginning.